A Voice in the Wilderness
For the Solemnity of the Nativity of John the Baptist.
One of the most common difficulties I see people struggling with is a sense of meaninglessness, or purposelessness, and all too often a sense of being a failure. Fear of failing might be the greatest fear I see in the young people I teach. I say ‘failing’, because it is a fear of making even small mistakes; as though failing, even in something that might seem to us as small, for them could mean failure in the ultimate sense; that this one error could derail his or her entire future, almost as being eliminated from the competition for success, and so to some degree a life worth living. There is an urgency that magnifies the pressures experienced, giving a sense of everything being a situation of: life or death. As many have noted, this is perhaps one reason why The Hunger Games has had so much resonance with younger generations. As a friend and colleague of mine writes:
According to Amazon, the most highlighted passage in all books read on Kindle—highlighted almost twice as often as any other passage—is from the second volume of The Hunger Games: “Because sometimes things happen to people and they’re not equipped to deal with them.” Students want continual reassurance that they’re equipping themselves. They clothe themselves in an armor of achievement that they hope will protect them against uncertainties—of the job market, of course, but also deeper uncertainties about their status, their identities, their self-worth. Disciplines that have (or appear to have) a technical character and a clear arc of accumulated knowledge and skills leading toward a foreseeable career goal reinforce the feeling that they are working steadily, assignment by assignment, toward gaining more control over an uncertain future.
Students preparing for their first semester at a University are already experiencing some element of this fear, as are parents. Those on summer break, or recent graduates are probably also experiencing this, and again, as are parents. Those in insecure jobs, between jobs, out of work, or feeling burnt out and lacking meaning, also probably feel something of this. Where does it stop?
Even those we think of as successful, who seem to be living what we consider our ‘dream life’, are often desperately unhappy, from lack of meaning, pressures to produce, feelings of mounting dread and despair, and—perhaps unimaginable to many—feelings of being a failure, or that one is constantly one misstep away from failure.
It would seem success has become almost impossible to define; even more elusive, seemingly, is the feeling of having achieved success.
This might be, perhaps, where the readings for today speak to us most. In the words of Isaiah:
Though I thought I had toiled in vain,
and for nothing, uselessly, spent my strength,
If we were to stop there, many would express great familiarity with such thoughts, which is completely human. Obviously it is not a symptom specific to our own time, though circumstances are undoubtedly not the same. However, he continues:
yet my reward is with the LORD,
my recompense is with my God.
For now the LORD has spoken
who formed me as his servant from the womb,
And this might cause us to demure—‘apparently Isaiah doesn’t have a mortgage, or a family to take care of’—or perhaps to wonder how thinking like this, or such faith as this, is possible. How is it possible to see things this way?
Not only is Isaiah expressing satisfaction in work that seemed a waste, or a failure; he is expressing confidence in a new venture. He realises God has even bigger plans for him. Maybe, as they say: ‘Fail again; fail better.’ But Isaiah is not being motivated by self-help platitudes, or pollyannaish encouragement. His trust is firmly rooted in God, who formed him, since the womb, to carry out God’s work, no matter what. Again, how can this kind of faith have any reality in our experience?
There is no easy answer to this, and if there is a so-called answer, it is probably not going to come from our own resources of strength, intelligence, or control.
Maybe the ‘answer’ is a voice, crying out in the wilderness: ‘prepare the way of the Lord’.
John the Baptist is found in the wilderness because that is the place of contemplation, where one can turn toward God, and tune in more closely, more attentively, to God’s vision for us, and to God’s comforting, strengthening reassurance.
It is difficult, especially in our lives today, to know where to begin, or begin again; how to connect or reconnect with God. One place we might consider, and simply try, is by saying to ourselves the words of our psalm, 139. Indeed it can be difficult to say, or especially to sing, these words, so deeply touching as they can be to our inmost being. They can act as a reminder of God’s profound presence in us. The God who knows us more than we can know ourselves; so intimate to us as to have been there within us even before we were born; who can show us our meaning and purpose; whose love is the only measure of worth that matters; the love of one who wants you to know that you are indeed wonderfully made, beyond all measure.
John the Baptist not only announces the Lord’s coming, he points us toward Jesus. Note that John knows and accepts not only the great importance of his role, but also what is not his role. Great as he is, he knows he is not God incarnate, the Saviour of the world. He sends us to follow and observe the life of Jesus. It is important for us to know our role, which means discerning what we have to offer, but also trusting when to hand things over. John, who recognises his own unworthiness, trusts in God, and performs his role. Then he knows when to send his own disciples to Jesus. In wanting our happiness, God wants to help us do what is truly meaningful, while also helping us to know when we have done all we can.
It is also significant that once baptised, Jesus is led into the wilderness by the Holy Spirit, so that he can enter into deeper discernment of what his ministry is supposed to be. I think sometimes it is easy to forget the full humanity of Jesus, and thus to forget that, as the gospels tell us, Jesus found it necessary to enter into deep discernment, as well as frequent prayer, throughout the entirety of his life and ministry. Jesus, indeed, shows us the importance of prayer and contemplation.
This does not mean we all have to become desert monks. It could mean that no matter how busy we might be, or how difficult it is to find time for reflection, it might be more difficult not to.
May we have the courage to orient our minds and hearts to God’s loving presence, and in being reminded of God’s love, allow God to orient our minds and hearts, so that we might find the path of peace.