3rd Sunday of Advent 2022
Isaiah 35: 1-6, 10; James 5:7-10; Matthew 11: 2-11
Many many moons ago—39 years ago to be precise, which is 468 moons if my arithmetic is correct—in the parish of St. Mary, at Morecambe, I asked an artistically gifted young man in the parish if he would consider producing posters to be attached to the church pillars for the four Sundays of Advent. I supplied him with the readings, and left him to his own devices.
The results were all excellent, but it is today’s poster which remains in my mind. The artist had focused on the opening verses of the extract from Isaiah: “Let the wilderness and the dry lands exult, let the wasteland rejoice and bloom”. He painted a bleak industrial landscape, the silhouettes of factory buildings in the background, their very greyness suggesting abandonment and decay. In the foreground was an oily, stagnant pool, beside which a single golden flower was blooming, the only spot of brightness in the entire picture.
This was indeed a wasteland, a symbol of post-industrial Britain, a context with which we are still familiar. The single flower, standing out bravely among its bleak surroundings, was a statement that the wilderness does indeed and will exult, but that its full glory is not yet. For that glory we have to wait in patience.
All of this was pointing, not towards some sort of national revival, but to the Kingdom of God, both present and future. These may seem to be dark days for the Kingdom, darker even than they were almost forty years ago. The results of last year’s census have been revealed in recent weeks, indicating than fewer than 50% of people in England and Wales now identify themselves as Christian. Those grey, abandoned factory buildings could equally well be depicted today as churches.
What price the Kingdom then? Every one of today’s readings speaks words of encouragement. “Strengthen all weary hands” says the prophet Isaiah, “and say to all faint hearts ‘Courage! Do not be afraid!’” while James urges “Do not lose heart”, and Our Lord insists “Blessed is the one who does not lose faith in me”.
Discouragement is one of the most destructive of all sensations. Those who are prone to depression realise that. We feel not only without comfort in the present, but devoid of hope for the future. At such times, I feel myself to be at the bottom of a black well, with neither the energy nor the incentive to attempt to climb out; or in a dark tunnel which appears to stretch to infinity.
It seems that John the Baptist felt much the same. He had devoted his whole life to preaching the Kingdom; he had invested all his trust in Jesus. Yet here he is, languishing in gaol, expecting at every moment to be executed. Consequently, his confidence begins to waver: have his faith and trust been in vain? Has his whole life been based on an illusion? And so he sends that anguished message: “Are you the one who is to come, or must we wait for someone else? Have I been fooling myself? Have you been fooling me?”
The answer which he receives is in effect the answer given by Isaiah, later to be given by James: “Patience”. The signs of the Kingdom are there, like the single flower blooming in the wasteland, like the tiny glimmer of light at the mouth of our well, at the end of our tunnel. There may be no instant miracle to resolve everything in a flash, but recognise the signs, see that the Kingdom is here, even if not yet in its glory.
As He spoke to John the Baptist, so Jesus speaks to us. He says “Courage”. He says “Patience”. He says “Do not be afraid! Do not give way to discouragement!” The signs of the Kingdom are all around, if only you have eyes to see, ears to hear. The wilderness is exulting; the wastelands rejoice and bloom; the rope is dropping which will haul you out of your dark well. Glory is not yet—but comfort is, and hope, and trust. Do not be afraid.
