Integrity arises when the inner light – which never fails – is matched by how we behave on the outside. People come to John the Baptist with the question, “What must we do?” Without the inner illumination which comes first they might decide that they will hang up their second coat in the wardrobe and store that extra loaf in the freezer. Without inner wisdom they might begin to argue with John as to why they should offer warmth and nourishment to someone who has not worked for it. The tax collectors have done well by tipping the scales in their own favour. Will they take a cut in their bonuses? Will there be consequences if they opt for honesty? Soldiers don’t teach embroidery classes. They throw their weight around. If they were to limit their use of force to what is necessary for peace and sacrifice the extra revenue that comes from intimidation what will become of them? The point being that when we try to change the way we work on the outside, we have to work from the inside to sustain it. What looks like a simple call to justice from John has become a journey of self- discovery!
Change does not come easy. There will be mountains to climb and obstacles which need to be removed, but this will not happen unless they can be clearly seen. None better than John for this task. But only for this task. John knows he is not the Messiah. He has many things to learn from the ‘One who is the come’. Just like the rest of us! Watch carefully. John correctly envisions a ‘Baptism of the Holy Spirit and of Fire.’ But he does not fully understand the vision. He thinks it bodes judgement and destruction. The Holy Spirit, a howling wind that separates wheat from chaff, that is flicked in the air and devoured by fire. John is presenting the classical good versus evil, reward versus punishment paradigm.
But when the Beloved Son does appear the Holy Spirit comes as connection. The Spirit draws people into Gods Heart and works with them to produce the ‘good works’ that give glory to God. The Spirit comes as inspiration and direction. The Spirit is the Advocate and the Paraclete, who encourages, empowers and strengthens us for all that is good. The Spirit enables us to share our resources and gifts with others and not oppress them. It is a fire that burns with passion. It is a fire that does not go out. It is the same fire which sent Moses back to his community with freedom in his hands. So, in this third week of Advent I wanted to ask, when was the last time you asked yourself the question? The question being, “What is the next thing I must do to grow as a more committed, more compassionate and more faithful disciple of Jesus. Take Compassion as an example. Let’s say we made it the heartbeat of our morning prayer for this third week of Advent.
Let’s say we decided to read something about compassion each day to develop our understanding of what it really is. Let say we decide to act with compassion whenever the opportunity presents itself. We pray, we ponder, we act.
I love this, all too human example from, ‘A Hidden Wholeness’ by Parker Palmer, (San Francisco: Joseph-Bass, 2004, 155-156).
At Pendle Hill, the Quaker community where I lived and worked for eleven years, our lives were so intertwined that people could quickly become attached to each other and just as quickly become alienated. But alienated is a mild word to describe my relation to one woman who lived there. She was, in my mind, the devils spawn, sent directly from the pits of hell to destroy all that is green and good about life on earth.
The people at Pendle Hill gather every morning in a ‘meeting for worship’, forty-five minutes of community silence, occasionally broken by words spoken spontaneously from the heart. One morning, I arrived late for worship and the only seat available was next to her. Agitated, I came close to turning around and walking out. But I managed somehow to sit down, close my eyes, and start to meditate, slowly forgetting that I was sitting next to a creature from the dark side.
About half an hour later, head still bowed, I opened my eyes and found myself staring at the upturned hand this woman had rested on her knee. There, spotlighted by a shaft of sunlight, I saw the faint but steady throb of an artery in her wrist, the elemental beat of her very human heart. In that moment, I know beyond words that here was a person just like me, with strengths and weaknesses, hopes and disappointments, joys and despairs. In that moment, my sense of who she was, and of who I was to her, underwent some sort of transformation. I never became close to this woman. In truth, I never stopped feeling wary of her. But I could no longer demonise her as I had until that silent, sunlit moment.
We pray, we ponder, we act. When good things begin to happen, we give thanks for the Spirit and the Fire at work in us. When we think we have done it on our own we reject any such nonsense. Rather, we continue to commit ourselves to the work with gratitude in our hearts. Because, as John Sobrino so rightly said, the process, the art of conversion never ends. We just have to keep chiselling at our own statue.
