The disciples of John reported all these things to him. And John, calling two of his disciples to him, sent them to the Lord, saying, “Are you the one who is to com, or shall we look for another?” (Luke 7:18-19)
Meanwhile, things haven’t been going well for John. We already know (3:20) that he’s been locked up for preaching a little too close to home for the local authorities, and (holy as he is) it’s only human to have some doubts.
Envy has nothing to do with it. He always knew that Messiah must increase. But now he’s now sure the man he baptized and witnessed to is really the One. Where’s the winnowing fork? Where’s the ax laid to the root? Where’s the fiery Holy-Spirit baptism? Prison is not the problem, for John was prepared for anything. Hang him up by his thumbs, roast him slowly over hot coals—no big deal as long as his message was true. Get ready! Repent! Judgment is on its way with the Kingdom of Heaven close upon its heels!
But the reports he is hearing are not what he expected.
Messiah is making news, all right, but instead of judging people, he’s healing them. The gist of his sermons is about loving your enemies and being like your Father in heaven. Father? And what’s all this about “Do not judge”? John’s sermons were all about righteousness and the Kingdom and–yes, judging. The righteous judgment of God was the whole point. Languishing in Herod’s prison, his life hanging on the whims of a vindictive woman, John can’t take the ambiguity anymore. He has to get an answer, even though Jesus might be angry. Are you the one? Or to put it another way, did I dedicate my life to cutting a path for you . . . for nothing?
The two disciples come back with some reassurance: Jesus wasn’t angry. But he wasn’t a model of clarity either. Imagine the conversation: “We stayed all afternoon and watched him heal people. Scores of people—blind, cripples, lepers, demon-possessed. He healed them all. You should have heard the demons screaming as they gave up their grip! In between, he talked. Lots of people came just to listen to him. He quoted that passage from Isaiah, the one about the Spirit of the Lord being on him and preaching good news to the poor.”
Good news, thinks John. Not judgment, after all?
“He told us to tell you what we saw. And one more thing: a message for you.”
“Yes?”
“He said, ‘Blessed is the one who takes no offense at me.”
Offense?! thinks John. Was he taking offense? No, he was just asking . . . or maybe . . . Well.
The prophet sitting in the dungeon, soon to lose his head, has no superior in the old order. Elijah, Elisha, Isaiah—none are greater than he. Yet this kingdom he preached was beyond even his comprehension. The youngest child who finds a place in it is “greater” (in understanding, experience, love) than John. Many, many years later, Jesus’s half-brother James would acknowledge this while writing to fellow believers: Elijah? Just a man, like you. But he had no more access to the Father than you. In fact, you have more. You have a blood relationship, a living Spirit.
John, don’t be offended . . . The great message you delivered was vital and necessary, but only the half of it.
Elsewhere in Galilee, Jesus pauses in his healing and preaching to glance over at the ever-present peanut gallery: the scribes and Pharisees who, Luke informs us, rejected God’s plan for themselves. They disapproved John, they disapprove Jesus: one a fanatic, possibly possessed; the other altogether too friendly with good food and wine and tax collectors. The only religious figure who would satisfy them might be found by looking into a mirror. Yet—“Wisdom is vindicated by all her children.” The children, a motley rag-tag group for sure, are beginning to make themselves known. In fact, well see one in the next chapter.
For the original post in this series, go here.
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