The Joy in the Answer: The 3rd Sunday of Advent

Most days, we just want answers! Like Jeopardy!, we are willing to wait for the question as long as we have answers. We crave them, we seek them, and sometimes we demand them. We peer at stars. We read between the lines! We survey the vast, muddied landscape of our experience, hoping to find an answer. Answers, of course, first require questions. Life is not Jeopardy!, after all. Sometimes, the questions are matter-of-fact, simple questions for ordinary living: What should I have for dinner? What should I do next weekend? How long 'til Christmas? Other questions are more subtle, lingering, and life-forming: What should I do with my life? Where should I go to feel like I am not alone? How long until Christmas?

Whether our questions are practical or existential, we are usually after clear, concise, and decisive answers. We often imagine answers as things that cohere to simple phrases, slogans, logos, or memes. We think that whatever answer we seek, it must be lying right there in my grasp, on the tip of my tongue. More often than not, however, answers are not so easy. Indeed, the answers to our most profound questions are discerned slowly, in broad shapes and patterns. 

This is important for those of us who follow Jesus on the Christian way. It is particularly relevant and important in Advent, when we engage in heightened anticipation of God’s coming – of God becoming the answer to all of our longings and desires. So, what is the Word we await? What sort of answer are we expecting? Are we awaiting the crisp, clear phrase with which to flatten our enemies? Are we looking to unlock the mysteries of the ages? Are we wanting to solve the conundrums of ourselves? 

In today's Gospel, John the Baptist has a question! John wants a "yes" or a "no". “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” For John, everything (John’s whole life) is riding on the answer. We can't really blame John for wanting a plain answer, for he has given his whole life over to this question. He has had a wild and holy yearning that has lead him to prison. He has been stricken by the weight of this question. Ultimately, (we know) he will die for the implications of this question.

To ask whether Jesus is "the one who is to come" is to assert that nothing and no one else can be. No emperor or king, no treasure, no philosopher or fortune-teller can contend with "the one who is to come." For John, the One is the answer – the remedy to every wrong. It is natural, therefore, that as John’s days dwindle in captivity, he desperately wants to know if his waiting has been in vain.

Jesus answers John’s questions, but not as directly (I imagine) as John would have liked. Just like his parables and his teaching, Jesus replies to the moment with an invitation to look more closely: 

Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.

In other words, the answer is all around. It is not found in simple assertions of Jesus’ identity or authority. Instead, the answer is read in the shapes and patterns of Jesus' life in the world – of restoring sight, making whole, giving life, and seeking justice, of whatever comes forth wherever love reigns. Anyone can claim to be a messiah or pretend to be a king. Goodness knows many have done so. Jesus demonstrated his messianic glory and kingly credentials. Jesus brings forth the fruits of the kingdom of God and transforms our wildernesses into a sanctuary. 

This is the essential paradox of the Messiah as revealed in Jesus: Jesus is the Expected One who does not conform to our expectations. Jesus is the One Who Has Come, yet points from himself to another. Jesus is the Anointed One, who anoints others in God’s name. Jesus does not respond more directly to John, I believe, because Jesus does not want to succumb to worldly idolatry. It’s not that John would have fallen to idolatry; his life proves that. But the world has this tendency to idolise easy answers – we might have just turned Jesus into a meme. Instead, Jesus rejects the deceptive simplicities of our lesser gods so that we might see Jesus, the Son of God, Messiah, in and through his fruits. Only Truth would be content to let the results speak for themselves. 

What does this mean for us? We who are still captive to the world's many ambiguities hunger for a clear and piercing response to our questions. First, it means that we must reorient our search for answers. The answers we seek are not locked away, reserved for the wise, powerful, or pious. Rather, the answers are found in the living enactment of the good news –  the practice of love and righteousness in our churches, communities, and homes. The answers are found in taking up our cross and following Jesus, in doing what Jesus did: healing, reconciling, liberating, giving thanks, seeking justice, making peace, and inviting in. 

This means, too, that we should be very wary of any institution or figure (political, religious, or otherwise) who claim that they alone have access to the answer. Even worse are those who assert that they are the answer! Even Jesus himself was loath to claim his identity as Messiah. He was concerned with helping others find their own dignity, identity, and worth, instead of worshipping his. Let that be the benchmark! 

Finally, this all means that we can rest a bit in the midst of our Advent anticipation. Instead of waiting with bated breath, with our whole lives dependent upon a single word of response from God, we can look at how the answers to our deepest questions spring up around us. The answers are already being given (even if we are awaiting the questions). This is the gift and the power of a sacramental life: We can catch a glimpse of God in the gleam of a candle or in the phrase of a song. We can catch a glimpse of the Messiah in a bag of groceries left on a doorstep or in the smile of the lonely and forgotten. We can catch a glimpse of the Spirit in a hand reached out in reconciliation. Maybe it will come in the Sunday liturgy, or (more likely) it will come in the broader liturgy of life. 

God's answers are here, in the words you already know how to speak. They have come, but they have come softly like small mercies. We might overlook as we search the skies for the grander miracles we desire. So, wait, anticipate, seek, look, and find. The answers are there for our finding. Are we willing to accept them? Will dare the joy of living them? 

And remember, as we await God’s answer, God is waiting for ours.