The scene is barren.

 

Jesus has journeyed into the wilderness

to a place the Jews call Jeshimmon,

‘the place of devastation.’

 

He finds himself

amidst blasted hills and broken valleys,

in a bare land strewn with hard boulders,

where only the slow dust speaks.

 

It is the ruin of a land;

the resting place of many a dream.

Where the realities of life and death

take on stark contrasting shapes and colours.

 

The desert’s breath is stale and still,

the air thick with the weariness of time.

 

It is a quiet place, without the confusion

of a more so-called civilised situation.

 

Here he stops and sits and reflects,

inhaling the quietness, listening to his heart.

 

This is a place of rumination;

a place where the muddy water clears

and the spirit plumbs its depths.

 

Jesus contemplates.

 

He thinks of his encounter with John,

the man they call ‘The Baptist’.

 

The skies tearing open,

the fluttering of wings,

the sound of the Voice.

 

A seeing and a hearing,

a glimpsing of the unseen and the unspoken,

a grasping of a vision and a vocation.

 

Earth and heaven bursting with a new beginning,

and his own unbearable, undeniable, calling;

 

To hold the dream, and to not rest until it be born,

to bear the pain of bringing it to birth.

 

He considers John.

John, the prophet and the preacher,

the wild man calling for wild changes.

Longing for the will of God,

aching for love and justice in the land,

Insisting the impossible is possible,

and, not just possible, but imperative! .

 

Jesus feels the echo of the message

resounding in his own soul,

Smells the fragrance of the spirit

wafting through the air.

 

Oh, to be a part of the movement;

to bring the dream into being.

Fleshing out faith,

speaking grace, practicing equality.

 

‘Filling every valley, levelling every hill,

making the crooked paths straight,

making the rough paths smooth,

‘Ensuring every man and woman

knows the awesome salvation of God.’

 

Jesus feels his imagination soaring

like an eagle in the empty sky.

And beneath it, far below it,

the sobering landscape of reality.

 

How to bring heaven to earth

without destroying the synergy?

 

How to take a soul, grown bone weary,

and make it sing and dance again?

 

How to take a half- forgotten step,

and make it a whole-hearted movement?

 

How to bring about genuine change in a world,

where love is bought and sold,

justice goes to the highest bidder,

And freedom is a faint memory carried by the wind?

 

Unsummoned, the memory serves him a warning:

a roadside lined with impaled bodies on bloody crosses-

Revolutionaries hung out, and left to dry,

for the treason of trying to fight for freedom.

 

Here, in the wilderness, without food or water,

Jesus waits and weighs up his options.

 

A thought comes to him—

‘If you are who you claim to be;

if you have the potential

that you are supposed to have, prove it!

That’s it – just prove it!’

‘Then people will be with you.

And you will be unstoppable.’ 

 

 Jesus turns his head and scans the horizon.

There is nothing to see save the desert;

The wilderness scattered

with boulders, rocks and stones.

And the thought comes to him—

‘If you turned these stones into bread

then the masses would be behind you’. 

 

 Jesus remembers the masses

gathering daily at dawn at the temple;

Waiting for the sunrise, and the signal

from the priests in the tower, to begin a new day.

And the thought comes to him—

‘If you climbed that tower, and lept down,

and landed safely in the midst of that crowd,

the masses would be with you all the way.’  

 

Jesus remembers the masses

of the twisted, tortured frames of the rebels.

Who had gone ‘all the way’ to change the world,

but ended up hanging, ignominiously,

on crosses at the side of the road

 like scarecrows in the sun.

Is this the fate of all dreamers and their dreams?

Nailed to history as a lesson in futility?.

Are there no other options? .

 

And the thought comes to him —

‘If you were prepared to compromise,

accept the system, respect the status quo,

and work for change, gradually, incrementally,

then, maybe,

you could succeed, where others failed!’

 

Jesus feels these thoughts

worming their way into his heart.

And he begins to wrestle

with the issues that they raise.

 

Didn’t he need to prove himself?

 

How else could he expect them to risk all

for a penniless carpenter from Nazareth?

Bet on an uneducated seer from Galilee

with nothing more than a pipe dream?

 

To ask a lot, you have to give a lot,

a sample, if you like, of what’s possible.

 

It’s only sensible.

Only reasonable. Only practical.

And what better way to show what’s possible

than to provide the people

With more of the things that they want

and display your power in the process?

 

That would impress the people – wouldn’t it?

 

That would ensure the support of the masses.

 

And that would mean a better deal,

when he came to terms with the system.

 

Jesus feels the rush of this logic

sweeping him inexorably downstream.

 

And he might have been carried away by it

except for a small stubborn rock of doubt.

 

How could a person, obsessed

with having to proving himself,

ever hope to lead a movement

dedicated to the service of others?

 

That would be impossible. Absolutely impossible.

 

So Jesus lets the wave of desire to prove himself

that is washing over him, simply come and go.

 

Where does that leave the idea of providing people

with the things that they wanted

and displaying his power, spectacularly, in the process?

 

Sure, it might assure him of support – but for what?

Spectacular events and free provisions!

 

And, dishing out what people want,

might distract them from what they need.

 

Bread and circuses may be fun –

but they don’t bring transformation.

 

Miracles fade into memory,

and bellies, once filled, are soon empty again.

 

Jesus knows full well that,

the only way hungry people will be fed,

Is if people create a culture of love and justice

where they care, and share, with one another.

 

So.

No side shows. No free lunches.

Where does that leave the idea of negotiating

some kind of new deal with the system?

 

Jesus knows, that, in the furnace of his soul,

the answer to that question is already forged.

The middle ground is occupied territory,

‘negotiation’, but another name for ‘capitulation’.

 

Brokering some kind of deal with the system

might provide him with safety and security himself.

But he knows that the system is always willing

to sacrifice the poor on the alter of expediency.

And, when it comes to the crunch, 

Jesus can not – and will not –

collaborate with such an iniquitous system.

Regardless of the consequences.

He does not have a death wish.

He has no desire to die a martyr’s death.

But, if death is the price he has to pay

for fighting for life and liberty, he’ll pay it.

 

Jesus is committed.

There will be no compromise.

No taking a backward step.

And no turning back.

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