The Entire Thought

Getting Beyond Our Illusions

Deep in the dungeon, disillusioned by the tragic turn of his life, the Baptist ponders God’s strange providence. John is convinced that he received his message from God and he’s sure that he got it right: Prepare the way of the Messiah. But when the Messiah came, he did not act the way John had presumed and predicted. Was the message or the messenger wrong? John needs to know. He deserves to know.
In Nikos Kazantzakis’ intriguing book The Last Temptation of Christ, Jesus and John are in the hollow of a rock arguing all night long about what to do with the world. The Baptist’s face is hard and decisive; from time to time his arms go up and down as though he were chopping wood. Maybe he is showing Jesus how to lay the axe to the root of the tree of evil.
By contrast, the face of Jesus is calm and hesitant; his eyes are full of compassion. He asks John: “Isn’t love enough?” John
answers angrily: “No! The tree is rotten. God called me and gave me the axe, which I placed at the roots of the tree. I did my duty; now you do yours. Take the axe and strike!”
Jesus sighs: “If I were fire I would burn; if I were a woodcutter I would strike. But I am a heart—so I love.”
We understand the frustration of the Baptist. We have often done our duty only to see it undone by our successor. We have often seen our carefully planned projects botched by an incompetent friend. Why can’t other people — and God— live up to our expectations? Along with the Baptist, we anxiously ask: “Are we stuck with you or shall we wait for someone more like what we wanted?”
This story of John’s disillusionment is ours, too. It is the story of everyone who looks for a Lord who does not come or who comes in a way we didn’t expect. But disillusionment is not a bad thing. It is,
literally, the loss of illusion about our God, about the world, about
ourself. And although often painful, it is never a bad thing to lose the lies that we have mistaken for the truth.
Disillusioned, we discover that God does not conform to our
expectations. We glimpse our own relative place in the grand cosmic scene. We review our divine job description and are shocked that God has a different self-description.
Did God fail to come when I rubbed the lantern? Then maybe God is not a genie. Did God fail to punish my enemies? Then maybe God is not a cop. Does God not make everything run smoothly? Then maybe God is not a mechanic.
Over and over again, my disappointments draw me deeper into the mystery of God’s being and God’s doing. Every time God
refuses to meet my expectations, another of my idols is exposed;
another curtain is drawn so I can see the puppet I have propped up in God’s place. Disillusioned, I realize my human error and am graced with divine truth.
Blessed are those who do not let the minimal Messiah they want overshadow the majestic Messiah that the world needs. Blessed are they who name the things that God is doing instead of the things God is not doing. Blessed are they who are not afraid to change their plans, to adjust their hopes, to bend their will to God’s will. Blessed are they who trade their private illusions for God’s saving truth.

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