December 1998 Issue

This passage extends the story of John's ministry with a curious twist: Now he is questioning his previous conviction that Jesus was the One who was to succeed him in power and truth and usher in the new age. The dramatic scene earlier in the gospel (3:13-17) leaves little doubt John was firmly convinced that Jesus was the expected One and that John himself was not worthy to baptize him. There is an even more dramatic and unequivocal testimony by the Baptist in Jn 1:24-36 which may will be in the minds of many parishioners.

The very fact that this story is included in the gospel narrative warrants its validity as a concern circulating in the early church. How could John, of all people, doubt that his initial conviction that Jesus was the One to come was correct? What could have happened to John to elicit this kind of question? This passage has rich implications from a pastoral perspective, because it gets to the heart of how we so often experience life in a more complex way as we look back on previous experiences. John's unexpected question allows us to reflect on how subsequent life events alter the way in which we interpret the past. As T.S. Eliot again puts it in "The Four Quartets,"

John's expression of doubt also carries with it a desire for reassurance that he was not mistaken when he reluctantly baptized Jesus. He illustrates so well our deep human need to have a sense of continuity between past decisions and the future recognition that they were the right ones—at least at the time they were made. In many ways this story exemplifies the credibility of doubt as a necessary component of true faith. Here doubt and faith are not antagonistic, but form a complementary process which is always present in a mature and honest grappling with the unpredictable complexities of life.

The first pastoral emphasis, therefore, might be: It is difficult to know the true and lasting meaning of an experience while we are going through it. Contemporary research on the reliability of memory documents that we are always revising our past experiences in subtle ways. Even if we do not alter the facts—elusive as they are—subsequent experiences often lead us to confer a different meaning on the critical events that have shaped our lives. As much as we might like to, it is virtually impossible to keep even the most profound memories from evolving into something quite different over time. Who of us, for instance, cannot look back on a wonderful achievement or acutely painful moment in adolescence without the current recognition that it meant something far different to us then than it possibly could now? Psychologically healthy faith allows for this kind of reinterpretation of experience in the form of doubt and serious reconsideration. Indeed, those who have difficulty allowing themselves to question and, perhaps, to change their perspective over time, have a tendency to become dogmatic in other areas of life. John's courageous question of whether or not he was mistaken in regard to Jesus' real identity is an indication of a vibrant faith because he can reevaluate his assumptions in the light of subsequent experience.

The text goes on to report the response Jesus gives to John's disciples. This helps us to discern a probable reason for John's urgent question. John's message was largely negative. He placed a strong apocalyptic emphasis on judgment and the resulting punishment of the wicked (3:10-12). Thus, there was an undeniable disparity between John's vision of how the messianic age would unfold and the actual ministry of Jesus. No wonder he was confused! He may have been correct about the identity of Jesus, but wrong about his mission. Jesus, in describing his own vision of the new age, emphasizes a very different order of priority, namely, the blind see, the lame walk, the dead are raised and, quite remarkably, the poor are fully enfranchised into the realm of God. Therefore, a second pastoral motif to be considered here is: A healthy faith is ready to be disillusioned by the encounter with an unexpected dimension of God's activity in the world. This is an extension of a faithstance that can question and doubt what was previously held as true. It is akin to the kind of experience many have in counseling and therapy when we are able to see something that was totally hidden behind our defenses. Suddenly, the missing piece falls into place, and we are able to move from a "ground-level" to an "aerial" view of ourselves. One of the greatest compliments a therapist or preacher can receive is, simply, "I never thought of it that way before."

This kind of growth almost always requires us to undergo a manageable and constructive disillusionment with our previously held convictions. We resist it greatly, and yet, so much is to be gained when we allow ourselves to face this possibility. In a sense, the gospel forces us to see the Jesus we least want to see because he is the one who asks us to enter into this disillusionment process as a prime act of faith. Along with John, we all might honestly say of Jesus, "You're not quite what we expected."

From a pastoral theological perspective, this entire episode provides an excellent opportunity to legitimate the experience of a faith crisis as an essential and, perhaps, necessary dimension of our spiritual and emotional development. If John the Baptist, even after having a direct encounter with Jesus the Messiah, can question, doubt and revise his faith, then so can we. If disillusionment is a necessary precondition for a more resilient faith, then we, too, must be open to its possibilities. In moments of doubt, despair and disillusionment, we are, indeed, in good company.

Frank J. Stalfa, Jr.