Dear Jim,
As you know, I write from a stinking hell-hole of a prison. Being in a
place like this, where it is clear to me that I might not even survive long
enough to be executed, has a certain effect on a person. I have become
reflective (a trait with which I have never before been troubled). And so, I
am writing you, hoping that you won’t mind reading what may well be
rantings, but certainly a different kind of rantings than those which made
me famous and which have condemned me.
You know that I have never been one not to show my feelings, but I know
you are used to me expressing them as something of a firebrand (well, to say
the least!). I have always been very confident of myself. So confident, in
fact, that I was willing, happy even, to insult and alienate the political
and religious powers. I didn’t care; I knew I was right. I knew I spoke
for God. For God. And that made me fearless.
I called them "a brood of vipers," and told them to
"REPENT!" I told them of the coming Messiah, the one who would
baptize not just with water, but with the Spirit and with fire. "His
winnowing fork is in his hand," I said, "and he will clear his
threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he
will burn with unquenchable fire."
Ah, as sick as I am in this place (you can never get well here), still,
when I think of those days, my blood rises and I feel just a hint, just a
spark, of the energy that used to light me up. "The chaff he will burn
with unquenchable fire," I used to holler, and they knew perfectly well
who the chaff was. They knew. I could see the fear in their eyes. And I so
looked forward to the Messiah who would come and clean up this wicked world,
who would light that unquenchable fire.
I lived for that hope, that expectation. I couldn’t wait to see all
those sinners get what they had coming to them. Justice, I was so sure,
would be so swift, and terrible, and sweet.
And now, sitting in this place, rotting, I am deeply distressed. That
Jesus I baptized, I was sure he was the one. I felt it, and I was sure the
feeling was from God. I could have sworn I even heard it.
But he didn’t act right. He kept company with sinners, and even made a
tax collector, a collaborator, one of his disciples. And he healed people,
which was good, except that he healed Gentiles, heathens. And he seemed to
insist on holding up the powerless, instead of being powerful. And probably
the worst was when I heard that he was telling people not only to turn the
other cheek, but to love enemies and pray for those who persecute you.
He didn’t seem at all interested in doing the right things, in ushering
in the era of God’s reign in power. He didn’t lead a rebellion against
the Romans. He didn’t call down thunder against anybody. I don’t see any
justice at all.
Sitting here in this prison cell, helpless to do anything about what was
going on, I became more and more distressed about it. I tried to be patient
(which, as you know, is not one of my strengths), but finally I decided I
had to do what I do best — confront the situation and take the bull by the
horns.
So I sent some of my followers to him, and I told them just to ask this
one simple question, the question on which everything hangs: "Are you
the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?"
They came back and told me his answer: "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. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me."
That last part seemed pretty clearly to be directed at me, but they told
me that he went on to say nice things about me, about how faithful I am and
all.
Well, what he says, and how he acts, all this healing and good news to
the poor and all, it sounds very nice in a way. But I have been depressed
ever since I got that answer. This is not the Messiah I expected, the
Messiah I dedicated my life to preaching about.
The problem is, this Messiah is just too, well, too — kind. Could I
have been that wrong? He’s just way too kind.
Well, thanks for listening.
Your friend,
John
