Читать книгу Encuentros inolvidables - Roberto Badenas - Страница 4

In the Desert

Looking for the other One

The Jordan River snakes its way down through the Judean desert, dropping nearly 1,300 feet below sea level before finally entering the stagnant waters of the Dead Sea. The lowest area on earth, this is a place steeped in history.

It seems hard to believe that this bleak land, so tortured by erosion and scorched by the fire of heaven, once embraced the modern, vibrant city of Sodom in its fertile valley. Not even Jericho’s dark-green oasis of palm trees can soften the feeling of desolation as one looks upon these broken heaps of stones and lifeless ruins.

The sound of early-morning travelers splashing through the waters at Bethabara rudely echoes from sharp peaks and black crevices, and awakens the sleeping hills. All caravans must cross the river at this point. Here God preformed a miracle, dividing the Jordan’s deep turbulent waters and enabling Joshua to lead the Israelites across it on dry ground and into the Promised Land.

This also marks the spot where Elijah opened the turbulent waters with his mantle and where, later, he ascended to heaven in a chariot of fire.

Here the river flows slowly as it rounds a large bend and finally comes to rest in a quiet pool. Released from the tortuous riverbed at last, the water laps a sandy beach that rises gently toward the mountains of Moab.

This point has become a natural meeting place for travelers, and both Galilean fishermen and people from the mountains wade across the Jordan to join the Judean artisans and Jerusalem businessmen. They make themselves comfortable among the beds of reeds and beneath the carob trees as they await the fiery new preacher whose fame has spread far and wide.

John the Baptist, the only son of priest Zechariah, has left the easy life of the Temple in search of his calling. In the bleak loneliness of these desert hills he cultivated a strong austere spirit, and now the wasteland of Bethabara is both his sanctuary and his schoolroom.

All Israel has come to see this man led by “the spirit of Elijah.” They have gathered here, at the end of a difficult journey, to hear him speak. If God, after four centuries of silence, has chosen to talk through this prophet, they all want to hear him.

Little by little, various groups begin to form. A short distance away, as if to remain aloof, stand the men of renown—the land-owning aristocrats and the priestly class. In their grasp they hold both political and religious power. Many possess the titles of nobles. They live off the taxes, and the common people mistrust their leadership but envy their wealth. Herodians and Sadducees control the Sanhedrin, conspire with Herod, and spy for Pilate. They suspect that John will become a political agitator.

On the other side of the crowd, the Pharisees stand apart. They represent learning and law. They are educated men—scribes, rabbis, doctors, teachers, barristers, theologians, and judges. They study, think, write, and influence the opinions of the masses. They stand together, securely wrapped in culture and middle-class respectability. Here to monitor events, they are determined to safeguard the status quo. Their arrogant self-sufficiency is, perhaps, the most hostile resistance confronting John the Baptist.

Roman soldiers patrol the area. Their swords and shields shimmer in the sun. Perhaps a few of the senior officers here today participated in the massacre of Bethlehem’s children some 30 years before. Certainly even the youngest among them has already been involved in at least one crucifixion. Hardened by such cruelty, they push through the crowd, rudely shoving young and old out of their way. Some of them, far from home, are off duty and have come out of curiosity, looking for a way to fill another empty day. And some, perhaps, are searching for something deeper and more meaningful than their current life affords.

No doubt, Zealots—those men who seek freedom from Roman oppression—hide among the crowd. Idealistic and cruel, they can save a life or take it for the good of their cause. Their eyes are fierce. They conceal daggers beneath their robes. The authorities call them terrorists, but they represent the national conscience, and the common people admire them, protect them, and fear them. They come to the Jordan, driven by their thirst for liberty and justice.

John, too, speaks out against the abuses of the elite, against government corruption, and clerical quislings. Now and again, a murmur rumbles through the crowd. Could John be the leader, the messiah, they ask each other, the promised one who will free the nation and establish God’s rule on earth?

Near the water, a small circle of publicans congregates. Tax collectors, customs officials, and accountants, they collaborate with the Romans for personal gain, and rightly so are considered traitors by Jewish citizens. They are the vultures of the occupying power, living symbols of the hated Imperial authority. Rejected by the religious leaders and the common people, some see in John their last hope for acceptance.

Women of painted beauty and provocative dress join the publicans. Hated by some and exploited by others, they also feel excluded by society. They mingle with the riffraff and the middle classes because loneliness engenders sadness. A little company for a little money.

Like all people, they ache for respect and understanding and dream

of a better life.

A man in a white habit passes by. Maybe he comes from the Essene monastery that lies hidden among the desert hills of Qumran. He has rejected everything except piety, scholarship, and asceticism. He lives within the shadows of the monastery, far from the human needs and problems of the present. Absorbed in himself, he strides silently through the crowd. Suddenly, he is startled by the laughter of children playing nearby. Is it possible that in all his years of deprivation and isolation he has forgotten how laughter sounds? As his eyes focus on the children, a half-smile flickers across his face. But then, as if fearful of his own humanness, he pulls his habit closer and edges away. Decades of solitary living have made him uncomfortable around the ordinary noises of life.

Townsmen, laborers, housewives, and children swell the crowd along with the homeless, the beggars, and the sick. Each one carries their own story, their own family problems, and personal conflicts. Love and hate, fear, frustration, joy, sorrow, and wounds too deep for words… all this and more hovers unsaid throughout the crowd.

Two young fishermen, John and Andrew, have come to hear the preacher. A woman named Mary, of doubtful character, stands silently in the crowd next to a young lawyer who worries over his future. Near them there is a banker who is mildly concerned about his shady business deals, a hopelessly sick man who believes he is possessed by the devil, and several strong young men in search of a dream.

These mix among the masses of the curious, indifferent, nervous, and resigned. Not much different from the rest, many would like to escape from their mediocrity. No longer satisfied with the dead-end streets of their past, they look to the new preacher for hope. They know, somehow, that life should mean more than just work and rest, pleasure and pain.

When the Baptist strides into view, silence spreads over the crowd. His face glows with the radiance of heaven, and his voice rings out strong and sure. As he preaches with conviction and power, his voice carries to the hills and resounds through the valley.

John cannot be bought. He does not fear the government, the clergy, or the people. He preaches as one who tells the truth, condemning the sins of the common man and the crimes of the powerful. He presents his message so directly that it cannot be misunderstood.

“The kingdom of God is near. The promised Messiah is coming. Prepare your hearts to receive Him.”

Strong in spirit but sensitive in nature, John knows the suffering and the injustices endured by his hearers. He feels the profound depths of their sorrows. His words condemn and terrorize some even as they bring comfort and hope to others. John’s words are those of a preacher of hope.

Quoting the prophet Isaiah, he compares his listeners to the surrounding desert: “You are a rocky wasteland which must be cleared to make a highway for ‘the one who is to come.’ The Lord comes as a farmer to clean the threshing floor, to gather the wheat into His barn, to burn up the chaff” (Luke 3:4-6). He comes as a king to visit His subjects. “Prepare the way for the Lord, make straight paths for him” (Matt. 3:3, NIV).

His message pierces the minds and consciences of his listeners. It awakens some from complacency and challenges the fanaticism of others. And in many it sparks a spiritual longing. These ask themselves, “What will the Messiah do with us when He comes? Are we wheat or chaff, rocky wasteland or cleared highway?”

Next, John addresses the spiritual leaders, the Pharisees and Sadducees. He knows that they have closed their minds to any type of reform.

“You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath? . . . The ax is already at the root of the trees, and every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire” (Matt. 3:7-10, NIV).

His anger fades and his flashing eyes soften as he gazes down upon the homeless and the sick. When he finally speaks, his voice trembles with emotion. Yet it rebounds off the rocks as a cry for liberty.

“Your King is coming to you. Fix the highway to your heart. He comes to relieve your suffering, to bind up your wounds, and to break your bonds. Prepare the way for the coming of your God.”

Those despised by the virtuous recognize their need and respond first.

“What should we do?” the publicans ask (Luke 3:12, NIV).

“Don’t be greedy. Don’t rob the people. Learn to be compassionate.”

A soldier pushes his way through the crowd.

“How can I wash away all the bloodstains? How can I forget the horror of it all? How can I be rid of the nightmares? What must I do?” (Luke 3:14, NIV).

John replies quickly, fearlessly: “Begin to treat men as your brothers. Don’t use unnecessary force. Life was never meant to be lived violently.”

“What should we do?” still others ask.

“Stop living selfishly. Share with those who have less. Be generous as your God has been with you” (Luke 3:10, 11, NIV).

The powerful voice fills the air. “Repent! Change your direction! Stop going in circles in the desert and start moving toward the Promised Land. Following in the steps of the Savior who is about to come.

“We have all sinned. We all need cleansing. Baptism symbolizes purification, death to our past and the beginning of a new life. If you want to demonstrate your desire for a new life in God, come and be baptized.”

John stops talking. The silence descends with him into the river. Some feel fire burning within their souls. They feel the seeds of life and hope germinating within their hearts.

After a moment of hesitation, a soldier drops his sword and enters the river to be baptized. When he comes up out of the water and walks to the shore, a publican takes his place. John touches the man’s shoulder then lowers him under the water. After him come two women, holding each other for confidence. One after the other they are submerged in the Jordan and leave its depths dripping and smiling. And then, several young men walk resolutely to the riverbank. But something stops them.

A man is suddenly center stage. He drops his outer garment to the ground, revealing the muscular arms and shoulders of a laborer. Something about him draws the attention of the people. His young face, toughened and tanned, reflects serenity, nobility, purity, and strength. Next to him, suddenly John the Baptist appears small and insignificant.

For a long moment John stands motionless. Then he turns toward the stranger and, grasping the man’s hands in his, falls on his knees in the water.

“This is the long-awaited Messiah, the Savior of the world. You must follow Him, not me. This is the One I was talking about when I said, ‘He comes after me, but he is greater than I am, because he existed before I was born’ ” (John 1:15, 29-34; 3:22-36).

John looks into Jesus’ eyes as he continues: “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me? I baptize with water, but you will baptize us with the Holy Spirit” (Matt. 3:11).

But Jesus lifts John to his feet. “John,” He says, “today I begin my special ministry. I have come to lead men and women back to God. Help me to do everything according to the divine plan” (Matt. 3:13-15).

Trembling, John lowers Jesus under the water. Above them the sky opens, and a white light embraces them in its warmth. A thunderclap rolls across the heavens and a rich, majestic Voice declares, “This is My Son, whom I love. With Him I am well pleased” (Matt. 3:16, 17).

The light dims, and as the Voice fades into the distant hills, Jesus wades through the stream and steps up on to the bank. He slips on His robe and makes His way through the shocked and silent crowd.

As He passes nearby, His sparkling eyes fall upon those who have come in search of life’s meaning. His smile encompasses those nearest. They know He has come as their Brother and somehow sense that He has prayed for them. There in the Jordan River He prayed that everyone there would feel the warmth of God’s love, and that each one would let the waters of forgiveness wash their hearts clean. He prayed that they, too, would hear God’s voice say, “You are My beloved Child. I am satisfied with You.”

In that single moment Jesus restored to each the love they had missed for so long. And although immediately after His baptism He disappeared into the mountains of the desert, many realized they had found the Teacher for whom they had been searching. They knew that only He could fill the void within their hearts. They knew that they

must find Him again.