Advent 3A (Matthew 11:2-11)

St. John the Baptist dwells in the wilderness. Jesus calls him the greatest among those born of women—perhaps the G.O.A.T. of our tradition—yet even he, Jesus says, is least in the kingdom of heaven.

This invites us to consider two places: the wilderness and the kingdom of heaven. Where are these now? We may imagine them as distant or external, but Jesus points us inward. Both the wilderness and the kingdom of heaven are found in the same place: the heart, the mind, the interior landscape in which we live our truest life.

Depending on what we perceive there, the same inner space can become either a barren wilderness or the very threshold of the kingdom.

Jesus asks the crowd, “What did you go out to see in the wilderness?” So, we ask the same of ourselves: In the wilderness of the heart, what do we see?

A reed shaken by the wind—like our emotions, flickering, easily disturbed by passing remarks, shifting circumstances, the thousand small disturbances of the day?

Or someone clothed in soft robes—the fantasies, the curated images and desires borrowed from others, the longing to be who others want us to be?

Jesus directs us instead to look for the prophet—the one who prepares the way. To turn our gaze there is already a transformation. To attend to the voice crying in the wilderness is to let the wilderness open into the kingdom of heaven.

So in this Advent season, let us ask:

What am I looking for in the wilderness of my own heart?
What do I see? And who do I choose to pay attention to?

Let the wind that shakes the reed pass.
Let the costumes of borrowed desire fall away.
Breathe deeply and listen for the prophet’s voice.

For the kingdom of heaven is always near--
as near as the quiet place where we breathe.


The Opening of Eyes by David Whyte

​That day I saw beneath dark clouds,
the passing light over the water
and I heard the voice of the world speak out,
I knew then, as I had before,
life is no passing memory of what has been
nor the remaining pages in a great book
waiting to be read.
It is the opening of eyes long closed.
It is the vision of far off things
seen for the silence they hold.
It is the heart after years
of secret conversing,
speaking out loud in the clear air.
It is Moses in the desert
fallen to his knees before the lit bush.
It is the man throwing away his shoes
as if to enter heaven
and finding himself astonished,
opened at last,
fallen in love with solid ground.