Yesterday we read about the last moments of John the Baptist’s life. And even as I read of his last moments and actually took time to think about that tragic death, I felt a tinge of sadness. This world can be cruel and the innocent die all too often. And if you, like me, find yourself wondering how Jesus reacted to the news of his earthly cousin’s unjustified execution, Luke tells us: “When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place.” Jesus chose to get away and be by himself for what seems to be a time of reflection and prayer.
That’s one of the ways to react to such heart-breaking news. I remember a few years ago when I received a phone call at the office of my former congregation that my older brother had passed from this life suddenly and unexpectedly. I walked into the darkened sanctuary and just sat there by myself for a while. As bad as my heart ached, there was something comforting about that solitude. It gave me a change to cry – to pray – to remember.
I certainly don’t pretend to understand why Jesus got on that boat and went to a deserted place to be alone. Just because I felt that need for solitude certainly doesn’t give me a deep insight into our Savior’s thinking at that moment. But I can’t help but wonder if Jesus sat there in that remote location and mentally relived some of the special moments that he had shared with this man he called cousin, but whom others referred to as “the Baptizer.” Did he think about going out in the waters of the Jordan and having a debate with John as to why John should go ahead and baptize him instead of vice versa? Did he hear the echoes of the voice of the desert-dweller crying out: “Prepare the Way of the Lord,” or when he shouted: “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world.” Or did the Lord chuckle to himself about times they shared while they grew up and families visited – memories that we aren’t privy to at this point?
In any case, the solitude didn’t last long. It rarely does for us, and it certainly didn’t for Jesus. The crowds tracked him down without giving it a second thought that he might want more time to grieve over the death of his cousin and friend. And yet Luke tells us: “When Jesus saw the large crowd, he had compassion on them.” There was work yet to be done. Though it is no stretch to say that Jesus was saddened by a world where a “righteous man” like John meets a violent end (think of the weeping that Jesus displays later at the death of Lazarus in John 11), he knew a couple of crucial realities that helped him move on and continue the mission before him. First, Jesus knew that John was even now living in the presence of the living God. The executioner’s blade could not sever the relationship that John had with the Lord he served. Second, Jesus had come to confront those powers of darkness cast from sin and Satan’s shadow. Were he to stop at the grave of the Baptizer, and refuse to move on with the things he came to accomplish, how could the unholy trinity of sin, death and the devil ever be defeated?
That’s one of the ways to react to such heart-breaking news. I remember a few years ago when I received a phone call at the office of my former congregation that my older brother had passed from this life suddenly and unexpectedly. I walked into the darkened sanctuary and just sat there by myself for a while. As bad as my heart ached, there was something comforting about that solitude. It gave me a change to cry – to pray – to remember.
I certainly don’t pretend to understand why Jesus got on that boat and went to a deserted place to be alone. Just because I felt that need for solitude certainly doesn’t give me a deep insight into our Savior’s thinking at that moment. But I can’t help but wonder if Jesus sat there in that remote location and mentally relived some of the special moments that he had shared with this man he called cousin, but whom others referred to as “the Baptizer.” Did he think about going out in the waters of the Jordan and having a debate with John as to why John should go ahead and baptize him instead of vice versa? Did he hear the echoes of the voice of the desert-dweller crying out: “Prepare the Way of the Lord,” or when he shouted: “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world.” Or did the Lord chuckle to himself about times they shared while they grew up and families visited – memories that we aren’t privy to at this point?
In any case, the solitude didn’t last long. It rarely does for us, and it certainly didn’t for Jesus. The crowds tracked him down without giving it a second thought that he might want more time to grieve over the death of his cousin and friend. And yet Luke tells us: “When Jesus saw the large crowd, he had compassion on them.” There was work yet to be done. Though it is no stretch to say that Jesus was saddened by a world where a “righteous man” like John meets a violent end (think of the weeping that Jesus displays later at the death of Lazarus in John 11), he knew a couple of crucial realities that helped him move on and continue the mission before him. First, Jesus knew that John was even now living in the presence of the living God. The executioner’s blade could not sever the relationship that John had with the Lord he served. Second, Jesus had come to confront those powers of darkness cast from sin and Satan’s shadow. Were he to stop at the grave of the Baptizer, and refuse to move on with the things he came to accomplish, how could the unholy trinity of sin, death and the devil ever be defeated?
And so Jesus greeted the crowds with compassion and his healing power. He refused to cower to the powers that be among both the religious and palace powerbrokers. He knew that one day, he too would face arrest and the wrath of those who held a grudge against him. There would again be manipulations toward a sentence of death. He too would stand before this same Herod who would again revert to his drunken banquet ways – seeking entertainment more than truth. He too would face a violent end. It would be nails instead of a sword. But in the end, Life would prevail. Darkness would not conquer the Light. And the “Word that became flesh” would be “the Lamb of God who has taken away the sin of the world” and reigns forever (Rev 5:12).
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