Christ began His ministry in the wilderness, taming the ferocious beasts which came to attack and kill Him. And not a single one of them prevailed. He then went on to tame all manner of wild humans: prostitutes, criminals, cut-throats, the greedy, the diseased, as well as many more. Not one of them were able to best Him either.
But there was one manner of human He proved unwilling to tame: the religious man. The Pharisees and Sadducees. Those who were "civilized". Instead, He drove them from the temples, and from the holiest places of the land of Israel. He then stood from afar, and warned any who would listen, that these supposedly "righteous" men and women would face among the most damnable fates of any who walked the Earth.
It was a profound message, both at the time, and still to this day. How is it that the holiest of preachers, teachers, historians, and statesmen, could possibly face more condemnation than the crooks and criminals who roam the streets? How is it that they who seemingly have the moral authority to lecture others, could themselves be the ones in greatest need of education in the ways of righteousness?
I can only offer my own humble and woefully inadequate answer to this question. To me, the scribes and Pharisees were like one who painstakingly climbs a staircase to heaven, and then upon peering through its gates, hesitates, and then decides not to enter, for they lack the humility to face judgment. Instead, they wait by the gates, and share their unholy reservations with any who happen by, convincing others not to enter either. And the longer they wait, and the more people they convince to turn back, the less likely they will be to themselves enter through the gates, for they must justify what they have told others. And so, waiting forever at those pearly gates, afraid to enter, becomes itself a form of endless torment for them, like living forever at base camp, afraid to climb a mountain.
It's a risk that all who undertake a difficult spiritual journey must accept: that they may not completely like where it leads. And I must confess that, while I have decided to walk the path that leads out of the wilderness, I too am not quite there yet. I do not know what I will have to leave behind to enter through the gates to my destination, nor what I will be forced to confess about myself to demonstrate my worthiness. I only know that being just about anywhere is better than where I once was: lost and alone, with no direction, and far from home.
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