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He didn't deal with the kind of stuff we humans deal with every day of our lives; the kind of stuff famous authors write about, the kind of stuff good literature revolves around.
On the other hand, most of us can identify with Deutero-Isaiah. We appreciate his self-discovery, his failures, his deep faith. We recognize some of ourselves in him when we hear his words. In Sunday's first reading (known as the First Song of the Suffering Servant, Is 42:1-4, 6-7), the prophet reflects on his unique call and ministry. Unlike many of his loud, sharp, confrontative, prophetic predecessors, Deutero-Isaiah proclaims Yahweh's word in a soft, comforting style, "not crying out, not shouting, not making his voice heard in the street. A bruised reed he shall not break, and a smoldering wick he shall not quench."
Wide audience
Though he ministers in exile, the prophet always proclaims liberation. He's convinced he's been sent "to open the eyes of the blind, to bring out prisoners from confinement, and from the dungeon, those who live in darkness." He constantly encourages his people to go beyond their limitations.
While most other prophets directed their oracles to Jews, Deutero-Isaiah discovers he's been given a much wider audience. "I formed you," Yahweh proclaims, "and set you as a covenant of the people, a light for the nations." Not only will Gentiles listen to him, he'll be one of the ways non-Jews will come to know Yahweh.
Like Deutero-Isaiah, Jesus' first followers also grow in understanding and personality (Acts 10:34-38). Peter, a cowardly braggart, becomes a fearless proclaimer of God's word. In his process of self-discovery, he even discards his natural Jewish opposition to Gentiles, and as we hear in our Acts depiction of the Roman Cornelius' evangelization, eventually comes to understand that "God shows no partiality. Rather, in every nation whoever fears Him and acts uprightly is acceptable to Him."
If only we could turn up a bit of parallel growth in Jesus' personality, the Gospels would be much more challenging and interesting.
Don't despair. This is the year of Mark, the first written Gospel, the one evangelist not dependent on any other evangelist. There's no sign in Mark's work that he knew of Matthew and Luke's belief that Jesus was already God in Mary's womb, nor of John's theology that Jesus was God from all eternity. The other three Gospels begin at the point at which Jesus becomes God. Mark has no infancy narrative; his Gospel starts with Jesus' baptism (Mk 1:7-11).
Sign of favor
Marcan scholars believe that Mark's Jesus first comes into contact with His divinity the instant He comes up from His submersion in the Jordan. That's why He sees "the sky rent in two and the Spirit descending on Him like a dove." And He hears "the voice come from the heavens: `You are my beloved Son. On you my favor rests.'"
Mark's original readers would have asked a question which readers of the other three Gospels never asked: "What went on with Jesus before His baptism?" Remember, John's baptism was a "baptism of repentance:" an outward sign the person being baptized had completely given him/herself over to God. Mark could be telling us that Jesus' walking into the Jordan that day was the culmination of a life-long struggle to give Himself completely over to God.
Without any sin, He, like us, could have wrestled with God for years, knowing there were parts of Himself which He didn't understand, parts of His personality which He knew He would never experience until He totally let go and gave Himself over to God's will.
We can identify with that kind of Jesus. He gives us hope in our own struggles and confidence that we always receive more than we give when we turn ourselves over to God.
Mark's Gospel might be good literature after all.
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