The Third Sunday
of Advent (B)
Dear
brothers and sisters,
The
character of Saint John the Baptist is a curious one, both in our day and in
his own. The intriguing quality of this simple man, which has attracted the
attention of kings as well as peasants down through the centuries, is not
principally concerned with his clothing and diet (Mark 1:6). Indeed, under
normal circumstances, the figure of the Forerunner of the Lord would be
regarded as something of a madman, yet we do not think of him as such. Why? We
are drawn to him because of the way he does not think of himself.
When
the priests and Levites of the Old Covenant asked him pointedly, “Who are you?”,
he spoke not of himself but of the one whose way he came to prepare (John 1:19). Whereas any one of us might well answer this question by speaking of
ourselves, Saint John answered simply, “I am not the Messiah” (John 1:20). Twice
more he would not speak of himself; he spoke only in reference to those he knew
to be greater than himself by again saying he was not them (cf. John 1:21).
Finally, and likely with some exasperation, they asked him, “Who are you, so we
can give an answer to those who sent us” (John 1:22)? These were men with a
mission, a mission they intended to fulfill. Yet still he would not answer
them. “I am ‘the voice of one crying out in the desert,’” he riddled them,
quoting the prophet Isaiah, ‘“Make straight the way of the Lord’” (John 1:23;
cf. Isaiah 40:3).
John’s
customary way of speaking of himself was to speak always instead of the Messiah.
Many today would likely consider his refusal to answer about himself something
akin to impertinence, but it instead demonstrates the depth of his humility. In
an age of ever-increasing – and even unrecognized - self-absorption, the
witness of Saint John the Baptist shines as a great light upon our present day.
It is a curious, thing, that Saint John the Evangelist says, “He was not the
light, but came to testify to the light,” yet the Lord Jesus calls the Baptist
“a burning and shining lamp, and for a while you were content to rejoice in his
light” (John 1:8; 5:35). What are we to make of this seeming contradiction?
This
was a question with which the great Saint Augustine wrestled. Noting that the
Lord Jesus says, “I am the light of the world” (John 8:12), our heavenly patron
said Jesus is a light “in comparison with which a lamp is not a light.”[1] He went on to say that
Saint John the Baptist “recognized himself as a lamp, in order not to be blown
out by the wind of pride.”[2] John, then, was a lamp
because of his humility through which he sought “to testify to the light,” yet in
comparison with Jesus, he was no light at all (John 1:8).
Jesus
says of his disciples, “You are the light of the world” (Matthew 5:14). Today,
then, we must ask ourselves if we, like Saint John the Baptist, could be
described by the Lord as burning and shining lamps. Let us for a moment consider our souls as ancient lanterns, with
a candle in the center surrounded by four panes of glass. On the day of our
Baptism, the flame of faith was entrusted to us, symbolized by the Baptismal
candle lit from the Paschal Candle. At that time, the priest or deacon said to
our parents and godparent:
…this light is
entrusted to you to be kept burning brightly. This child of yours has been
enlightened by Christ. He is to walk always as a child of the light. May he
keep the flame of faith alive in his heart. When the Lord comes, may he go out
to meet him with all the saints in the heavenly kingdom.[3]
Do
we always walk as children of the light? Is the flame of faith alive in our
hearts? Does the light of Christ shine out from us? Do our lives burn for Jesus,
or for ourselves?
Returning
to our analogy, if the panes of glass that keep the lantern’s flame safe from
the winds are kept clean, the light from the candle shines forth brightly, illuminating
all around it. But if the panes of glass are not cleaned, they quickly become covered
with soot, the light is diminished, and what was once illumined by its light becomes
shrouded in darkness. And if the panes are broken, the flame is blown out.
So it is with us.
If
our sins are allowed to cover the panes of our soul, the flame of faith
entrusted to us cannot shine forth, it cannot illuminate our life or the lives
of those around us. But if we allow the Lord to wipe our panes clean with
the words of absolution, our light - His Light - shines brightly through us as
our lives resemble the life of Jesus Christ ever more closely.
How
long has it been since we allowed the Lord to be, as it were, the window washer
of our souls? Too often we stay away from the confessional because we have
closed our ears to the call of Saint John the Baptist to “make straight the way
of the Lord” (John 1:23) and his proclamation of a “repentance for the
forgiveness of sins” (Mark 1:4). We say “I’m a good person” and “I haven’t killed
one” and “I haven’t robbed a bank” and think that is sufficient enough to enter
into the Kingdom of Heaven. It isn’t. Jesus does not call us to decent and polite
people; he calls to be saints, to be holy, to be set apart for him.
Pope
Francis reminded us last week that ”the quality of a Christian life is measured
by the capacity to love.”[4] Indeed, it might rightly
be said, that when comes down to it, a sin is a failure to love God and
neighbor. We can, of course, fail to love in ways both large and small, in
things we have done, and in things we have not done. Naturally enough, we can
only recognize our sins, our many failures to love, if the wind of pride has
not been allowed to touch the light that comes from Christ and if we have kept
the panes of souls at least somewhat clean.
Tomorrow
evening we will have the opportunity to approach the merciful Lord in the
Sacrament of Penance, which today is more commonly simply called Confession or
Reconciliation. This Sacrament is called Confession because that is what
happens. The penitent confesses the sins he or she has committed in kind and in
number, as best as can be recalled. It is also called Penance, because a
penance is given to the penitent as a means of demonstrating sorrow for his or
her sins and as a way to try to make right what was made wrong, however large
or small the penance may be. This Sacrament is also called Reconciliation
because through it we are reconciled with God and with one another. Through it,
we are able to raise our eyes to God and to look each other in the eyes again because
he removes whatever obstacles we have placed between us. Above all, it is a
blessed opportunity for us to present ourselves to the Lord and allow him to
cleanse our souls from our sin.
When
our failures to love are great and numerous, the flame of faith cannot burn brightly
in our hearts and the light of Christ cannot shine clearly out from us onto the
world. Therefore, in these remaining days of Advent, let each of us examine our
consciences. Let us ask the Lord Jesus to show us the ways we have failed to love
him and one another. Let us confess these sins to him, let us ask him to cleanse
the panes of our souls so his light might shine out brightly through us, and we
might be filled with the joy of the Lord and stand pure and blameless before him.
If we do, when he comes again we will be able to life our eyes to his in joy and
behold the power, the splendor, and the loveliness of his face. We will be able
to keep the Apostles exhortation to “rejoice always” and be burning and shining
lamps for the Lord (I Thessalonians 5:16). Amen.
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