The Third Sunday of Advent (B)
Gaudete Sunday
Dear
brothers and sisters,
Against
the backdrop of the horrific tragedies perpetrated only a few blocks from here
this past Thursday evening, the words of Saint Paul seem jarring: “Rejoice
always” (I Thessalonians 5:16). How does one rejoice against the backdrop of
such violence? How does one rejoice in the midst of so much sorrow and
suffering? We can rejoice in the promise that “the one who calls you is
faithful,” that his will will be accomplished (I Thessalonians 5:26).
The One
whose coming we await on the Last Day and at Christmas has come and is coming “to
bring glad tidings to the poor, to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty
to the captives and release to the prisoners, to announce a year of favor from
the Lord and a day of vindication
by our God” (Isaiah 61:1-2). In short, he came and is coming to put an end to
the evils brought about by the sinfulness and wickedness of humanity. The narrative
of the Nativity of the Lord is much greater than the safe, sappy, sentimental
story we have made it; it is the account of God’s battle against the forces of
darkness and of his victorious triumph over them through the Cross and Resurrection
of the Child we adore. It is the account of the suffering of love.
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| Bibliothèque nationale de France, Département des manuscrits, Latin 10434, fol. 13v. |
Although
he could not have put it quite this way, Saint John the Baptist was sent to
prepare the way for the coming of this divine combatant who fought in such
unexpected ways. Not with force and power and strength did he conquer, but with
compassion, humility, and love. Because his way was quiet, it was fitting that
he be announced by the voice of another.
When the
Levites asked Saint John the Baptist about his identity, he gave them three
negative answers and one positive answer. It must have been frustrating for
them, but the Forerunner of the Lord knew he himself was not important. This is
why
John speaks of himself through a denial,
which he repeats several times: I am not (John 1:20, 21). I am not the Christ,
I am not Elijah, I am not the prophet.
His life has no meaning except in relation
to Christ: John is not the bridegroom, but the friend of the bridegroom (John 3:29). He is not the light, but the witness of the light; he is not the Word,
but the voice through which the Word can speak; and precisely through this
existence only in relation to Christ, John fulfills his life, achieves his
mission till the end.
In brief, John does not respond. As a way
of saying: it is not important who I am. The real question is not about me,
"but there is one among you whom you do not recognize" (John 1:26).
When
finally the Baptist does give the Levites a positive answer as to his identity,
it must have frustrated them even more because he still did not answer their
question directly. Instead, he said: “I am the
voice of one crying out in the desert, ‘make straight the way of the Lord’” (John 1:23; cf. Isaiah 40:3).
With his deflective way of
speaking about himself, Saint John the Baptist remains a key symbol of the
season of Advent; never pointing to himself but always pointing instead to the
coming Messiah, he shows us the way to live our lives in honest humility. Our
lives, like his, have no meaning except in relation to Christ. It was he who
made us in and for love; he who redeemed us in love; he will judge us with
mercy and justice; and it is he who will bring us salvation, if we will have
loved him and our neighbor. This is the cause of our joy, even in the midst of
the heartaches and tragedies of life. The promise of being made “perfectly holy”
and being “preserved blameless for the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ” is why
we must “rejoice always” (I Thessalonians 5:23, 16).
How strong is our voice in proclaiming
this message? How loudly do we cry out in the midst of a culture filled with clamorous
cacophonies the coming of the Great Gardener to make “justice and praise”
spring up from the earth (Isaiah 61:11)? How clearly do we announce the coming
of the day of God’s vindication and the giving of the “oil of gladness instead
of mourning” (Isaiah 61:3)? Or are we instead, contrary the example of John the
Baptist, too caught in ourselves and in our own lives to take much notice of the
pain of others?
May the Lord grant us hearts full
of concern for others and a willingness to joyfully accept the sufferings of
love. May we help others to realize that their lives, too, have no meaning
except in relation to Christ so that may rejoice always at his coming. Amen.
