24 June 2018
Solemnity of the Birth of St. John the Baptist
Today’s feast is one of the few that overrides a usual
Sunday. And that’s because the birth of
John the Baptist (and his ministry) plays such a crucial role in God’s
plan. Without John the Baptist, who
would’ve said to the people, “Behold, the Lamb of God”? Who would’ve directed people to Jesus?
Even today, the birth of John the Baptist points us
forward. He was born six months before
Jesus, and so here at the end of June, we’re directed toward Christmas
already. Everything about John directs
us to Jesus: his birth, his life, his preaching. Jesus couldn’t very well just show up one day
and say, “Well, here I am!” He needed
someone to “prepare the way” so people could recognize him. And that person was John the Baptist.
Now, if John were sent into today’s world, he would have an
uphill challenge. The “religious sense”
among people is pretty low (at least, in the western world). People aren’t necessarily looking for a savior
or a messiah. They’re not looking to the
heavens for an answer to their problems; they’re not even sure the heavens
exist.
But, of course, there are still plenty of people who do believe;
people who are waiting for Jesus, looking for him. And there are plenty who are looking for
Jesus, but don’t know it—kind of like the ancient Greeks who had a temple in
honor of an “unknown god.” Well, we know
who he is, and we know his name, too.
Only today, instead of John the Baptist pointing him out, there’s the
Church who says, “Behold, the Lamb of God.”
Of course, we hear that phrase at every Mass: “Behold, the
Lamb of God; behold him who takes away the sins of the world.” And we hear that in reference to the
Eucharist. But we could say it refers to
all the sacraments, too: “Behold, the Lamb of God;” there he is, sharing his grace
with those who want it. Holy Oil, water,
the Laying on of Hands, wedding vows, confessions...”Behold, the Lamb of
God.”
Then there’s all the people who make up the Church: the
clergy, consecrated brothers and sisters, men, women, children, married,
single, the Saints. How many of them can
we point to and see, “There’s the Lamb of God; there’s Jesus. There’s somebody showing concern for the
stranger; there’s another person teaching the kids how to live well and have
faith in God; and there’s somebody else getting out the whip, telling injustice
and unkindness to take a hike.”
The sacraments, the people...the Church points to them and
says, “Behold, the Lamb of God; behold Jesus at work.” She also points to all the wisdom and
teachings that’ve come down to us through the ages (even the knowledge that
comes from science). She points to the
truth of things and says, “Behold, there’s Jesus; there’s God.” She points to humility, to those virtues of
faith, hope, and love; she points to peace among people of goodwill and says,
“Behold, the Lamb of God; behold Jesus.”
Sacraments, people, the virtues, knowledge, truth,
goodness...Jesus is there in all of it.
And he’s other places, too, like: our conscience, in the beauty and
mystery of creation, and especially in the human heart. The Church points to all these (and more) and
says, “Behold, the Lamb of God. Behold
Jesus our life, our salvation, our hope and joy.”
But, you know, when John the Baptist did that, people didn’t
immediately realize, “Oh, there’s Jesus; he’s the Son of God!” When John pointed him out, all people saw was
another human being. During Mass, when
the priest says, “Behold the Lamb of God,” all we see is a chalice and a little
round wafer. Or when the Church points
out a teaching, all we might see is just another law we have to follow. These things don’t immediately strike us
being anything extraordinary.
But that’s where that phrase comes in: “Behold, the Lamb of
God.” Behold. There’s more there than meets the eye. It takes practice to notice Jesus hidden
behind those things. Again, when John
pointed Jesus out to others, all they saw was another human being. They didn’t realize he was God in the
flesh. Even the Apostles took a while to
realize that—and Jesus had to die and rise from the dead for them to fully
understand it.
It takes practice to recognize Jesus—even when he’s pointed
out to us, because Jesus is most often hidden.
It’s kind of like those “Where’s Waldo” books (if you remember
those). You know he’s somewhere on that
page, and you’re not going to give up until you find him! We know Jesus is there, but he’s not always
obvious. It takes practice to see him. And, you know, this does make it difficult to
have a more “personal relationship” with him.
We so often hear about having that “personal relationship”
with Jesus. And, really, that’s what
John the Baptist encourages us to have.
He said, “Behold the Lamb,” and then he sent his disciples to Jesus
himself to get to know him and follow him.
So a “personal relationship” with the Lord is part of what we’re
about. But it can also be discouraging
to realize “I don’t have that,” or “I have no idea what that means.” And to top it off, the one I’m supposed to
have a “personal relationship” always seems to be hiding!
Well, to start, the idea of this “personal relationship” is
that it’s simply one person sharing life with another person—it’s between two
living persons. But one of those persons
(Jesus) lives within the other person (among other places, too). And so, in sharing with Jesus, it feels like
sharing with...yourself. And when Jesus
shares with you, it feels like it comes from...within (the soul, the
mind). The Jesus we’re trying to be
“personal” with is hidden, but he’s hidden within us (among other places,
too).
And this is why Jesus says, “When you pray, go to your inner
room, close the door, and pray in secret.”
Jesus is hidden, but he’s very close.
I remember when I first started praying, it felt weird. And, frankly, I felt kind of silly—there was nobody
else there, just me. There I was,
talking to...nothing. But I was
determined to see what would happen. So
I kept it up for (I don’t remember) a week or so; just a few minutes each
day.
And what happened is that in trying to speak with Jesus, I
ended up becoming very honest with myself.
And then I realized that it wasn’t Jesus who was hiding from me, it was
me who was hiding from Jesus. And that’s
when the sharing of life began. That’s
when that “personal relationship” started.
It’s also when the Mass became meaningful, when the Church’s teaching
took on a different flavor, when life became more of a gift than a trial, when
my religious imagination took off. It
started when I stopped hiding from Jesus.
Now, that doesn’t mean everything’s been perfect since. I still find myself hiding from Jesus,
reminding myself not to do that. I still
have to practice to see Jesus with the eyes of faith—to see him in the sacraments,
in other people, in the Church, in creation, in the world. I still have to practice my “beholding the
Lamb of God.” And I’ll have to—we’ll
each have to—practice until someday we’ll behold the Lamb of God fully in
heaven.
It takes practice to recognize Jesus, even when he’s pointed
out to us. But he is there. “Behold, the Lamb of God” especially within
yourself. He’s there...hiding, waiting
for you to not hide from him.
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