Third Sunday of Advent Year C
St John the Baptist was truly an enigmatic figure of his time, as he remains one today. An ascetic who lived away from the company of friends and society out in the wilderness, who dressed strangely and survived on a stranger diet in the manner of a lunatic, performing ablutions which were usually done on initiates into the Jewish faith or priests before they performed the Temple sacrifices, and finally calling his audience, even those who considered themselves pious and righteous, to repentance. Despite his strange appearance and his sober message, there was something intriguing about him which drew crowds to him like a rock star and celebrity, and he did all this without having any miracle recorded in his name.
Last week, we were already introduced to
the Baptist as the son of Zechariah who lived out in the wilderness and “went
through the whole Jordan district proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the
forgiveness of sins.” St Luke describes him as the fulfilment of Isaiah’s
prophecy concerning the voice in the wilderness calling all to prepare the way
of the Lord. In today’s gospel, he is in the wilderness again excoriating the
crowds who came seeking baptism and repentance and deliverance. “Who warned you
…?,” John wants to know. "Who told you to come out here? What did you
think you would find?" Who the crowds find is a fiery prophet of God,
preaching judgment upon the injustice that permeates this world.
If you pay attention to the thread of
gospel readings for Advent, you would soon realise that John is an irritant
fixture of this season. He appears in all three lectionary cycles. He is like
apple is to apple pie, and cheese is to cheesecake. The Church places him here
for a distinct purpose - not just because he is a precursor to the Messiah,
whose birth we will welcome at Christmas but because of his message which is
needed in every age.
We need a John the Baptist who will speak
prophetically and clearly in the wilderness. We need a John the Baptist who
will warn us that judgment is at hand. We need a John the Baptist who will tell
us what we need to hear, and not just tell us what we want to hear. We need a
John the Baptist who will name the sins that pervade our lives and the
injustices that structure our broken world. But we also need a John the Baptist
who will point us to the path God has set before us.
In today’s passage, three groups come before
him with the same question: “what must we do?” John provides each with a
customised answer.
The first group are identified as “all the
people.” The crowds wonder how they should respond to John’s prophetic
condemnations. He tells them to love their neighbours. To share what extra they
have with another and to give to those who lack even the most basic necessities.
Nothing outlandishly radical. He is merely calling them to ordinary acts of
grace and charity.
Next comes the deplorable tax collectors
who ask the same question. What must we do? We might expect John to instruct
these agents of the Roman colonial power to get new jobs helping those in need,
to stop serving their imperial masters and repay those they previously had
taken advantage of. No, instead, John calls them to be good tax collectors, to
collect only that which is required of them. Once again, he calls them to
ordinary acts of grace and charity.
Finally, the soldiers come along to ask
the same question. What must we do? We might expect John to instruct these
soldiers to lay aside their instruments of violence and embrace a way of peace.
Instead, John tells them not to use their position of power to steal life or
livelihood from anyone. Be good soldiers, he demands of them. He does not call
them to do anything extraordinary or radical, but merely to ordinary acts of
grace and charity.
So, what might John the Baptist say to us
today? What would he say to us if we approach him with this question: “what
must we do?”
On this Third Sunday of Advent, we can
imagine John using the words of Saint Paul in the second reading, “I want you
to be happy, always happy in the Lord,” or its other translation found in the
entrance antiphon, which has given this Sunday its Latin name, Gaudete Sunday -
“Rejoice in the Lord always, again I say Rejoice.” You may protest that joy
doesn’t seem to be one of the vibes that you are getting from this man who
lived an austere life in the wilderness and who sternly calls us to repentance.
Believe it or not, John the Baptist is the
patron saint of spiritual joy. After
all, at the presence of Jesus and Mary at the scene of Mary’s visitation to her
cousin Elizabeth, he leapt for joy in his mother’s womb (Lk. 1:44). And we are told that he is the friend of the
bridegroom who rejoices to hear the bridegroom’s voice (Jn. 3:29-30).
Such joy arose from John’s humility who
did not see our Lord as a rival or a competitor. Many, especially among the
religious elite, felt threatened by Jesus’ popularity. But John actually encouraged his disciples to
leave him, and follow the Lamb of God.
When people came, ready to honour John as the messiah, he set them
straight. He was not the star of the
show, only the best supporting actor. He
stressed that he was not even fit or worthy to occupy the position of a foot
slave to remove the sandals of his master. Even his coveted baptism by water
would be inferior to the Messiah’s baptism of fire and the Holy Spirit. John
makes it clear that he was not the Word Incarnate, only the voice who announces
the word. Our Lord Jesus was the one to watch.
John may have been centre-stage for a while, but now that the star had
shown up, he knew it was time for him to slip quietly off to the dressing room.
Perhaps here is where we need John the Baptist most. He might turn to us and call us to ordinary acts of grace and charity. He might call us to give what we have. He might call us to stay at our jobs and do them well. He might call us to the radical idea that seemingly ordinary lives can be imbued with the extraordinary spirit of God to transform the world. But ultimately, John is calling us to be convincing witnesses of joy because we have been touched by the Messiah.
During this Christmas season, we expect to
enjoy with the family and friends times of conviviality and joy. Such expectations have
been shattered this year. We could throw our hands up in despair. We could
lament over a shattered world. We could grieve those we have lost, the dreams
that have been shattered. We could continue to take the necessary precautions
to keep our loved ones and us safe. Yes, we should do all these things. And as
we do all these things, we should also live ordinary lives infused by the
extraordinary call to love God and love neighbour and be joyful witnesses of
the gospel. In a bleak world filled with discontent and weighed down by failure
and discouragement, let us show that it is possible with God’s
Grace to rejoice always, especially knowing that “indeed, the Lord is near.”
Such joy can be contagious.
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