John’s Passion

Today the Catholic Church celebrates The Passion of St. John the Baptist.  It has been a busy week and so allow me to share again some thoughts I’ve shared before on this feast day.

Note that although the Gospel reading for today is Mark’s account of Herod putting John to death to satisfy his promise to the daughter of Herodias, the feast focuses not on John’s martyrdom, but on his passion.

We spend a lot of time during Lent praying with Jesus’ passion. With John, I think we tend to limit our focus to either his preaching or his dramatic death. But I think there is value in the invitation of this feast to focus our attention on John’s passion, which can be thought of as his prison experience. What was it like for John between the time he was arrested and the point at which he is beheaded?

John wasn’t sitting in some swanky minimum security prison being served three meals a day and getting exercise. He was likely in a dark and dank cell, perhaps chained, being served unappetizing and perhaps even rotten food.

As he sat, day after day and week after week (we are not told how long John was imprisoned), he must have had questions and doubts. In our only Gospel account of his time in prison, John sends his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the one who is to come or should we look for another?” (Matthew 11:2-3) suggesting at least some uncertainty.

I can see John sitting there wondering if his mission had been worth dying for. Wondering if he had been abandoned by God. Wondering if it had all been for naught.

Pope Benedict wrote

The task set before the Baptist as he lay in prison was to become blessed by this unquestioning acceptance of God’s obscure will; to reach the point of asking no further for external, visible, unequivocal clarity, but instead, of discovering God precisely in the darkness of this world and of his own life, and thus becoming profoundly blessed. John even in his prison cell had to respond once again and anew in his own call for metanoia or a change of mentality, in order that he might recognize his God in the night in wich all things earthly exist.

Most of us won’t be imprisoned for our preaching of the Gospel. But we do each suffer dark moments and, thus, face the same challenge “of discovering God precisely in the darkness of this world and of [our] own [lives].”

We don’t know if John succeeded in doing so, but I would guess he did. May we do the same.

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Called to Testify to the Light

I often am nourished by the reflections of Kayla McClurg on scripture readings, and her commentary on today’s Gospel from John was no exception.

On this third Sunday of Advent, we hear John’s account of the testimony of John the Baptist, who “was not the light, but came to testify to the light.”

McClurg observes

We are told that John himself was not the light . . . BUT — notice the compound sentence, each part having equal weight — BUT “he came to testify to the light.” Lest we be tempted to make our permanent home in who we are not, in the small cramped space of low expectations and limited responsibility, the second half of the sentence clarifies the first. It calls me out from the shadows and gives me my own significant part to play. I am not the light, but I am called to testify to the light. To testify is to tell my truth, the whole truth, to be held accountable for what I know and see. I am a witness to the light. I have watched it shine in my very own darkness.

As we reflect on John the Baptist, who for me is one of the great Advent figures, we need to remember that we are called to do exactly as John did. Not, in McClurg’s words “by trying to be light, not by trying to create an illusion of light”, but by “tell[ing] my truth, the whole truth,” by being a witness to the light.

Ignatius’ Rules of Discernment Illustrated in Herod

In his Spiritual Exercises, St. Ignatius summarized his approach to discernment of spirits in two sets of Rules for Discernment. The rules address ways to interpret states of consolation and desolation that we typically experience as we pursue our spiritual path.

In the rules, Ignatius identifies two types of persons: Those who are growing in their spiritual life, striving to serve God, and those whose orientation is away from God. What Ignatius calls the “angel of light” (or the spirit of God) and the enemy spirit each produce a certain movement and those movements are different depending on which type of person we are talking about.

In the case of those who, in Ignatius’ words, “go on earnestly striving to cleanse their souls from sin and who seek to rise to the service of God our Lord to greater perfection,” the enemy spirit disturbs, causes doubts, encourages weakness, makes person feel unworthy, creates anxiety and the spirit of God encourages and supports those moving in this direction with confidence, joy, delight.

In the case of those who, in Ignatius’ words “go from one mortal sin to another,” the angel of light stings the conscience, trying to shake up the person, making him uncomfortable so as to change his ways. In contrast, the Enemy spirit works to encourage such a person to stay in sinfulness.

Today’s Gospel provides a good illustration of this. Matthew gives us the familiar account of Herod’s beheading of John the Baptist. I once discussed with a Jesuit friend of mine that what troubles (and frightens) me about this passage is that it seems like Herod knows there is something special about John. He sees something in John and is drawn to him. And when the daughter of Herodias comes to Herod with her request to give her the head of John, he knows killing John is wrong but does it anyway.

My Jesuit friend helped me to understand the passage it in terms of Ignatius’ rules of discernment. Ignatius says that when one is moving away from God, the tactic of the evil spirit is to keep one going the same way, but the good spirit tries to disturb one. Herod married Herodias and, secondly, imprisoned John for telling him it was wrong. Clearly moving from wrong to wrong – moving away from God.

The words of the Baptist were the sting of the good spirit, trying to change Herod’s orientation. But Herod ignored them, and remained married to Herodias and kept John in prison, still moving from from sin to sin. The temptation of the enemy spirit continued to pull, and with lust for the daughter of Herodias and a desire not to appear weak before his guests after making his public pledge, Herod could not stand up for what was right.

It is useful for us to recognize how the angel of light and the enemy spirit operate at times when we are moving toward God and times when we are moving away from God.

What, Then, Will This Child Be?

Today the Catholic Church celebrates the Nativity of John the Baptist.

John was born of a woman too old to bear children. The news of Elizabeth’s pregnancy was so unbelievable to Zechariah that he was struck dumb. We hear in today’s Gospel from Luke that only at John’s birth, when Zechariah writes that the baby will be named John was his mouth opened. All who were present were deeply affected, wondering “What, then, will this child be?”

The Gospel of the Evangelist John answers their question:

A man named John was sent from God. He came for testimony, to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He was not the light, but came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. (1:6-9)

When the Jews from Jerusalem sent priests and Levites [to him] to ask him, “Who are you?” he admitted and did not deny it, but admitted, “I am not the Messiah.” So they asked him, “What are you then? Are you Elijah?” And he said, “I am not.” “Are you the Prophet?” He answered, “No.” So they said to him, “Who are you, so we can give an answer to those who sent us? What do you have to say for yourself?” He said: “I am ‘the voice of one crying out in the desert,“Make straight the way of the Lord,”’ as Isaiah the prophet said.” (1:19-23)

John has always been one of my heroes, a great model for us, and I often pray to be like him. No, not the dress in camel hair and eat locusts for my meals as Mattew’s Gospel suggested John did. I confess that does not much appeal to me. But to remember that my job always is to testify to the light. To remember that what I do is never about me, but about God. And to have John’s boldness in testifying to the truth. He is a good model for all of us who claim discipleship in Christ.

Blessings on this feast of the Nativity of John.

One Who Leaps with Joy

Today’s Gospel is St. Luke’s account of the birth of John the Baptist. As I read the Gospel I was reminded of a reflection I had once read by Father Peter John Cameron, O.P., who wrote that John’s birth is a “sacred reminder” of things that we need born in our lives each day.

Following are Fr. Cameron’s list of reminders, along with my suggestion of where you reflection on them might lead you as we approach the end of Advent.

Johns birth is a reminder that we need:
“someone who leaps with joy before the presence of the Lord making me want to live my own relationship with Jesus with greater ardor and fervor”
Is my joy in the Jesus evident to others? Do I have sufficient ardor and fervor for God?

“someone who turns my attention away from my distractions and preconceptions so that I will behold the Lamb of God as the true desire of my heart”
Am I distracted in my prayer? What keeps me from recognizing Jesus as the true desire of my heart?

“somone who models for me that there is no greater joy in my life than for Jesus to increase and for me to decrease, especially as regards my self-reliance, my self-assertion, my self-importance”
Am I willing to depend on Jesus rather than on myself? What does it mean to me to die to myself so that I may live in Christ?

“someone so committed to the truth that he is willing to lay down his life for the Truth-made-flesh – witnessing to me that all true happiness comes through self-sacrifice.”
Do I have the faith of John? Would I give up all for the sake of Christ?

Perhaps you might take one of these to prayer today.

Are You the One Who Is to Come

In today’s Gospel from St. Matthew, the imprisoned John the Baptist sends his disciples to Jesus with the question, “Are you the one who is to come?”

I can picture John in his prison cell, worn and weary. Perhaps he knows that he will soon come to his death. I can imagine him wondering, “Did my life and witness have meaning? Am I in jail about to die for a good reason?” And so he sends his disciples to Jesus, seeking some assurance.

Jesus doesn’t give him quick and easy solace. How easy it would have been to console a dying man, for Jesus to instruct John’s disciples, “Tell John it’s all cool. He backed the right horse.” Instead, Jesus tells them “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them.”

In other words, draw your own conclusions. Don’t take it on my say-so. Don’t believe in me because of who I say I am. Rather, judge for yourself based on what you know of me and my work. (“Who do you say I am?”)

Consistent with his response, Jesus doesn’t chide John for his anxiety and his questioning. Immediately after John’s disciples depart, Jesus extols John, telling the crowds that “among those born of women there has been none greater than John the Baptist.”

Judge for yourself.

Announcing the Coming of a World Not Yet Born

The Gospel for the Second Sunday of Advent is always about John the Baptist, an important Advent figure. The importance of our reflecting on John is underscored by the fact that the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, usually celebrated on December 8, gets moved to tomorrow, rather than shifting our focus today away from the Baptist.

I’ve written a lot about John in the past and will speak about him both at Our Lady of Lourdes in Minneapolis later this morning and next week at our Advent Retreat in Daily Living. Here let me share an excerpt from a reflection on John by Bruce Epperly, a UCC pastor. He writes:

John dreamed of the peaceable realm and so do we. He never lived to see its full embodiment, but he planted seeds that enabled Jesus to move forward as its messenger and embodiment. John is Advent personified: he embodies the fierce urgency of the now, but not yet. He is impatient with our foolishness and sin, and wants us to be better. As Advent messenger, he knows that salvation occurs through the transformation of one person at a time. This very moment is the right time for us to let go of the past, turn away from our half-heartedness and complicity with injustice, and find a new pathway to God’s peaceable kingdom, one step and one breath at a time.

The uniqueness of John’s message is a good theme for this Sunday’s sermon. His radical vision, preparing the way for Jesus, challenges us to prepare the way for Jesus’ mission in our time. Our preparation is a matter of deeds as well as words. Walking in the way of Jesus involves a commitment to constant transformation and renewal, to changing our ways in response to God’s wondrous gifts of grace. Like John, we are challenged to announce the coming of a world not yet born, critique our own and our community’s hypocrisy, and recognize that Christ’s presence demands a radical reorientation of values so that we might recognize the realm of God already emerging in our midst.

Ask yourself:

Am I ready to meet the challenge to “announce the coming of a world not yet born,” with all that entails?

What graces do I need from God to be as John in my world today?

The Passion of John

Today the Catholic Church celebrates The Passion of St. John the Baptist. Note that although the Gospel reading for today is Mark’s account of Herod putting John to death to satisfy his promise to the daughter of Herodias, the feast focuses not on John’s martyrdom, but on his passion.

We spend a lot of time during Lent praying with Jesus’ passion. With John, I think we tend to limit our focus to either his preaching or his dramatic death. But I think there is value in the invitation of this feast to focus our attention on John’s passion, which can be thought of as his prison experience. What was it like for John between the time he was arrested and the point at which he is beheaded?

John wasn’t sitting in some swanky minimum security prison being served three meals a day and getting exercise. He was likely in a dark and dank cell, perhaps chained, being served unappetizing and perhaps even rotten food.

As he sat, day after day and week after week (we are not told how long John was imprisoned), he must have had questions and doubts. In our only Gospel account of his time in prison, John sends his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the one who is to come or should we look for another?” (Matthew 11:2-3) suggesting at least some uncertainty.

I can see John sitting there wondering if his mission had been worth dying for. Wondering if he had been abandoned by God. Wondering if it had all been for naught.

Pope Benedict wrote

The task set before the Baptist as he lay in prison was to become blessed by this unquestioning acceptance of God’s obscure will; to reach the point of asking no further for external, visible, unequivocal clarity, but instead, of discovering God precisely in the darkness of this world and of his own life, and thus becoming profoundly blessed. John even in his prison cell had to respond once again and anew in his own call for metanoia or a change of mentality, in order that he might recognize his God in the night in wich all things earthly exist.

Most of us won’t be imprisoned for our preaching of the Gospel. But we do each suffer dark moments and, thus, face the same challenge “of discovering God precisely in the darkness of this world and of [our] own [lives].”

We don’t know if John succeeded in doing so, but I would guess he did. May we do the same.

A Voice Crying Out in the Desert

Today is the Second Sunday of Advent, and, as we do every year on this date, we hear about John the Baptist in our Gospel. St. Luke tells us that John “went throughout the whole region of the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentence for the forgiveness of sins.” In fulfillment of the prophesy, John was the voice “crying out in the desert,” that we must “Prepare the way of the Lord.”

As many people have heard me say, John the Baptist is one of the saints who stand front and center when I visualize the communion of saints. He does so for a very simple reason.

John had an important role, but he never lost sight of the fact that (in the words of St. John’s Gospel) “he was not the light, but came to testify to the light.” John knew he wasn’t he central character in the story, and he accepted that. He knew that his job was to point the way to Christ and to help us prepare to receive Him – that (to use John’s language again) Jesus was the bridegroom and John the best man and that Jesus “must increase” and John “must decrease.”

John the Baptist is a worthy role model for all of us. When we are tempted to put the focus on ourselves, John is our reminder that it is not about us. We are all charged to testify to the light, to point the way to Christ by our words and our deed.

Several years ago, I posted a podcast with a reflection on John the Baptist. The post, from which you can stream the podcast, is here.

Learning from the Martyrdom of John the Baptist

Today the Catholic Church celebrates the Memorial of the Martyrdom of John the Baptist. Our Gospel reading for the day is St. Mark’s account of the beheading of John, a passage I’ve prayed with often and that most people are familiar with.

Herod knew John to be “a righteous and holy man.” Although he was perplexed by much of what John said, “he liked to listen to him.” He clearly was intrigued by John. And so when he is asked by Herodias’ daughter for the head of the Baptist, he is “deeply distressed.” He clearly feels great conflict when he hears her request. Nevertheless, he gives the girl what she asks for. Lust for the girl, the need to look good in front of his guests, pride – all combine into too large a temptation for Herod to avoid the evil act.

It is a frightening story. I don’t mean from John’s side, although I’m guessing he suffered an unpleasant death. Instead, I mean frightening in the sense that the story reminds us of the power of the forces that tempt people away from the path of light and love. Herod knew that killing John was wrong, but he did it anyway.

While none of us are going to face the temptation to behead another, this is a good passage to pray with. Looking at Herod we might reflect on when our pride, our need to look good in front of others, our desire for someone or something tempt us to act in ways that do not do honor to God. Actions that take us away from the path of light and love.