Why We Still Need John the Baptist

During Advent, we always meet John the Baptist in the Sunday Gospel readings.  John is a colorful figure, and we all love him for it.  But we might not love him so much if we met him in the desert!  Especially if he was shouting in our direction!

There’s a wonderful question in Luke’s account of the birth of John the Baptist.  When John was born, people asked themselves:  “What then will this child become?” (Lk. 1:66). 

What did John become?  And why is he still so important?

Luke's Gospel identifies John as the prophet who came to smooth rough ways by levelling mountains and filling in valleys.  That sounds like hard work.  And it is.  Because when it comes to the human heart, most of us have no interest in having our mountains levelled or our valleys filled in.  We go through our days saying, “I’m just fine thank you,” continuing right along the same rough path as always.  It was John’s momentous task to convince people that they are not fine.  As Jesus would later explain, “Those who are healthy do not need a physician, but the sick do” (Lk. 5:31).  It is hard work convincing people that they need a physician.  How often have you put off a visit to the doctor?  How often have you ignored pains and symptoms, hoping they would go away on their own?  John’s preaching convinced people that they could no longer ignore the symptoms.  And they repented, making way for a healing Savior.

John was a sight to see, a man of the desert, and I imagine his prophetic voice was quite loud.  We still need that loud voice ringing in our ears, that strange sight of someone so different telling us that something is not right in our lives, in our world.  Our own spiritual blindness, our self-satisfied complacency, is the impenetrable fortress John wanted to knock down. 

This was the work of the one who was not even worthy to loosen the thong of Jesus’ sandal!  This was the preparation for something even greater.  So imagine – imagine – what Jesus can do in our hearts if first we listen to the voice of the Baptist!

"King of the Universe"

This Sunday is one of my favorite feast days, the Feast of Christ the King!  I’m always hoping for a spirited rendition of “Lift High the Cross.”

Below is my reflection on Sunday’s Gospel, republished here with permission from Catechist Magazine, where it originally appeared.

To read this Sunday’s Gospel, click here:  John 18:33-37.

Reflect:  This Sunday we celebrate the great solemnity of Christ the King. We honor the glory and dominion of Christ with the grand title “King of the Universe.”

But what is the nature of this kingship? What does Jesus mean when he stands before Pilate, beaten and bleeding, and says, “My kingdom does not belong to this world?”

When we look into the pages of the Gospels, we do not find the things that our world associates with kings. We find no jeweled crown, no vast estates, and no wealth to speak of. We find no armies, no servants, and no political power. In fact, we find that most Gospel references to Jesus as a “king” are insults! They are sarcastic words meant to humiliate Jesus. Recall the Roman soldiers who stood before him as he hung on the cross and called out: “If you are the king of the Jews, save yourself!” (Luke 23:37). They had already placed on him a crown of thorns and purple robes, and kneeling in front of him, they had laughed at this “king” (Matthew 27:29).

The kingship of Jesus is a paradox, a contradiction. Yes, our God is mighty, powerful, and wealthy beyond comprehension. But in his son Jesus, he has shown himself to be deliberately weak, powerless, and poor. This is the kind of king we worship. This is the divine king who became human, like us. This is the king who wrought our salvation through blood, sweat and tears. This is the king that bewildered many of his contemporaries but ultimately “makes sense” to his followers. This is the king who reigns in our hearts.

It is fitting that the celebration of Christ the King directly precedes our Advent observance. Our celebration of the deliberately humble kingship of Jesus prepares us for the coming of the small and vulnerable Christ child. Even the lowly manger, his first throne, signifies the kind of king we have in Jesus. He does not reign from a distant castle or a fortified compound. This king is present with us. He is close to us. He is one of us.

Ask Yourself: How can I imitate the deliberate poverty and humility of Christ? How does this give me strength and power?

Pray: Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, teach my heart the true meaning of power as humility, service and love. May I embrace the quiet power of your manger and your cross.

Ask Your Students: How does our world understand power? How does Jesus understand power (think about the kind of power he shows us on the cross)? Which kind of power should we strive for?

Reprinted with permission from CATECHIST magazine.  For subscription information visit catechist.com

Christ with Thorns, Carl Bloch (1834-1890)

Christ with Thorns, Carl Bloch (1834-1890)

I'm writing for CATECHIST magazine!

Beginning with the current September issue, you will find my reflections on the Sunday Gospels in CATECHIST magazine in a monthly feature called:  “Sunday throughout the Week:  Lessons for the Sunday Gospels.”  I’m excited to be a part of CATECHIST magazine and its mission to support catechists with spiritual enrichment, classroom advice, useful materials, and creative ideas. 

CATECHIST has been around for a long time – I used to read all the old copies that Sr. Blanche left in her office when I was a D.R.E.!  Even the issues that were 10 years old (or older, God bless her!) were helpful to me.

The folks at CATECHIST have given me permission to publish one of my Gospel reflections per month on my blog.  This coming Sunday is Catechetical Sunday.  Many of you are catechists, so I wanted to share this Sunday’s reflection, with permission from CATECHIST magazine.

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September 20, Catechetical Sunday

Read:  Mark 9:30-37

Reflect: Although this week’s Gospel reading is simply a continuation of Mark’s narrative, it seems it was hand-picked for Catechetical Sunday! The lectionary has provided a lovely meditation for catechists on this special day.

As Mark’s Gospel narrative moves forward, Jesus continues to teach his disciples that suffering awaits him in Jerusalem. Mark plainly states that his disciples do not understand. In fact, their disregard for Jesus’ message is so profound that rather than taking his words to heart, they begin to argue with one another about which one of them is the greatest.

But it is this self-centered and woefully human argument that prompts a great teaching moment from Jesus—and a moment that catechists should treasure. In order to teach the disciples about true greatness, Jesus places a child in their midst. He embraces the child. And then he says something unbelievable: to receive this child—to love him, teach him, embrace him—is to love Jesus himself, and in loving Jesus, to love the Father.

This message is for you on this Catechetical Sunday. You are not a catechist for the glory or the greatness. You never expected that. You are a catechist for the sake of the little ones. When you receive them, you already know that you receive the Lord. In this story, the child represents all of those who are often overlooked or who seem unimportant in the eyes of the world. To serve such a one is true greatness. As a catechist, you already get it: “If anyone wishes to be first, he shall be . . . the servant of all.”

Ask Yourself:  How does my role as a catechist help me understand true greatness? Do I see Christ in the children I serve?

Ask Your Students:  Did you know that Jesus taught adults they could love God by loving children? Does this make sense to you? Why or why not?

Pray:  Lord Jesus, in my work as a catechist, I receive you as I receive the children in my life.

Reprinted with permission from CATECHIST magazine.  For subscription information visit, catechist.com

All Is Vanity!

There are a few books of the Bible that I really find amusing.  My students know that one of them is the Book of Tobit.  In fact I apparently made one too many jokes about that book and was pointedly told by one of my students (thank you, Sr. Mahilia) that I needed to rein it in! 

The Book of Ecclesiastes is another book that amuses me.  That is, when it isn’t making me totally depressed!  Let’s put it this way – Ecclesiastes may not be the book to read when you’re already having a bad day.

The best-known verse in the Book of Ecclesiastes is probably:  “Vanity of vanities!  All is vanity” (1:2).  “Vanity” is the typical English translation of the Hebrew word hebel, which literally means “vapor” or “breath.”  The word is used 38 times in the Book of Ecclesiastes to describe the fleeting and even futile nature of life.  The Good News Bible (not known for its technical accuracy, but pretty good at capturing the "gist" of things) even goes so far as to translate the verse this way:  "It is useless, useless.  Life is useless, all useless."  

The author goes on to write other things we might find surprising.  He writes that seeking wisdom is an “unhappy business” (1:13); there is nothing better for human beings than to eat and drink (2:24); we aren’t really any better off than animals – not in life or death (3:18-21); and the dead (all of them) “know nothing” and “have no reward” (9:5).  

Sure, there are a few uplifting verses in Ecclesiastes (a lovely passage on the value of friendship, for example; 4:9-12), and the author does retain and encourage a stalwart faith in the midst of his observations of life’s futilities (3:12-14; 4:18-20).  But those who try to paint over this book with an overly optimistic gloss are ignoring its brooding tone and many of its messages. 

Some have even questioned whether this unusual book belongs in the canon of Scripture.  After all, doesn’t the maxim “life is vanity” contradict the basic biblical belief that life is a sacred gift from God?  But there is a stark realism here, written down and poured out on the sacred page.  That is why I don’t find it strange that the Book of Ecclesiastes found its way into the canon.  I don’t think the ideas we read here mean that life really is hebel, or futile.  I don’t think the author’s own uncertainty about the after-life means that we need to be uncertain.  But this book allows us to express our frustrations and fears, and it comforts us.  It allows us to have dark moments and say, “I don’t get it” and “It isn’t fair.”  It allows us to read and say “I’m not sure either” and “What is death, really?” 

If nothing else, this special book reminds us that opening the Bible always begins a conversation with God.  We can express every emotion, ask every question, and enter into every mystery.  And when we enter into the very honest and very human ideas we find in the Book of Ecclesiastes, we can be assured that our God understands and responds:  “I hear you, my people.  Keep talking to me.”  

 
 

Article in "The Bible Today"

If you subscribe or have access to the biblical journal The Bible Today, you’ll find an article I wrote entitled “The Garden as a Place of Agony” in the current issue (May/June).  It is based on my blog post "Agony in the Garden," which one of the editors read and asked me to expand for the journal.  The issue includes other “garden-themed” articles, exploring topics such as the Garden of Eden, garden imagery in the prophets, and John’s use of creation/garden motifs.

Below is an excerpt from the article.  This section explains the gospels’ use of the term “Garden of Gethsemane” (or lack of use, really!) and what we know about its location based on the gospel accounts.

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Parallel accounts of Christ’s suffering in what is commonly referred to as “the Garden of Gethsemane” can be found in Matthew 26:30-56, Mark 14:26-52 and Luke 22:39-53.  While John’s gospel does not narrate the suffering of Christ in the garden, it does place his arrest there (John 18:1-12).  Interestingly, none of the four accounts actually identifies the place as the “Garden of Gethsemane.”  Matthew and Mark write of Jesus and his disciples going to “the Mount of Olives” (a place mentioned with some frequency in the Gospels) after their last meal together, and then coming to “a place called Gethsemane,” probably a smaller part of the larger Mount of Olives area (Matt 26:36; Mark 14:32).  Luke refers only to “the Mount of Olives” and makes reference to the fact that it was “his [Jesus’] custom” to go there (Luke 22:39).  Notably, only John refers to the place as “a garden,” which he describes by mentioning its location as “across the Kidron Valley” (John 18:1), a vague geographical note that corresponds with the location of the Mount of Olives.  John also mentions that this was a place Jesus often went with his disciples (John 18:2). 

While it is important to note the distinctions among the gospel accounts, it is also fair to conclude that Gethsemane was indeed a garden-like area within the larger land area known as the Mount of Olives.  Clearly the indigenous olive tree was the dominant plant of the region (fittingly, “Gethsemane” means “oil press”), and one might imagine a secluded grove of these trees coexisting with other naturally growing vegetation.  This place would be peaceful and semi-private, a suitable place for Jesus and his disciples to withdraw from time to time for quiet and refreshment.  Although the exact location of the actual garden is unknown, it is reasonable to place it at or near the current site of Gethsemane, which is located on the lower west slope of the Mount of Olives. 

 -- The Bible Today, May/June 2015, Vol. 53, No. 3

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UPDATE: The complete article is now available as a pdf. Click here to read it.