Monday, June 25, 2012

The Nativity of the John the Baptist: Nothing Comes from Nothing


Isaiah 40:1-11 

Psalm 85:7-13
Acts 13:14b-26 

Luke 1:57-80 


If today feels a bit like Advent you aren’t having a flashback, its intended to.  The readings are full of the expectation inherent in the Advent season, with Isaiah’s prophecy of comfort for God’s people and Paul’s re-telling of salvation history up to point of Jesus’ ministry.  Moreover, almost as if to stress the reference, the Church has appointed the preface of Advent to be used in the Eucharistic prayer – listen for it as we come to consecrate the bread and wine, the celestial meal of the coming kingdom.  You see today the Church commemorates the birth of John the Baptist.  If you remember at the Annunciation when the angel Gabriel visits Mary, inviting her into the process of salvation by becoming the mother Christ, he says to her, “And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren.  For nothing will be impossible with God.” (Luke 1:36-37)  So, you do the math – it’s six months until Christmas. 

The figure of John the Baptist in the Christian tradition is that of fore-runner and so the Advent resonances are fitting.  In the Gospels John is identified as voice mentioned in the book of Isaiah crying out in the wilderness: “prepare the way of the Lord”. (Isaiah 40:3)  John is in the type of the Hebrew prophet, some of whom lived in the wilderness and called for a radical return among their fellow Jews to the covenant principles.  In the Gospel of Matthew Jesus identifies John with Elijah – or at least the office of Elijah: “For all the prophets and the law prophesied until John came; and if you are willing to accept it, he is Elijah who is to come.  Let anyone with ears listen.” (Matthew 11:13-15)  For, according to a prophecy in Malachi – “Lo, I will send you the prophet Elijah before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes.” (Malachi 4:5) – many Jews believed Elijah’s return would signal the coming of the end of the age an the arrival of the Messiah.

Certainly then, for the earliest Christians, John’s ministry of witness and his call to repentance marked the beginning of the end of the waiting, and it is in undertaking this work that John makes his first appearance in most of the Gospels.  At the same time he marks the continuance of the prophetic tradition of Israel – he looks, talks and acts like the prophets of old.  And if you don’t get it, there is that verse from Isaiah I already mentioned to make the whole thing clear: “A voice cries out: ‘In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.’ ” (Isaiah 40:3)  At the same time, Luke in his recording of John’s conception seeks to deepen that sense of continuance.  Before even John is cast in the type of the ancient prophets, his parents and his birth are already cast in type of other figures from the Jewish tradition – the elderly couple hoping for a child, the dedicated and faithful priest.  Elizabeth is in the pattern of Sarah and Hannah who remained true to the promises of God and who in their old age the Lord visited with longed-for children.  Zechariah is in the cast of figures like Eli and even Abraham who faithfully submitted themselves to God’s holiness, serving God at his altars and in the world while waiting for the full manifestation of the divine glory.  So, Luke is trying to place the birth of Jesus within a wider context, a more human context; and while Matthew does this in large part by a long list of genealogy (cf. Matthew 1:1-17) – look at the first chapter of Matthew when you get chance – Luke does it with character and narrative, with people and stories.  Both are trying to place the Jesus event within the story of Israel.  Luke, we can safely say, does it more graphically, appealing to the emotions and imagination of the reader or hearer.

Nothing comes from nothing, and all things – even new things – need a context in which they can be grasped or understood.  I was recently speaking with someone who wondered if the traditions of the Church might get in the way of his relationship with God, his understanding of the Gospel.  I mentioned that the fact we can speak about God in the ways that we do, or that we have the Bible in its present form, is on account of the Church who through the centuries tested, debated, experienced and reasoned the truths of the faith.  That we can speak about the Trinity – about a triune God, or that we can speak about the mystery of Jesus’ being fully divine and fully human are thanks to Church down the ages.  Even aspects of the our social and political lives such as the equality of all persons – no matter how imperfectly we may put it into action – comes the Church’s discernment of the Incarnation and thus the dignity of every human person.  In the same way, the people of 1st century Palestine were able to see a prophet in John the Baptist, because they knew the traditions of Judaism, because they had a context for the work of a prophet.  The early Christians who read or listened to the Gospel of Luke experienced the connections between their past – the history and traditions of Judaism – and the new or the present reality of the Jesus event.  Indeed, they would not have been able to speak about Jesus in the ways they did – titles like Lord and Messiah – without the inherited traditions of Israel.

The advent language attendant on today’s feast reminds us that John the Baptist marks the beginning of something new, something which has been longed for and waited for.  At the same time the way in which Luke tells the story – and hence the way in which the Church tells the story – points to this new thing’s connections with the past; and that to understand anything new we need a place from which to stand to view it and make sense of it.  We need a context.  My Latin teacher once reminded our class of the maxim Nihil novum sub sole – “There is nothing new under the sun”.  Perhaps that isn’t exactly true, but anything new does need a past, something “old”, as it were, in order for us to have any context in which to understand it.  A balance must be struck between the two; and the figure of John the Baptist, the stories surrounding his birth, the resonances he elicits of the traditions of Israel help remind of this truth.  We always stand in that place between what has been and what is coming.  If we live too much in the former we never come into anything that is new, we may miss the developing truth of our lives and quite possible of God’s plans.  However, if we try to live only in the latter we have no grounding, we try to live in an impossibility.  Like John the fore-runner who clearly stands as the bridge between the old and the new, so are we all called to do – to stand in that place where we can discern a new future by making sense of the past, where we can live into what God is doing by being aware of what God has done.  It can be a difficult place in which to stand, the temptation being always to live in only one or the other.  Again, we find the deepest truth to be revealed not in either/or thinking, but in both/and living where opposites are in resolved in the ineffable reality of God and where past, present and future meet in the fullness of eternity. 

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