Homily for the Nativity of John the Baptist June 24, 2018
Fr. Albert St. Peter’s, New Iberia
“Do you know who I am?” When asked with the wrong emphasis, it implies a sense of a person’s importance. The actor or politician who shouts this at someone reveals what they think of themselves… it belies an expectation of special treatment that comes with being famous. But, why should being famous change how we treat a person? Why do so many try so hard to become famous?
Of course, not everyone actually wants to be movie-star famous, and more than a few people have the good sense to see how annoying that kind of life can be. But, in every human heart, there is a desire to be recognized, at least by someone. Given the right timing and mood – perhaps isolated in a place where no one speaks your language – anyone would feel excitement to be suddenly noticed, to stand out for just a moment from the obscurity and forgetfulness of the world.
Just think of the fact that everyone likes the idea of falling in love, of having one important person in your life who looks deeply into your heart and says, “I know you.” Yes, the desire to be famous and the is ultimately rooted in the good and natural desire to be recognized, to be known, appreciated, and loved. But, it is typically a distortion of that desire, a perversion of something beautiful and necessary.
Now, there are many things we can learn from St. John the Baptist as we celebrate his birthday, but it seems fitting to focus on his fame and his faith. John was famous. He still is famous. But, being famous is not what matters. It is not what made him a saint.
We celebrate John the Baptist because he is the last prophet before the messiah. We celebrate him because he sums up the Old Testament and helps us make sense of Jesus. Above all else, we celebrate him because he fulfilled his mission to lead others to Christ. Today is John’s birthday, a time to remember and celebrate the fact that every single Christian is called to do what John did – point to Jesus.
But, making that comparison that is a double-edged sword because John was famous. Even if you take away the crazy sinfulness of Hollywood and Washington, there is a whole category of people who are Catholic Famous or Holy Famous – celebrities inside the Church, some of whom are even famous among non-Catholics. People like Mother Teresa or Fulton Sheen come to mind. We look at these people and it seems obvious how they brought people to Jesus. They were holy, or smart, or both and they got really popular. Then they used that popularity to tell people bout Jesus. It can look like an equation: the more people who know who I am, the more people I can lead to Jesus.
Even as a baby John the Baptist was famous. He was discussed throughout the hill country of Judea. If you stop there, you won’t know John the Baptist at all. Despite a miraculous conception, the miracle of his father’s healing, and being well-known, the first thing John did was go into hiding. Instead of following his father into the Jewish priesthood, enjoying the connections in the big city of Jerusalem, he spent years and years in the desert alone, unknown and unimportant. He spent that time praying, studying, and working in obscurity.
It’s fair to assume that he sometimes related to our first reading: a “sword… concealed in the shadow of God’s arm,” an arrow hidden in God’s “quiver.” He may have sometimes felt, “I… toiled in vain, and for nothing, uselessly, spent my strength.” Yet, in time, God drew the sword, he revealed the arrow let loose his plan; John’s hidden preparation paid off. His fiery preaching is still bearing fruit today, and he was the first man on earth to say “Behold, the Lamb of God.”
But that probably won’t happen for you or for me. And John the Baptist doesn’t want you to confuse his fame with his holiness. At the very height of his career, what did John the Baptist have to say? “He must increase, I must decrease.” That wasn’t easy. Even after the resurrection, the Apostles found many people who knew John, but not Jesus. If we take John the Baptist at his word, his fame was almost an obstacle… the bigger you are, the more decreasing you’ve got to do.
An interesting side note, this feast is always next to the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. For the next 6 months, the days will gradually decrease in length until the winter solstice, right around Christmas. Then the days will increase again. It’s a kind of cosmic echo of this reality. Even the sun itself reminds us to decrease, to be nothing so that Christ may increase and be everything.
So, John’s fame is not what matters here. Your fame, or lack thereof, it not important. The devil and the world will never stop telling you that you are not good enough, not important enough, not successful enough. He will try to twist even your desire to serve God, tempting you to think that you are too small, too hidden, too unknown to really spread the Gospel. This can gnaw at you, playing on your doubts about who you are and what you are worth. John the Baptist seems glorious because he was a well-known preacher. Perhaps a neighbor or friend outshines you and leaves you wondering, “does anyone know who I am?”
Yes, and He is the only one that matters. You are “fearfully, wonderfully made” and you really are called to become glorious. But, what matters is that you are “made glorious in the sight of the Lord.” And the Lord sees glory where others see obscurity. Do not fret about how many people see your fidelity to God. Being a light to the nations does not mean actually being recognized by all the nations – at least, not in this life.
When we ask, “do you know who I am?” there is only one person whose answer will truly matter. And that one said that those who pray and give and love in secret will be seen, they will be known. By natural standards, John the Baptist is the greatest born of woman, but even the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he. You have a place in that kingdom, if you’re willing to decrease, to be nothing so that Christ may increase become everything.