The liturgy always celebrates the unique mystery of the Salvation of God: this mystery enters into its most important phase with the incarnation of the Son. It is set forth throughout the ages under the power of the Spirit and will attain its complete and decisive fulfilment with the Lord’s return. That is why we are always celebrating in the presence of the Holy Trinity. However, it can happen that something else appears to occupy centre stage. This is the case, each year, on the Second and Third Sundays of Advent with the figure of John the Baptist, whose voice resounds in the Christian assembly throughout the world. But let us not be deceived about this.
He who “appeared” “in those days” “in the desert of Judea,” was not simply a key figure in salvation history who belongs irrevocably to the past, to that point when the Old Testament bordered on the New. He is the Prophet whose preaching retains all its power in the time when the Lord comes, when we strive towards his ultimate coming; this preaching is given to us that we might prepare. John the Baptist says we must focus our attention on another. “I baptise you with water for repentance, but he who coming after me is mightier than I, whose sandals I am not worthy to carry. He will baptise you with the Holy Spirit and fire.”
“No-one can lay hold on anything unless it is given him from on high. You yourselves are witnesses to the fact that I said: ‘I am not the Messiah; I am the one sent before him.’ It is the groom who has the Bride. The Grooms best man waits there listening for him and is overjoyed to hear his voice. This is my joy, and it is complete. He must increase, while I must decrease.” (John 3:27-30)
John the Baptist characterises the one who is to come after him as truly exceptionable, the precursor (John) presents himself as not so exceptionable, but like Elijah, wearing “a garment of camel hair, and a leather belt around his waist,” and eating “locusts and wild honey.” All the same Christians today aren’t all that impressed by the description of the one “greater” than John.
The baptism “in the Holy Spirit,” as opposed to the “baptism in water” given by the Precursor, is, we are assured, merely a matter of two distinctive rites, one that Jesus will institute, and the other (John’s) that prefigures him. But “baptism in fire (!) And with such a graphic description! “His winnowing fork in his hand. He will clear the threshing floor and gather his grain into his barn, but the chaff he will burn in unquenchable fire.” The general picture here is that of judgement, undeniably attributed to the Messiah. One ought not to forget that this is also found in Jesus’ preaching. He also has spoken of the day when, separated from the wheat, the chaff will be bundled together to be burned, while the wheat will be placed in the barn (Matt 13:24-30). But this reminder of judgement is not brandished like a sword of Damocles over our heads and is clearly not to be feared. It is really an event that is meant to impress. We are not to forget it, but to have it always in our minds as a stimulus. At least, it allows one to avoid self-delusion and false security.
The gospel of this Advent Sunday allows us to hear John the Baptist’s strong reproach that, in Matthew, is addressed to the Pharisees and Sadducees. We would be wrong to think that this condemnation no longer concerns us, that the Evangelist reports it only to inform us of the behaviour of certain of John’s listeners, whom he castigates. In fact, in the Gospel According to Matthew, it is a passage, characteristic of Matthew’s writings, that is notable for the way it expresses and illustrates the faith of the Church in his time. It is to nourish the faith of Christians that it has been written. It is not only a proclamation of faith but also“catechesis,” that is, instruction on the demands of faith. This Gospel retains, consequently, all of its power. The Church for which Matthew wrote was already threatened by grave dangers. Among the Christians there were “bad as well as good,” some pretentious leaders who, rather than serving their people, took advantage of the authority conferred upon them for their personal vanity. The Evangelist wrote for these Christians. In repeating the warnings of John the Baptist, he reminds them and us that they will be judged on their conduct. But they wouldn’t have been heard saying to themselves: “we bear the name Christians, we have been marked with the sign of redemption, we come together for this Sunday liturgy.” “God can raise up children to Abraham from these very stones.”
Jesus himself, clearly addressing hid disciples gathered around him, declared: “When that day comes, many will plead with me, ‘Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in your name? Have we not exorcised the demons by its power? Did we not do many miracles in your name as well?’ Then I will declare to them solemnly, I never knew you. Out of my sight, you evil doers!” For it is a question of producing a fruit that expresses one’s conversion, acceding to the will of the Father. “Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown in the fire.”
All this sounds a bit like blood and thunder, yet it is meant as a reminder. John the Baptist is revealed as the true Precursor of the Lord who, with his sovereign authority, will issue the same call: “Repent, reform your lives! The kingdom of heaven is at hand.” And he will proclaim the same demands of a faith put into practice. John is also the model of all precursors because of the manner in which he shows himself receptive to all who, with a sincere heart, acknowledge their sins, that they may receive the mercy and grace of God, of which every sacramental step is a sign and a gift.
The gravity of this teaching, which reverberates today in Christian assemblies throughout the world, is in sharp contrast to the words read at the beginning of the liturgy, which evoke messianic times.
Isn’t this a marvellous dream of a universal paradise? Its the kind of dream that gives our sleep a translucent, radiant feeling, but upon waking, we are suddenly shocked into remembering the real world, where we experience the age-old absence of justice, peace, and gentleness. This state of affairs smacks of scandal: it is a test for faith. For, “a shoot” has come from the “stump of Jesse, father of David,” “a bud” has blossomed “from his roots”: “Jesus Christ, son of David, son of Abraham” Yes it is certainly Jesus — meek and humble of heart, filled with the Holy Spirit and fear of the Lord — whom the prophet describes. How, then, is it possible that this kingdom, which it is his mission to institute, has not yet come, that he does not appear [far from it] “as a signal for the nations,” and that he is largely misunderstood, forsaken, ignored? It would be wrong to interpret Isaiah’s text today in this fashion. The psalm that follows calls us to see ourselves as we truly are and, once again, provides a key to the correct understanding of this Old Testament text.
The refrain reaffirms the unshakable certainty of the Christian assembly: “Justice shall flourish in his time, and fullness of peace forever.” Then, after an appeal to God for the one to come who will govern his people with justice and give the unfortunate their due, the verbs of three other couplets are in the future tense and turn us towards that for which we wait. This attitude and this prayer are familiar to us: “…..Hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven……Deliver us from evil in this life where we hope for the happiness that you have promised and the coming of Jesus Christ, Our Saviour.” We are now firmly rooted in the dialect of “already” and” not yet” that characterises the mystery of Advent and its celebration, indeed the whole of Christian life. “In his days justice will flourish and peace till the moon fails.”
Without ignoring crisis situations and the discouragement they can produce, we look for light in the holy books. All that they say, “was written for our instruction, that we might derive hope from the lessons of patience and the words of encouragement in the Scripture.” The ultimate basis for this assurance, the supreme guarantee of this hope, the inexhaustible source of this courage is found in the “faithfulness of God” manifested clearly by Christ who “became the servant of the Jews because of God’s faithfulness in fulfilling the promises to the patriarchs,” and because of his “mercy,” thanks to which “the Gentiles glorify God.”
When we become discouraged over our everyday problems, we must lift up our eyes. What were only recently pagan areas of the world are now Christian lands with extraordinarily vibrant and dynamic Churches that have received, in Christ Jesus, “every gift of speech and knowledge.” They have become examples to believers who tell one another how the pagans welcomed the apostles, how others like themselves have been
“turning to God from idols, serving him who is the living and true God and awaiting from heaven the Son he raised from the dead — Jesus, who delivers us from the wrath to come.” (1 Thess 1:7,9-10)
We ourselves, children of pagans — haven’t we been received by Christ for the glory of God, and made by him to be, in some sense, ministers for the reception of Christ, precursors of the Lord for one another? Not so much in words but in deeds, by living in the unity that is given by the Spirit of Jesus Christ and by practising mutual acceptance. How can we not give thanks and “glory to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ”for the things that he has done for us and for all his people?
Perhaps we feel that we are but a handful of the faithful gathered for the Sunday liturgy, we should not be discouraged, for in our desert of Stone where we prepare a way for the Lord’s coming; we join with countless Christians throughout the world celebrating the same liturgy of the coming of the Lord — The same word of God is proclaimed to all, each hearing it in their own tongue and we join our voices with theirs as we continually cry out “Come Lord Jesus, come.”
