Homily for Monday, 24 June 2019– The Solemnity of the Nativity of John the Baptist, Mass During the Day

Readings of the day: Isaiah 49:1-6; Psalm 139:1b-3, 13-14ab, 14c-15; Acts 13:22-26; Luke 1:57-66, 80

Those of us who have children or have otherwise ever participated in naming children: What was your experience in naming your children? Did you have their names picked out long in advance; right before the children’s birth; maybe within a few days after their birth? From when I was a child, if a teacher or my parents called me in a stern tone by my full name—“Warren Roger Schmidt, come here right now”—or if my parents cycled through my sister’s and brother’s name (it was even more ominous if they included the dogs’ or cats’ names) before calling me, I knew I was in trouble!

John the Baptist’s parents, Elizabeth and Zechariah, were the type of parents who were decisive in naming their child. “No, his name is John,” Elizabeth answers for her still-mute husband Zechariah, silenced by an angel for doubting that Elizabeth, in her advanced age, could conceive a child. Zechariah then supports his wife, calling for a tablet on which he writes, “John is his name.” Elizabeth and Zechariah give their child the name John over the objection of some of their relatives, who protest that “There is no one among your relatives who has this name.”

The name John for Elizabeth’s and Zechariah’s child is not given out of the blue, though. John means “God is gracious.” This name, John, reminds us of a few verses before our Gospel reading today from Luke, when Elizabeth prophesies about the child she has conceived: “So has the Lord done for me at a time when he has seen fit [or when the Lord has been gracious, in some translations] to take away my disgrace before others.”

I suppose the name Elizabeth and Zechariah were expected to give John, Zechariah, after his father, meaning “the LORD has remembered,” would have been a perfectly appropriate name for this child. Maybe if Elizabeth and Zechariah were anything like my parents, they may have wanted to give John a name that was not too susceptible to shortened forms or schoolyard nicknames: “Hey, Zack”! Or perhaps simply “Z., Jr”…

My Old German-derived first name, Warren, fittingly meaning “keeper of animals,” is not too common and not easily susceptible to being shortened. But my Norman-derived second name, Roger, meaning “famous spear,” runs in my extended family: My uncle is Roger and my great grandfather was also Roger. My Colombian brother Basilians, because of their difficulty in pronouncing “Warren,” call me Roger.

The name of John the Baptist, whose birth we celebrate today, is an apt reminder to us that God is gracious to us now, as God has been gracious to us going back to the first moments of creation. Through John’s parents Elizabeth and Zechariah, we are reminded that “God is a promise, oath, or abundance,” and that “the LORD has remembered” us and our needs. God sent us, through Elizabeth and Zechariah, John, “God is gracious,” to be the forerunner of Jesus, “God saves.”

Homily for Saturday, 24 June 2017– Solemnity of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist

Readings of the day: Isaiah 49:1-6; Psalm 139:1b-3, 13-14ab, 14c-15; Acts 13:22-26; Luke 1:57-66, 80

Saturday of the 11th week in Ordinary Time

Does anybody here share my fascination with meanings of names? Those of us who are parents: How many of you searched books, or now websites, to find the perfect and maybe most creative names for your children when they were born?

Our readings today, on this Solemnity of the Nativity of John the Baptist, are full of names. If anybody here is expecting a child or knows somebody who is, perhaps you may want to consider a name from our Scriptures, especially our readings today.

Today we hear the strange way in which John the Baptist is named. His family’s “neighbors and relatives” expect that he will be named “after his father,” Zechariah, from Hebrew, meaning “God has remembered.” We know from earlier in Luke’s Gospel the story of Zechariah. He was taking his turn that year to enter “the Lord’s sanctuary,” the Holy of Holies at the center of the temple of Jerusalem, “to burn incense.” There, an angel announces to him that his wife Elizabeth (from Greek, meaning “God is satisfaction”), thought to be unable to conceive a child, is pregnant. For failing to believe this news, Zechariah is silenced until his son is born.

Elizabeth then names him John (Hebrew for “God is gracious”; “God has shown favor”), a name none of John’s relatives had been given before. Although he still cannot speak, Zechariah wisely seconds Elizabeth’s choice of name for John (husbands, I understand that it is usually a good idea to support your wives in decisions like these) by writing on a tablet: “His name is John.”

Our Gospel reading goes on to say that John lives up to his name: He becomes the herald of God’s graciousness; of God’s favor; of our Savior Jesus Christ to the world. Luke says of John, “Surely the hand of the Lord was with him. The child grew and became strong in spirit.”

Today we hear from the Acts of the Apostles a summary of important figures from Abraham (“father of a multitude”) through King David (“beloved”), son of Jesse (“gift”), to John the Baptist, herald of Jesus (“God saves”).

Our first reading, from Isaiah, includes only two names: Israel (“he struggles” or “wrestles with God”) and Jacob (“holder of the heel,” because he was born holding onto the heel of his twin, Esau, a symbol for Jacob’s having taken Esau’s rightful inheritance as the— barely— elder son). But Isaiah includes several more hidden names. They are phrases, more than single-word names, that describe the role or mission of the prophet himself or other people: “Sharp-edged sword,” “polished arrow,” “servant” of the LORD, “a light to the nations,” and so forth.

Might these name-phrases also be good descriptions of our continued mission as Christians? Might a “sharp-edged sword” or “polished arrow” be a call to us to speak and live by the truth? We have heard perhaps the phrases “straight as an arrow” or “straight shooter.” We, too, are sent out to be “a light to the nations” and servants of the Lord. We, too, regardless of whether our name is John, are heralds of God’s favor, Jesus Christ; of our God who saves.

Homily for Friday, 19 December 2014– Ferial

Friday of the 3rd Week in Advent

Readings of the day: Judges 13:2-7, 24-25a; Psalm 71:3-4a, 5-6ab, 16-17; Luke 1:5-25

Do we see a pattern here? God sends an angel to a “barren” woman, unable to conceive a child due to age or other reasons. The woman becomes pregnant. The woman’s child is a key figure in God’s plans for us; for the world.

In our first reading, from Judges, the woman is the wife of Manoah. She gives birth to Samson, who is to “begin the deliverance of Israel from the power of the Philistines.” In our Gospel reading, God’s angel is named: Gabriel. And Gabriel appears to Zechariah, a temple priest whose wife, Elizabeth, like Manoah’s wife, is “barren.” Elizabeth bears John the Baptist, herald of our Lord Jesus Christ, another child conceived during an angelic visitation…

Now, who here would empathize with Zechariah, who is confused when Gabriel says to him that his wife Elizabeth “will bear… a son”? Poor Zechariah is silenced until John’s birth. Could this be because he did not trust that God could do anything, even make the barren conceive life? We cannot fully know why Zechariah was silenced, but I can empathize with him in his confusion at Elizabeth’s conception of John.

God seems to have a habit of making the barren able to conceive. After a few instances of this, God, this habit becomes somewhat strange and scary!

But there is something perhaps scarier than God sending an angel to somebody who is not able to conceive; is not expecting to conceive, to say to this person that she will bear a child and that this child will be significant. What is it?

Imagine (and please pray over) this: Are there any situations in our lives that are barren; that are lifeless? Perhaps it is a broken relationship, especially with someone we love. Perhaps it is difficulty finding calm and peace in our lives, even at prayer. Perhaps our barrenness is something that weighs on our conscience; sin that God invites us to lay down before God’s mercy, especially in the sacraments of reconciliation and the Eucharist. Let us remember the words of Elizabeth at the end of our Gospel reading; trust God to take away any “disgrace before others” and before God that we might be feeling. Perhaps some of us share literally in the pain of Manoah’s wife or of Elizabeth: Inability to conceive of a child when you wish to do so. I pray for you especially as I hear and preach on our readings today.

To bring to light any situations in our lives that are barren; that are lifeless is perhaps most scary; even worse than an angel announcing a pregnancy to somebody who cannot conceive. To bring to light situations like these, our pain, our sin, our struggles in faith, makes us vulnerable. But may we know that God wishes to heal these situations in our lives. God loves us deeply. This Advent, God invites us to bring before him any situations of lifelessness; barrenness, that even when we are beyond any expectation, God may bring life to our lives where we need it most.