Voice Crying In The Desert

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John the Baptist says several “no’s” before he gives a “yes.” The authorities have asked him about his identity. He’s doing such astounding works. So who is he, anyway? What does he have to say for himself? He says he’s not the Anointed One. He doesn’t call himself a prophet. Then, he gives a “yes.” He says he is a sound, a cry, a word.

A word needs a Speaker. The Baptist is spoken by God to the world. He does not put stock in an independent identity. He doesn’t say, as he could have: “God sent me for a task.” He roots his identity entirely in being a message. He’s a prophet indeed, the last and the greatest of them. But his life is entirely “Another’s” expression. He takes refuge in being “merely” God’s own message to His Chosen People. He lives as a word of warning to them, but also a word of hope.

Of course, the Baptist’s mission was unique. He was the trumpet blast announcing the decisive event in the history of the world: the Incarnation and Redeeming work of the Only Begotten Son of God. But the lives of all the great saints are such eloquent words. As Psalm 19 puts it, “their voice has gone out to all the earth, their words to the utmost bounds of the world.” The life of St. Teresa of Calcutta was a “word” that roused the world. The sound of her life pricked some very dull consciences, and made them marvelously alert. St. Francis of Assisi was a “poem” of Almighty God, addressed to a greedy and materialistic audience.

It’s also important to note that John said to the Pharisees that they “do not recognize” the one who is coming after him. In other words, those who are filled with pride and self-righteousness are blind to the truth. They cannot see beyond themselves, which is an incredible lack of wisdom.

We can become perfectly clear “notes” sung by the Divine Cantor. All the notes can come out clearly and beautifully. We are all little parts of a much greater piece of music. This piece of music is the unfolding of Divine Providence. It is the sung story of God’s own making. And we are invited to be a small part of it. Sometimes, this Bard utters pauses for emphasis in this piece of music: the sound of John the Baptist in the desert is such a pause. And then came a great movement of sound which filled all the earth in preaching of the Messiah.

All marvelous sound is preceded by deep silence. As Advent comes to a close, let us pause in quiet. The silent stargazers of the East, and the vigil-keeping shepherds of Judea, heard the first notes of the song of their redemption. Let’s keep silence with the Mother of God, the Blessed Virgin Mary, who pondered all these mysteries in silence, and whose life is wrapped in it. We have very few words of hers, that greatest of Christians. If we participate in her silent waiting, perhaps the notes will strike us this Christmas. Then, Christ will use us as words, to speak to the noisy and distracted world He loves so dearly.

Lord, fill me with true humility. May I know and believe with all my heart that I am unworthy of the incredible life of grace You have given to me. But in that humble realization, give me the grace I need to serve You with all my heart so that others may come to know You through me. Please help me discern and embrace my mission. How are you sending me into the world to serve you, in ways both large and small? Help me to prepare my heart in order to fully embrace and become strong for my unique mission. Please help me to tune out all the distractions of this week and focus on you and your birth.