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VJ Day Remembered
On this date in 1945, the Empire of Japan formally signed the terms of surrender, officially ending the bloodiest war in human history.
Contagious Holiness
We all know what it means for something to be contagious. Someone in the family catches a cold, and pretty soon everybody is trying not to catch it. We keep our distance. We wash our hands. We don’t want whatever that person has to spread to us.
There is an interesting background to the mindset of today’s Gospel. In the Old Testament there were careful rules concerning what was clean and unclean. Contact with some diseases, bodily fluids, or the dead could render a person ritually unclean. The idea underlying these purity rules was clear: uncleanness could spread through contact, and so boundaries were maintained between what was unclean and what was holy. But when Jesus arrives, something remarkable begins to happen.
Simon’s mother-in-law is suffering from a severe fever. Jesus stands over her and rebukes the fever, and immediately she is restored. Then, at sunset, people begin bringing the sick to Jesus. Luke tells us that Jesus “laid his hands on each of them and cured them” (Lk 4:40). Jesus does not keep his distance. He gets close. And as Luke’s Gospel continues, this pattern becomes even more striking. Jesus will reach out and touch a leper. He will allow a woman suffering from hemorrhages to touch him. He will approach the dead. But something has changed.
The leper does not make Jesus unclean. Jesus makes the leper clean. The sick do not infect Him with their sickness, rather Jesus communicates healing to them. Death is overcome and life restored by Jesus. There is no contagion. In Jesus, holiness has become contagious flows into the world as healing, forgiveness, mercy, restoration, life. And perhaps that gives us another way of thinking about what it means to be a Christian.
Sometimes we can become rather concerned about what we might “catch” from the world around us. And certainly there are things from which we should protect ourselves. But Christians cannot spend their lives simply trying to remain safely separated from everything that is broken. Jesus didn’t. Jesus moved toward brokenness, the sick, sinners, the rejected, people carrying the burden of sin, toward people whom everyone else had decided were better kept at a distance. And instead of their brokenness changing Jesus, his holiness began changing them.
That raises an interesting question for us. What happens when someone comes into contact with me? When I encounter someone who is angry, does their anger infect me so that I become angry too? Or does something of Christ’s peace begin to spread? When I encounter someone who is lonely, do I keep my distance or does Christ’s compassion begin to spread? When someone has failed badly, do I add to the shame or does something of Christ’s mercy reach that person through me? When someone has lost hope, do I join in the despair or does the hope Christ has given me become contagious?
At the end of today’s Gospel, the people of Capernaum want Jesus to stay with them. But Jesus tells them: “To the other towns also I must proclaim the good news of the kingdom of God, because for this purpose I have been sent.” (Lk 4:43) Jesus will not allow the Kingdom to remain safely contained in Capernaum.
Holiness goes outward so that the Kingdom grows. And that is still the Church’s mission. The Church has long spoken of evangelization happening through the ordinary witness of Christian lives: through the way we love, care for those in need, treat our neighbors and strangers, and live our faith in ordinary circumstances.
Today, we will receive Christ in the Eucharist. The same Christ who laid his hands upon the sick, approached the outcast, forgave sinners, and brought hope to people who had lost it will come to us. And then we will leave this church carrying Christ into the world. So perhaps today’s Gospel invites us to worry a little less about what we might catch from the world and ask a different question: what might the world catch from us?
May the holiness of Christ become contagious through us. May we infect the world with Christ’s compassion, mercy, peace, hope and love.
Image credit: Created in Dalle-3 | Aug 31, 2026 | prompt: image with vibrant colors that portrays Jesus’s holiness going outward for healing, casting out spirits, and such.| CC-BY-NC
Sins against you: restoration
This coming Sunday is the 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time.“If your brother sins (against you)…” (Mt 18:15). Long (Matthew, Westminster Bible Commentary) begins his comments on this section with: “Matthew has no romantic illusions about the church. He knows that the church is not all sweet thoughts, endlessly patient saints, and cloudless skies. In Matthew’s church, people – no matter how committed – are still people, and stormy weather is always a possible forecast” [p. 209]. Our own practical experience with such things often leads us to sometimes see 18:15-29 as a guide to church leaders on disciplinary action. But vv. 15–17 are addressed to ‘you’ (singular), the individual disciple, and their concern is not with the punishment of an offense but with the attempt to rescue a ‘brother’ whose sin has put him in danger. The passage is thus a practical guide to how a disciple can imitate his Father’s concern for the wandering sheep (vv. 10–14).
Many people assume there is one Bible manuscript that is the “original.” There is not. There are many manuscripts that exist, available to scholars, that agree in very, very high detail, but there are textual variations. The question becomes “are those variations important?” The variations are normally indicated by parentheses – in the vase of v.15, “(against you)”
“If your brother sins (against you), go and tell him his fault between you and him alone. If he listens to you, you have won over your brother.
But the nature of the concern is also important in this regard. Verse 15 begins with a significant variant reading; the words “against you (singular)” are not in some ancient manuscripts. This is significant and raises the question. Do I go and point out the fault only when a fellow believer has wronged me, or whenever I think that he or she has committed a sin whether or not it affects me? The scholars’ arguments are balanced and divided on this. Take a look at the note of Mt 18:15 in the Notes section for some of the technical issues Scripture scholars face. In these particular notes, I will take the avenue that “against you” is a later addition and thus the concern is for the spiritual welfare of a person, even absent sin against you personally. This is one way in which Jesus begins to delineate the role of discipleship in a way that expresses the interrelationships of all members of the community.
Image credit: Sermon on the Mount (1877) by Carl Heinrich Bloch, Museum of National History at Frederiksborg Castle, Public Domain
The Life of Francis of Assisi
Every year – or so it seems – very good biographies of St. Francis of Assisi are published. The ones published in the last 10 years all share some great qualities: readable and increasingly historical – introducing the “real” St Francis of Assisi to the world. You might ask why I say the “real” St Francis?
Did you know that statues of St Francis are the second most popular lawn/garden ornament sold every year – right behind pink flamingos. Rather like the popular icon shown above. That is an image many people have of St Francis, certainly one reinforced by Franco Zefferelli’s film Brother Sun, Sister Moon, another in a long line of romantic interpretations of the poor man from Assisi. Especially in the 20th century, Francis was portrayed as “a free spirit, a wild religious genius, a kind of medieval hippie, misunderstood and then exploited by the ‘medieval Church.’ Or perhaps they know him as the man who spoke to animals, a nature mystic, an ecologist, a pacifist, a feminist, a ‘voice for our time.’ For others he is the little plaster man in the birdbath, the most charming and nonthreatening of Catholic saints…. almost everyone has his or her own Francis” (Francis of Assisi, Augustine Thompson OP).
Want to know about the “real’ St. Francis. Here are 32 posts about the life of St. Francis. Read one a day and that will take you right up to the Feast Day, October 4th. So, here they are.
Francis of Assisi – An Introduction
Francis of Assisi – The Young Man
Francis of Assisi – Military Adventures
Francis of Assisi – Period of Crisis: San Damiano
Francis of Assisi – Period of Crisis: Leaving the World
Francis of Assisi – Period of Crisis: Embracing the Leper
Francis of Assisi – “And the Lord gave me brothers…”
Francis of Assisi – The Fraternity Grows and Someone Has to Lead
Francis of Assisi – An Exhortation to the Brothers
Francis of Assisi – The Itinerant Life of the Brothers
Francis of Assisi – The Disposal of Worldly Goods
Francis of Assisi – The Conversion of Clare
Francis of Assisi – A Reputation for Holiness and Miracles
Francis of Assisi – The Problems of New Growth
Francis of Assisi – Francis and Nature: Part I
Francis of Assisi – Francis and Nature: Part II
Francis of Assisi – A Sacramental View of Nature
Francis of Assisi – Francis and The Eucharist
Francis of Assisi – Integrating Into the Church
Francis of Assisi – The Word of God
Francis of Assisi – The First Missions
Francis of Assisi – The Crusades (Part 1)
Francis of Assisi – The Crusades (Part 2)
Francis of Assisi – The Crusades (Part 3)
Francis of Assisi – While He Was Away
Francis of Assisi: Charism of the Founder – Vocation of the Friars
Francis of Assisi: Hierarchy of Authority – Hierarchy of Example
Francis of Assisi: Franciscan Rules
Francis of Assisi: An Approved Rule of Franciscan Life
Francis of Assisi: Up to Now….
Sins against you: prelude
This coming Sunday is the 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time. In our previous post, it was noted that Matthew 18 is considered one of Jesus’ discourses. The focus is on instructions for the community of believers. Within such a community there is opportunity both to harm and to care for others, and the health and effectiveness of the group will depend on the attitudes to one another which are fostered. While our gospel reading is Matthew 18:15-20, consider the following passage as a prelude to our reading.
Greatness, Stumbling Blocks, and Care for the Little Ones (Mt 18:1-14) 1 At that time the disciples approached Jesus and said, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?”2 He called a child over, placed it in their midst,3 and said, “Amen, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.4 Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.5 And whoever receives one child such as this in my name receives me.6 “Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great millstone hung around his neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea.7 Woe to the world because of things that cause sin! Such things must come, but woe to the one through whom they come!8 If your hand or foot causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to enter into life maimed or crippled than with two hands or two feet to be thrown into eternal fire.9 And if your eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away. It is better for you to enter into life with one eye than with two eyes to be thrown into fiery Gehenna.10 “See that you do not despise one of these little ones, for I say to you that their angels in heaven always look upon the face of my heavenly Father.11 12 What is your opinion? If a man has a hundred sheep and one of them goes astray, will he not leave the ninety-nine in the hills and go in search of the stray?13 And if he finds it, amen, I say to you, he rejoices more over it than over the ninety-nine that did not stray.14 In just the same way, it is not the will of your heavenly Father that one of these little ones be lost.
“Who is greatest in the kingdom of Heaven?” is a very narrow discussion in Mark 9:33-34 between the apostles on their relative importance. Here in Matthew the discussion is broader, but the intent is the same. People are trying to understand where, how and why they fit it to this newly forming community. Consider it in this light: if Jesus claims a special relation with the ‘king’ of heaven, how do the authority structures of this new kingdom of heaven relate to those of ‘the kings of the earth’? At stake is not a question of church hierarchies or grades of importance in heaven, but about the whole principle of importance in God’s sight. These people are part of a culture that treats questions of rank very seriously. Naturally, they ask how then are they to be treated in God’s society?
Jesus’ answer is radical, amounting to a total reversal of human value: “Amen, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children…” In first century Jewish life, a child was a person of no particular importance. Children were subject to the authority of the elders, not taken seriously except as a responsibility, one to be looked after, and not one to be considered as a model. To turn and become like children is therefore a radical reorientation from the accepted world view.
The phrase “turn and become” uses the simple verb strephomai (‘turn’). Matthew does not use the word, as does Luke, to speak to conversion (metanoia) in which one would aspire to characteristic qualities of children, such as humility, innocence, receptiveness or truthfulness. It is the status of the child that is the point – complete dependence on, and trust in, their parents. To be great, the disciples must have that same status with respect to God. The ‘greatness’ of such ‘children’ lies in their relationship to Jesus.
Disciples are vulnerable, and stumbling-blocks are a real danger. They can be found both in ourselves (vv. 8–9) and in other members of the disciple-group (vv. 6–7) and they are a danger to the “little ones.” Here the little ones here are not only the less important or more vulnerable members of the congregation, though what is said here applies particularly to them. Anyone who trips a fellow- disciple, whether by attitude or by action, or even by failure to act, incurs such judgment that by comparison a quick drowning would be merciful. The seriousness of all this is seen in “It would be better for him to” suggesting not only that it would benefit the community to be rid of him, but as the Greek makes it clear, that it is preferable from his point of view too.
The ‘little ones’ are the ordinary Christians, who in their vulnerability need the care of their fellow-disciples. That message is now backed up with the thought that God’s care extends to every one of them. It is in this connection that Matthew includes the parable of the straying sheep – even the one is important. To look down upon (despise) the one is to show that you have not grasped the principle of true greatness (vv. 1–5). It is also to part company with my Father, to whom everyone is important. The point is clear, and the implication for the disciple is that he must share God’s concern for each ‘little one.’ Mt 18:15-20 will show what this means in practice.
Image credit: Sermon on the Mount (1877) by Carl Heinrich Bloch, Museum of National History at Frederiksborg Castle, Public Domain
When the Word Disagrees with Me
Today’s gospel is the familiar story of Jesus in his home town synagogue in Nazareth. He proclaims, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor….Today this Scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.” (Luke 4:18, 21) At the beginning of today’s Gospel, everyone in the synagogue is impressed with Jesus. By the end, they’re trying to kill him. Why? There are likely reasons,e.g., misplaced familiarity with the “home town boy” – “Isn’t this the son of Joseph?” (v.22) What is the old adage about familiarity breeding contempt? Perhaps there is a corollary: familiarity leads us to think we know just enough and so we stop listening.
Jesus knows that the people want him to “Do here in your native place the things that we heard were done in Capernaum.” (v.23) It is the OT equivalent of the modern slang, “show us a little love.” One might guess they are feeling a little entitled. This is very similar to last week’s parable of the workers in the vineyard who had been at it all day, come the end of the day and they felt entitled to more. I wonder if they too stopped listening to the vineyard owner’s explanation?
But what about us? This is not likely the first time hearing this gospel or a homily about it. Are you still trying to peel back the layers of the story to discover how this story impacts you at this time in your life which is no doubt very different from the first time you encountered this episode.
The people in the synagogue heard scripture selectively. The people are provoked when Jesus quotes their own history back to them. They know Elijah, Elisha, the widow and Naaman. Their problem is not a lack of familiarity with Scripture. It’s a selective memory. Israel’s Scriptures contain both election and God’s concern for the nations. Nazareth likes the first and doesn’t want to hear the implications of the second.
We are equally capable of building a Christianity from our favorite verses. We can emphasize justice and forget mercy or emphasize mercy and forget justice. We can insist upon personal morality while ignoring our responsibility for one another. We can become passionate about changing society while avoiding our own need for conversion.
It is not just this story. Countless times we have heard the Beatitudes, the stories of the Good Samaritan and the Prodigal Son. We know the words of Eucharistic institution. We know when to stand, sit and kneel. The danger isn’t necessarily unbelief. It can be overfamiliarity especially when we stop expecting the Word to surprise us. Sometimes knowing the Bible story is precisely what prevents us from hearing the Bible story. Familiarity can create the illusion our understanding is complete.
Jesus senses that he has touched something the listeners don’t want touched: God’s saving mercy for the “others”. The widow was a foreigner. Naaman was a Syrian and not merely a Syrian, but a commander in the enemy army. It is at this point that their admiration turns toward fury. It is just like the first workers in the vineyard parable: God’s generosity becomes offensive when God is generous to someone we don’t think deserves it.
We all have portions of Scripture we love because they reinforce what we already believe. The more revealing question is which parts do I wish Jesus hadn’t said? We readily hear Scripture when it supports our instincts about morality, politics, economics, social questions or whatever issue happens to matter deeply to us. The real test comes when Scripture challenges a position we already hold. We are very good at hearing the Word of God when it tells somebody else to change. The harder question is whether I will allow the Word of God to disagree with me.
The people of Nazareth thought they knew God. They thought they knew Jesus. They even knew the Scripture stories Jesus was telling them. What they weren’t prepared for was allowing those stories to change them.
So perhaps when the Word of God unsettles us, irritates us, or challenges something we have long assumed, our first response shouldn’t be, “That can’t be what Jesus means.” Perhaps it should be: “Lord, what are you trying to change in me?”
Image credit: Created in Dalle-3 | Aug 28, 2026 | prompt: create an image of Jesus in the Nazareth synagogue as described in Luke 4 – keep in an icon style with vibrant colors. Have Jesus centered with listeners on either side, seated. Include an open scroll or book | CC-BY-NC
Instruction for the Community
This coming Sunday is the 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time. The previous two Sundays have focused on the gospel narrative that is set at the site of Peter’s great confession of faith: Caesarea Philippi. This is also the place where Jesus’ first passion prediction occurs which leads to Peter’s exclamation: “God forbid, Lord! No such thing shall ever happen to you” (16:22) – in effect denying the revealed nature and role of the messiah. Jesus corrects Peter in v.24: “Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle to me. You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.” Despite his confession of faith and the blessing in response to it, Peter initially rejects the possibility that Jesus’ messiahship could involve suffering. This leads to Jesus’ instruction to the disciples about the true nature of the cross and the willingness to carry it in accordance with the will of God.
At this point in Matthew’s narrative the scene changes: “After six days Jesus took Peter, James, and John his brother, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. And he was transfigured before them” (17:1-2). But even after the revelation of the glory of God in the experience of the Transfiguration, the disciples are still plagued by their “little faith” and their inability to perform great signs and wonders (17:16, 19) – almost a counterpoint to the glory just witnessed. Yet in using the symbol of a mustard seed, Jesus still witnesses that through faith, he is present to the disciples.
The relentless movement towards Jerusalem continues as the disciples gather in Galilee (17:22). This is a community gathered from the “faithless and perverse generation” (v.17). Jesus’ witness of the second passion prediction serves to announce the focal point and bases upon which this new community gathers. Nonetheless the gathered disciples are sorrowful because they as yet do not understand. The disciples have a way to go, but slowly they are becoming church.
This perhaps the subtle but often overlooked element of Matthew’s narrative. Throughout the arc of the storyline Jesus has been addressing the gathering community. “But who do you say that I am?” is addressed not the singular “you” of Simon Peter, but the plural “you” of all the disciples – Peter is simply the one who steps forward to give voice to the response of the community.
Chapter 18 is considered by most scholars as containing the 4th of the 5 discourses, often labeling this section as “Instructions to the Community.” The fourth major collection of Jesus’ teaching is concerned with relationships among Jesus’ followers, who are clearly seen as a distinct community (as 16:18 has led us to expect). Within such a community there is opportunity both to harm and to care for others, and the health and effectiveness of the group will depend on the attitudes to one another which are fostered. Matthew has brought much of the stories together in this compact form with a view to the needs of the developing church. It is not so much a ‘Manual of Discipline,’ with regulations parallel to those of the so-named document from Qumran, rather it is a guide to relationships within the community. It is only in vv.15–17 that specific procedures are set out, and those are not so much ‘disciplinary’ as pastoral.
Image credit: Sermon on the Mount (1877) by Carl Heinrich Bloch, Museum of National History at Frederiksborg Castle, Public Domain
Liturgical Choices and Narrative Continuity
This coming Sunday is the 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time, Lectionary Cycle A. Choosing readings for liturgy while taking into account the ebb and flow of liturgical seasons is an incredible undertaking that requires study and the blessing of Wisdom. The choices made sometimes leave unusual gaps in the narrative intended by the sacred author. The move from the 22nd to the 23rd Sunday is such a move. Consider the following flow:
We move across 1½ chapter of the text which contains important narratives that pertain to the deepening revelation of the person of Jesus to his disciples – recalling and confirming Peter’s confession – and making clear the connection of Jesus as Son of God and as the Suffering Servant who would be the means of reconciling God and God’s people. All the while pointing ahead to the Resurrection.
Image credit: Sermon on the Mount (1877) by Carl Heinrich Bloch, Museum of National History at Frederiksborg Castle, Public Domain
Faithfulness
In today’s gospel when Jesus says: “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” (Mt 16:24-25) – what did you hear? Because of the way we use the expression in everyday language, I think a tendency to think of “our cross” is to focus on nagging health concerns, local traffic, or difficult coworkers or relatives, and similar events in our lives. It has become an all-purpose metaphor.
For Jesus’ first hearers, the cross was not a metaphor at all. It was a horrifying public reality. It represented Roman power at its most brutal: humiliation, shame, and a death reserved primarily for slaves, rebels, and those the empire wanted to make examples of. When Jesus first spoke these words, no one in the crowd would have thought of daily travails, church decore, or even salvation. They would have imagined a more horrific end. After the Resurrection, Christians saw the cross in an entirely new light: the place where God’s love conquered sin and death.
We are modern people, believing people who hear these words in an ongoing dialogue about discipleship. While suffering can certainly become part of discipleship, here, that is not what Jesus primarily means. Notice the context. Immediately before this saying, Peter has rebuked Jesus for speaking about his coming suffering and death. Jesus replies: “You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.” (Mt 16:23) Only then does he say: “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.” The cross is not simply something that happens to us. It is something we choose because we are following Christ.
Think of it this way: to take up one’s cross is to choose to embrace whatever faithfulness to Christ requires, even when it is costly. Taking up one’s cross is an act of fidelity – that may well bring suffering, misunderstanding, or sacrifice. But the suffering itself is not the cross. The cross is your fidelity.
I think there are several forms of “taking up the cross” that are particularly relevant in the twenty-first century. In an age of polarization and misinformation, telling the truth can carry real consequences. In an age of social media refusing to spread gossip or even more, interjecting to stop the gossip can have repercussions.
In a world that often celebrates convenience the Gospel celebrates covenant. That means remaining faithful to one’s spouse, aging parents, difficult children, a religious vocation, and priestly promises. These can become a genuine carrying of the cross. Not because those people are burdens, but because love remains faithful when it would be easier to leave.
Think about forgiveness. That can be a cross, one you have to choose to take up. Or living simply in this age of consumption where the culture says acquire more. Faithfulness is choosing generosity over accumulation; contentment over consumption; and stewardship over possession.
What about loving the unnoticed, the one no one else visits, a spouse with dementia, quietly serving in parish ministries and other examples of hidden fidelity when we choose to embrace whatever is required of us in order to be faithful to Christ. Those moments without applause. No recognition. Just love lived out.
Being grateful and hopeful. Not normally associated with “taking up the cross,” but aren’t there times when it is challenging to continue believing that reconciliation is possible, that goodness matters, and that Christ has conquered death? Cynicism is easy. Gratitude and hopefulness take effort. They take practice.
I think “taking up the cross” is sustained by habits that train us to let Christ, rather than the ego, occupy the center of our lives. These include:
- Daily prayer that teaches us to say, “Not my will, but yours.”
- Regular examination of conscience, where we surrender the need always to be right.
- Frequent celebration of the Sacrament of Reconciliation, which is itself an act of humility.
- Eucharistic participation, where we receive the One who first carried the cross.
- Hidden acts of charity that seek no recognition.
- Fasting, not merely from food, but from resentment, constant distraction, or the need for approval.
These practices shape the heart so that, when the costly moment of discipleship comes, we are prepared to choose fidelity.
One thing that strikes me is that Jesus does not say: “Endure whatever crosses life gives you.” He says: “Take up your cross.” Something that is active, deliberate, and voluntary. In an age, every age perhaps, people are tempted to arrange life around self-preservation and advancement. And maybe a simple way to understand “take up your cross” is this: “Choose faithfulness over self-preservation.” And now this final verse makes more sense.
Image credit:RomanNerud | iStock photo ID:2239554065 | downloaded Aug 7, 2026 | std iStock license
The Passion of John the Baptist
Today the Church celebrates the Passion of St. John the Baptist. This is not simply a martyr’s death or the tragic execution of an important biblical figure. His death marks the completion of his prophetic vocation. From the question posed in Luke’s gospel at his birth: “What, then, will this child be?” – this scene completes a life of fidelity to the truth during which John prepared the way for Christ not only through his preaching and baptism, but ultimately by giving his life. It is a celebration with several layers.
John dies as a prophet. The immediate reason for John’s imprisonment and death is striking. He isn’t executed because he proclaimed Jesus as Messiah. He is imprisoned because he tells Herod Antipas: “It is not lawful for you to have your brother’s wife.” (Mk 6:18). John refuses to adjust God’s truth to accommodate the powerful. That places him squarely in the tradition of Israel’s prophets. Elijah confronted Ahab. Nathan confronted David. Jeremiah confronted kings and religious leaders. John does the same and pays the price often associated with prophetic fidelity. At this layer, the feast celebrates the cost of speaking truth when truth is inconvenient.
John prepares the way for Jesus even in death. There is also a remarkable parallel between John’s Passion and Christ’s Passion. Consider that both are innocent and are arrested by political authorities who are reluctant to execute them. Herod recognizes John as righteous; Pilate recognizes Jesus’ innocence. Both rulers nevertheless surrender to pressure rather than doing what they know is right. Both of their deaths reveal the point where God’s Kingdom and worldly powers collide.
John is the herald and forerunner of Christ in preaching, suffering and even in death. His whole life says what he had earlier said about Jesus: “He must increase; I must decrease.” (Jn 3:30) His martyrdom is the final and most radical form of that decreasing.
Why call it the “Passion”? Ordinarily we speak of the martyrdom of saints. The Church traditionally calls August 29 the Passion or Beheading of John the Baptist. “Passion” emphasizes his suffering and deliberately invites comparison with Christ’s Passion. John isn’t another redeemer; Christ alone accomplishes redemption. But John’s death has a distinctive relationship to Christ’s because the entire purpose of John’s life is to point beyond himself toward Jesus.
Still, I am often asked why celebrate such a gruesome event? We are celebrating a most radical example of fidelity. Think of the contrasts: Herod appears powerful. John appears powerless. Herod has the palace, soldiers, wealth, and authority. John is sitting in a prison cell. And yet there is a radical reversal. Herod is actually captive to his reputation, an oath he made is a moment of inebriated passion, the opinion of his guests, and to Herodias. He is captive to his unwillingness to admit that he has made a terrible promise.
John, meanwhile, is physically imprisoned but morally free.
“What, then, will this child be?” (Lk 1:66)
Today’s celebration answers that question. This child will become a man so completely given to God’s call that he will not abandon it even when fidelity costs him his life. He became a faithful witness.
And I think that is ultimately why the Church keeps this rather unsettling feast. John did what he had done throughout his entire life: he pointed toward Christ. At the Jordan he did it with his hand and his voice—“Behold, the Lamb of God.” At Herod’s court he did it by telling the truth. And finally, in prison, he did it by remaining faithful when speaking that truth had become terribly costly.
The Passion of John the Baptist celebrates a life in which the message and the messenger finally became inseparable.
Image credit: St. John the Baptist Rebuking King Herod | Giovanni Fattori, 1856 | Galleria dell’Accademia, Florence | PD-US
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