The liturgical year advances us quite rapidly from the cave in Bethlehem to the banks of the River Jordan. At this Vigil Liturgy we’re beginning to open up the divine mystery of the Theophany, which will burst forth in its full splendor tomorrow with the Divine Liturgy and the Great Blessing of the Water. For now we are invited into this mystery by St John the Forerunner.
We actually have two different major themes to celebrate at this Vigil Liturgy, which are indicated by the readings (1Cor. 9:19-27; Lk. 3:1-18). One is the humility of Christ, and the other is fiery preaching of St John.
The Epistle is evidently chosen (though the first time I heard it read for this feast I couldn’t figure out why it was chosen) to give an insight into the mind of Christ, even though St Paul was talking about himself. But the Apostle elsewhere said, “Imitate me as I imitate Christ,” so I think that’s how the Church wants us to see this. It’s basically about becoming all things to all men for the sake of their salvation.
“Though I am free from all men,” the Apostle writes, “I have made myself a slave to all, that I might win the more.” Jesus said He came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many. He is also described by Paul as taking the form of a slave through the kenosis of his Incarnation. “To those under the law,” Paul continues, “I became as one under the law.” Jesus did this as well, from the very beginning of his human life. He accepted the prescribed rituals of the law, like circumcision and presentation in the temple, and he observed the law during his life, to the extent that it did not conflict with his Father’s will. Thus He attracted disciples from among the Jews.
The most striking example of the humility of the Son of God we find at the Jordan River: He became like a sinner to save sinners! He didn’t actually sin, of course, but He got in line with the rest of them to receive the baptism of repentance at the hands of the Forerunner. Jesus humbled Himself by entering into solidarity with those whom He came to save. How would the poor and the broken and the sinners and the failures have had courage to come to Him if He had arrived on the scene like a king in a chariot, with power and glory? But as St Paul continues in the Epistle: “To the weak I became weak, that I might win the weak. I have become all things to all men, that I might by all means save [at least] some. I do it all for the sake of the Gospel…”
So this is the first element to reflect upon as we enter into the mystery of this feast: Christ’s entry into the Jordan was, among other things, a sign of his kenosis, the setting aside of his divine glory for the sake of humbly indentifying with those whom He came to save. He would do whatever it would take to draw all to Himself, and through Himself to the Father. No sacrifice was too great for Him, even if it meant that other people would (at least initially) regard Him as a common sinner like all the rest.
Now let us turn to St John the Baptizer. I’ve always been fascinated by the way St Luke introduces his ministry. It is done quite dramatically, setting the stage by giving its precise moment in history, with the alignment of the various rulers and authorities, both religious and secular, local and universal. At this moment in the reign of Tiberius and all the other figures, “the word of God came to John the son of Zachariah in the desert.”
What was it like for him to receive the word of God? It had to be something quite profound, for it set the course for the rest of his life. John was probably in the desert for a long time, perhaps as long as 15-20 years. St Luke doesn’t tell us when he entered the desert, but some traditions have it that his parents died when he was still quite young. Luke leaves it ambiguous. After the birth of John, he simply says, “the child grew and became strong, and he was in the desert until the day of his manifestation to Israel” (1:80). Was John a hermit, or did he perhaps join the Essenes, a community of Jewish ascetics with an apocalyptic bent? We’ll probably never know for sure this side of Heaven, but whatever he was doing in the desert, it was there that the word of God came to him.
It must have been like fire from Heaven, for he immediately left his former way of life and went to the Jordan, preaching a baptism of repentance. We don’t know the precise content of the word that he received, though we can at least guess that he was told that the Messiah was about to manifest Himself, and that the people had to repent in order to be prepared to receive Him.
Perhaps God also told John that there were a lot of incorrigible sinners among the inhabitants of Judea, for the first words out of the Forerunner’s mouth were: “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?”
OK, now he had their attention. Now he could begin his preaching, telling them what they had to do. Repent was one thing; but repentance, if it only means confessing one’s sins as one is dunked in the Jordan, is not enough. For the Baptizer goes on: “Bear fruits that befit repentance,” that is, give some evidence that you really do regret your sins; start living a life which no longer includes those sins. Just to put some teeth into his preaching, in case the people were not yet fully persuaded that they really had to change their lives, he added: “Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.”
After this, a rather curious thing happens. The fiery preacher moderates his tone somewhat. The multitudes were pleading with him: “When then shall we do?” Perhaps they were trembling in terror at this point, imagining what it must be like to be engulfed in eternal hellfire, so St John simply gave them some solid advice on how to be just and charitable in their various states of life: be generous to the poor, don’t cheat or steal, don’t accuse anyone falsely, and don’t complain about your paycheck. It is almost as if he were saying: If you had been keeping the commandments in the first place, I wouldn’t have had to threaten you with damnation. So why don’t you just start doing what you know you are supposed to be doing anyway?
Yet this is only part of the message. It was the task of the Old Testament prophets to call God’s straying people back to his covenant with them, back to fidelity and obedience to his commandments. But St John stands on the threshold of the New Testament. He makes it clear that God’s commandments which govern human morality never change; they have no expiration date. But once he lets them know that they must still keep doing good, he introduces a new element: the Mighty One who is coming.
Here is where John presents himself not only as baptizer and preacher, but also as the forerunner of the Son of God. “I baptize you
with water,” he said. But the One who would come shortly after him, One whose sandals John professed being unworthy to untie—He is the fulfillment of the prophecies; He is the one who will establish the New Covenant. And so the fiery preacher also introduces a new kind of fire. “He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire.” This could perhaps be a way of saying: “He will baptize you with the Fire of the Holy Spirit.” This indeed happened in a visible and tangible way on the day of Pentecost.
Even though something radically new was being introduced into the lives of the chosen people, John seems to indicate the continuity with the past b
y reintroducing the more unpleasant kind of fire. For he says that the Messiah is coming for judgment, and those who don’t bear the fruit that befits repentance, who are like chaff instead of wheat, will be burned with unquenchable fire.
So I guess the Forerunner is inviting us to choose which fire we’d like to be immersed in: the purifying, enlightening, heavenly Fire of the Holy Spirit, or the punishing, tormenting fire of Hell. We, then, might wish to come to St John as did the Jews of old, saying: “What then shall we do? We want the good fire, not the bad fire!” And he might say similar things to us: “Well, what is your state in life, and what are its duties? If you are spouses and parents, you know what your obligations are. Fulfill them. If you are under religious vows, you know what they require. Be faithful; don’t break them. Know the Scriptures and the teachings of the Church, and do what they tell you. Pray, fast, do good, serve, forgive, humble yourselves in imitation of Him who came to the Jordan and lined up with uncouth sinners.”
St John prepares us well for living in the New Covenant, even though he never lived to see it established on earth. The Gospel shows us two things that will never change: believe in Jesus, and put your faith into practice by doing good. Both of these are essential if we want to avoid the unquenchable fire that the preacher threatened with such incisive eloquence.
Finally, the Baptizer is one who prepares the way of the Lord. That was an Advent theme, but after Christmas we’re still hearing it. That is because we are always called to prepare the way of the Lord, not only in one or another liturgical season. Our whole life has to be a preparation for meeting the Lord in the ultimate encounter wherein our destiny will be set forever. The Lord is coming, with two kinds of fire. If we, as St Paul says, do all for the sake of the Gospel, and if we, as St John says, continually bear fruit that befits repentance, we will be forever immersed—not in that horrible, stinking, burning hellfire, but in the Sweet-fire of the Holy Spirit in the Kingdom of Light and Love and everlasting joy. So let us take the plunge, as the Baptizer invites. And let us run so as to win, as the Apostle writes. For Christ has become all things to all, so as to save us!
