Johnsmas

Propers: The Nativity of St John the Baptist (Johnsmas), A.D. 2018 B

Homily:

Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Welcome to Johnsmas!—a holiday woefully overlooked on our calendar but one that well merits our attention. It goes by many names. Shakespeare called it Midsummer. Norwegians call it Sankthans. But for the Church, today is the Nativity of St John the Baptist: prophet, priest, and the Forerunner of our Lord.

St John’s is one of only three birthdays recognized by the Church. Oh, there are plenty of martyrs, saints, and apostles. Thousands, in fact, a dozen or so a day. And generally speaking, their commemorations fall on the anniversaries of their deaths, or the translation of their relics (which is often a polite euphemism for having one’s bones stolen). But three people are honored at birth: Jesus, Mary, and St John the Baptist. So how does this guy rate alongside the Risen Christ and the Mother of God?

The Old Testament prophesies that before the coming of the Messiah, a Forerunner would appear, filled with the spirit and power of Elijah; a voice crying out in the wilderness, “Make straight the way of the Lord!” These Scriptures are fulfilled in John, a cousin of Jesus, related through their mothers. According to the Gospel, when the two women met—Mary, pregnant with Jesus, and Elizabeth, pregnant with John—the baby in Elizabeth’s womb leapt for joy in recognition of the baby in Mary’s womb.

Thus is John ordained by the movement of the Holy Spirit from womb to womb. He is called, he is empowered, he is sanctified, even before he is born. His mission begins at that moment, and for all his life he will be the Forerunner of Jesus. Everything Jesus will do, John does first. He is born six months before Jesus, which is why we celebrate now, six months before Christmas.

John goes out into the wilderness before Jesus; calls disciples before Jesus; preaches repentance for the coming of the Kingdom before Jesus; and baptizes sinners in the River Jordan before Jesus. Eventually even John’s death at the hands of an unjust authority is the signal to Jesus that His own death upon the Cross draws near. As John preceded Jesus throughout His life, so John also precedes Him into the tomb.

The difference in their ministries is very simple. John prepared the people for the coming of the Messiah, calling for all to repent, for the Kingdom of God draws near. Jesus is the Messiah, the Christ to whom John forever points, and His coming is nothing less than the Kingdom of God breaking into our world. “Behold,” cried John, “the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world! I am not worthy even to untie the thong of His sandal. I have baptized you with water, but He will baptize you with fire and with the Holy Spirit! And now He must increase, but I must decrease.”

And so John, having fulfilled his calling as foretold in the Scriptures, offers up his life, knowing that His Lord will follow Him into death, and raise him up from the Pit.

We have a beautiful illustration of the relationship between Jesus and John reflected in the turning of the natural seasons. Here in the northern hemisphere, Johnsmas falls just after the summer solstice, the longest day of the year; whereas Christmas falls just after the winter solstice, the longest night. And so, from St John’s Day onward, the light of the Sun will steadily wane—the days ever shortening, the nights growing long—until Christmas, the Nativity of Our Lord, when unto us a Son is born, and the Light grows ever stronger in Him. I must decrease, but He must increase.

The Bible compares John the Baptist to a refiner’s fire and to fuller’s soap, purifying the descendants of Levi, the priests, and refining them like gold and silver. The image being one of harshness, yes, but also of blazing light and radiance and power, a consuming fire that brings with it purity and renewal, as John does. And so it is the ancient tradition of the Church to light bonfires at Johnsmas, and to burn in these fires old devotional objects—crumbling Bibles, broken prayer beads, leftover palms from Palm Sunday, anything sacramental, anything holy—in order that we may return them to God, their use having been fulfilled. We’ll be doing this out back following the service.

In Norway they stack pallets a hundred and twenty feet high for their Johnsmas fires, a veritable skyscraper, reminding one of the Exodus when God’s people were led by a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. We’ll be a bit more modest in our aims, though I have every confidence in our local fire department. Maybe next year we can burn a barn or something.

But I think what I love most about John is the model he offers for crotchety preachers. He could be harsh, demanding, single-minded in his pursuit of goodness, truth, and beauty. He told it like it is; he spoke truth to power; he didn’t sugar-coat a thing. Yet neither did he ever turn anyone away. He spoke to the agonizing depths of their sins, but this was always followed by the proclamation that another was coming, one greater was coming, and that when the Lord came forth, no power on earth, nor in Heaven, nor in hell, could hope to stand against the might of His mercies.

The difference, of course, is that John was really righteous whereas we preachers are all-too-often only self-righteous. We think we’re John, when we’re more like to be the brood of vipers. We get angry. We get frustrated. We take things personally that we shouldn’t. Because it isn’t about us, and John knew that. John knew that all the fires of his righteous indignation were as nothing before the life-giving mercies of Jesus Christ.

It’s not our Church. It never was. We were only ever stewards. All our self-importance, all the things we think we’ve wrought, are all together unworthy even to untie the thong of Jesus’ sandal. He must increase, but we must decrease. Only then do we point to the true Kingdom of God. Only then do we point to the Christ.

There is a joy in living for Jesus, no matter what our callings in this life. There is true and glorious freedom in confessing that we cannot hold a candle to Him, any more than a match could outshine the sun. And so we offer up our lives simply to make straight His paths, and in so doing we become who we were meant to be all along: prophets and priests, kinsmen and cousins, forerunners and followers of Jesus Christ our Lord.

May the fires of St John burn within us—the fires of Christ’s own Holy Spirit—purifying, refining, transforming and uplifting, bearing us aloft to God, with our wickedness burned away, and our raiment shining brighter than the sun.

In the Name of the Father and of the +Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.