An elderly person in Kansas City went each day to the newspaper box on the corner. She placed her money in the slot, opened the door, and took as many newspapers as were there. Finally she was caught. The charge was that she was selling the papers. She was acquitted. In fact, she was taking them back to her home to use as fuel. She wanted to remember what warmth felt like for a few moments each day. One third of our fellow citizens in the United States are either badly fed or living in sub-standard housing or wearing rags. Sometimes they suffer from all three afflictions.
The situation deteriorates daily. Our privately funded Soup Kitchens are sometimes literally running out of soup. Incidentally, contrary to popular prejudice, the majority of our poor are white and they are children. We Americans have the capability to watch a comet strike Jupiter, but we have failed to give an old woman in Kansas City fuel for her house. Why should this tale of woe excite us this third Sunday in Advent? After all, we can already see beautifully wrapped gifts and bright Christmas trees. The answer is to be found in today’s Gospel. It grabs us rudely by the throat and reminds us that ours is a social Gospel. It is not merely a question of God and me but rather God, me, and the other person. This is so especially when the other fellow is going down for the third time. Many Catholics charge that the Church, priests, and religious are oftentimes off the mark. This is true the charge goes whenever they speak or act on the nitty gritty matters of, say, economic questions.
The Church many parishioners say should confine itself to the enunciation of general moral principles and guidelines. Unhappily for these critics no one bothered to share their program with John the Baptizer or John the Disturber, as James Tahaney calls him, in today’s Gospel. What can be more explicit about moral questions than the three answers given by John to questions put to him? One section of his audience asked him, “What must we do then?” In answer he said, “If anyone has two overcoats, he must share with the man who has none, and the one with an extra loaf of bread must do the same.” John the Disturber is not telling his audience to give away all they have. Rather, he is advising them to give out of their surplus. Then it is the tax collectors’ turn. “Master, what must we do?” His answer was swift, “Do not rob taxpayers blind.” Finally the military. “What about us?” John continues on a roll, “Hold no kangaroo courtmartials. Do not shake anyone down.” This advice from this Jewish holy man can hardly be called the general principles of morality. Rather, the Disturber is crossing the “ts” and dotting the “is.” A spiritual director at a seminary was admiringly nicknamed John the Baptist by the students. He not only lived like the Baptizer but also he spoke like him to them. Would anyone be tempted to give us such a nickname? I fear not. St Paul endorses the advice of the Disturber.
He is writing to the small Christian colony at Philippi in Greece. It had been founded by Philip, the father of Alexander the Great, and so its name. Paul writes, “Let your generosity be manifest to all.” As a matter of fact, this advice to be generous with a five dollar bill is a broken record in the letters of Paul. One finds the advice not only here but also in his letters to the Romans, Galatians, Hebrews, and in both letters to the Corinthians. Paul did not confine himself to enunciating the general principles of ethical conduct. Rather, he was taking direct aim at the checkbooks of his followers. No doubt they were making as many moans about Paul of Tarsus as we do when people ask us for the poor. The human condition is the human condition no matter what the century. But do keep in mind that Advent is designed to give a serious electrical shock to one’s spiritual nervous system. It is true that Jesus cannot be born again, but, as Tahaney notes, we can. And that really is what Advent is all about. It is unabashedly demanding, again in Tahaney’s well chosen language, that we give birth to our best selves.