It’s easy to see why the Isaiah reading was chosen for today’s feast and as a complement to today’s gospel. In describing his own calling Isaiah could be speaking for John the Baptist — and any prophet called by God. He could also be speaking for each of us when the moment comes in our lives and we are called to take a stand for what is right, or speak a word of comfort to someone afflicted.
Through our baptism we are anointed to be priest, prophet and royalty. Today’s feast reminds us of our baptismal vocation as prophets. As Isaiah says, “The Lord called me from birth, from my mother’s womb [God] gave me my name.” At Baptism each of us was called to be a prophet; perhaps not as public as Isaiah or John the Baptist, but prophet nevertheless. We can learn the “job description” of a prophet from Isaiah’s autobiographical and poetic self description.
Today’s selection is one of Isaiah’s four “Servant Songs” (42:1-4; 49:1-6; 50:4-9 and 52:13-53:12). The prophet realizes he was called “from my mother’ s womb.” The sense of call, or vocation, was important because, like the other prophets, he would not always be acting to console others. He would also have to be a “sharp-edged sword” and so his words would stir opposition. Prophets are called from among their own people — they are not outsiders. To speak a word of critique to the status quo in one’s own community would inevitably cause, not only resistance by one’s own people, but also self-doubt. How could doubt not be part of the prophet’s life when even those closest to him/her resist and turn against them?
Jesus’ followers saw him as an Isaiah-like prophet. He spoke words of consolation and healing to the afflicted and critique to those with political and, especially, religious authority. His prophetic mission, like that of the prophets who preceded him, met resistance and he suffered at the hands of those in charge of the religious institution. Disciples who responded to Jesus and accepted his invitation to pick up his cross and follow him, could expect no less treatment from those who controlled the reins of power.
John the Baptist was the forerunner of Christ. His role as prophet wasn’t in the line of the gentle Isaiah, but in the style and with the fire, of Elijah. This very popular voice would suffer a prophet’s violent end, but not before pointing to his successor, Jesus. After he does that, Jesus will be the center of attention; a prophet both with Isaiah’s gentle compassion and Elijah’s challenge to obstinate religious leaders. But it will not be long before Jesus himself will meet a prophet’s violent end. Now we turn our attention to the gospel’s focus on John the Baptist.
Recently the English spent two years preparing for the silver anniversary of Queen Elizabeth. Even we Americans, who threw off the rule of a monarch centuries ago, turned to our televisions early on a Sunday morning to watch a flotilla of 1000 ships, barges, yachts and even canoes (!) float up the Thames River to celebrate their Queen. A good time was had by all in England — and we got to share in it “across the pond.”
Now here’s the Bible’s way. With the birth of John the Baptist God is inaugurating the most momentous event in history and a new age. John will announce Jesus’ coming and Jesus will proclaim the arrival of the Kingdom of God. In preparing for this series of world-changing events, God could certainly throw a celebration that would have exceeded Queen Elizabeth’s anniversary. But that’s not God’s way.
Instead, the wheels of momentous change begin to turn when an elderly couple in a remote village become pregnant. The story of our salvation doesn’t begin with pomp, fireworks and fanfare, but with an older woman giving birth and small-town folk gathered to celebrate and acknowledge God’s “great mercy.” These insignificant people don’t have might on their side, but they do see God’s hand at work.
The naming of a child, especially among ethnic groups and in a small town or village, is an important event. We can tell from the story what was expected: the baby’s name would reflect the family’s tradition and Zechariah’s priestly status. The people are ready to proceed with their traditional and expected ritual. They expect the child to have Zechariah’s name.
But Elizabeth insists he be named John (meaning “God is gracious”), the name the angel announced to his father Zechariah in the Temple. When the neighbors object and state what was expected — he should be named after his father — Zechariah takes a writing tablet and writes, “No. He will be called John.” Who is in charge here anyway!? Parents were supposed to choose the name of their child — they were supposed to be in charge. But God’s presence fills the scene — from the beginning to the end of the gospel. God is in charge and God’s got a plan — a very good plan!
When the angel announced Elizabeth’s pregnancy and John’s name to Zechariah in the Temple, he expressed doubt. After all he and his wife were elderly. That’s when the angel put a seal of silence on Zechariah for his doubting (1:13 ff). At the circumcision and naming ceremony Zechariah writes, “John is his name” on the tablet. Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue freed. His silence was broken and he joins Elizabeth, after the silence of her months of pregnancy and speaks the good news of what God is doing. Zechariah’s subsequent words of praise, “Bless the Lord the God of Israel” (1:67-79), have been cut out of today’s passage. Why not go to Zechariah’s prayer (traditionally called “The Benedictus”) and join him in praise for what God has done in our lives — especially when what we expected was interrupted by the unexpected and in the new, we discovered God’s gracious will for us? Remember John’s name means, “God is gracious!”
What about that silence that was part of Elizabeth and Zechariah’s lives before John’s birth? What about the anticipated silence that’s implied in the closing details of today’s gospel? Luke tells us when the child grew up, “… he was in the desert until the day of his manifestation to Israel.” The desert is the traditional place for prophets to go for prayer, ascetical practices and, most of all, to wait in silence for a word of direction from God. Later, Luke tells us, “The word of God was spoken to John, son of Zechariah, in the desert” (3:2). John will break his silence and begin his ministry, proclaiming a baptism of repentance in preparation for God’s anointed one, the Christ (3:3).
After silence comes fruitful speech. A person keeps silence to acknowledge dependence on God. The silence of a believer is a hope-filled silence, a waiting on the Lord to speak — and when God speaks, God acts. There are times in our lives when we need to do something immediately. But there are other times we need to pause, (“Don’t just do something, stand there!”) and keep a silence, with ears and hearts open for a word.
Silence is a rare commodity in our world. Even when people are working, walking or sitting alone, they are “plugged in” — in one way or another. Take the earplugs out, turn off the car radio and television, don’t go on-line; find a way to keep at least a few moments of silence each day. Try reading a few verses of Scripture (next Sunday’s readings?); then keep a silence for a little while. Make a little desert setting wherever you are.
Today we celebrate a prophet, John the Baptist, whose parents broke their silence to announce “God is gracious.” Later, when the adult John emerged from the desert, he broke his silence to announce, “One greater than I is coming.” In the silence he learned what his prophetic role would be. In the silence we learn and are renewed in our prophetic calling too.