And this morning we look back at the infancy and early childhood
of John and notice with him the Lord calling him even “from his mother’s womb.”
John will kick and stir in the long-barren womb of his mother Elizabeth at the
nearness of Christ in Mary. And miraculously when his father names him John,
the name given him by an angel, his mute father’s tongue will be loosed. And so
today the local folks all wonder, "What, then, will this child be? For
surely the hand of the Lord was with him.” We might also imagine what they
said, as they saw him as a young man sneak off to the desert, and then preach
and baptize with such urgency. “Not surprising at all; I always saw it in him,”
they might say. “He was always different, not like the other kids; a kind of
fire in him; a thoughtful kid; he liked to pray…” Maybe like things our friends
and family said when we came to the monastery.
So it is that we celebrate today a kind of feast of sacred retrospection. Sacred retrospection. Tradition reflects back on the life of John the Baptizer and wonders at the holiness and uniqueness it sees even from his birth. We know this is a typical motif in Scripture and in accounts of many of the saints’ lives. And these stories were very often depicted in art. A favorite example is a relief of the infant St. Nicholas resting in his mother’s left arm. As she offers him her right breast to nurse him, Baby Nicholas raises both of his little hands, as if to say, “No thanks, Mom. I’m good.” Amazingly, it seems he has weaned himself; already quite a little ascetic and brimming with self-control even as a baby. The message is clear: Nicholas’ sanctity was obvious, even from any early age. Really? To the believing mind perhaps it’s not as ditsy as it sounds, but instead an unsophisticated expression of the truth which faith offers us.
So it is that we celebrate today a kind of feast of sacred retrospection. Sacred retrospection. Tradition reflects back on the life of John the Baptizer and wonders at the holiness and uniqueness it sees even from his birth. We know this is a typical motif in Scripture and in accounts of many of the saints’ lives. And these stories were very often depicted in art. A favorite example is a relief of the infant St. Nicholas resting in his mother’s left arm. As she offers him her right breast to nurse him, Baby Nicholas raises both of his little hands, as if to say, “No thanks, Mom. I’m good.” Amazingly, it seems he has weaned himself; already quite a little ascetic and brimming with self-control even as a baby. The message is clear: Nicholas’ sanctity was obvious, even from any early age. Really? To the believing mind perhaps it’s not as ditsy as it sounds, but instead an unsophisticated expression of the truth which faith offers us.
