Hear me, O coastlands,
listen, O distant peoples.
The LORD called me from birth, from my mother's womb he gave me my name.
He made of me a sharp-edged sword
and concealed me in the shadow of his arm. He made me a polished arrow,
in his quiver he hid me. You are my servant, he said to me, Israel, through whom I show my glory.
Today's first reading is the second of four "servant songs" found in the Book of Isaiah the Prophet. They figure prominently during our Holy Week services as they are read on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. Jesus found his calling in these psalms and the Church has always regarded them as templates for his mission. If you would know the Lord, study these four songs of Isaiah.
On this midsummer solemn feast of the Birth of Saint John the Baptist, the Church recasts this second servant song as a prophecy about Elizabeth's son. He too was called from before his birth. In fact he danced in his mother's womb at the coming of Mary, "the Ark of the Covenant", as King David danced when his soldiers brought the Ark of the Covenant to Jerusalem.
The infant was named John at his mother's insistence when his father Zechariah could not speak, thus fulfilling the prophecy "from my mother's womb he gave my my name."
He was a sharp-edge sword as he called out the wickedness in Jerusalem and Herod's court. The prophets never hesitate to engage in politics; and like John they pay dearly for it.
Finally, the Baptist suffered the indignity of being hidden in Herod's dungeon and executed there. We can only imagine the terror of a man waiting in total darkness for days and weeks, suddenly confronted with blinding torches, thrown to the ground, and decapitated with neither explanation nor apology.
The second Servant Song had described the prophet's feeling of futility in that prison. Though he was a sharp-edged sword and a polished arrow, he was trapped in helpless idleness, hoping for a reprieve, praying for deliverance, until he was casually murdered by the whim of a dancing girl.
His only consolation was a promise he would not live to see fulfilled:
You are my servant, he said to me, Israel, through whom I show my glory.
I have often reflected on futility during my seventh decade of life and fifth decade of priesthood. I should have no more complaints than any priest who is not a bishop, cardinal or pope; but I suspect that same unease hounds Christians in every office high or low. In fact, it's probably more intense for prelates. We prayed, studied, trained, prepared -- for this?
Futility is another word for the doubt that accompanies faith, but it is more painful. Doubt is an intellectual problem. I might doubt that God is good or that Jesus saves, but I still hope my life, experience and suffering have meaning and purpose. "I am somebody!" I tell myself.
But futility is an existential problem that confronts us whether we believe in God or not. Presently America is afflicted with an epidemic of futility that arouses senseless violence, innumerable addictions and suicide. People are dying in vain and we don't know why.
The scriptures are well aware of this existential problem as they ask, "Whose life has meaning, the wicked or the virtuous?" During yesterday's Evening Prayer we read the 145th psalm and the words:
Do not trust in princes to save you,
they are only sons of men.
One day their breath will leave them, they will return to the ground;
on that day all their plans perish.
Happy the one whose help is the God of Jacob,
whose hope is in the Lord his God,
who made heaven and earth and all that is in them,
who keeps faith for ever,
who gives justice to the oppressed,
who gives food to the hungry.
Saint John the Baptist, from his dungeon teaches us to recognize and finally embrace the sense of futility that accompanies Christian freedom. In the darkness he must have recalled the words of the Prophet Isaiah:
Though I thought I had toiled in vain,
and for nothing, uselessly, spent my strength,
yet my reward is with the LORD,
my recompense is with my God.
We hope not in our accomplishments but in the Victory the Lord has won for for us. The Lord would not let Adam, Cain, Herod, Judas or Adolf Hitler have the last word. As Saint Paul says,
I consider that the sufferings of this present time are as nothing compared with the glory to be revealed for us. For creation awaits with eager expectation the revelation of the children of God; for creation was made subject to futility, not of its own accord but because of the one who subjected it, in hope that creation itself would be set free from slavery to corruption and share in the glorious freedom of the children of God. We know that all creation is groaning in labor pains even until now; and not only that, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, we also groan within ourselves as we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that sees for itself is not hope. For who hopes for what one sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait with endurance.
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.