# Sermons from the Latins/Sermon 4

Third Sunday of Advent.
John the Baptist.
" Amen, I say to you, there hath not arisen among them that are born of woman, a greater than John the Baptist." — Matt xi. ii.
SYNOPSIS.
I. 1. Prophet and subject of prophecy. 2. Hidden and public life. 3. His temptation and victory.
II. 1. Words and deeds. 2. Sinful world, and process of regeneration. 3. John's last duty and death.
III. 1. John's message to Christ. 2. Its meaning. 3. Christ's reply.
Per. : The messenger of Death, and our answer.
SERMON.
Such was John's eulogy, pronounced by Truth incarnate. Higher praise was never given to mortal man. In dignity, in sanctity, he was less than Christ or Christ's Mother, but in the catalogue of the saints ​of the Old Law, John, though last, is still the first and greatest. The noblest member is nearest the head, the purest water nighest its source, and John was own cousin to the Lord. That bread wherewith Christ fed the multitudes, that miraculous wine of Cana — God's immediate productions — must have been of the rarest quality; and so apparent, in the Baptist's birth and life and death, is the hand of God, that he must have been, among men, the noblest and the best.
Brethren, John the Baptist is the horizon where earth meets heaven; the link connecting the Old Law with the New; the last of the prophets and the first of the Apostles, and consequently styled by Our Lord more than a prophet. To be the subject of prophecy is a higher dignity than to be a prophet one's self, and, of them all, John alone enjoyed this dual honor — a prophet himself, he was foretold by Isaias and Malachias. The Angel Gabriel announced his advent to his parents, and his presence in her womb imparted to Elizabeth the prophetic spirit, and loosened Zachary's palsied tongue to foretell that he should be called the prophet of the Most High, and be the herald of the coming Saviour. More than a prophet; for while yet in his mother's womb, he leaped for joy at the approach of the unborn Saviour; the highest dignitary of them all, for, in the solemn regal procession, he walks immediately before the face of the King. More than a prophet; for to the supereminent gifts with which God had, by infusion, endowed him, he, by the purity, the ​simplicity, the austerity and self-denial of his life, superadded such acquired virtues as to merit from the lips of his Saviour the title of angel. In his early boyhood, in his childhood almost, leaving home and parents he fled into the desert alone, and there for thirty years he communed with God — a true child of Nature, the wild beasts for his only companions, clothed in a garment of camel's hair with a leathern girdle, and locusts and wild honey for his food. For thirty long years, until the very recollection of him had passed from the popular mind, so that when, like the morning star, he reappeared to usher in the Sun of Justice, the people hailed him enthusiastically as the promised Messias. That was the crucial moment of John's life, and, as is usual with heroes, it developed his true greatness. " And he confessed and did not deny, and he confessed, I am not the Christ." The whirlwind of popular adulation would have turned any head less steady. He knew that, like the morning star, the most brilliant of all, he shone with a borrowed light, destined to diminish and fade away before the arisen sun. He was a burning and a shining light, indeed, but he shone not for himself but to reveal the Saviour. His mission was to cast upon the earth the first sparks of the love of Christ. No hollow reed he, to be shaken by the winds of flattery; no courtier he, craving for the ease and homage of royalty. Though a word would have deified him, though he disappointed his disciples and the whole people, he still persisted : " I am not the Christ." ​"Then," said they, " thou art Elias returned to earth, or one of the prophets risen from the dead," but he answered: "I am not." The austerity of John's life resembled that of Elias. John never wrote his prophesies; neither did Elias. John was the precursor of the Lord — a mission, they knew, Elias was one day to fulfil. John denounced the sinful union of Herod with his brother's wife, even as Elias did that of Achab and Jezabel; all of which led the people to conclude that John was none other than the Thesbian returned to earth. But once again the humble Baptist rises superior to self, declaring: " No, I am but the voice of one crying in the wilderness, prepare ye the way of the Lord, the latchet of whose shoe I am not worthy to loose." There is nothing, it seems to me, so lovely, so edifying, so altogether touching, as profound humility in union with the loftiest greatness. It is something we can admire always, even when, in our little way, we despair of imitation. It forms the chief charm of John's character. Too humble to speak of himself, even as an individual, but rather as a breath, a voice, a cry sent forth into the wilderness of this world. Yet he unconsciously gave himself, thereby, his due meed of praise, by proclaiming himself a very part of the Saviour Himself. " The word of God," we are told, " came to John, the son of Zachary, in the desert." He was the word of God verbally, even as Christ was substantially. So true was he to his mission that his whole being, and reason for being, was expressed in that one cry: " Prepare ye the way of ​the Lord." His whole personality, his life, his works cried: " Prepare ye the way of the Lord." Works cry louder than words : " The heavens show forth the glory of God and the firmament declareth the work of His hands." And of John the Baptist it may be truly said, that " his voice hath gone forth into all the earth and his words unto the ends of the world."
Ah, Brethren, if we could only realize that words are to deeds as a whisper to a clarion note; that our deeds cry out even when we are silent. If I that preach could only realize the importance of example, I would cease to be a sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal; and oh, that you who listen would but learn that louder still is the vengeful cry of evil deeds — that the blood of Abel and the iniquities of Sodom and Gomorrha and the rich man's oppression of the poor cry to heaven for vengeance, and that the cries thereof enter into the ears of the Lord God of Sabaoth. If we are in sin, you or I, our whole personality — our lives, our deeds, are but a voice in the wilderness of this world, crying: " Prepare ye the way of the Demon, make straight his paths." It is sin that makes this world a desert — a vast, wooded wilderness, where, if you except the anchorites and hermits, few real men are found. Many lose their way in the pursuit of phantoms; tirelessly they search for the fountains of water, and find them bitter; they climb for the fruit of the topmost branch, and find it sour. Through this world roams the devil like a roaring lion; wild beasts, too, are here in human shape, more cruel even than the dumb ​species; as the spectators in the Roman circus outdid in ferocity the lions that licked the feet of the martyrs. Men, too, like Dantesque trees, deeply rooted in the soil, thorny to prick the passer-by, and fruitless as the fig-tree cursed of God. According to God's original design man is an inverted tree, his branches directed earthward, his roots — the head — turned to God. But sinners reverse in themselves God's design: their inner man turns from God and buries himself — his head, his heart, his soul, firmly and deeply in the earth. Oh, if God would grant us to see men as God sees them, what a desert wilderness, what a preposterous spectacle the world would afford! The blind man, when Jesus touched his eyes, exclaimed : " Lord, I see men like trees, walking." Touch our eyes, O Lord, and grant us to see and correct the woeful aspect of Thy fair creation, ere John's threat be fulfilled and the axe of Thy wrath be laid to the root of the tree. No wonder the god of day, that rises so bright and cheery of mornings, sets at eve blushing rosy red at the enormities he beholds; no wonder Nature at even-time rains down her dewy tears, and dons the mourning garb of night, sending the indulgent moon to shade away monstrosities or else to gild and beautify. In this vale of woe it was, our Nature fell and lay half dead, but hope revived at the voice of John proclaiming the advent of the good Samaritan— the Saviour. O blessed desert of solitude — a wilderness to the wicked, but virtue fills up the valley and straightens the crooked ways, calls down the ​manna and forth the gushing waters of heavenly consolation; and there God speaks to the heart of a promised land beyond, where all flesh shall see the salvation of God! O salutary desert, where, for the first time, the unbelieving, sinful soul hears that cry of John: " Prepare ye the way of the Lord; " whence it is led by John into the baptismal waters of the Jordan, to soon emerge again; and on the bank behold the Lamb of God who taketh away the sins of the world! Artists love to paint that scene at Jesus' baptism — the two young men knee deep in the water, Jesus smilingly expectant, John hesitating but obedient, while over all the Spirit hovers like a dove, and the Father proclaims: "This is My beloved Son." Simple, lowly John, quick to reverence virtue, but quicker still to upbraid pharisaical vice; all-humble in the presence of his heavenly Master, but intrepid and defiant before the vicious Herod! And yet, that Herod loved him still, is, after Christ's eulogy, John's highest encomium. True, he was cast into prison, but Herod reverenced, praised, loved him still. The angel messenger of freedom, in chains; the preacher of reform, the model of every virtue, in a felon's cell! What a parody on human justice! But God's providence destined his captivity to have a deeper significance. John in his prison represents the abrogation of the Old Law, even as Christ does the introduction of the New. The Virgin of virgins gave to the world the Author of the New; the incestuous Herodias spitefully accomplished the destruction of the last remnant of ​the Old. It is high praise for John that she alone and her dancing daughter hated him, for a pious tradition tells us that even the very soldier, sent to fetch his head to the banquet hall, with tears implored forgiveness and was, by the Baptist, blessed and comforted.
Brethren, there is one more incident, that wherein John sent from prison two of his disciples to the Christ, asking: "Art thou He that is to come, or wait we for another? " Here is mystic meaning! John did not doubt, but sought to convince his unhappy disciples what a rich legacy was theirs; viz., the Son of God. Two messengers he sent, as though his mission's final act was to turn Jew and Gentile to the Lord. He plays at being criminal, to show that it is only in misfortune the sinful soul sends forth to God the twofold prayer: " Lord, assist me and forgive." And for answer, Jesus bade them tell the miracles they had seen and heard. Brethren, the day will come for you and me — our dying day — when, ere another dawn, our angel guardian will come to ask: " Art thou he that is this day to come to heaven, or wait I for another? " Ah, well will it be for our souls if from the prison of our bodies they can answer: " Go tell your Lord and mine what things you have heard and seen. Tell Him I have been, by my charity, eyes to the blind, ears to the deaf, and a support to the halt. Tell Him that, through my means, souls have been cleansed from the leprosy of sin; and that, through me, even the spiritually dead have risen again. Tell Him my whole life has been ​an evangelical object lesson to the spiritually poor." Oh, well will it be if we can answer thus, for the Lord will say: " Come, thou blessed of My Father, who was never scandalized in Me. Inasmuch as thou didst these things to the least of thy brethren, thou didst them unto Me. Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord."