Homily

"Rejoice in the Lord always; I say to you again, rejoice." With this firm invitation of the apostle, the liturgy of this Sunday - called "gaudete," the Sunday of Joy - begins. "Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances," Paul commands. "Rejoice" for like children, we entrust ourselves to the one who wants his joy to be our joy, and to be full. This is God’s will. But isn’t this too simple or even too straightforward for us, who love to think of ourselves as complicated people, enamoured with our own intricacies? Isn’t it too simple for us who are fond of being mired in the bottomless pit of conflicting energies and obsessions that is self-love? Can we possibly choose always to rejoice we who indulge in our moods, rely on them, resist them so little, study them, consider them the final truth of our life? Unfortunately, our moods are often not at all very happy. We are prone to complain and fret. We are drawn to pessimism and we feed on our lack of trust in others! Joy - the kind of joy to which the apostle passionately invites us - is not a happy accident, but a choice to which we are called, always. Happy and joyful, not because we are placid or reckless, but because of the solid, vigorous knowledge we have of God’s coming. It is God who frees us from sadness and who cuts away at the numerous bitter roots in our hearts.
"I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, my whole being shall exult in my God; for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation; he has covered me with the robe of righteousness," sings the prophet. Let us not rejoice for ourselves. On the contrary, we should be aware of our insignificance and of the world’s vanity. Yet we should and can be happy. We have been chosen and our voice will not be lost within ourselves, but will speak of the one who is coming. The humble rejoice, while the rich endure their sad lives and want to possess happiness. The proud are never satisfied because they do not allow themselves to be loved by others and do not submit to others’ reasons. The humble leave space in their lives for someone else to come in. Let us learn to pray to the Lord "without ceasing" and to give thanks to the Lord for everything as an interior attitude and choice in our ordinary life.
Being happy is the first way of not allowing evil to discourage us, and of being free from it. How much happiness love can communicate, rendering us sensitive and attentive to the true sadness of people and of this world! A happy face welcomes, supports, and attracts. On the contrary, how easy it is to sadden others! We are happy because we are forgiven and the bonds of sin are loosed. We can be different from before! No one can change on his or her own. Instead by being associated, through grace, with the coming of the kingdom, which erupts into human history, the spirit releases and changes us. Let us be happy and thus begin to disassociate ourselves from a world that turns everyone into a cynic that claims to know everything and judges all without love, a world that ends up being a victim of its own pessimism as it wanders in search of hope, but, in the end, becomes a prisoner of its own self-interest.
With a thinning out of prophets-and truly there are few prophets in our days! - we should listen with renewed attention to this great prophet. He is not the Saviour and he clearly says so himself. John did not allow himself to be carried away by glory and success in seeing the many who flocked to him. We, with so much less reason, feel like small messiahs, and we want in any way to be always at the centre of attention. In his humility, however, he does not withdraw and hide; rather, conscious of the responsibility entrusted to him, he affirms to everyone, "I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord.’"
Following the lesson in humility, John gives another in responsibility, a particular kind of responsibility: to be a "voice." Each Christian should apply John’s words to himself and herself: "I am the voice." By constitution, believers are a "voice"-that is, announcers of the Gospel. Herein lies the root of evangelization that is expected of every disciple. Paul, aware of this responsibility, warned himself, "Woe betide me if I do not proclaim the gospel!" (1 Cor 9:16). The believer, before being a great doer, is a voice and a witness.
This is the one true power of the Baptist. But it is a weak power. After all, what is a voice? Little less than nothing, it is a breath. It is easily ignored, and has no real power to impose itself. And yet it is powerful, so much so that many throng to hear the Baptist's words. The reason for this lies in the fact that he does not point to himself. He does not speak to draw the attention of others to himself. He does not prevent people from desiring healing and salvation on the banks of that river, even if they have been blessed. His voice refers to another, to one much stronger and more powerful than he: "Among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal." And he affirms this statement again today.
John the Baptist brings us back to what is essential so that we do not lose ourselves, but orient our whole heart toward the Lord. John is a "voice." "Who are you?" the Jews ask. "What do you have to say for yourself?" Each person is a mystery, yet the world comes along and trivializes us; the world wants to label, analyze, and categorize everyone. John does not give multiple interpretations; he does not indulge in shifting and often contradictory words about himself. To say who he is, he needs another person who gives meaning to his life; he needs the one who is the word, the first and last letter of each of our words. John is strong because his life acquires meaning when it is useful for someone else, for the one for whom he prepares the way and renews the hearts! He gives witness. His strength is not in shining for itself, but in order that the light itself may shine. God is the light that enlightens even the deepest darkness! John cries out. He proclaims the Gospel. He does not draw attention to himself, as do the domineering and normal self-centred ones of our world. His voice speaks of another; it points to one who is already "among you," the "one whom you do not know," the one who comes after me, the thong of whose sandal I am not worthy to untie. Our voice can make life flourish in the desert. We, common people as we are, are called to let others know of the one who is among us. Weak, yet we are strong. Sad, yet we are happy because the Lord is coming to make the earth flourish, to make it a garden again, his garden. O Lord, make haste to come.