Homily

“Rejoice in the Lord always; I say to you again, rejoice.” With this firm invitation from the Apostle, the Sunday's liturgy - called “Gaudete,” the Sunday of Joy - begins. “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances,” Paul commands. Joy is possible if, like children, we entrust ourselves to the one who is coming. The Lord comes because he wants to save us from sin and give us his very joy. This is God's will that is at the root of the Christmas mystery, of the Son's birth. But we have a hard time choosing to live in joy and gladness, enamoured as we are with our own intricacies and the sweet prison of self-love. Instead we are ready to give in to our moods and selfish instincts; we rely on them; we resist them very little and easily mistake them as the truth of our life. And our moods are often not at all very happy. They are prone to complain and fret, drawn to pessimism and fed by suspicion! Joy - the kind of joy to which the apostle passionately invites us - is not a favourable coincidence, but it is a choice we are called to make. Always. Happy and joyful, not because we are imperturbable 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 heart. He is the reason of our joy.
“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. However, we can and should be happy. We were 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 follow their sadness and want to possess happiness. The proud are not satisfied because they do not allow themselves to be loved by others and do not give in to others' reasons. The humble leave space for someone else to come in. Let us learn to pray “without ceasing,” giving thanks for everything, as an interior attitude and choice for our ordinary life. Being happy is the first way in which we do not allow evil to discourage us but be free from it. And how much does happiness communicate love, 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 forgiveness comes and does away with the bonds of sin. We can be different than how we were before! No one can change on his or her own efforts, but by being associated, through grace, with the coming of the Kingdom, which erupts into human history, and with the Spirit, who comforts and changes us. Let us be happy and thus begin to dissociate ourselves from a world that turns everyone into cynics, 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 scarcity of prophets - and truly there are few prophets in our days! -- we should listen with renewed attention to the Baptist. He is not the Saviour as he himself says clearly. John did not allow himself to be carried away by glory and success in seeing the many who flocked to him. We, for so much less, feel like small messiahs, and want to be always at the centre of attention. In his humility, however, John does not withdraw and hide; rather, conscious of the responsibility entrusted to him, he affirms before everyone: “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord.’’”
This lesson in responsibility follows the one in humility, a particular kind of responsibility: being 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 lays the heart of the task of evangelization that rests on 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 an accumulation of good works, 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 takes little to ignore it, and a voice has no real power to impose itself. And yet, it is powerful, so much so that multitudes throng around his words. The reason lies in the fact that he does not point to himself. He does not speak to draw to himself the attention of others. He does not block the people desiring healing and salvation on the banks of that river, even if they were 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,” John says. And he affirms this again today.
John the Baptist brings us back to that which is essential so that we do not lose ourselves, but orient all of our 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 to trivialize it; the world wants to label, analyse 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 Jesus: the one who is the Word, the first and last letter of each of our words. John is strong because his life has meaning if 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 shining for itself, but so that the Light, itself, may shine. God is the light that enlightens even the deepest darkness! He cries out. He proclaims the Gospel. He does not draw attention to himself according to the domineering and normal self-centredness 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 thongs of whose sandals I am unworthy to untie. Our voice can make life flourish in the desert. We, common people as we are, are called to speak to others of the one who is among us. Weak, we are strong. Sad, we are happy because the Lord is coming to make the earth flourish, to make it like a garden again, his garden. O Lord Jesus, make haste to come!