A Prophecy of Hope

St. John the Baptist in the Desert (c. 1670), Philippe de Champaigne

How do you feel about the world today? If you’ve been reading the news lately, it’s hard not to feel pretty depressed. From attacks against defenseless citizens at home and abroad, to political gridlock and endless arguing, to the demands of secular uniformity and ideology, it feels like a really dark time. It feels, in the words of a celebrity who wrote an op-ed this week, as if “the world is breaking.”

But are things worse now than they have been in the past? At first glance, they sure seem to be.  But history is full of dark times, long eras of tragedy and discord – in fact, you can look to just about any period of history and you'll discover there something terrible. And in just about any era of history you can find prophets of doom – people who wring their hands or stand on street corners or who write op-eds in newspapers – who warn us that the world is swiftly drawing to a close.

In the Gospel today, we hear about a prophet – not of doom, however, but of repentance. John the Baptist is called by God and sent to preach repentance in the midst of some very terrible circumstances, created by some very bad men. Luke names them for us – Tiberius Caesar, Pontius Pilate, Herod, Philip, Lysanius, Annas and Caiaphas. We are not familiar with these names, but the original audience of Luke certainly would have been. Think of your least favorite dictators and traitors throughout history – that’s what these names would have meant to all who knew them. They had plunged Israel into the depths of Roman oppression, afflicted it with corruption, and driven away any notion of Israel being God’s chosen people.

It is into this nightmare of a situation that John is called forth by God from the desert and sent to preach repentance. Certainly this seems logical – Israel, and the Jews of the time, and indeed all humanity had apparently royally messed up, and they needed to ask forgiveness to get themselves back on track. But note how there’s something more to John’s message than just “repent” – he says, "Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths. Every valley shall be filled and every mountain and hill shall be made low. The winding roads shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth, and all flesh shall see the salvation of God." These words, taken from the prophet Isaiah, are words of repentance, yes – but they’re also words of joy and hope. They tell of a salvation that is to come, indeed, is already coming.

In some ways, John the Baptist was a messenger of that which he himself did not fully know. John knew there was going to be a Savior, but he didn’t know who it would be, or where he would come from, or how exactly he would redeem Israel. Yet, John had hope – he placed his faith in the Lord’s promises, despite the terrible circumstances and outward appearances that could have dissuaded him or caused him to doubt. He places his trust in what he knew to be trustworthy – that God’s promises do not go unfulfilled, that hope will not be unrewarded. And for this reason he begins his preaching, his cry of repentance – not because he wishes to tear the people of Israel down, but because he wants to build them up, to get them ready for the coming salvation. At the heart of repentance is hope – hope that the future will be better than the present.

In this season of Advent, the Church asks to look again to John the Baptist and to his cries of repentance – not just because we want to beat our breasts, and say “Woe is me, I’m a sinner”. We turn again to repentance because, at our core, we have hope. We believe that we can be better with God’s grace, that we have been called to become something which has not yet been realized, that we are not yet the best versions of ourselves. Our circumstances may be terrible – we might feel as if we are as distant from God or as unworthy of his love as we have ever been. Or perhaps we feel as if he is just absent from us, as if he is not listening and not present in our lives. It is precisely in this kind of situation that we have to have hope – we must trust that God is at work somehow, in some way, even if we can't see it at the present moment.

My friends, there is no period of history – not the time of John the Baptist and not now – that is beyond the reach of God's providence and grace. Sometimes it is precisely when things seem most dire that God breaks through to reveal his presence to us. This Advent, look to John the Baptist – hope even when you do not understand, believe even if you do not see, be a messenger of what even you yourself do not yet fully realize – and the presence of God will be revealed to you in a way far more profound than you know.

Allow me to end with just a few lines of a poem by the Jesuit priest Daniel Berrigan, called “Advent Credo”:


It is not true that creation and the human family are doomed to destruction and loss—

This is true: For God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life;

It is not true that violence and hatred should have the last word, and that war and destruction rule forever—

This is true: Unto us a child is born, unto us a Son is given, and the government shall be upon his shoulder, his name shall be called wonderful councilor, mighty God, the Everlasting, the Prince of peace.

So let us enter Advent in hope, even hope against hope. Let us see visions of love and peace and justice. Let us affirm with humility, with joy, with faith, with courage: Jesus Christ—the life of the world.