Nativity of John the Baptist: How Hard did the Baby Cry?

“What manner of child shall this be?”

That’s a question found in the gospel passage today.
But the question on my mind is this:

How hard did the baby cry?

Today we celebrate the birth of the great prophet, John the Baptist.
But what I want to know is how hard did John cry
on the day of his birth.

Did the child born of Elizabeth and Zechariah
wail in protest in practice for the day
when he’d assail the leaders of the land
with harsh cries of condemnation,
a throat cleared of phlegm,
a voice guttural with the pain of the oppressed?

How hard, on the day of his birth,did that baby cry?

In Luke’s account, all marvel at the work of God.
Yet the child whose birth we celebrate today
would one day elbow his way from the confines of the priestly home
and, barefoot, scale rock-strewn hills and stand atop sharp, chiseled rock
and yell “Prepare!” “Confess!” “Repent!”
Now. Before it’s too late.
Locust wings glinting like spit in wisps of beard,
he’d talk of axes and preach about destruction.

Just how hard did that baby cry?

* * *

This feast we celebrate today is unique.It’s one of only three birthdays commemorated
on the liturgical calendar of the Roman Catholic Church.
We celebrate the birth of our Savior.
We celebrate the birth of Mary, our Mother.
And celebrate the birth of John the prophet.

We rejoice in the love of Mary.
We exult in the strength of Christ.

But the words of the prophet,
while heralding the approach of the world’s salvation,
also draw our attention to the sound of children crying in the night,
the stomp of Herod’s soldiers in the alleys of Bethlehem,
the muddy water of sin swirling about the feet and ankles
of all of us who dare to take our place on the bank of the river, saying,
“Save me, Lord, from the dangers of the world.
Save us, Lord, from the fears in our souls.”

Why?
Because this is what a prophet is born to do.
The vocation of the prophet
rests in revealing the truth.
And the truth that the prophet reveals
resides in the fact that the world is broken
and God alone can fix it.

How hard did that baby cry?

* * *

I met a friend on a street with a cast on his arm.
I joked and asked,
“What happened, Dave? You fall off your bike?”

He didn’t smile.
He lost his brother a month ago.
He told me he slammed the wall in anger one night.

How hard does a prophet cry?

A father turns on the ballgame,
feels a shiver of pride as the flag flaps in the wind
and the strains of the national anthem fill the room.

But at his feet lies the morning paper
with news of bombings in Iraq.
On top the TV the framed portrait of his daughter in uniform
sends a shiver of panic to his gut.

How deep does a prophet weep?

A college student
takes a spring break trip to Cancun
and gets on the wrong bus on the second day,
a but headed for the barrio instead of the resort.
A mother shoves baby into muscled chest and bronzed arms
of the marketing major, fraternity-pledged student from the suburbs
of the United States.
The baby is a living skeleton covered with sores.

How hard does that baby cry?

How hard does the prophet wail?

* * *
Zechariah takes the child into his arms and says,
“You, my child, shall be called the prophet of the Most High,
for you shall go before the Lord to prepare his way.”

Has the road been cleared?
Is the highway open?

How soon returns the Savior?
How smooth the approach?