IN RICHARD WAGNER’S magnificent opera Die Meistersinger, a night watchman walks through an apparently deserted street calling out, “Hear, people, what I say, the clock has struck 10; guard your fire and also your light so that no one comes to harm! Praise God the Lord!” Of course between his appearances a near-riot breaks out, which he misses completely, but still: Imagine you lived in the era of town criers and night watchmen when an entire village might rely on one person to broadcast the news, make announcements, and deliver public warnings.

John the Baptist was a kind of crier—in the wilderness—and watchman, warning people to take action before it was too late. John, though, was doing more than making announcements; he was introducing all who would listen to news of a person who would change their lives forever.

Receiving something previously unheard of can be difficult. Sometimes it is not enough to hear news. You have to let it soak in and transform you. As you come to appreciate how change can be life-giving, you can become more ready to accept what lies ahead.

John the Baptist's statement that "a man is coming after me who ranks ahead of me because he existed before me" demonstrates true humility. While it may be easy for each of us to testify to the greatness of Jesus, we should also ask ourselves if we hold a similar attitude toward our descendents. Are we considering their future as we go about our daily lives? Are we trying to make the world a better place for them each and every day?

The United Nations, for instance, says that efforts can be made to reduce the proportion of undernourished in the world in half by 2015. Are we dedicating as many resources as we can to eradicating poverty in our lifetime, so that our descendents can be "greater" than we are?

The message behind this gospel reading for us today might be to think more about those who come after us. They may be greater than we are, for they will have been baptized with the Holy Spirit and become sons and daughters of the Most High. The question is: Are we humble enough for such future greatness?

Garrison Keillor, creator of the long-running radio show, “Prairie Home Companion,” is one of American’s best storytellers, and one of his best stories is called “Gospel Birds.” A middle-aged couple, Ernie and Erma Lundeen, toured churches in the Midwest with a program that included some 40 trained birds of all kinds, from parakeets and wrens to a couple of crows. The birds performed amazing tricks including playing hymns on tiny bells and even taking up the collection!

But the heart of the evening was testimony by Erma. She speaks of her childhood, how she had always loved birds. She came from a poor family—she was plain, weighed too much; she was miserable. Maybe that is why she was so attracted to birds—they’re so graceful and free. One day, like a dove with Jesus in the Jordan, a bird came and lit upon her shoulder. She took this to be a sign of God’s blessing and she knew she was not alone. She recalled the words to a hymn, “His Eye Is on the Sparrow,” and as she did, on cue, four of the trained parakeets played the song on tiny silver bells.

Then Erma invited the people in the congregation to close their eyes and recall a moment when they too felt God uniquely present. She told them a bird would come and land on their shoulders, and if they felt God’s blessing they should stand up. One by one, they contemplated God’s love and the times they were supported as if by invisible hands and the presence of a grace in the world that uplifts. As they meditated eventually they felt a bird alight on their shoulder, and they stood up. It was a stunning experience—they all were, indeed, blessed. The sound of wings, as of angels, stirred the air.

The entire story, told in Keillor’s sonorous baritone, can be heard here: “Gospel Birds.”

Years ago my wife and I went to a concert and at intermission a whiny teenage vendor kept calling out, “Orange juice, take it to your seats!” For some reason those words and his nasally inflection stayed with us, and now when my wife offers orange juice, I’ll often chime in with, “Take it to your seats.”

My family quotes lots of people that we’ve heard over the years. My wife will mimic a favorite teacher who would finish a lesson by saying, in a thick Slavic accent, “Take it for good and use it.” Believe me, we’ve taken that line for good and used it over and over. Some of the lines we quote are funny, some simply endearing. One of my daughters as a 3-year-old contributed what’s become a kind of family motto: “Hope for the best!” 

At Mass each week we quote Saint John the Baptist, who said, “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” Because the gospels were spoken for decades before they were written down, it’s likely that Christians have been repeating these words for more than 2,000 years. He looked at Jesus and saw someone who’d had a radical and deep experience of the Spirit and invited everyone to “Behold!” All these years later, the invitation stands. To paraphrase a guy I once heard, “Jesus, take him to your hearts!”

In Richard Wagner's magnificent opera Die Meistersinger, a night watchman walks through an apparently deserted street calling out, “Hear, people, what I say, the clock has struck 10; guard your fire and also your light so that no one comes to harm! Praise God the Lord!” Of course between his appearances a near-riot breaks out, which he misses completely, but still: Imagine you lived in the era of town criers and night watchmen when an entire village might rely on one person to broadcast the news, make announcements, and deliver public warnings.

John the Baptist was a kind of crier—in the wilderness—and watchman, warning people to take action before it was too late. John, though, was doing more than making announcements; he was introducing all who would listen to news of a person who would change their lives forever.

Receiving something previously unheard of can be difficult. Sometimes it is not enough to hear news. You have to let it soak in and transform you. As you come to appreciate how change can be life-giving, you can become more ready to accept what lies ahead.