Patronal Feast of St. John the Evangelist December 27, 2020
Fr. Albert St. John the Evangelist, Jeanerette
From the baby Jesus to boiling oil… That could be the title of St. John’s autobiography. The life of this man, our patron saint, is a fitting testimony that the joy we’ve just celebrated doesn’t stop with a few nice presents but extends straight through the worst parts of the human condition, through death itself into eternal life. All the other apostles were martyred brutally for proclaiming this truth. Like them, society wanted to kill John for it. Some tried to poison his wine. Others sought to boil him alive in oil. In both cases, he emerged unharmed as if God wanted him to be a symbolic reminder of his power over life and death. Of course, the man finally did pass away peacefully around the year 100 A.D. though we know he now lives in glory.
But how did he come to that glory? How did he come to know this child, this God-Man so well? How did he become so convicted of the truth of his death and resurrection that he never hesitated to proclaim it, even at the risk of being fried alive? He tells us himself in his letter, our second reading: “the Word of Life was made visible; we have seen it and testify to it.” For a few years, he traveled with this Jesus, saw him perform miracles, heard him teach, and came to love him with the deepest kind of friendship. Yet, that was apparently not enough. As he tells us himself in the Gospel, he did not yet fully believe this man was the word of life, not until he saw something odd in a small cave. A small cloth folded up and laid aside.
You see, he watched this man – his closest friend in all the world – die gruesome death. He was there when Jesus made him the legal caretaker of his mother: “behold your mother.” This made it clear he wouldn’t be around to provide for her anymore. Perhaps the words of Christ about resurrection were nagging at the back of his mind, but he apparently did not understand. Then, Sunday morning he hears astonishing news: “they have taken the Lord from the tomb.” So he recalls the words of Mary Magdalene.
Aggrieved and confused, yet still connected to some imprecise faith, he runs full sprint to the tomb, outpacing his older friend. Still, when he arrives, he recalls the respect he has for Peter and the leadership entrusted to him by their crucified teacher. So he peaks in but waits to enter. Finally, he steps inside to take a closer look and sees something that makes no sense if you believe those first words “they have taken the Lord.”
What grave robber would bother to unwrap the body – the linen cloth itself was valuable and it was probably difficult to unwrap after the blood stuck it to his body. Even more, when stealing a body, who would bother to take the face-cloth and carefully fold it up and place it to the side? No one would. His body was not taken, it rose and left the cloths there. Returned to life, Jesus himself apparently took a moment to set aside one of the cloths. John saw this and, finally, entered into the belief that would dominate the rest of his life and nearly cause his death multiple times, a belief he never lost. Jesus is alive. From baby Jesus to boiling oil and beyond… born a man for us at Christmas, Jesus remains human and alive to this day.
How? Because he is also the Word of Life heard, seen, and touched by John and all the Apostles, proclaimed to us so that we might have fellowship with them. John doesn’t hide it, his happiness, even greater actually, his joy depends on us accepting that testimony… on us entering into that fellowship. Having known and loved the very source of love, John the Evangelist knows that only communion with God and each other brings joy. Perfectly happy with Jesus Christ, his happiness is made more complete by each person who shares in that love.
Indeed, John was somewhat infamous at the end of his life for his radically simplified preaching. He would walk around constantly exhorting people to love. At one point, he couldn’t walk, so people would carry him to have him preach at Mass. Still, it was the same thing over and over: “little children, love one another.” When asked about his somewhat annoying insistence on this, he replied “Because it is the Lord’s commandment and if it alone is kept, it is sufficient.”
This is the gospel truth. Were we to keep it, I could make these homilies much shorter! Alas, simple to say does not make it simple to understand, much less to accomplish. It’s not that we don’t know this command, but that we do not know love. Just listen to anyone’s conversation for a few minutes… or a whole day and see how many words are spent on things other than love… often harshly and harmfully against God, others, or ourselves.
Our words are often indicators of our character. John could speak so constantly and simply of love because he simply loved always. We speak lies, half-truths, useless vanities, and outright wickedness because our hearts are unclean. Unclean hearts, unclean lips. We are annoyed by simple exhortations to love because of these unclean lips. Isaiah knew this deeply. When he saw the Kind, the Lord of Hosts, he instinctively knew he was looking on pure love itself and that he deserved to die for the unclean lips that belied his unclean heart. But God did not let him die, instead he purified him with a flaming ember from the altar, transforming his fear to an eagerness to speak from his cleansed heart through his cleansed lips. Eagerness to speak of God and his love.
Love not as mere niceties, but the demanding, conquering love of what is truly good, replete with self-denial and obedience. John, like Isaiah, knew that love is not just the sweetness of the baby Jesus but also the deadly heat of the boiling oil. I, a pale imitation of Isaiah and John, offer you the same message: “love one another.” How? The same way as Isaiah and John. See and believe. Purify your hearts and lips. Then love.
See and believe. The evidence for the reality of Jesus Christ is abundant. If the words of Scripture, the power of the liturgy, the example of the saints, and the miraculous survival of the Church for 2000 years are not enough, then do what John did. Run to the tomb. If a literal visit to the Holy Land is not possible, then look to the same cloths that moved John to full faith. We still have both of them. Called the Sudarium of Oviedo, the face-cloth is in Spain to this day. The blood type and the stains match exactly the other relic, the Shroud of Turin in Italy. Despite the faulty and now debunked claims of a carbon-dating test, it is a remarkable witness to the reality of the resurrection, one that scientists today couldn’t fake today even with the latest technology, much less some trickster in the middle-ages. If you really seek the truth of Jesus Christ, even without these cloths, you will come to see him.
And once you see the Word of Life for who he is, then you must purify your hearts and lips. Go to confession, I beg you! And where Isaiah got a flaming coal from the altar, John was purified by the flaming heart of Jesus Christ. He even lay upon his chest at the last supper to be close to that purifying fire. Press close to the heart of Jesus. As parishioners of this parish under his patronage, I challenge every one of you to spend at least 15 minutes a week – more if possible – in the chapel, in the presence of the Eucharist, the heart of Jesus, to let yourselves be cleansed and empowered.
Then proclaim. Proclaim what you’ve seen and heard. Complete the joy of St. John, complete my joy by deeper fellowship with us and by keeping the one command that matters: Love one another.
Amen