1. “Today is born our Saviour” (Responsorial Psalm)

On this night, the ancient yet ever new proclamation of the Lord’s birth rings out. It rings out for those keeping watch, like the shepherds in Bethlehem two thousand years ago; it rings out for those who have responded to Advent’s call and who, waiting watchfully, are ready to welcome the joyful tidings which in the liturgy become our song: “Today is born our Saviour”.

The Christian people keep watch; the entire world keeps watch on this Christmas night which is linked to that unforgettable night a year ago, when the Holy Door of the Great Jubilee was opened, the Door of grace opened wide for all.

2. It is as if the Church had never ceased to repeat day after day during the Jubilee year: “Today is born our Saviour”. This proclamation, with its inexhaustible power to renew us, echoes once more on this holy night with special force: this is the Christmas of the Great Jubilee, a living remembrance of Christ’s two thousand years, of his wondrous birth, which marked the new beginning of history. Today “the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us” (Jn 1:14).

“Today”. On this night, time opens to eternity, because you, O Christ, are born among us, coming from on high. You came to birth from the womb of a Woman blessed among all women, you “the Son of the Most High”. Once and for all your holiness made all time holy: the days, the centuries, the millennia. By your birth, you have turned time into the “today” of salvation.

3. “Today is born our Saviour”.

On this night we celebrate the mystery of Bethlehem, the mystery of an incomparable night which is, in a sense, within time and beyond time. From the Virgin’s womb was born a Child, a manger became the cradle of immortal Life.

Christmas is the festival of life, because you, Jesus, born like all of us, have blessed the moment of birth: a moment which symbolically represents the mystery of human life, joining labour to expectation, pain to joy. All of this took place in Bethlehem: a Mother gave birth; “a man entered the world” (Jn 16:21), the Son of man. The mystery of Bethlehem!

4. With deep emotion I think back to the days of my Jubilee pilgrimage in the Holy Land. My thoughts return to the stable, where I was given the grace to pause in prayer. In spirit, I embrace that blessed land that saw the blossoming of imperishable joy for the world.

I think with concern of the Holy Places, and especially of the town of Bethlehem where sadly, because of the troubled political situation, the evocative rites of Christmas cannot be celebrated with their usual solemnity. Tonight I would like the Christian communities in those places to feel that the whole Church is very close to them.

We are close to you, dear brothers and sisters, in a particularly intense prayer. We share your anxiety for the destiny of the entire region of the Middle East. May the Lord hear our plea! From this Square, the centre of the Catholic world, let the angels’ proclamation to the shepherds ring out once more with new strength: “Glory to God in the highest heavens and peace on earth to those whom he loves” (Lk 2:14).

Our confidence cannot be shaken, nor can our wonder at what we are celebrating ever fade. Today is born the One who brings peace to the world.

5. “Today is born our Saviour”.

The Word cries in a manger. His name is Jesus, which means “God saves”, because “he will save his people from their sins” (Mt 1:21).

It is not a palace which sees the birth of the Redeemer, destined to establish the eternal and universal Kingdom. He is born in a stable and, coming among us, he kindles in the world the fire of God’s love (cf. Lk 12:49). This fire will not be quenched ever again.

May this fire burn in our hearts as a flame of charity in action, showing itself in openness to and support of our many brothers and sisters sorely tried by want and suffering!

6. Lord Jesus, whom we contemplate in the poverty of Bethlehem, make us witnesses to your love, that love which led you to strip yourself of divine glory, in order to be born among us and die for us.

As the Great Jubilee moves into its final phase, pour out your Spirit upon us, that the grace of the Incarnation may inspire in every believer a determination to respond more generously to the new life received in Baptism.

Grant that the light of this night, brighter than day, may be cast upon the future and guide the steps of humanity in the way of peace.

You, O Prince of peace, You, O Saviour born for us today, be with your Church on the road which stretches before us into the new millennium!

[Pope John Paul II, Midnight Homily 24 December 2000]

1. “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light” (Is 9:1).

This prophecy of Isaiah never ceases to touch us, especially when we hear it proclaimed in the liturgy of Christmas Night. This is not simply an emotional or sentimental matter. It moves us because it states the deep reality of what we are: a people who walk, and all around us – and within us as well – there is darkness and light. In this night, as the spirit of darkness enfolds the world, there takes place anew the event which always amazes and surprises us: the people who walk see a great light. A light which makes us reflect on this mystery: the mystery of walking and seeing.

Walking. This verb makes us reflect on the course of history, that long journey which is the history of salvation, starting with Abraham, our father in faith, whom the Lord called one day to set out, to go forth from his country towards the land which he would show him. From that time on, our identity as believers has been that of a people making its pilgrim way towards the promised land. This history has always been accompanied by the Lord! He is ever faithful to his covenant and to his promises. Because he is faithful, “God is light, and in him there is no darkness at all” (1 Jn 1:5). Yet on the part of the people there are times of both light and darkness, fidelity and infidelity, obedience, and rebellion; times of being a pilgrim people and times of being a people adrift.

In our personal history too, there are both bright and dark moments, lights and shadows. If we love God and our brothers and sisters, we walk in the light; but if our heart is closed, if we are dominated by pride, deceit, self-seeking, then darkness falls within us and around us. “Whoever hates his brother – writes the Apostle John – is in the darkness; he walks in the darkness, and does not know the way to go, because the darkness has blinded his eyes” (1 Jn 2:11). A people who walk, but as a pilgim people who do not want to go astray.

2. On this night, like a burst of brilliant light, there rings out the proclamation of the Apostle: “God's grace has been revealed, and it has made salvation possible for the whole human race” (Tit 2:11).

The grace which was revealed in our world is Jesus, born of the Virgin Mary, true man and true God. He has entered our history; he has shared our journey. He came to free us from darkness and to grant us light. In him was revealed the grace, the mercy, and the tender love of the Father: Jesus is Love incarnate. He is not simply a teacher of wisdom, he is not an ideal for which we strive while knowing that we are hopelessly distant from it. He is the meaning of life and history, who has pitched his tent in our midst.

3. The shepherds were the first to see this “tent”, to receive the news of Jesus’ birth. They were the first because they were among the last, the outcast. And they were the first because they were awake, keeping watch in the night, guarding their flocks. The pilrim is bound by duty to keep watch and the shepherds did just that. Together with them, let us pause before the Child, let us pause in silence. Together with them, let us thank the Lord for having given Jesus to us, and with them let us raise from the depths of our hearts the praises of his fidelity: We bless you, Lord God most high, who lowered yourself for our sake. You are immense, and you made yourself small; you are rich and you made yourself poor; you are all-powerful and you made yourself vulnerable.

On this night let us share the joy of the Gospel: God loves us, he so loves us that he gave us his Son to be our brother, to be light in our darkness. To us the Lord repeats: “Do not be afraid!” (Lk 2:10). As the angels said to the shepherds: “Do not be afraid!”. And I also repeat to all of you: Do not be afraid! Our Father is patient, he loves us, he gives us Jesus to guide us on the way which leads to the promised land. Jesus is the light who brightens the darkness. He is mercy: our Father always forgives us. He is our peace. Amen.

[Pope Francis, midnight homily 24 December 2013]

(Lk 1:67-79)

The anthem is a prayer of praise from the first communities, and it gives us an idea of how the life of faith and liturgy were lived: both celebration of the mystery, profession, animation of hope and catechesis.

The Canticle of Zechariah is maintained at a Judaizing theological level that expresses the fulfilment of the Covenant, and sparks joy at the awareness of having been visited by God.

In the Son, the Eternal Father ‘comes’ to crown the Promises.

The poem responds to the same scheme of Mary’s hymn (vv.46-55) that praises God because he reveals his power in a convergent and crucial way, giving us the pace of a life freed from oppression.

In the birth of John the Christ is announced: the expectation of Israel - here still vaguely confused with a dominant (Davidic) Sprout with cultural veins bound, particular.

Now, however, the hearts’ expectation is made alive in a reality of human union - unpredictable for target, unilateral cultures: in different way than one would expect.

A whole people is priestly.

Finally comes the world of truth and fulness in living: of divine presence not plastered, but ‘in the midst’.

Certainty specified in the traditional forms of the "chosen nation", on which, however, the confidence generated by the experience of a new fraternal order is raised.

The intervention of John and Jesus substantiates the invoking fullness of times. Thus «the God of Israel visited and made the redemption for his people, and aroused for us a horn of salvation» (vv.68-69).

In this passage from the First to the New Alliance, the communities of Lk express a desire to witness to convictions of Faith now «without fear» (v.74), with a sense of Presence: «in front» (vv.75.76).

This is due to the awareness of unconditional «forgiveness», and «knowledge»: «Way of Peace» (vv.77.79).

An experience that evolves by harmonizing the ancient Scriptures, letting a new Liberation advance.

“Ransom” for intrinsic, not accessory work: action of the Light that avoids condemnations; only conciliates.

The unity of salvation history produces the release of its spiritual, social and criterion needs, no more with conventional disputes - in the Dawn of the expected Messiah.

[Weekday Liturgy, December 24]

Dear Brothers and Sisters, 

The celebration of the Holy Birth is at hand. Today's vigil prepares us to live intensely the mystery that tonight's Liturgy will invite us to contemplate with the eyes of faith. 

In the Divine Newborn, whom we will place in the manger, our Salvation is made manifest. In the God who makes himself man for us, we all feel loved and welcomed, we discover that we are precious and unique in the eyes of the Creator. 

The birth of Christ helps us to become aware of the value of human life, the life of every human being, from the first instant to natural death. 

To those who open their heart to this "baby wrapped in swaddling clothes" and lying "in a manger" (cf. Lk 2: 12), he offers the possibility of seeing with new eyes the realities of every day. He can taste the power of the interior fascination of God's love and is able to transform even sorrow into joy. 

Let us prepare ourselves, dear friends, to meet Jesus, the Emmanuel, God with us. Born in the poverty of Bethlehem, he wants to be the travelling companion of each one of us on our life's journey. In this world, from the very moment when he decided to pitch his "tent", no one is a stranger. 

It is true, we are all here in passing, but it is precisely Jesus who makes us feel at home on this earth, sanctified by his presence. He asks us, however, to make it a home in which all are welcome.
The surprising gift of Christmas is exactly this: Jesus came for each one of us and in him we have become brothers. 

The corresponding duty is to increasingly overcome preconceptions and prejudices, to break down barriers and eliminate the differences that divide us, or worse, that set individuals and peoples against one another, in order to build together a world of justice and peace. 

With these sentiments, dear brothers and sisters, let us live the last hours that separate us from Christmas, preparing ourselves spiritually to welcome the Child Jesus. In the heart of the night he will come for us. It is his desire, however, also to come in us, to dwell in the heart of every one of us. 

So that this may occur, it is indispensable that we are open and that we prepare ourselves to receive him, ready to make room for him within ourselves, in our families, in our cities. 

May his birth not find us unprepared to celebrate Christmas, forgetting that the protagonist of the celebration is precisely him! 

May Mary help us to maintain the interior recollection so necessary to taste the profound joy that the Redeemer's birth brings. To her we address our prayer, thinking particularly of those who are prepared to celebrate Christmas in sadness and solitude, in sickness and in suffering: to all may the Virgin bring comfort and consolation.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 24 December 2006]

(Reading: Lk 1:68-69.76.78-79)

Benedictus

1. Having reached the end of our long journey through the Psalms and Canticles of the Liturgy of Lauds, let us pause to consider the prayer that marks the Office of Lauds every morning. It is the Benedictus, the Canticle intoned by Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist, when the birth of that son changed his life, wiping away the doubt that caused him to go mute, a serious punishment for his lack of faith and praise. 

Now, instead, Zechariah can celebrate God who saves him, and he does so with this hymn, set down by Luke the Evangelist in a form that undoubtedly reflects the liturgical usage current in the original Christian community (cf. Lk 1: 68-79). 

The Evangelist himself describes it as a prophetic hymn, inspired by the breath of the Holy Spirit (cf. 1: 67). Indeed, we have before us a benediction proclaiming the saving actions and liberation offered by the Lord to his people. Thus, it is a "prophetic" interpretation of history, the discovery of the intimate, profound meaning of all human events that are guided by the hidden but active hand of the Lord which clasps the more feeble and hesitant hands of men and women. 

2. The text is solemn and, in the original Greek, is composed of only two sentences (cf. 68-75; 76-79). After the introduction, marked by the benediction of praise, we can identify in the body of the Canticle, as it were, three strophes that exalt the same number of themes, destined to mark the whole history of salvation:  the covenant with David (cf. vv. 68-71), the covenant with Abraham (cf. vv. 72-75) and the Baptist who brings us into the new Covenant in Christ (cf. vv. 76-79). Indeed, the tension of the whole prayer is a yearning for the goal that David and Abraham indicate with their presence. 

It culminates in one of the last lines: "The day shall dawn upon us from on high..." (v. 78). This phrase, which at first sight seems paradoxical with its association of "dawn" and "on high", is actually full of meaning. 

3. Indeed, in the original Greek, the "rising sun" is anatolè, a word which in itself means both the light of the sun that shines on our planet and a new shoot that sprouts. Both these images have messianic value in the biblical tradition. 

On the one hand, Isaiah reminds us, speaking of the Emmanuel, that "the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined" (Is 9: 1). On the other, referring once again to the king-Emmanuel, he describes him as the "shoot from the stump of Jesse", that is, from the house of David, a shoot upon which the Spirit of the Lord was to rest (cf. Is 11: 1-2). 

With Christ, therefore, appears the light that enlightens every creature (cf. Jn 1: 9) and makes life flourish, as John the Evangelist was to say, combining the two realities: "in him was life, and the life was the light of men" (1: 4). 

4. Humanity that was engulfed "in darkness and in the shadow of death" is illumined by this dazzling revelation (cf. Lk 1: 79). As the Prophet Malachi had announced: "For you who fear my name, there will arise the sun of justice with its healing rays" (3: 20). This sun "guides our feet into the way of peace" (Lk 1: 79). 

So let us move on, taking that light as our reference point; and may our faltering steps which, during the day, often stray to dark and slippery paths, be sustained by the light of the truth that Christ spreads in the world and in history. 

At this point, let us listen to a teacher of the Church, one of her Doctors, the Englishman Venerable Bede (seventh-eighth centuries). In his Homily for the Birth of St John the Baptist he commented on the Canticle of Zechariah as follows: "The Lord... has visited us as a doctor visits the sick, because to heal the deep-rooted sickness of our pride, he gave us the new example of his humility; he redeemed his people, for at the price of his blood he set us free when we had become servants of sin and slaves of the ancient enemy.... Christ found us lying "in darkness and in the shadow of death', that is, oppressed by the long-lasting blindness of sin and ignorance.... He brought to us the true light of his knowledge, and banishing the darkness of error, he has shown us the sure way to the heavenly homeland. He has directed the steps of our actions to make us walk on the path of truth, which he has pointed out to us, and to enable us to enter the home of eternal peace, which he has promised us". 

5. Lastly, drawing from other biblical texts, the Venerable Bede concluded, giving thanks for the gifts received:  "Given that we are in possession of these gifts of eternal bounty, dear brethren... let us also praise the Lord at all times (cf. Ps 34[33]: 2), for "he has visited and redeemed his people'.

May praise be always on our lips, let us cherish his memory and in turn, proclaim the virtue of the One who has "called you [us] out of darkness into his marvellous light' (I Pt 2: 9). Let us ceaselessly ask his help, so that he may preserve in us the light of the knowledge that he brought to us, and lead us onwards to the day of perfection" (Omelie sul Vangelo, Rome, 1990, pp. 464-465).

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 1 October 2003]

The Gospel passage that was just proclaimed is the prelude to two great canticles: that of Mary, known as the “Magnificat”, and that of Zechariah, the “Benedictus”, which I like to call “the canticle of Elizabeth or of fruitfulness”. Thousands of Christians throughout the world begin the day by singing: “Blessed be the Lord” and end it by proclaiming “the greatness of the Lord, for he has looked with favour on his lowly servant”. In this way believers of different peoples, day by day, try to remember; to remember that, from generation to generation, God’s mercy spreads over all people as he had promised our fathers. And from this context of grateful remembrance bursts forth Elizabeth’s song in the form of a question: “And why is this granted me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?”. We find Elizabeth, the woman marked by the sign of barrenness, who sings under the sign of fruitfulness and astonishment. 

I would like to emphasize precisely these two aspects. Elizabeth, marked by barrenness and marked by fruitfulness. 

1. Elizabeth the barren woman, with all that this implied for the religious mentality of that era, which considered barrenness a divine punishment as a result of her sin or that of her spouse. A mark of shame imprinted on her flesh, either because she felt guilty of a sin that she had not committed or because she felt inadequate, not living up to what was expected of her. Let us imagine for a moment the glances of her family members, of her neighbours, of her own ... a barrenness which thoroughly penetrates and ends up paralyzing one’s entire life. A barrenness that can assume many names and forms each time a person physically feels shame in seeing herself stigmatized or feeling inadequate (...)

2. And, let us contemplate Elizabeth, the barren woman, together with Elizabeth, the fruitful-astonished woman. She herself is the first to recognize and bless Mary. It is she who in old age experienced in her own life, in her flesh, the fulfillment of the promise God had made. She who could not have children carried in her womb the Precursor of Salvation. In her we understand that God’s dream is neither barrenness nor to stigmatize or shame his children, but to make flow in them and from them a song of blessing. Likewise we see it in Juan Diego. It was precisely he, and not another, who carried imprinted on his mantle, the tilma, the image of the Virgin: the Virgin with a dark complexion and face of mixed race, supported by an angel with the wings of quetzal, pelican and macaw; the mother able to assume the features of her children to make them feel part of her blessing. It would seem that God unceasingly persists in showing us that “the stone which the builders rejected has become the head of the corner” (Ps 118[117]:22).

[Pope Francis, homily 12 December 2017]

Prophetic ardour, Salvation that does not repeat

(Lk 1:57-66.80)

Salvation - the cue for a full existence - runs through increasingly vast spaces and breaks into in a peremptory way, without ever repeating itself.

It doesn’t ask for authoritative permits, nor does it wait for a beautiful swept and adorned dwelling.

It even enters the House (Israel) in which nothing was done but to commemorate, with no possibility of renewal and progress.

It transforms it, though scented with incense and pureness.

In that context, unfortunately, the Waiting had become a habit [to wait] that no longer expected anything.

The announcement of the new times, conversely, arouses contagious joys, a desire to make and affect the ancient habitual enclosure - in all aspects of mentality, suddenly no longer compliant.

Change ushers in an era of redemption: concretely, a life as people saved.

Trajectory now able to open loop holes on the great wall of conventions that bridle the freedom to be and to do.

Zechariah [«God makes memory»: the usual God and the usual memory] generates a Promise that is being fulfilled before the eyes.

Word-event that really visits the people - here and now, every dawn - imposing the «none of your kinship» (v.61) ie of the custom: here is Johanan [«God has made Grace»].

The Merciful Living One is no longer exactly that of the bloody and propitiatory cults at the Temple - but of the perspectives, of the deployed horizons. 

You find lightness. No conditioning blockage, no guilt sense for having diverted. In His proposals for dilated life, He is and remains «Favourable».

The Name to be imposed by ancient tradition conveyed a culture and a role (even) with sacred accents, reassuring.

By changing it, destiny is modified. Thus we doesn’t fall into a garment, in a part to be recited; we grasp the essence of the expected Face.

The Eternal is not the One who invites to a series of identified roles to trace without respite: his unconditional initiatives offer every day a decisive field’s opening.

The Most High creates, and calls for development, for the better and further: the categories of possibilities are overflown!

The ancient barriers between Heaven and Earth, between Tradition and Manifestation, are about to fall in favor of a world prone to life.

Redemption begins to make sparks with textbook choices: they can't stand each other anymore.

Even in our journey, accepting different horizons from the expected we allow the divine soul of salvation history to visit us.

This is so that the essence of our deep states detaches itself from the common judgment, and re-tunses on how much is still Unknown but we feel it belongs to us.

In each shift of gaze we will find another cosmos, a discreet, reserved Beauty - in which the Secret for each is nestled, a stage of complete realization for all.

Fulfilment is now «fortified in Spirit and in deserts» instead of according to manners and measure - in special places (v.80) from which one can push oneself out, even irregularly.

[Weekday Liturgy, December 2023]

Prophetic ardour, Salvation that does not repeat

(Lk 1:57-66.80)

The new Creation announced in the periphery invests the territory that still hesitates over what is certified, proven and reassuring - because it is considered (around) pure and quoted.

Salvation - the cue for a full existence - travels ever wider spaces and breaks through in a peremptory manner, without ever repeating itself.

It does not ask for authoritative permission, nor does it wait for a beautifully swept and adorned dwelling.

It even enters the House (Israel) in which it did nothing but commemorate, with no possibility of renewal and progress.

He transforms it, albeit already perfumed with incense and purity.

In that sphere, unfortunately, the Waiting had turned into a habit [of waiting] that was no longer waiting for anything. One just held back, without much expectation.

On the contrary, the announcement of the new times arouses contagious joy, a desire to do and break the old habitual enclosure - in all aspects of mentality, suddenly no longer conforming.

The change ushers in an era of redemption: concretely, a life of the saved.

A trajectory now able to open up gaps in the great wall of conventions that bridle the freedom to be and to do.

Zechariah ["God makes memory": the usual God and memory] generates a Promise that is being fulfilled before our eyes.

Word-event that really visits the people - here and now, every dawn - imposing the "none of your kinship" (v.61) i.e. the custom - even priestly: here is Johanan ["God made Grace"].

The merciful Living One is no longer exactly that of the bloody and propitiatory cults in the Temple, but of perspectives, of unfolding horizons.

One finds lightness. No conditioning blocks, no guilt for deviating. In His proposals of expanded life, He is and remains "Favourable".

The Name to be imposed by ancient custom conveyed a culture and a role (even) with sacred, reassuring veins.

Changing it changes destiny. One does not cast oneself in a robe, in a part to be played; one grasps the essence of the expected Face.

The Eternal One is not the One who invites a series of pious and archaic ritual customs identified, to be followed without respite. His unconditional initiatives provide a decisive opening of the field every day.

The Most High creates and calls for development, for the best and the further super-eminent: the categories of possibility are surpassed!

The ancient barriers between Heaven and Earth, between Tradition and Manifestation, are about to fall, in favour of a world inclined to life.

Redemption begins to spark with textbook choices.

Writes the Tao Tê Ching (xix), which deems the most celebrated virtues external:

"Teach that there is more to stick to: show yourself simple and keep yourself raw".

Master Wang Pi comments: 'Formal qualities are totally insufficient'.

And Master Ho-shang Kung adds: "Forget the regularity and creation of the saints, return to what was at the Beginning".

Even on our path, by accepting horizons other than the expected, we allow the divine soul of salvation history to visit us.

This is so that the essence of our deepest states can detach itself from common judgement, and re-tune to what is still Unknown instead of useful - but we feel belongs to us.

In each shift of gaze we find another cosmos, a discreet, reserved Beauty.

It leads back to our natural Core, to the Calling by Name in which lurks the Secret for each one, and a stage of full realisation for all.

The Fulfillment is now "fortified in Spirit and in deserts" instead of according to custom, measured - in the deputed places of the priestly liturgy (v.80) from which one must push oneself out, even irregularly.

To internalise and live the message:

How many times have you heard that you are not doing well?

How do you realise the timing of God's change?

What astonishment have you experienced in your spiritual journey?

What difference have you measured against your expectations and intentions?

How do you plan to build your dignity as an outrider?

What principle of discernment is used in your community? Do you start from your unrepeatable Vocation or is there an addictive and homologising cliché, other names that you have to repeat and copy?

"What do you think he will become, this son of mine?" [by Teresa Girolami].

Today's Gospel presents us with the birth of John, the prophet of Christ, and the amazement of onlookers:

"What shall this child be? And indeed the hand of the Lord was with him" (Lk 1:66).

In the life of Francis, from his birth, a visible sign of God's predilection was manifested on him and his mother Mona Pica.

The Sources make this clear:

"In fact, she was made to share, as a privilege, a certain likeness to the ancient Saint Elizabeth, both because of the name she imposed on her son and also because of her prophetic spirit. 

When neighbours expressed their admiration for Francis' generosity of spirit and moral integrity he would repeat, almost divinely inspired:

"What do you think he will become, this son of mine? Know, that by his merits he will become a son of God'.

Indeed, this was also the opinion of others, who appreciated Francis as already grown up for some of his very good inclinations.

He shunned anything that might sound offensive to anyone and, growing up with a gentle spirit, he did not appear to be the son of those who were called his parents.

Therefore the name of John is appropriate to the mission he then carried out, that of Francis to his fame, which soon spread everywhere after his full conversion to God.

Above the feast of any other saint, he held that of John the Baptist to be most solemn, whose distinguished name had imprinted in his soul a sign of arcane power.

Among those born of women there arose none greater than this, and none more perfect than this among the founders of religious orders. It is a coincidence worthy of note' (FF 583).

[Teresa Girolami].

According to which image and likeness?

Our gaze goes to Giulio Romano's painting above the high altar of this church: it shows the Holy Family, with John the Baptist still small, the Apostle James and the Evangelist Mark, the latter already adults.

The Baptist briskly points with his left hand to the Child Jesus, depicted in his infantile weakness. To the question of the relatives and neighbours of Elizabeth and Zechariah: "What is to become of this child?" the painting seems to give us this answer: John the Baptist points with all his attitude to Jesus to the visitor James who is close to him; he bows deeply in the awareness of his littleness: I am not worthy to untie the strap of the sandal to him who comes after me, but who is before me. This word has nothing to do with false humility. The Baptist is too upright, too sober for that. He certainly recognised human helplessness better than most men.

The preacher of penitence who questions men in their innermost being, who shakes them out of their certainties and transforms them, who snatches them from the superficiality of a purely earthly materialistic attitude, still belongs to the Old Covenant, he is just the one who points the way to the Kingdom of God; and this Kingdom of God is near, one hears the voice of the one who calls in the wilderness. The Baptist's humility is authentic. But God exalted the littleness of the Baptist with the greatness of the task entrusted to him; indeed, he had already exalted him in his mother's womb: before he was even born, he was in fact already 'reborn' by the Spirit of Christ. Human greatness is nothing compared to the smallness that is called to participate in the greatness and holiness of God.

For us priests, John is a model. He seeks nothing for himself, but everything for the one he now points to. The child already represents in a certain way the word transmitted to us in the fourth Gospel: "He must increase and I must decrease" (John 3: 30). John was to lead men to Jesus and bear witness [...].

John and the story of his life are like a slide on which a name and a truth are indicated. It remains dark until a source of light is lit behind it. Thus says the Gospel of John: 'He was not the light, but he was to bear witness to the light' (John 1: 8). The light of God is decisive in his life and mission. By its light we become seers, to recognise God's will. This is often contrary to our desires and our own will. When it came to naming the newborn John at his circumcision, tradition was decisive: he would receive his father's name. But Elisabeth decided otherwise. She knew God's will and gave the child the name 'John', which means 'God is merciful'.

Why should it have been so only then?

We can all experience the power and goodness of God in our lives when we trust in him and strive earnestly to do his will. But this requires from us humility and the realisation that man does not possess the measure of all things. We cannot see ourselves as the yardstick of every thought, every morality and every right. We too easily succumb to the belief that everything can be made, heaven as well as earth, indeed man himself, according to our own image and likeness.

[Pope John Paul II, S. Maria dell'Anima homily 24 June 1990].

With the exception of the Virgin Mary — whose birth the liturgy celebrates and it does so because it is closely connected with the mystery of the Incarnation of the Son of God. In fact, from the time when he was in his mother’s womb John was the precursor of Jesus: the Angel announced to Mary his miraculous conception as a sign that “nothing is impossible to God” (Lk 1:37), six months before the great miracle that brings us salvation, God’s union with man brought about by the Holy Spirit. The four Gospels place great emphasis on the figure of John the Baptist, the prophet who concludes the Old Testament and inaugurates the New, by identifying Jesus of Nazareth as the Messiah, the Anointed One of the Lord. In fact, Jesus himself was to speak of John in these terms: “This is he of whom it is written ‘Behold I send my messenger before your face, / who shall prepare your way before you. Truly I say to you, among those born of women there has risen no one greater than John the Baptist; yet he who is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he!” (Mt 11:10-11).

John’s father, Zechariah — Elizabeth’s husband and a relative of Mary — was a priest of Old Testament worship, he did not immediately believe in the announcement of such an unexpected fatherhood. This is why he was left mute until the day of the circumcision of the child to whom he and his wife gave the name God had indicated to them, that is, John, which means “graced by God”. Inspired by the Holy Spirit, Zechariah spoke thus of his son’s mission: “And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people in the forgiveness of their sins” (Lk 1:76-77).

All this came to pass 30 years later when John began baptizing people in the River Jordan, calling them to prepare themselves with this act of penance for the imminent coming of the Messiah, which God had revealed to them during their wanderings in the desert of Judaea. This is why he was called the “Baptist”, the “Baptizer” (cf. Mt 3:1-6). When one day Jesus himself came from Nazareth to be baptized, John at first refused but then consented; he saw the Holy Spirit settle on Jesus and heard the voice of the heavenly Father proclaiming him his Son (cf. Mt 3:13-17). However, the Baptist’s mission was not yet complete. Shortly afterwards he was also asked to precede Jesus in a violent death: John was beheaded in King Herod’s prison and thus bore a full witness to the Lamb of God who had recognized him and publicly pointed him out beforehand.

Dear friends, the Virgin Mary helped her elderly kinswoman Elizabeth when she was expecting John to bring her pregnancy to completion. May she help all people to follow Jesus, the Christ, the Son of God, whom the Baptist proclaimed with deep humility and prophetic fervour.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 24 June 2012]

Our gaze goes to Giulio Romano's painting above the high altar of this church: it shows the Holy Family, with John the Baptist still a child, the Apostle James and the Evangelist Mark, the latter already adults.

The Baptist briskly points with his left hand to the Child Jesus, depicted in his infantile weakness. To the question of the relatives and neighbours of Elizabeth and Zechariah: "What is to become of this child?" the painting seems to give us this answer: John the Baptist points with all his attitude to Jesus to the visitor James who is close to him; he bows deeply in the awareness of his littleness: I am not worthy to untie the strap of the sandal to him who comes after me, but who is before me. This word has nothing to do with false humility. The Baptist is too upright, too sober for that. He certainly recognised human helplessness better than most men.

The preacher of penitence who questions men in their innermost being, who shakes them out of their certainties and transforms them, who snatches them from the superficiality of a purely earthly materialistic attitude, still belongs to the Old Covenant, he is just the one who points the way to the Kingdom of God; and this Kingdom of God is near, one hears the voice of the one who calls in the wilderness. The Baptist's humility is authentic. But God exalted the littleness of the Baptist with the greatness of the task entrusted to him; indeed, he had already exalted him in his mother's womb: before he was even born, he was in fact already 'reborn' by the Spirit of Christ. Human greatness is nothing compared to the smallness that is called to participate in the greatness and holiness of God.

For us priests, John is a model. He seeks nothing for himself, but everything for the one he now points to. The child already represents in a certain way the word transmitted to us in the fourth Gospel: "He must increase and I must decrease" (John 3: 30). John was to lead men to Jesus and bear witness [...].

John and the story of his life are like a slide on which a name and a truth are indicated. It remains dark until a source of light is lit behind it. Thus says the Gospel of John: 'He was not the light, but he was to bear witness to the light' (John 1: 8). The light of God is decisive in his life and mission. By its light we become seers, to recognise God's will. This is often contrary to our desires and our own will. When it came to naming the newborn John at his circumcision, tradition was decisive: he would receive his father's name. But Elisabeth decided otherwise. She knew God's will and gave the child the name 'John', which means 'God is merciful'.

Why should it have been so only then?

We can all experience the power and goodness of God in our lives when we trust in him and strive earnestly to do his will. But this requires from us humility and the realisation that man does not possess the measure of all things. We cannot see ourselves as the yardstick of every thought, every morality and every right. We too easily succumb to the belief that everything can be made, heaven as well as earth, indeed man himself, according to our own image and likeness.

[Pope John Paul II, S. Maria dell'Anima homily 24 June 1990]