“Who are you?”

Gaudete Sunday – 13th December 2020 - Readings: Is 61:1-2,10-11; 1 Thes 5:16-24; Jn 1:6-8,19-28

 “Who are you?” is a question that can be heard on so many different levels. In 1978 the English rock band, The Who, released the title song of their 8th studio album: Who Are You? It is an angry, nihilistic lyric that takes a surprisingly spiritual turn in the third verse:

I know there’s a place you walked

Where love falls from the trees

My heart is like a broken cup

I only feel right on my knees …

How can I measure up to anyone now

After such a love as this?

In his autobiography, the band’s guitarist and writer of the song, Pete Townsend, explains that the words had their genesis in a retreat he attended at the Meher Spiritual Centre in South Carolina, led by the Indian Guru, Meher Baba.

 Another memory that comes to mind, in response to this profound question at the heart of today’s gospel, is a children’s book that my parents read to me, and I in turn read to my daughter: Are You My Mother? by P.D. Eastman. Hannah is now 21, and I only just found out a week ago, when we were talking about the book, that it used to terrify her as a bedtime story! You probably remember it yourselves. It is a tale about a hatchling bird that gets lost. The chick asks a kitten, a hen, a dog, a cow, and so on: “are you my mother?” The encounters become more and more worrisome as the little bird seeks answers from a boat, a plane and finally a massive earthmoving dump truck that belches “SNORT” from its exhaust pipe. The lost fledgling breaks in tears - “I want my mother” - as the vast monster truck lifts the fragile chick up, and gently tips him or her back into the nest, just as the mother returns with lunch.

 In John’s gospel this is the opening question to the Evangelist’s majestic theological framing of the Christ through John the Baptiser (‘Who are you?’ is the question, I might add, not ‘Are you my mother?’). Ancient Jewish eschatology held that the prophet Elijah would in time return to herald the Messiah. The priests and Levites are after answers. But John’s response is firstly in the negative: I am not the Messiah; I am not Elijah; I am not the prophet. Then who are you, they ask a second time?

 John’s response is depicted exquisitely in the fifteenth-century illumination from the Très Riches Heures prayer book, produced for John, the Duke of Berry, and brother of King Charles V of France. You can see it on the front page of this morning’s liturgy sheet.

 The artists, the Limbourg brothers, capture the Baptist’s answer, his quotation from Isaiah that we reflected on last week: “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord.’” The bears, one climbing a tree, the boars, and a lion signal the threat of this wilderness. The two figures on either side of John are his inquisitors: “who are you?” One appears prayerful, perhaps convinced, mimicking John’s stance. The other seems less than impressed, even hostile. They are the choice, aren’t they, that we all face when confronted with the Truth, the Light, the divine Logos.

 In the centre of the painting, the Baptist is holding and blessing the Lamb, bringing to life the crucial verse 29 which follows on from today’s gospel: “behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” This is the answer to the question in all its fullness: the answer of the Eucharist, the answer of the unsettling Way, the answer of Christ’s sacrifice, the answer of the powerful vulnerability of the Cross.

 The question of John is a question of us, particularly so, as we return to church after so many months: who are you? It is a question of us as individuals but also of us as a faith community. As we pluck up courage and return to weekly, and for those who can, daily Mass, we perhaps see things afresh; things we’d previously taken for granted. For many of us this journey of return has been so profoundly joyful.

 I vividly recall the pictures of so many of you on my computer screen at our Annual Meeting just three weeks ago. We had been months in the wilderness of lockdown, and it was such joy for us all I think, to see so many familiar faces again. It was only six weeks ago that we had our All Saints Mass in the car park, so that we could double our congregation from 10 to 20. Again, the joy of this historic occasion was palpable. So much so, that we were spotted by a television crew who were filming next door at Parliament who then came to join us. And last week, we had our largest gathering in church since March, with the then maximum of 87 people in attendance. And today, we can finally have a full choir and a full serving team again, and spatially distance at elbow rather than arms length.

 Today’s song from Isaiah, so beautifully read by Anne, may be ours once again: “I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, my whole being shall exult in my God; for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation, he has covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decks himself with a garland, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.” The Magnificat also sings our song at this time: “My soul magnifies the Lord And my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour.” And this Gaudete Sunday at least, it is perhaps just that little bit easier to hear St Paul’s words of encouragement: “My brothers and sisters, rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” This is who I am. This is who we are. Thanks be to God.