The Scriptures of the Old Testament had foretold that a special messenger should immediately precede the coming of the Messias, whose duty would be to prepare men's hearts for His reception. Now, our Lord in the text tells us that St. John the Baptist was this messenger. It is for this reason that the Gospels read in the Church for the season of Advent are so full of the sayings and doings of this saint. In Advent the Church desires to prepare us for the twofold coming of Christ—at His Nativity and at the Last Judgment; and it is natural that she should avail herself of the labors of one who was divinely appointed for the same purpose. Accordingly, from Sunday to Sunday, during this season, she bring St. John the Baptist from his cell in the desert, clad in his rough garment, to preach to us Christians the same lessons he preached to the Jewish people centuries ago. It has seemed to me, then, that I could not better subserve the intentions of the Church, than by considering this morning in what the mission of St. John the Baptist as a preparation for Christ's coming specially consisted, and what practical lessons it suggests to us.
St. John the Baptist was of the priestly race, yet he never exercised the office of a priest. He was not a prophet, at least in the sense of one who foretells future events. He worked no miracles. He had no ecclesiastical position. What was he then? What was his office? How did he prepare men for the coming of Christ? The Scriptures tell us what he was. He was a "Voice" and a "Cry"—the cry of conscience, the voice of man's immortal destiny. His mission was simple, elementary, and universal. It went deeper than ecclesiastical or ritual duties. It touched human probation to the very quick. He dealt with the great question of salvation, protested vehemently against sin, and published aloud that law of sanctity which is written on every man's heart by the finger of God.
We have some remains of his sermons, from which we can learn his style. "Begin not to say," so he speaks to the Jews, "we have Abraham to our father, for God is able to raise up of these stones children to Abraham." [Footnote 36]
[Footnote 36: St. Luke iii. 8.]
See, how he sweeps away external privileges, and goes straight to every man's conscience. "The axe is laid now to the root of the trees, and every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit shall be cut down and cast into the fire." Nothing but what is internal, nothing but what is sound at the core, can bear the scrutiny. He descends to the particulars of each man's state and condition of life. The people came to him and asked him, "What shall we do?" And he said: "He that hath two coats, let him impart to him that hath none; and he that hath meat let him do likewise." That was a short and pithy sermon! Then the officers of the custom came and asked: "What shall we do? And he answered: "Take nothing more than that which is appointed you." Do not rob or swindle. Do not use bribery or extortion. And the soldiers asked him, saying: "And what shall we do?" And he said: "Do violence to no man: neither calumniate any man; and be content with your pay."
Such was the preaching of St. John the Baptist, pointed, direct, homely, practical: an echo of that trumpet-blast which once shook the earth, when God gave the Ten Commandments out of the Mount. And it did its work. Our Lord himself has testified to the success of St. John's mission. It prepared men to believe in Christ. It was the school which trained disciples for Christianity. They that believed in St. John believed afterwards in Christ. On one occasion the evangelist gives it as the explanation why some believed and some rejected the words of Jesus, that they had first believed or rejected the words of the Baptist. "All the people," such is the language I refer to, "justified God, being baptized with, the baptism of John, but the Pharisees and the lawyers despised the counsel of God against themselves, being not baptized of him." [Footnote 37]
[Footnote 37: St. Luke vii. 29, 30.]
Nor is it difficult to explain how his preaching effected this result. Christ came to save sinners. In point of fact, we know that this is the reason why He has come into the world. He has come to seek and save that which was lost. He has come to heal the broken-hearted. He has come to give us a new law, higher and holier than the old, yet easier by the brightness of His example, and the graces He imparts. Now, unless a man feels the evil of sin, unless he wants to keep the law, unless he feels an interest, and a deep interest, in the question of his destiny, he does not care for Christ. True, our Lord has given to the understanding proofs of His divine mission, so that belief in Him may be a reasonable act; but until the conscience is stirred up, the understanding has no motive for considering these proofs. To the carnal and careless Jews, the announcement of Christ's coming was, I suppose, simply uninteresting. In some points of view, indeed, they might have welcomed Him. As a temporal prince and deliverer, His advent would have been hailed by them, but salvation from sin was a matter in which they felt no great concern. What did they want with Christ? Why does He come at all to consciences which do not crave rest, and wills that need no strength? What need of a Saviour, if there is no sin to be shunned, no hell to be feared, no heaven to be won, no great struggle between good and evil, no eternity in peril?
But once let all this be fully understood. Let a man's conscience be fully awakened. Let him realize his destiny, above and beyond this world; let him appreciate the evil of sin that defeats his destiny; let him, if the case be so, perceive how far out of the way he has gone by his sins; and then how full of interest, how full of meaning, becomes the exclamation of St. John, as he points to Christ and says: "Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sins of the world!" Let a man's spiritual nature be stirred within him; let him aspire to what is pure and high; aim at regulating his passions; struggle, amid inordinate desires and the importunities of creatures which encompass him like a flood, toward the highest good and the most perfect beauty; and, oh! with what music do these words of Christ fall on his soul: "Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you. Take my yoke upon you and learn of Me, and you shall find rest to your souls. For My yoke is sweet, and My burden is light." [Footnote 38]
[Footnote 38: St. Matt. xi. 29, 30.]