The Songbird
(Is.11:1-10; Rom.15:4-9; Mt.3:1-12)
Every year in the season of Advent, a powerful voice calls out to us. It’s the voice of St John the Baptist.
It’s not a gentle whisper, but an insistent cry from the desert wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths!’
John’s message is sharp and urgent, but not meant to frighten us. It’s meant to wake us up, to stir hearts that have become too sleepy or distracted.
Advent is God’s wake-up call to our weary world, and John’s voice is the alarm that sounds just before the dawn.
Think of the early morning darkness, when the first bird begins to sing. It sings not because it can see the sun, but because it knows the sun is on its way. While the world is still half asleep, that little bird dares to sing into the silence.
John’s voice is that birdsong, expressing faith and joy into the shadows. He teaches us that even when the world is dark or silent, we can still raise our voices in hope because Jesus Christ is near.
Think, too, of the first light of every morning, that faint brightness that emerges before sunrise. It doesn’t light up the whole world, but it does signal that night is fading and a new day is on its way.
John the Baptist is that dawn. He is not the Sun, for Jesus is the true Light. But John’s life shines just enough to awaken hope in people’s hearts. ‘The darkness won’t last forever!’ he declares. ‘The Light of the world is coming!’ And he urges those who listen to turn towards the coming day.
And then there’s the wide brown land. In the morning, before any field can bear fruit, the soil must be broken to reveal its fertile promise. It is hard, challenging work, for ploughing tears up the ground. But without it, no seed can take root.
John’s preaching is that plough. It breaks open the hard soil of the human heart so that the seed of God’s Word might take root.
His message is repent, change your heart, turn back to God.
This sounds demanding, but it’s really an invitation to growth, for without repentance, there can be no renewal. Without turning back, we cannot go forward.
John’s voice tills the field so that Christ may plant his love.
This, then, is St John the Baptist. His voice is the first birdsong, singing of faith and joy in the darkness. He is the first light of the morning, signalling the dawn of a new day.
And his preaching is a plough, breaking up the hard soil of our hearts – for that’s where Jesus wants to plant his love.
Now, every night, just before the dawn and while the sky is still dark, the bright planet Venus makes its appearance. This is the morning star, the last light of night and the first sign of day. It shines brightly when most other stars have faded, and then it disappears just as the sun rises.
This, too, is John the Baptist. For just a short while he shines brilliantly – calling, baptising, preparing, and then, just as Jesus steps into the River Jordan, he quietly steps away. ‘Behold the Lamb of God,’ he says. And then: ‘He must increase, and I must decrease.’
These words guide us into the very heart of Advent, for true faith does not draw attention to itself; it only points towards Christ. John teaches us that holiness is not about shining for our own sake, but about helping others find the direction of the dawn. And when his work is done, he is content to fade into the distance.
This is true humility, and it’s the hallmark of the morning Songbird, John the Baptist. He reminds us that God has not forgotten us – indeed, that God will never forget us – and new life is already on its way.
His mission, his joy, is to announce what is coming, but then to let go. ‘I am not the Messiah,’ he says, ‘I am only the voice.’
And today, he reminds us of our own mission. For we are all called to be songbirds, just like the Baptist, singing into the silence and the darkness, awakening sleepy hearts and preparing the way for Christ.
At home, at school, at work, and in our communities – wherever we might be – we’re all called to become signs of the coming Light.
Not pointing to ourselves, but only to Jesus Christ.
