Second Sunday of Advent • Year A

Some of us may recall what is was like as children to receive a home visit from the doctor. It was not the most efficient way for doctors to spend their time, but it was a marvelous convenience and comfort for parents to have a doctor who made house calls. Our family physician was a wonderful man named Dr. Gilbert (may God rest him) who, as I recall, was a classic 1960s doctor: elderly, distinguished, serious, kindly yet firm. (For those who may also recall, he looked and acted like Marcus Welby, M.D., who also made house calls, via our t.v.) . My mother thought Dr. Gilbert walked on water. She was grateful that every time one of us needed medical care, she didn’t have to take all six of us to his office, or to the emergency room.

But there was a catch: Somehow, we always knew when Dr. Gilbert was coming, and five minutes before he knocked on the door, we would scatter and hide. We would burrow under beds and cower inside closets. My favorite place was under the dining room table. But Mom, with a determination and efficiency more commonly associated with Seal Team Six, would hunt us down and drag us out of our hiding places.

How did we know Dr. Gilbert was coming? I never overheard my Mom on the phone making an appointment, and she certainly never announced it, but still we knew. It was many years later that I finally came up with a likely answer. The sign was that my mother would start cleaning. With six children, my mother had to pick her times for cleaning carefully. Before holidays, or when relatives were expected, or when our toys and games and clothes had coalesced into a series of hills and walls that would give the fire marshal a stroke – these were the usual times for straightening, dusting, light spackling, and major crayon removal. But if, in the middle of a perfectly ordinary afternoon or evening, with no visitors expected and no holidays at hand, my mother began to vacuum and nudge furniture to cover stains on the carpet…well, just as some animals can sense when an earthquake is coming, we knew that the doctor was at hand.

So Dr. Gilbert’s visits were always a mix: on the one hand, the house looked great; on the other, we were sweaty, dusty, and disheveled.

Why did we run? Why did we try to hide? Because doctors bring a mixture of comfort and pain. They help preserve and restore the precious of gift of good health; yet, they are also the bearers of unpleasant tidings. Doctors tell you to lose weight, stop smoking, and to exercise more. They tell you that you need a shot, that you need some surgery, that there are problems with the x-ray. The men and women who work to restore and maintain health are at one and the same time loved and hated, dedicated to our good yet often inflicting pain in the pursuit of health.

In short, doctors are the very definition of a mixed blessing. John the Baptist appears. He comes neither eating nor drinking; he comes with a message of conversion and repentance; he comes with a warning of the judgment that is at hand, a warning that time is growing short and a decision must be made. And Jesus says that up to this very hour, John is the greatest man in history. In Matthew’s gospel, he is called the new Elijah; in Luke’s gospel, his message, like Jesus’ preaching, is called “good news.” John appears with the message of true health which will not fail or fade. John proclaims that God will forgive. Whatever ours sins and vices, the Lord will show mercy. But there must be a change of life. Tax collectors and soldiers must be honest, and those who have received good things must be generous with their clothing and food.

John’s message is not “I’m okay, you’re okay.” John does not think “It’s all good.” John does not make a few suggestions for modest improvement. John says: Salvation is at hand, so change your lives! God is drawing near: Be prepared! Christ is coming, and so this is no time to fool about with half-measures. We must part with our corrupt desires, surrender our bad habits, cut off our selfishness, ambition, lust and laziness. We cannot walk the narrow path of salvation if we are burdened with the weight of unrepented sin. And John’s good news is that we do not have to: We can repent and be reconciled to the Lord.

Like a doctor’s visit, this is both good news and bad news. People like to smoke and drink and eat the wrong foods, so a doctor’s advice falls on unwilling ears. So, too, people find enjoyment in lying, gossip, and pornography; we like to be selfish with our time, to avoid the poor and the sick, to hold on to grudges and hatreds.

And so, we would think, John the Baptist’s warnings must also fall on unwilling ears.

But the amazing thing is that they do not. John is a huge success. Matthew tells us that “Jerusalem, all Judea, and the whole region around the Jordan were going out to him and were being baptized by him in the Jordan River as they acknowledged their sins” (3:5-6). The crowds do not seek out “a reed swayed by the wind,” nor “someone dressed in fine clothing.” They search for a man dressed in animal skins, a prophet proclaiming repentance and fire, and they accept baptism from him.

The people who came to John in droves were weary of the emptiness and the sadness of pride, lust, and greed; weary of the harsh mill of false happiness, the constant wrongdoing that grinds more and more sin yet gives less and less satisfaction. They turned to John, accepted the cost, and received God’s grace.

Now, today, John is in prison. Not everyone wanted to have the burden of sinfulness lifted from his shoulders. Not everyone could accept the good news of a salvation demanding real repentance. John can read the signs of the times, he knows the human heart, he sees his end drawing near. And though he leapt for joy in Elizabeth’s womb at the presence of Christ, and though he proclaimed Christ to the crowds as the lamb of God, and though he denied his own fitness to touch Christ’s sandals, John finds his faith sorely tried now that his death is close. So he sends disciples to Jesus, to ask him a question, to help bolster his own faith: “Are you the one?”

How does Jesus respond? He does not say, “I am the heir of Moses,” or “I am the son of David.” He does not call himself Messiah, Son of God, Lamb of God, teacher, priest, prophet, or king.

He calls himself “doctor.”

Jesus responds to John as one physician to another. He says, “John, see how the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them.” John’s messengers are sent back to him with the consolation of the résumé of an incredibly successful doctor.

Like all healers, Jesus brings a mixed message. “This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent and believe in the gospel.” As with a doctor, we may want to hear the good news that health is possible, but ignore the hard news that health won’t be easy, because we are very sick. Our sinfulness is not a rash, it cannot be dealt with though ointments and bandages. It is not cold or flu or arthritis. It is cancer. It demands a hard course of treatment, recovery, and lifelong rehabilitation. We can swallow the Eucharist each week, but if we think better health begins and ends with that, we are mistaken. Just as a doctor says, “Take this prescription, and then start walking a mile a day,” or “Use this medication, and stop drinking and smoking,” so Jesus says to us, “Receive my body and blood, and then exercise the grace it bestows on you. Reject sin, avoid temptation, exercise good deeds and forgiveness. Forgive the relative who has disappointed you, feed the hungry, visit the hospitalized and the housebound, go to confession, pray the Rosary, explain Church teaching to someone who is lost.”

Jesus does not say this will be easy and painless. But he assures us that the exercise will pay off, that the health that grows from his grace and our sacrifice will culminate in eternal union with him.

Like a good doctor, Christ does not leave us to suffer alone. He makes the house call, here in the Eucharist, and beyond these walls through the Holy Spirit he pours into our hearts, and the strength and mercy of our families, friends, and neighbors.

We can see the signs. The readings from Scripture and the music and the decorations make it clear that the doctor is close at hand. Let us pray for the courage not to run and hide, but to welcome him, listen, and obey his prescription.