Reflection on the Gospel – Tuesday, June 25, 2025

The Importance of Being Called John

The tendency to make children into “clones” of their parents—by giving them the same name—goes back a long way. This custom existed even in Israel at the time of Jesus.
But no similarity or family connection can cancel out or reduce the unique originality of each person. Khalil Gibran expressed this powerfully in The Prophet, when he responded to the request “Speak to us of children” by saying:

“Your children are not your children.
They come through you but not from you,
and though they are with you, they do not belong to you.”

That’s what makes Zechariah’s gesture so important—supporting his wife Elizabeth in naming their son John.
The name Zechariah means “The Lord remembers.”
It fits well in the context of having an unexpected child in old age, but it better suits the father himself—it looks backward, toward the past.
The name John means “God is gracious” or “gift of God.”
It speaks of something new, something about to happen—something that John will prepare the way for.

Zechariah, old and silent, is a powerful image of the Old Testament: it seems to have nothing left to say, and yet still has the strength to give one last, important fruit.
This final fruit closes the long story of the God of promises—a story entrusted to Israel, but meant for the whole world.
John will hand off the baton to a new era—the time of fulfillment.
By naming his son John, Zechariah senses something new, something the Baptist won’t begin, but will open the way for.

In a person’s name, we often find a hint of their mission, their vocation.
Sometimes, when someone undergoes a major conversion, a name change marks that new path in life.
That was the case with Simon, son of John, when Jesus gave him the new name Peter.
Even today, it’s common for adults being baptized, or for those entering religious life, to choose a new name.
In the Christian tradition, names of saints are often chosen as models of authentic Christian living.

The Church reserves the term “Nativity” for only three births: Jesus, Mary, and John.
This underlines how close John is to Jesus (even more so, of course, is Mary).
In John, we see three key elements of every human and Christian vocation.

First, there is the call: from the womb, each person is called to a mission in life.
But this call is not some unchangeable destiny written in stone.
It’s open and personal—well expressed in the question everyone asked at John’s birth:

“What then will this child become?”

It’s a call that appeals to our freedom, one that we must respond to by making our own choices.

Second, this free response shows us that life has meaning—and that meaning is present from the very moment of conception.
We are responsible not only for our own lives, but also for the lives of others—especially those who cannot yet care for themselves.
Of course, this deep sense of meaning is often challenged.
We are constantly tempted to see life as nothing more than a string of random events.
We might echo the words of the prophet Isaiah:

“I have labored in vain, I have spent my strength for nothing and vanity.”
(Isaiah 49:4)

Yes, there are real moments of disappointment and frustration in life.
But those feelings themselves show that there is meaning—we feel disappointed because we had hopes that didn’t come true.
When someone says that life has no meaning, there’s always a tone of protest behind it, which actually confirms the very meaning they claim to deny.
If life truly had no meaning, we wouldn’t even notice. There would be no point in complaining about it.

And so, John, even from his mother’s womb, speaks to us of a life with meaning—a vocation, a mission, and a call to service.
That’s the third essential mark of every human calling.
And in John, it’s especially clear.
His mission is to prepare the way, then step aside, so that Jesus can grow.

To live our own mission in life, we have to recognize that we serve something greater than ourselves.
That means it’s not about being in the spotlight or taking center stage.
The greatest events—and the greatest people—are nothing without the many faithful, humble people who prepared the way.
They may not be recognized, but their quiet, faithful witness makes everything else possible.

Even Jesus Himself submitted to this law of incarnation.
To fulfill His saving mission, He needed others—people like John—who prepared the way.

The Christian philosopher Emmanuel Mounier said it perfectly:

“A person only reaches full maturity when they have chosen loyalties that are worth more than life itself.”

We don’t grow by putting ourselves at the center and claiming a total independence that doesn’t really exist.
We grow when we freely commit ourselves to something greater than us, something that sets us free and helps us become more fully who we are.

This truth is crystal clear in John the Baptist.
It’s even more evident in Mary, the humble servant of the Lord.
And above all, in Jesus, who did not live for Himself, but gave Himself freely to the will of the Father—at the service of the Kingdom of God and His brothers and sisters
(cf. Luke 22:27, 42).

As we contemplate John the Baptist, and reflect on our own vocation and purpose in life, we begin to see that every Christian calling has something in common with the Precursor.
Jesus still comes into the world—to people who do not know Him, who have never heard of Him.
And just as in the Incarnation, He needs people to go ahead of Him, to prepare the way.

At some point in our lives, each of us had a John the Baptist who introduced us to Christ.
And now, each one of us—as Christians—is called to be that person for others:
to prepare the way, not by pointing to ourselves, but by pointing to

“the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.”
(John 1:29, 36)