Enough For Me: A Relationship With the Lamb of God
by Fr. Rich Andre, C.S.P.
January 16, 2023

Paulist Fr. Rich Andre preached this homily on the 2nd Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A) on January 15, 2023 at the Paulist Center in Boston, MAThe homily is based on the day’s readings: Isaiah 49:3, 5-6; Psalm 40; 1 Corinthians 1:1-3; and John 1:29-34.

We’re back in Ordinary Time, but the word “ordinary” does not mean “boring.” We’re in the ordered, or counted weeks of the year. This year, we will work our way chronologically through the Gospel of Matthew. But every year, on the Second Sunday in Ordinary Time, we hear from the Gospel of John. Why John, and why now? On this Second Sunday, we always hear a story from John about how somebody came to recognize Jesus as the Christ.

Here’s what the glorious prologue to John’s gospel says about John the Baptist: “He came for testimony, to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He was not the light, but came to testify to the light.” 

The Baptist’s job is no different than ours: to witness to the light. When we stray, let us remember the testimony of the great 20th-century prophet Martin Luther King, Jr: “Darkness cannot drive out darkness,” he said. “Only light can do that.” Let us ask God to give us the grace to return to being children of the light!

Photo credit: The Chosen (TV series) press photo/CC-BY-SA

Later this week, we begin the Octave of Prayer for Christian Unity (January 18-25). Over the years, I’ve had many opportunities to sing in Presbyterian, Episcopal, Methodist, and Lutheran churches. I’ve offered prayers with Unitarians, Jehovah’s Witnesses, members of the United Church of Christ, and agnostics. I’ve prayed at Quaker and Orthodox services, Mennonite and Holiness gatherings, and Ruthenian and Anglo-Catholic liturgies. Each of these experiences has enriched me. Not only have I been reassured by our common beliefs, but also the differences have invited me to consider the gifts and insights of these traditions that can enhance my own spirituality.

I’ve noticed a real difference in the style of some of my Christian friends’ prayers from my own. I don’t mean this in an insulting way, but I would describe their prayers as “Jesus-tastic.” These friends attribute all aspects of God to Jesus – even things that I feel belong more properly to God under the persons of the Creator Almighty or the Holy Spirit. Nevertheless, I have found something profound, marvelous, and challenging in these friends’ openness about their relationship with Jesus. Sometimes, my spiritual life becomes too intellectual. But to be a Christian, I need to continually nurture my personal relationship with Jesus. 

And that’s the point of our gospel passage today. The Gospel of John begins with a magnificent, vivid, poetic, 18-verse prologue. But then, after the prologue, the gospel starts with John the Baptist foretelling that Jesus is coming. And then we immediately jump to this passage, where John tells us that he knows Jesus is the “Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world” because he saw the Holy Spirit come down upon Jesus. This is weird, because the Gospel of John doesn’t actually include the story of Jesus being baptized.

To be Christian disciples, we must each have an ongoing, intimate, personal relationship with Jesus. Here, in the very first chapter of John, John the Baptist and some of the other early disciples address Jesus by eleven different titles. And yet there are still another twenty chapters to go in this gospel, many stories that help us to grow in understanding who Jesus is, to grow in relationship with Jesus. 

It’s an ongoing challenge in any relationship. If you ever get to a point where you think you completely understand your co-worker, your best friend, or your significant other, that’s not a very deep relationship. It’s the same with Jesus Christ. We can always know Jesus better. We must continue to spend time with Jesus, continue to relate to Jesus, continue to grow with Jesus, continue to grow into Jesus, the Christ.

It’s why the Paulist Center refers to children’s religious education as “Family Religious Education.” The research about passing on the faith is abundantly clear: children are unlikely to develop an ongoing relationship with Jesus Christ unless at least one of their parents or guardians is also continuing to develop an intimate, personal relationship with Jesus. At the Paulist Center, we ask families to do most of the preparation work for First Holy Communion at home, to give them an opportunity to talk together about what Jesus and the Eucharist mean to them. 

If you feel that your relationship with Jesus is more of an intellectual one than an emotional one, you’re not alone. The 18-inch journey from the brain to the heart is the journey of a lifetime! I think one of the best ways to embark on that journey is through the lessons of St. Ignatius. He was an expert in giving people exercises that began intellectually but slowly morphed into the emotional realm. 

Dr. King was someone whose relationship with Jesus transformed his understanding of the nature his own testimony to the light. It was a witness that led him to Selma, to Little Rock, to prison, and to a martyr’s death, just like John the Baptist. Do we dare to allow Jesus into parts of our lives that are uncomfortable or difficult? Do we dare to speak for our children yearning to go to school without the fear of gun violence? Do we dare to march for the injustices suffered disproportionately by people of color? Do we dare to sit with family members, friends, or even strangers going through inexplicable illnesses and other tragedies? Do we dare to talk with people who have hurt us or who are divided from us?

How can we tell if our relationship with Jesus has transcended the intellectual realm and achieved the more emotional, personal, vulnerable realm? When we dare to share our testimony in ways that carry a personal cost. Like John the Baptist. Like Martin Luther King, Jr. Like Jesus, the Christ.

At the conclusion of his 30 days of Spiritual Exercises, St. Ignatius gives us a simple, beautiful prayer that calls us to share an intimacy with Jesus that seems beyond human capacity. And yet it’s a prayer I find myself turning to more and more as the years go by:

Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty, 
my memory, my understanding
and my entire will,
All I have and call my own.

You have given all to me.
To you, Lord, I return it.

 Everything is yours; do with it what you will.
Give me only your love and your grace.
That is enough for me.