Gospel according to Saint John 1:29-34
John the Baptist saw Jesus coming toward him and said, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world. He is the one of whom I said, ‘A man is coming after me who ranks ahead of me because he existed before me.’ I did not know him, but the reason why I came baptizing with water was that he might be made known to Israel.”
John testified further, saying, “I saw the Spirit come down like a dove from the sky and remain upon him. I did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water told me, ‘On whomever you see the Spirit come down and remain, he is the one who will baptize with the holy Spirit.’ Now I have seen and testified that he is the Son of God.”

Can “the sin of the world” be taken away?

Luis CASASUS President of the Idente Missionaries

Rome, January 18, 2025 | II Sunday in Ordinary Time

Is 49: 3.5-6; 1Cor 1: 1-3; Jn 1: 29-34 

Today, the Gospel once again presents us with the figure of John the Baptist. On this occasion, it teaches us that it is not hard work, intelligence, or experience, but self-sacrifice that allows God to become present and visible in our lives, so that we can show Christ to those we accompany in this world. This lesson is not easily accepted… by anyone. Sometimes painful experiences or even being on the brink of death are necessary to accept this truth, which we have the privilege of understanding thanks to the example of St. John in his apostolic life in the desert.

There is a legend about the last three wishes of the great Alexander the Great, who lived in the fourth century BC. After conquering many kingdoms, he was returning home. On the way, he fell ill, which led him to his deathbed. Certain that his life was ending, the young Alexander realized that his conquests, his great army, his sharp sword, and all his wealth were of no importance.

So, the mighty conqueror lay prostrate and pale, helplessly awaiting his last breath. He called his generals and said to them: I will soon depart from this world. I have three wishes; please fulfill them without fail.

My first wish, said Alexander, is that only my doctors should carry my coffin.

After a pause, he continued: Secondly, I wish that when my coffin is carried to the grave, the road leading to the cemetery be covered with gold, silver, and precious stones that I have accumulated in my treasury.

My third and final wish is that my two hands hang outside the coffin.

Alexander’s favorite general asked, Oh, king, we assure you that all your wishes will be fulfilled. But tell us, why such strange wishes?

Then Alexander took a deep breath and said: I would like the world to know the three lessons I have just learned. And Alexander explained: I want my doctors to carry my coffin because people must realize that no doctor on this earth can save a person from the clutches of death. So, let’s not let people take life for granted.

The second wish to scatter gold, silver, and other riches on the way to the cemetery is to tell people that not even a fraction of the gold will come with me.

I spent my whole life coveting power, amassing wealth, but I can’t take anything with me. Let people realize that pursuing wealth is a pure waste of time.

As for my third wish, to have my hands hanging out of the coffin, I want people to know that I came into this world empty-handed and I am leaving it empty-handed.

With these words, the king closed his eyes, death overtook him, and he breathed his last breath.

Obviously, Alexander the Great could not have been a Christian, but he understood that what one does for oneself dies without remedy, but what we do for others will live forever. John the Baptist showed us how-to live-in self-denial in order to show Jesus to others.

His rough camel-skin garment and his diet of locusts and wild honey were nothing more than powerful signs of something deeper: living freely from one’s own judgments, desires, and eagerness to see the results of one’s most generous efforts.

Without a doubt, St. John the Baptist understood better than anyone the value of abnegation, and that is why he said: He must increase, but I must decrease (Jn 3:30).

Only this abnegation makes the fruits of any spiritual initiative possible. Even in mischievous and clear-sighted popular wisdom, this is illustrated with a comical reference to a venerable and ancient devotion, such as the Rosary of Dawn. For centuries, in many cities, groups of people have taken to the streets before dawn, with lanterns and simple instruments to pray the Holy Rosary before going to work. This commendable and praiseworthy devotion could end up as the saying goes: it ended up with lantern blows, like the rosary of dawn. In other words, the desire for everything to be done according to my opinion, my preference, and my custom leads to the deterioration of what began with a generous intention and degenerates into conflict and bitter disagreement.

—ooOoo—

How do we show Christ to our neighbor? The question is important, because we do not always do so from our personal experience. Some use dogmatic truths that are of no interest to the listener; others try to push their neighbor to live a virtue that they consider indispensable for him. Some love controversy, which is almost always fruitless, and others are afraid of offending or appearing proselytizing…

But John the Baptist recounts how he came to know Jesus, because, as he confesses twice, before that “he did not know him.” Now he expresses how he sees him, and he says it in a way that the people who came to him could understand: This is the Lamb of God. This expression had never been heard before; of course, all Israelites knew what the Passover Lamb was, but now John calls him that because he can see what is most important in Jesus, in that Lamb: He takes away the sin of the world.

We should be convinced that, in the Gospel, to save is to free from fear, from paralyzing guilt, from slavery to evil, from a life closed in on oneself. Jesus not only says “your sins are forgiven,” but also: “get up and walk,” “be healed,” “go and sin no more.” Forgiveness recreates life, and all human beings have experienced this when we truly feel forgiven by someone, whether it be another human being or God himself.

A very clear and beautiful example is Jesus’ encounter with the sinful woman in the Pharisee’s house (Lk 7:36-50). That woman enters crying, anoints Jesus’ feet, and dries them with her hair. The Pharisee, as most of us do, judges her inwardly. Jesus, on the other hand, reveals what is happening in the depths of her heart: Her many sins are forgiven, because she has loved much (Lk 7:47).

She goes from shame to dignity; she enters marked by social rejection, and yet Jesus does not humiliate her or identify her with her sin. By forgiving her publicly, he restores her dignity before God and everyone. Sin no longer defines her; now she can love without chains, free from the weight that oppressed her, reconciled with God and with her mission in the world, because removing sin implies giving human beings a new heart (cf. Ezekiel 36:26): a new way of loving, of looking at others, of relating to God.

Sin has all kinds of negative consequences, because it means a rupture of relationships, a global deterioration of our unitive character.

Let us imagine a fabric, a tapestry representing the original communion with God, of the person with others and with creation, all interwoven like threads that support each other. Sin, in the biblical mindset, is not breaking a rule written in a legal code; it is pulling a thread from that fabric, so that the whole tapestry begins to unravel.

֍ In Genesis 3, after eating from the forbidden tree, Adam and Eve do not immediately receive legal punishment. The first thing that happens is a deterioration of their relationship with the Creator: they hid from the presence of the Lord God. Sin manifests itself as distance, as a loss of trust, as fear where before there was intimacy. It is not always a crime, but there is always a relationship that is fractured.

֍ The story of Cain and Abel is the first case of breaking with others that leads to sin. The brother becomes a threat.

God does not say to Cain: You have violated Article 63 of the moral code, but rather: Where is your brother? The question reveals the limiting nature of sin: the inability to recognize the other as a brother. Sin is the death of the bond, the loss of brotherhood.

֍ Sin introduces an inner fracture, a kind of exile within one’s own heart. St. Paul expresses it this way: I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want (Rom 7:15). Sin is disintegration, loss of inner unity. In Genesis 3 itself, Adam and Eve feel shame and cover themselves. Shame is not an imposed punishment; it is a symptom that something within them has been broken.

֍ In addition, there is a rupture with creation. After the sin, God says to Adam: The ground will produce thorns and thistles for you. It is not a magical curse; it is the description of a truly ecological disorder: the harmony between human beings and the earth has been broken, and not respecting our nature has consequences, for sin introduces violence into creation, which ceases to be a garden and begins to be a battlefield. Many people who engage in acts of masturbation, or fall into addictions considered “not severe,” or do not respect a healthy schedule and lifestyle, vigorously deny this truth.

A well-known example in psychology that helps us understand how forgiveness brings liberation is the case of a person trapped in what is called “chronic guilt.”

Thus, someone who made a serious mistake in the past (such as damaging an important relationship) may become trapped in constant rumination (“I always ruin everything”), permanent self-accusation, difficulty connecting with others, and even self-punishing behaviors. Here, guilt does not serve a healthy function, which would be to recognize the mistake and repair it, but rather becomes toxic and paralyzing. Christ, as the best psychologist there could be and with his way of forgiving, leads us to accept the truth of what happened (without denying or exaggerating it), helps us to integrate the past without remaining prisoners of it, and impels us to live a more authentic and responsible life.

The question I must ask myself then is whether I have felt freed from sin through Jesus, so that I can then confess what my life is like now and how I wish to continue walking… even if I stumble and am afraid, like everyone else.

Taking away sin does not only mean saving us from punishment or giving us numbing comfort. Indeed, in his First Epistle, John says: I am writing these things to you so that your joy may be complete (1 Jn 1:3-4). That means a real transformation of the person. Jesus enters into the wounded human condition and transforms it from within: he confronts selfishness with love, violence with forgiveness, death with life.

Sin is overcome because its power no longer dominates the person; even if they sin again, they always have the opportunity to be called to collaborate with the kingdom of heaven. Can there be a greater test of trust?

Let us remember that Christ did not forgive us just once. His relationship with you and me is one of constant forgiveness of our sins, our clumsiness, and our mediocrity.

_______________________________

In the Sacred Hearts of Jesus, Mary and Joseph,

Luis CASASUS

President