"He must increase, I must decrease"

As I sat in Mass today listening to the Gospel reading, I was struck by how quiet the death of John the Baptist was. One would have thought that he would go out with a little more of a bang. Fireworks, or a New Orleans-style funeral procession... or at least an epic, dramatic death at the hands of a large, angry mob or something! After all, even Jesus said there was no greater man born of woman (Matthew 11:11). Mary got a glorious Assumption - how come John gets gypped? (I understand that Mary was sinless... but come on, John was still holy and awesome!).

Think about it: you're hanging out in your prison cell, thinking the ministry is going pretty well. Sure, you're in prison. But your disciples had recently come to visit, reassuring you that Jesus was the Messiah (Luke 7:18-23). Plus, Herod likes to listen to you preach once in a while (Mark 6:20) - maybe you're making ground and he'll have a conversion soon! 

Then all of a sudden, a prison guard comes in and says, "Come with me." He takes you out of your cell, down the hallway, out into the back courtyard of the prison... and chops your head off. The end.

Seriously?! All the stuff that he did and saw throughout his life... then at the whims of a few stupid, petty royal people, it's all over?

I wonder what John was thinking as he was about to die. Personally, I would have wondered what the heck was going on - and how come my death seemed so pointless, when there was still so much work to be done for the Kingdom! Something tells me that John was used to radically trusting God a lot more than most of us (locusts for lunch, anyone?); yet, I wonder what he was praying during those moments. To be honest, I think my pride would have been rebelling like crazy; but we know that John the Baptist was an amazingly humble guy (John 3:30; Matthew 3:11, 14), so I'm sure he accepted it much better than I would. 

It just floors me that the life of someone who experienced so many amazing miracles and signs, starting before he was even born (literally), slipped out of this world with so little notice. It stuns me; but it's beautiful. 

It got me thinking about Therese, my favorite saint (this isn't unusual. Let's be honest: everything relates to her, somehow!). Particularly, it made me think of a novena prayer I've been offering up lately. I'll let it speak for itself: 

"St. Therese, model of the hidden life, I thank you for showing us that great deeds, miracles and ecstasies are not necessary for sanctity. I thank you for choosing to walk in your little way, which is possible for everyone to follow. My life is often monotonous, tedious and filled with commonplace duties. But I know that I can take these everyday tasks and with them build a beautiful life worthy of God's favor. I therefore offer to God each day of my life, with all the simple duties it may contain. I do not ask for extraordinary work to do or great deeds to perform; I only ask that I may do the work God has given me to do, be it ever so ordinary, in the spirit in which you went about the quiet life of the convent. Ask, O Little Flower, that God may accept this offering of my heart and bless it with his approval. Obtain for me that I might do ordinary things with an extraordinary love, and that I may do whatever God asks me solely because I love him and because I am doing it for him."

St. John the Baptist and St. Therese, pray for us. One of you was hidden in a prison, the other in a convent; both of you lived deep within the heart of Christ. Teach us how to be humble, to be hidden, to avoid being showy; to love God more than the praise of others, to do our work for him alone; to have a radical trust in his love and his plan, even when it doesn't make sense. And Jesus, through this quiet way of life, help us to bring others to you.