St. John the Baptist is a favorite in our household. When I was expecting my second son, my husband and I realized that no (known) saint shared the same name as the one we had chosen for our child. We prayed for God’s guidance in selecting a saint to whom we could entrust our unborn little one. This particular son was especially active in utero, spending the whole nine months stomping, dancing and jumping. Accordingly, we decided to ask St. John the Baptist, another babe known for leaping in the womb, to take care of our boy.

As with all my children’s patron saints, I wanted my son to have a special friend in heaven to learn about and to lean on as he grows into a young man of Christ. In this, I am especially grateful that my little boy has John the Baptist, whom he enthusiastically calls “my saint” whenever he hears him mentioned. Often called the final prophet, John the Baptist embodies the fierce bravery and contempt of the world’s vices with which I hope all of my children will live out their faith.

John could have chosen to live his life in comfortable anonymity after the commotion of his notable birth had subsided. He was the son of a respected couple in a small town and could have had a peaceful life following in his father’s footsteps. Instead, he chose to follow the arduous path God asked of him. He forsook home and hearth and departed into the wilderness, living a harsh life of prayer and penance that would prepare his body and soul for the great trials to come.

When he did re-enter civilization, he did so for the sole purpose of pointing, like a blazing comet, fiery and transient, to the coming of the Messiah. Urgently, and with a wild ferocity, he called for repentance. God’s chosen people had become spiritually weak. Their leaders were hypocritical and worldly, wholly unprepared for what was to come when the Son of God would enter their midst. Tirelessly and boldly, John preached and entreated. No one, regardless of his rank, was spared his righteous fury. He rebuked the tax collectors, chastised Roman soldiers and leveled his most audacious threats against the Pharisees.

John would seem almost reckless if his actions were viewed outside the lens of faith. He gave no thought to his own life or safety. Doubtless, filled as he was with the Holy Spirit, he knew that his ministry would not be long-lived. Jesus’s work was soon to begin and John would direct his own followers to join his cousin, fully accepting that his role was to decrease as Christ increased. But before he receded once again, John risked his life in a final defense of truth. He publicly accused Herod of adultery. The latter had taken his brother’s wife as his mistress, making a mockery of the holy institution of marriage. Such an allegation could only lead to prison and death.

Even as he sat in his cell, preparing to face the executioner’s blade, John was not afraid. He knew he had accomplished the mission for which God had created him and placed him in his mother’s barren womb. He had pointed to Christ; he had prepared the way. His brief ministry had served its role in salvation history, igniting the Jewish people’s hearts with renewed love for God so that they would be ready to encounter his Son.

I do not expect my son to don a camel hair outfit and subsist on locusts and wild honey in the desert. Nor do I pray for him to forsake all worldly comforts. But I do pray that he responds to God’s call for his life, whatever it may be. And that he walks the path God has laid for him, with the same strength of spirit that “his saint” had as he preached and baptized on the banks of the Jordan.

St. John the Baptist, pray for us!