The Voice Crying Out in the Wilderness

During this Christmas season we are celebrating the imminent arrival on earth of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, and his birth to the Blessed Virgin Mary. Over 2,000 years ago that same arrival was anticipated in reality by the man who has become known in some quarters as the 'Precursor', the one who came just before the Christ.

His given name was John, and he has become known to most in the world as 'John the Baptist'. He was born right around the first year A.D., and was a cousin of Jesus Christ, their respective mothers having been first cousins.

John's mother was Elizabeth, and she was married to a priest named Zachary. They were said to be good people, "both just before God" as St. Luke later wrote.

There is a great story about John's birth. Zachary and Elizabeth were elderly and without child, wanted one, and constantly prayed for a child. Zachary even utilized his priestly position for this purpose.

One day an angel appeared to Zachary and told him that they would have a son, that they should name him John, and that the son would be "great before the Lord" as well as a number of other revelations concerning the son. Zachary did not believe, and for his disbelief after praying for this very outcome, he was struck dumb (unable to speak) until the birth of the child.

The Assumption of Mary and Marie

This past Friday, August 15th, is celebrated each year as the Feast of the Assumption in the Catholic Church. 'The Assumption' represents 'the happy departure of Mary from this life', and 'the assumption of her body into Heaven'. The online New Advent encyclopedia further refers to it as "the principal feast of the Blessed Virgin."

It is thus incredible to me, or maybe in retrospect not so much so, that this holy day coincides with the anniversary of my own mother's passing. My mom, Marie Therese Gilmore Veasey, passed away on August 15th, 1998, alone in her home on what was also a Friday in that year.

I had the unpleasant, but perhaps fortunate, task of finding her. Unpleasant for obvious reasons. Fortunate in that I can't think of anyone that I would have rather walked in and found her that day.

I was always close to my mom, and had lived with and helped take care of her throughout my twenties and into my thirties while she dealt with an often debilitating illness that had robbed her of much of her adult life.