I live about 10 minutes away from an international airport. Most times, my alarm goes off and I wake up before the first flight of the day. But on my days off, I seep-in, and long before my alarm goes off, I am awakened by another sound. It is not gentle. It is not polite. It is the roar of the first flight lifting off from the airport. The ground trembles. Windows vibrate. The sky itself seems to open. And whether I am ready to wake up or not, whether I slept well or barely slept at all, that plane is already in the air. Pilots have checked their instruments. The runway is clear. The tower is active. A journey has begun before I have even opened my eyes. The world does not wait for my readiness. Movement has already started.
That simple truth opens today’s readings. God does not wait for people to be complete, holy, or confident before calling them. He names them first. He claims them first. And then, only then, he sends them. We are at the beginning of something. The Christmas celebrations are over. The Baptism of the Lord has passed. The quiet, hidden years of Jesus’ life are behind him. Ordinary Time begins, and with it, the public ministry of Jesus takes off. Jesus does not wait until everything looks impressive. He does not wait for applause, perfection, or momentum. He is identified first. “Behold, the Lamb of God.” He is named, claimed, and then sent.
That pattern runs through every reading today. In the first reading, Isaiah said, “The Lord… formed me as his servant from the womb.” Before mission, before action, before achievement, there is identity. God does not begin with instructions; he begins with relationship. You are named. You are known. You are wanted. But Isaiah does not stop there. God immediately enlarges the territory: “It is too little… for you to be my servant, [only for Israel]… I will make you a light to the nations.” In other words, your calling is bigger than you imagined. God never calls us just to stay safe, stay comfortable, or stay contained. He calls us to shine. And this is where many of us hesitate. We are comfortable being called; we become uneasy when we are sent. We like faith that reassures us, but not faith that stretches us. Yet Scripture is consistent: if God calls you, God sends you.
Saint Paul drives the point home when he writes to the Corinthians in today’s second reading and calls them “[those] sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be holy.” Notice what he does not say. He does not say, “called because you are holy.” He says, “called to be holy.” Holiness is not a prerequisite; it is a direction. God does not wait for perfection before calling. He calls, and holiness grows along the way. That corrects a common mistake. Many of us think, “Once I get my life together, then I’ll serve God.” Or, “Once I know enough, once I’m strong enough, then I’ll step forward.” The Gospel says otherwise. God calls first. God sends first. Growth follows obedience, not the other way around.
All of this comes into sharp focus in the Gospel passage. John the Baptist sees Jesus and says, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” John does not compete for attention. He points. His entire vocation is summed up in that one gesture. And then John says something surprisingly honest: “I did not know him.” That should stop us. John is a prophet. He is related to Jesus. And still he says, “I did not know him.” Recognition did not come from familiarity, but from revelation. John recognized Jesus because he was humble, attentive, waiting, and open to God. Many people today are familiar with Jesus but have never truly recognized him. They know the language, the rituals, the stories, but recognition requires humility. And once John recognizes Jesus, his mission becomes clear: to show him to others. In that sense, John becomes a living monstrance. A monstrance does not draw attention to itself; it exists to show who is at the center. Its beauty only makes sense when Christ is visible. Empty of Christ, it means nothing. Filled with Christ, it draws reverence.
So it is with us. We have been named by God. Claimed by God. Filled with Christ. And now we are sent, not to draw attention to ourselves, but to make Christ visible. Being a light does not mean being loud. It does not mean being perfect. It means living in such a way that people can have a glimpse of Jesus through us. We are light when we choose integrity when no one is watching. When we refuse to reduce people to their worst moment. When we let others shine instead of dimming them. When our faith shapes our behavior, not just our opinions.
Most of this happens in Ordinary Time, after the feasts, after the celebrations, in traffic, at work, at home. That is where the real witness happens. The world is watching, often more closely than we realize. And that is why identity matters. Before you succeed. Before you fail. Before you feel ready. God has already spoken. Like that first flight of the morning, the mission is already in motion. You have been named. You have been called, not because you are ready, but because God is faithful. You have been sent, not to save the world, but to point to the One who does. And if we live that way, quietly, faithfully, attentively, then in the ordinary rhythm of life, someone, because of us, will finally see the Lamb of God.
Homily for 2nd Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A
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