June 24th, 2024: Solemnity of the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist

The associated reading for this reflection can be found in your Every Sacred Sunday Mass journal or online here.



As a little boy, I dreaded Saturdays because it meant festivals. My parents fancied themselves patrons of the arts and loved to spend long hours haggling. Try as I might, I could not convince them that deep-fried food was fun or that showing my bravery by riding questionably maintained rides was a thrill. For me, Saturdays became about sitting and waiting. While others had fun, I was asked to sit and stare at art that had little meaning for me. I could imagine nothing worse and no good ever coming of my time spent silently waiting and staring at beautiful things while my parents haggled. 

I wonder if Zechariah felt the same. I’ve always identified with his silence, a forced invitation to ponder and gaze at a truly beautiful gift - first his wife, then the miracle of his son growing within her, and then joyfully, for a few months at least, the pregnant Mother of his God and Lord. His house was visited by Our Lady, who was, by then, a tabernacle. All he could do was sit in awed silence, forced to gaze at one of the most beautiful creations ever crafted by God and man. Sitting, waiting, and gazing at beauty while others enjoyed and spoke, he slowly learned to say yes from Our Lady, who never hesitated to offer her “yes”.

At the Nativity of John the Baptist, Zachariah gets his voice back, but we don’t hear the precise why. I think it has everything to do with the offering of his “yes”, which he so readily scoffed at nine months before. I think the difference maker was his being effectively asked to silently ponder and gaze at beauty, allowing gratitude to well up from within, helping to form his “yes” like Our Lady. As a frustrated boy, I sat and stared, completely missing the point because I was blinded by my frustrations. Today, Zachariah shows us the fruits of letting silence lead us to gaze at what God has done, letting gratitude well up from within and so shape and foster a greater “yes”. 


Fr. Ryan Higdon is the pastor of St. Louis in Waco and Bishop Louis Reicher Catholic School. He grew up all over the south, fell in love with Jesus Christ and His Church as a youth, and eventually felt his call to life with him as a priest. Fr. Ryan studied to be an Army Chaplain, has run 9 marathons, and has a big devotion to Our Lady, St. Joseph, and Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati.