
June 24, three months after the angel announces to Mary that Elizabeth is six months pregnant (March 25) John the Baptist is born.
From his birth John the Baptist was destined by God, not to follow Zachariah his father as a priest in the temple, but to go into the desert to welcome the Messiah, Jesus Christ. John is the last of the Jewish prophets, the first to recognize Jesus. His birth and death are celebrated in our church calendar.
It may have changed, but there’s an interesting Sunday walk in Rome I’d recommend. Go out the city gate at the Porta di San Sebastiano and walk south along one of the oldest roads in the world, the Via Appia, to the catacombs and church of San Sebastiano. Outside the city gates, you’re in what the ancient Romans called the “limes,” the limits, the world beyond the city, a different world altogether.
To the ancient Romans the “limes” was the end of civilized, reasonable life. No place to live, they thought. Get where you’re going as soon as you can. “Speed limit” comes from the word. Go beyond the limit and you can lose your life.

Few people today are usually on that road, deserted fields all around. The only sound you can hear is the sound of your own breathing and your footsteps.
The last line of St. Luke’s gospel for today’s feast says of John:
“The child grew and become strong in spirit, and he was in the desert until the day of his manifestation to Israel.”
How did John become strong in a desert? Centuries before, God told Abraham to go into a land he would show him. He led Jews from Egypt into the desert, and with no map or provisions, to a world unknown. They were in the hands of God, their strength.
Most of us stay within our limits; we don’t go to live in physical deserts. Yet, try as we may, we face them anyway in things we didn’t expect, like sickness or death or separation or divorce or the loss of a job or lost friends or lost places we know and love. The desert’s never far from any of us.
The Via Appia brings you to the catacombs, the great underground tunnels where early Christians buried their dead. They buried them there, I think, not to hide them, but because this place was an image of a new unknown world. The “limes,” marked the end of this life and foreshadowed a new life. The dead no longer belonged in the city; they were going to a new city.
Life holds its doubts, fears, uncertainty. But we don’t face limits alone. In the “limes” God alone has you in his hands. God gives you strength and brings you where you’re meant to be. God is there. God is there.
Like other ancient church feasts, the Nativity of John the Baptist, June 24, is tied to cosmology. Three months after the angel announces to Mary that Elizabeth is six months pregnant (March 25) John the Baptist is born.John’s birth coincides with the summer solstice. He begins to decrease to make way for the one who will increase. Jesus will be born December 25. The Feast of the Nativity of John the Baptist is celebrated by all the ancient Christian churches. The Orthodox Church celebrates it June 24.

Birth of John the Baptist. Orthodox Church of America.
Readings here.
.
Thank you for telling me about the limes. When my parents moved from Brooklyn to a new home bought onLong Island, my grandmother said, “Why would you want to go out there to the sticks?” That mean far from the city to some dusty rural town. Perhaps I did grow up in the limes but I knew God had me in Divine holding; I was where I was meant to be. Now for the past 40 years I’m back living within the city limits. God companions me still.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Home run! My soul flies beyond the limits of the ball park. Thank you Lord, for putting Victor Hoagland in our lives!
LikeLike
Such a wonderful reflection on St. John the Baptist, Fr. Victor. I also can’t take my eyes off that picture of the Via Appia — so glad you included that and provided some info as well. Thank you!!
LikeLike
Outer borough or inner city,
Rural farmlands or cities of steel,
Mega malls or open markets.
Dirt paths or paved roads,
Wherever people populate,
Without limits is Divine Mercy!
LikeLike
Thank you, Father Victor, for always helping us live our earthly life to the fullest, and to meet its challenges with courage, beyond our differences…and indifferences.
LikeLike