Today is June 24, the Solemnity of the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist.
We read at today’s Mass, “When the time arrived for Elizabeth to have her child she gave birth to a son. Her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown his great mercy toward her, and they rejoiced with her” (Lk 1:57-58).
Yesterday, we reflected on God’s faithfulness in his covenant love that stretches from Abraham to Christ and now lives in the Sacred Heart that beats for us still. Today, we see that love made visible again in the birth of John the Baptist.
This moment is not just a private joy for Zechariah and Elizabeth; it becomes a communal celebration. God’s mercy, poured out on Elizabeth, overflows into the lives of those around her. Mercy is never contained; it radiates. The neighbors rejoiced with her, as mercy is not only personal but also contagious.
The birth of St. John the Baptist being the longest day of the year is no accident. He comes as the forerunner, the one who points not to himself but to the true light, Jesus Christ. He is the child of long hope born of a woman thought barren, a living sign that God’s mercy always arrives — even if late or seen as impossible.
Mercy made visible
There is something deeply beautiful about how mercy, when made visible, becomes a witness to others. Elizabeth’s neighbors didn’t simply observe her joy; they entered into it. Her story strengthened their faith. In the same way, when we allow God’s mercy to work in our own lives — especially in the hidden or painful places — our testimony becomes a quiet invitation to others to hope again. Mercy, when embraced, turns us into signs of God’s faithfulness for the people around us.
And where does that mercy come from? From the Sacred Heart of Jesus, a heart that never forgets our longings. The mercy that brought joy to Elizabeth’s household flows from the same Heart that invites us to come close, to trust and to be restored. In every moment of waiting, in every unanswered prayer, the Sacred Heart holds space for us. His mercy is not a distant concept but a personal, burning love that never fails.
As philosopher Dietrich von Hildebrand reminds us, “The mercy of God is the source of all our hope.” Elizabeth’s story becomes our story. We live on mercy. We are carried by it, just as surely as Elizabeth was.
Whether you’re waiting for something, grieving something or rejoicing in something, let mercy be the center. His mercy is faithful and always enough.
Let us pray,
Grant, we pray, almighty God, that your family may walk in the way of salvation and, attentive to what Saint John the Precursor urged, may come safely to the One he foretold, our Lord Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God, for ever and ever. Amen.
