Today it the feast of St. John the Baptist. Besides Jesus and Mary, he is the only figure which the ecclesiastical tradition has deemed worthy of a feast to celebrate his birth rather than just his death — all the other saints are in fact celebrated on the anniversary of their departure from this earth.
The New Testament is full of stories and references to John as the “precursor” of Jesus. Historians generally believe that John was the teacher from which Jesus gradually took leave. Christian sources show quite clearly that in the 1st century there was a contest between the disciples of Jesus and the disciples of John about which one was the greatest. Obviously Christian sources take pains to assure the readers that John himself recognized the greatness of Jesus, while reporting also Jesus’ enormous appreciation for John — Among them that are born of women there hath not risen a greater than John the Baptist (Matthew 11:11).
To this day, a small number of followers of John the Baptist — the Mandeans, probably meaning the ones who have knowledge — keep celebrating baptismal feasts in rivers. There might be good reasons to choose Jesus as the Messiah, but the Mandeans do not agree.
John is often assimilated — quite correctly — with the ancient Jewish prophets. This identification started as early as the New Testament itself, which describes John’s attire as identical with that of the prophet Elijah and reports his Elijah-like invectives against the ruler and the nobles of his time. This notion, however, has been pushed to the point that Jesus was often divested in the popular and theological imagination of prophetic characteristics. John became “the last of the Old Testament prophets” as if Jesus did not exhibit himself very strong prophetic aspects, with the subtext that the break between Old (Testament) and New (Testament) is nothing short of absolute. In reality — as the sources explicitly say — as soon as John was arrested by the state agents, Jesus took up his banner and continued his work (see Mark 1:14).
On the symbolic level, the figure of John the Baptist is associated with the opposite elements of water and fire. Water is quite obvious, as his main activity was that of baptizing people in the river Jordan. The Gospel reports may be exaggerated, but they speak of the deep need for change both of individuals and society — Then went out to him Jerusalem, and all Judaea, and all the region round about Jordan (Matthew 3:5).
Firey instead were his words, both in his speech and the content of his speech. He shall baptize you with the Holy Spirit, and with fire: whose fan is in his hand, and he will throughly purge his floor, and gather his wheat into the garner; but he will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire (Matthew 3:11-12). Even though these verses have been crafted by the Gospel tradition to be a sentence uttered by John about Jesus, they give the strong impression that John was imagining the clearing of corruption from his society not just as a gentle process as it might be signified by water, but also as a very radical reordering which included the banishing of evil.
Both water and fire, in the end, are sources of purification. And both include the risk of death, as one may drown in waters or may burn in fire. In any case, John the Baptist was not an easy fellow to deal with, and he always comes to mind when people say that the Christian religion should not be about politics or society, but exclusively about the individual soul. Which Bible did they read? I wonder.
Throughout Europe, the feast of John the Baptist was celebrated at least since the early Middle Ages on the eve of June 23rd with big bonfires burning through the night, while in the early morning of June 24th people would gather herbs and flowers, which were thought to have special healing properties on this day, and women walked in processions with big round breads to be shared with everybody after the Mass.
The placement of this feast — in absence of any historical records about the date of John’s birth — is significative. Two things come immediately to mind: that June 24th is the mirror opposite of December 25th if you think of the yearly calendar as a circle; and that it coincides with the ancient Feast of the Solstice — if you allow that premodern people were not strict about their calendar, and you realize that their feasts went on for days anyway.
In the Gospel of Luke 1:26 there is a reference to “six months” — which can be interpreted as the time distance between the conception of John and that of Jesus — but whether or not this was the reason for the specific placement of the feast on the calendar, its symbolism remains. To this day, people in the Alps and elsewhere dance around bonfires on the night of June 23, and in some places the rituals of the “herbs of St.John” and the bread procession are being revitalized. It’s not a feast as important as Christmas, but it mobilizes the villagers notwithstanding.
It is considerably interesting also that in the Gospel of John — not the same John! — the contrast between the disciples of John the Baptist and the disciples of Jesus is brought to an agreement by the Baptist declaring that he must “diminish” while Jesus must “grow” (John 3:30). But indeed on June 24th it becomes clear that the lenght of daylight starts to decrease (dies decrescentes) just as on December 25th it is already evident that the length of daylight is increasing (dies crescentes).
Recently I witnessed a debate on social media about the Feast of St. John in which a historian was attempting to debunk any connection of such a feast with the Summer Solstice and earth-based religions. To me it is interesting not to what extent such a connection can be proven irrefutably, but that people to this day can intuit it and can feel it.
Several popular rhymes in different dialects of Italy express the certainty that the fire of St. John can preserve people from falling into the snares of witches, as well as into the gaping maw of wolves, or other similar dangers. In recent decades, the feast indeed has been more closely associated to “the night of witches” which sometimes is also celebrated on April 30, besides the most obvious October 31.
After my recent trip to Sardinia, I am evermore convinced that immersing oneself in the wide horizon of archaic spirituality is part of a deeply healing process that Western people — including myself — ought to walk through. I am plotting to lead a group next year at this time to experience the Feast of St. John in the Italian Alps.
Banner Image: Baptism of Jesus by John in the Jordan River. Image by David Zelenka on Wikimedia Commons.
Queries for Contemplation
What is your relationship with folk festivals and ancient popular traditions? How is your spiritual growth related to them?
Related Readings by Matthew Fox
Original Blessing: A Primer in Creation Spirituality
One River, Many Wells: Wisdom Springing from Global Faiths
Creation Spirituality: Liberating Gifts for the Peoples of the Earth
Charles Burack, ed., Matthew Fox: Essential Writings on Creation Spirituality
Passion for Creation: The Earth-Honoring Spirituality of Meister Eckhart
Sins of the Spirit, Blessings of the Flesh: Transforming Evil in Soul and Society
7 thoughts on “Water and Fire: the Feast of St. John the Baptist”
If you decide to lead a group to the Feast of St. John in the Italian Alps ….. that lit a spark !🌹
I so resonate with the idea of the Lithuanian and Italian rituals of celebrating the Feast of John the Baptist. Like a Cosmic Mass in a way. Thank you for this beautiful reflection.
I am very moved by today’s meditation about John the Baptist. As usual I have been feeling fearful and sad since Father’s Day. My father’s name was John, but called Jack. He became an alcoholic when I was 11 years old, my life became hell on earth. It has been hard to forgive him. After reading about John the Baptist, and how his birth date juxtaposes with Jesus’ and that both are earth’s times of daylight increasing and decreasing, I had an awakening. My grandson is my inspiration and hope, he is a calm loving, and spiritual soul. I have always felt a tug on my spirit that he is named Jack (John) after his paternal grandfather (my son-in-law’s father). While halfway through this meditative reading I realized that Jack works in my life to help soothe my childhood heart. The anguish I feel on Father’s Day is my call to heal and forgive. Because I love my grandson, my Jack, who turns 18 years old soon, and I celebrate his compassion and sweetness. So, I am led to develop forgiveness and even love for my damaged father. John the Baptist was born as the sun was waning. The dark used to be a time of fear and dread for me, my father would come home late at night, raging and violent. But as I aged, and my father passed away, the quiet darkness became a comfort. My Jack is a soothing flow of water in my life, my fear is cleansed in the fires of my tears.
Thank you for stressing the ancestral and cosmic significance of the Feast of St. John the Baptist beyond its doctrinal dimension. I grew up in the Brittany countryside. On the morning of the Feast of St. John the Baptist, we would go pick rushes and wild gladiolus leaves near a pond and bring them home in a wheelbarrow. We would then set up a large copper basin on a fireplace tripod in the middle of the courtyard; in the center of the basin, we would place a large bunch of old keys to help amplify the vibrations. When evening fell, under a June sky where hundreds of swifts and swallows feasted on insects and filled the air with their shrill little cries, we would listen intently, waiting for the ritual called “milking the goat” to begin at a nearby farm that my father would identify by the direction from which the magical “hum” came… As we began “milking the goat” ourselves (see links below), we would solemnly join in what, looking back decades later, I consider one of the most sublime “songs of the world” I have ever heard. This ritual is sometimes referred to as “The singing bowls of Brittany.”
Then the scythe of deforestation, pesticides and fertilizers swept through. Farewell, rushes and wild gladioli; farewell, swifts, swallows, and insects… But my gratitude to that song of the world is everlasting. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A7zu8KsvlW0 and http://www.jstor.org/stable/25163869%5D
Thank you for bringing to my awareness this important and wonder filled Feast. It reminded me that John theBaptist was due more credit than I had ever given to him. And the festival that has developed around his birth is quite intriguing. And its connection to the movement of earth and sun – the Solctice – demands attention. Thank you for bringing to my attention celebrative rituals that support and empower community. As I read about this Feast Day and saw the video of the practice, I felt a deep longing for something like it in my life.
Thank you GG for sharing the beautiful spiritual celebrations and traditions in Europe around the Feasts of St. John the Baptist with its symbols of Water and Fire. Like the Cosmic Mass, I’m realizing more deeply the universal human need for joyful communal ritual celebrations that remind us of our spiritual connections to our ancestors, Sacred Mother Earth, and the Cosmos on Our Eternal Spiritual Journeys/Present Sacred Flow of Loving Diverse Oneness within Our Evolving Source~Co-Creator….
I find your reflections on the apparent six months (Luke 1:26) between the conception of John and, later, Jesus fascinating. As I consider the symbolic meaning, I find myself considering Matthew’s view of the Cosmic Christ and Celtic spirituality’s focus on the earth and its cycles and our place in the universe. As Christians, have we been ignoring the seasonal cycles recognized by earlier societies? How might inclusion of them increase our connection to God? Even asking those questions stirs up in me cautions from my Baptist upbringing that taught me that anything pagan is at least dangerous if not damning. But what have we been missing by ignoring seasonal cycles? Who taught us to be afraid of them and for what purpose? Most of us have no problem understanding that the church combines Jesus’s birth with the Winter Solstice. (I think it’s highly unlikely that Jesus was born on December 25th, and I’m not sure we have any idea when he was born.) If we believe in Genesis chapters one and two, then we believe God created the earth and thus its seasonal cycles, so why do we let celebrating them seem other-than-Christian? Thank you for raising all these questions, Gianluigi. There’s much good food for thought here.