In the late ’60s, in the so-called “Age of Aquarius,” the musical “Hair” made people pay attention to the “flower children” and the cry for justice and peace in the face of Vietnam, a sort of precursor of the civil rights movement in the cultural horizon. It was a topsy turvy time, and tenaciously still.

I gave the baccalaureate address at the local public high school, titled, “Rabbits Could Produce Humans Out of Hats and It Would All be the Same.”

It seemed to me that, after four years of high school education, there are two things you should know: who you are, and where you are going. If you do not know who you are, and where you are going, then, “Rabbits could produce humans out of hats and it would all be the same. It wouldn’t make any difference.”

Of all the stories about John the Baptist, the most remembered is his martyrdom by beheading.

On Sunday, though, the celebration is about his birth, about who he was, and what he is supposed to do.

The centerpiece of the Gospel is the naming of John, the name given to Zechariah by the angel Gabriel. The name John means, “the Lord is gracious.”

“What then, will this child be?”

John the Baptist points the way to Christ. His birth brings God closer to us. John was the precursor, the one who preceded Christ. He was very popular and many people followed him but, when Jesus came, John pointed to him and then stepped aside.

We are the disciples who follow Jesus, who have received our name, our identity, our mission, in baptism — “What name have you given to your child?”

We are the ones who are to point to Christ because of the relationship we each have with Jesus in baptism. Each of us was born with a purpose: to do something with and for God.

John the Baptist preached in the wilderness. John the Baptist stood for the truth. We are the ones who are to preach in today’s wilderness. Each of us has a day when we are called to take a stand for truth. The issues of truth in our days will always be about life, particularly religious liberty. If it is to be, it is up to me.

“I can’t do this, I can’t do that,” we sometimes say. No, not alone, but with God.

A woman driving along, thinking about so many things, got taught by God, like Moses in the burning bush, but on a small piece of metal: a license plate which had the words, LET GO.

John the Baptist pointed to Christ, not to himself — he let go — got out of the way.

Do you have the graciousness to do the same?

Do your words and actions lead others to Christ?

Or do you live in such a way that no one meets Jesus in you?

At your baptism, your parents were asked, “What name do you give your child?”

Then they are asked “What do you ask of God’s Church for your child?”

Your parents responded, “Baptism.”

What would you say if the Church asked you now, “What has your child become?”