A Voice Crying in the Wilderness

Today is also the Feast of St. John the Baptist, or as they would put it in Francophone countries where this day used to have particular importance, Clovis having cleverly aligned the birthday of John the Baptist with the summer solstice, La Fete de la St. Jean Baptiste. Now alas the feast of God's angry young man is just a secular nationalist day for French Canadians. Somehow I don't think acerbic and devoted St. John would be flattered.

On the liturgical cooking front though it is an ideal time to cook up the last of those cicadas you may have sitting in your freezer, unless you have access to some fresh caught locusts. Some scholars do argue that the locust referred to in the Bible is not the hippity-hoppity creature but rather the pod of the locust tree, carob as it were. Disappointing as this thought is, do feel free to cling to this interpretation if entomophagy is not your thing. Wild honey however is de rigueur.

However you mark the day though do give the last embodiment of the Law his due, for fond though I am of him, he makes me most grateful for the embodiment of Grace.