Luke’s Gospel talks about a voice crying out. We’ve all been that voice, haven’t we? I know I cry out when the dog tracks mud into the house. Rusty, my Jack Russell Terrorist, hears me crying out a lot. Or maybe we cry out when our football team wins—for me, that’s the 49ers not Fr. Joyce’s team, the Raiders! Or maybe we cry out when our favorite song comes on the radio, but, clearly, none of this is the type of crying out Luke writes about. The gospel is about John the Baptist’s response to God’s call; John is the voice crying out in the desert to prepare the way for Jesus, a prophetic voice that inspires people to transform their lives and make a difference. We might ask ourselves, especially during Advent, how we can be a voice for positive change, especially if our voice has become raspy, muted, or full of despair. There are many voices in our Catholic tradition that can inspire us to make a difference.

One is lay missionary, Jean Donovan. She and three American nuns were helping refugees in El Salvador when they were raped and murdered; this happened 29 years ago last week. I continue to be amazed that someone so young would give up her upper middle class life, her executive career, and her doctor fiancé to become a missionary. Even more amazing was that she didn’t walk away--even after Archbishop Oscar Romero was assassinated and even later when her close friends were tortured and killed. At one point, she wrote, "I have decided to leave El Salvador many times, and I almost could, except for the children…Who would care for them?" So, she prayerfully decided to stay. Almost three decades later, she and the Maryknoll sisters remain a united voice crying out in the desert—reminding us that as part of a global village, we are our brothers’ and sisters’ keepers.

The martyrdom of these four women has inspired many including a second voice—that of Sr. Elizabeth Johnson. She directed her grief over their deaths into her own pioneering work as a theologian. Sr. Johnson was the first woman to earn a PhD in theology from Catholic University of America, the only U.S. university under Vatican jurisdiction. She then became the first woman to join the theology faculty there. And, when she took her next step, to gain tenure, she hit a roadblock. While her department approved her application, the board of trustees—made up of mostly bishops that usually approved such requests—decided to seek Vatican approval, in part, because Sr. Johnson was the first female. Instead of getting approval, though, she had to submit all her published work, respond to many written questions, and even appear before the American cardinals to answer questions. Eventually, Sr. Johnson’s tenure was eventually approved, and she was pleased. She also wondered what some nuns wonder today in light of the current church investigations of religious orders: "How can I, a woman religious, who has devoted my life to the church be treated with suspicion rather than applause for my hard work?" Thankfully, Sr. Johnson did not let this setback stop her, and she continues to transform minds through her work as a theologian. Hers is a distinguished voice among many sometimes muted voices in our church today—reminding us that with persistence and hard work, we can shatter the stained-glass ceiling.

At Sr. Johnson’s tenure interview, the head of the approval board was a third voice--Cardinal Joseph Bernardin. He commented that Sr. Johnson’s work will be "enormously helpful" once the church fully accepts women’s giftedness, and despite his death from pancreatic cancer in 1996, Cardinal Bernardin’s voice still echoes throughout the church. He was a leader among the clergy in confronting the sexual abuse scandal and implementing reforms that became a model for dioceses across the nation. Bernardin is also known for his cancer ministry that he started after he got sick and for his ‘consistent ethic of life’ teaching. This teaching calls on believers—on both the right and the left--to respect life across the full spectrum of life issues--in defense of the unborn, the very young, the infirm, the poor, the imprisoned, and the very old. Truly, Cardinal Bernardin’s is a beautiful voice calling out in the desert, challenging us as church to be inclusive, accountable, transparent, and to respect life in all areas.

A final voice is that of Mother Antonia. She serves inmates at La Mesa prison in Tijuana, Mexico. Mother Antonia started out as a Beverly Hills socialite who had two failed marriages, raised seven children and then, at age 50, decided to enter full-time prison ministry. She ultimately got church approval to become a nun and to establish the Sisters of the Eleventh Hour, she has been acknowledged by the pope for her work and is sometimes referred to as the Mother Teresa of the West. At age 82, Mother Antonia remains an exuberant ball of energy who warmly touches everyone she meets, especially people that others don’t want to go near. She lives just like the prisoners she serves--in a small, concrete cell with a cold water only shower. She also keeps an oxygen tank by her bed due to her many health issues. One of her favorite sayings is: "Life is a boomerang—what you do for others comes back to you." Mother Antonia’s is a vibrant voice crying out in the desert--reminding us that regardless of our age, health, marital status, financial situation, or past failures, it is never too late make a difference.

Like John the Baptist and by virtue of our baptism, we are called to pave the way for others to experience a deeper walk with Christ. We may not become martyrs, like Jean Donovan, theologians like Elizabeth Johnson, clergymen like Joseph Bernardin, or the next Mother Teresa, but we can be a voice crying out in small ways, wherever we find ourselves. I try to make a difference each day as a mother to my three sons Michael, Matthew, and Zachary and as an English instructor at Los Medanos College. I am also a church volunteer and the wife of our deacon at Christ the King, John Ashmore. I have to confess that Deacon John is my favorite member of the clergy and when he first heard my talk about all these "voices crying out in the desert" he looked at me with a smile and said, "Honey, I had no idea....How long have you been 'hearing voices'?" And I smiled back and said, "It all started soon after we got married." ( Seriously, though, I do look to others for inspiration, and the four voices I shared today are part of a very large Catholic choir of voices that can encourage us when we’ve lost our voice or sound off-key. I pray that this Advent we allow our voices to cry out in harmony as part of this prophetic choir as we prepare for Jesus’ coming at Christmas.

AMEN.