December 17, Advent 3B (John 1:6-8, 19-28; Isa. 61:1-4, 8-11; 1 Thess. 5:16-24)

When I was a little girl in Virginia, my elders taught me to introduce myself to adults, and especially authority figures, by looking them in the eye and identifying myself clearly. That might mean saying I was my father’s daughter or my grandmother’s grandchild. I spoke to adults at church and, as the child of a politician, at public events. While my daddy was in the U.S. Senate, I attended a carnival at the White House for congressional families. My brother was sick and my mother had to stay home with him, but she arranged for another family to take me along. I think I was six or seven.

At some point I turned around and lost the mom and kids I was with; I could not remember what they looked like. The mom’s late-1960s bouffant hairdo looked much like all the other bouffants on the White House grounds, and I had mostly seen her from behind, riding in the car. A White House staff member noticed my lost expression and asked if I needed help. “What is your name?” she asked. She looked trustworthy. She wore a navy blue blazer with a name badge on the breast pocket and had a well-coiffed updo. I knew the answer to her question, even though I could not remember who brought me. My clearest memory of the day is sitting in an office at the White House, telling a broad-shouldered Secret Service agent my name and my father’s name and my mother’s name and my address and my phone number. I told them my whole story.

Who are you? In the beginning, by the sixth verse of the Gospel of John, the omniscient narrator makes sure we readers know the name and mission of an important character, who confusingly bears the same name as the book. He is a man with a mission: to bear witness to a mystery. Hardly is he introduced before he runs afoul of the religious authorities. In this Gospel John’s ministry history unfolds via an interrogation. “Who are you?”