The sins of the world, the sins of the world, you know, war, strife, division, lust, greed, envy, pride, sloth, persecution, discrimination, the list goes on. We see them all around us these days, don't we? The sins of the world. How would you take them all the way? This question, in one way or another, has plagued humanity from the dawn of time. Every culture, every religion, every philosophy in some way is trying to answer that question. In other words, to take away the sins of the world.

Ancient peoples, like the ancient Israelites, did so through the practice of animal sacrifice, vicariously offering in the blood of those animal victims on the altars of their temples themselves in atonement for the penalty due to their sins. The ancient Romans tried to answer that question by sort of legislating sin away, cobbling together a kind of Pax Romana to make everyone happy. And more recently, still many political philosophies try to create a kind of utopia on this earth where there is no sin or strife. But the fact of the matter is, any student of history will know. That none of these attempts has been successful. In fact, all have utterly failed.

So how is it that we can truly and definitively take away the sins of the world? Or we might ask that question differently. Who is it that can take away the sins of the world?

Enter into the scene. Maybe from stage right. Today, as we hear in our gospel, the most peculiar and preposterous of characters, who's going to give us the answer to that question? The most peculiar and preposterous of characters decked out in camel skins, feeding on locusts and wild honey, spending day and night hanging out on the shores of the River Jordan. An outcast from the opulence of Jerusalem. Who is this character? His preposterous character John the Baptist, who today points out with great exuberance and excitement, I might add, he points out to us, to the world, to history, the definitive answer to that question, the one Who takes away the sins of the world.

And who is it? Is it some daring and dastardly military mastermind that comes his way? No. Is it some charismatic political figure? No. Is it some titan of industry or business? No. Once again, is it some lion of society? No. It is a lamb, he says. In fact, the lamb. Behold the Lamb of God. Behold him who takes away the sins of the world.

Now either this is total and complete nonsense or. Or it is perhaps a stroke of divine genius. What is John telling us? How is it that the sin of the world will be taken away Through feats of strength and power, through wealth and riches, worldly power and prestige, through dominance and control, through a lion. Or will the sins of the world be taken away, perhaps by humility, poverty, simplicity, mildness, meekness by a lamb? Will the one who comes to take away the sins of the world do so by calling down fire and brimstone upon the Samaritan towns? Will he do so by condemning a fallen woman? Will he do so by quenching a bruised reed? Or will he do so by laying down his life for his friends, by turning the other cheek? By offering his life for us on the wood of the cross. Will the salvation of the world? Will our deliverance from sin come about through a lion or through a lamb?

So what is John the Baptist proclaiming to us today? I think this is the central truth of our readings of what we're celebrating this Sunday, that if we want to take away the sins not only of the world, but also sin in our own hearts and in our homes, we have to become a little less like a lion and a little more like a lamb.

Why do you think it is, brothers and sisters, that every single time we come to mass before we receive the Eucharist, we hear these words proclaimed, Behold the Lamb of God, behold him who takes away the sins of the world. Why do we need to hear that perhaps thousands of times before we receive the Eucharist in our lives because we need that reminder, don't we? The world out there wants to make us into not lambs, but rampant lions and soaring eagles. Maybe howling wolves. That's what the world wants out of us. And maybe it's kind of what we want too.

Nobody wants to be a lamb, a sheep, right? We wish maybe Jesus would call us lions or bears or tigers. Something fierce. Something dominant. Lambs. Sheep aren't really the brightest of bulbs in the animal kingdom, are they? And yet, what does Jesus say? Matthew ten sixteen I am sending you out as lambs, as sheep among wolves.

So, friends, if we want to follow the words of Jesus, if we want to truly take away the sins of the world like him, we must become like lambs. Like the lamb who in the face of danger does not cling to force, but instead clings to the flock to the shepherd like lambs who don't try to simply go their own way, who aren't lone wolves, but who stay close to the flock like lambs, who don't try to call the shots on their own. But stay close to the words of the shepherd, who have the smell of the shepherd like lambs who are content with the simplicity and the poverty of the flock, as opposed to all the riches of the world.

Let us then, in this Eucharist and in every Eucharist, become more like the Lamb of God. Behold him, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world. Behold the Lamb of God through whom we pray. The sins of the world may be taken away.