Last winter, the Washington Post decided to try something unusual.

A reporter wanted to see what would happen if they hired a world famous violinist to play during rush hour on a Washington subway platform. Would anybody notice? Would anybody stop and listen? Would they toss any money into his violin case?

To take part in this experiment, they enlisted Joshua Bell – by many accounts, one of the greatest violinists of his generation. He’s recorded a number of best-selling albums, plays around the world and routinely collects thousands of dollars for one performance. He’s young – just 39 – and recognizable. Bell thought the idea sounded like fun, so he agreed to do it.

So one morning last year, he put on jeans and sweatshirt and went down into the DC subway during rush hour. He unpacked one of his most prized possessions — a Stradivarius violin, worth an estimated three million dollars. He opened the case to collect some money, and started playing. He played Bach. He played Schubert’s “Ave Maria.” He played a series of classical pieces by Manuel Ponce and Jules Massenet. Once in a while, someone would hurry past and throw some pennies in his case. At one point, a little boy paused, enthralled, but his mother pulled him away.

No one stopped to listen to the most beautiful music in the world being played by one of the most gifted musicians in the world on a three million dollar violin.

Nobody noticed. They were too busy running to work.

For his 45 minutes, Joshua Bell collected $32 in change.

When the Washington Post published the article about all this, the reporter quoted the poet W.H. Davies:

“What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?”

In this morning’s gospel, we encounter John the Baptist at a moment when he does have time to stand and stare. He sees Jesus walking toward him and says, very simply, “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” He recognizes Jesus for who He is. John sounds a little bit amazed at himself – twice, he says, “I did not know him.” But finally, he comes to the realization: “I have seen and testified that he is the Son of God.”

He saw the signs. He understood their meaning.

Could any of us say the same?

If we saw Christ approaching us…would we realize who He was?

Or would we – like the thousands of people who passed by Joshua Bell during
rush hour – just keep going, blind and deaf to what was before us?

Would we hear the music?

We just completed National Vocations Awareness Week, when the church tries to get all of us to think more deeply and seriously about religious vocations. I don’t need to tell you we have a serious crisis in vocations in this country. We are desperate for priests, and deacons, and nuns. People who will carry the faith to others in a profound and very particular way.

But I would suggest that one reason we’re in this crisis is because too many of us are not seeing Christ as John the Baptist did. We are not recognizing Him when he approaches us. We are not understanding the signs. We’re too busy, too distracted, too pre-occupied with just racing through to catch the train and get on with life.

We’re not hearing the music.

It’s customary when you talk about vocations to try and reach the young – people who are still choosing a path in life.

But I’d like to address my thoughts this morning to the not-so-young. Because vocations aren’t like milk. They don’t have an expiration date.

I’m a perfect example. I didn’t really sense God’s call until I had already lived half of my life.

It wasn’t until my 40s that I finally heard the music. And stopped. And listened.

I read the other day about a man in Wisconsin who is 57 years old. He was an insurance agent, and a waiter, and a husband, and a father. He’s now a widower. And in June he will be ordained a priest. That kind of story is becoming more common.

Maybe, just maybe, someone here this morning knows exactly what I’m talking about, and is sensing the first stirrings of a vocation, the first inkling of possibility.

Maybe, for the first time, you are hearing something you’ve never heard before. Noticing something you’ve never noticed before.

Maybe you aren’t in your 20s anymore. Maybe you think you’re too old.

You aren’t.

You are never too old to begin fulfilling God’s dream for you.

So look. And listen. And look again.

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?

We could all ask ourselves that question – and ask ourselves, as well, if we see what the Baptist saw.

Do we recognize Christ when He approaches us?

Do we acknowledge Him in the way we live our lives?

Do we see Him in those around us?

In a few moments, we will be challenged to see Him in the most unlikely and most humble of things – a tiny sliver of bread. The priest will hold it up before us and speak the same words as John the Baptist.

“Behold the Lamb of God.”

John says those words with awe and with love – and, I have to think, with joy.

Let it be our prayer this morning to experience that same awe and love and joy — to behold the Lamb of God the same way.

And let us pray, as well, to hear the music.