I just love the dramatic way the church stops this reading right here. Next week we pick up with the following verse, and we know what happens when the people start grumbling about what he says, and Luke will tell us that they are “filled with fury”, but we don’t go there yet lest we shift our focus onto them, onto someone else. We must take just these verses and deeply and personally wonder what God is saying to us, because these verses are aimed straight at us, the church, and these words are not proclaimed as comfort from the past, but as a program for today.
The scriptures are fulfilled in us. We are the body of Christ, and we cannot either proclaim or listen to this Word of God without be shaken into action. The plan and program for the life of Jesus Christ is the plan and program for anyone who dares to call themselves by his name as Christian and presumes to consume his Body and Blood. These are not options. What he proclaims as the program of his life and for our lives, if we choose to be his disciples, is specific and measurable. If the poor see us coming, it must be good news for them, not fear that we might take more from them or drive them away. If the poor see us coming, they should have hope because when they see Christ or Christians, they know that help is on the way. What are the oppressed to expect when they see us coming? Will it simply be polite indifference that suggests they should get lost? Luke leaves us to wonder just what is acceptable to the Lord by these words of Jesus, and by that wondering we might evaluate our values and our behavior because all that is left now is you and me. We are all the poor, the captives, the blind, and the oppressed have left to hope for.
It
seems to me that there are five kinds of Christians after all this time. There
are some who are Christian in name only. They pay no attention to the customs
and beliefs of Christianity. There is no commitment. The second group are
Christian by habit only. They are committed to the outward observances, but it
has no affect upon their way of life. The third are clearly devoted to their
faith and are engaged in good works, but they are without any of the qualities
of mercy and kindness that made their Master so appealing. A fourth group are
practical Christians. They have grasped the heart of mission of Jesus Christ,
concerned about others and are never ashamed to be seen as Christians. The
fifth group however are spiritual people. In meeting them, it is always as
though we have met Christ himself not just someone doing good works because it
makes them feel or look good.
By
wondering what is acceptable to the Lord we shall be led into this fifth group.
By our faith and the power Jesus Christ in our lives, we have a daunting task
and a great privilege. The only way many people are ever going to come to know
Jesus Christ is from our lives not from a Bible Study or some program in
self-help. As Luke begins his Gospel with this story, he is revealing who Jesus
Christ is. What our proclamation of this Gospel also reveals is just who we are
and why.
Can’t you just imagine what
Mary said to her son as they were leaving that wedding feast? I can, and have
often enjoyed sitting with this episode wondering what it was like for the wine
steward, the servers, the bride and the groom, their parents. We’ve all been to
weddings big and small, and we know how many people it takes to satisfy the
expectations of everyone. So, when we sit with this story, your imagination can
lead to some wonderful insights which might well be revelations. So, on their
way home, Mary says to Jesus: “Really?” Jesus says: “What?” She looks at him as
only a mother can and says: “600 gallons of extra ordinary wine! Really? Was that
necessary?” With that, I suspect that like every son, he rolled his eyes and
shook his head wondering: “She told me to do something, and I did.”
As much as we might like it
to be, this is not about marriage or families or weddings. The principal
characters are not the bride and groom. This is really about wine and a wedding
feast, and what we can see here is what God has planned by coming to be with
us. The writer, John, calls this the first of the “signs”. He never uses the
word “miracle.” In John’s Gospel, these are all signs of things to come. Now
remember, those people didn’t drink water. They washed in it. They didn’t have
coke, pepsi, or punch. They drank wine, and the wine of their life, we are
told, has run out. In other words, they are lifeless. There is no joy. There is
no excitement, no laughter, no anticipation of good things to come. A wedding
without wine is an empty ritual without any passion. It is dead. Then comes God
in the person of Jesus Christ, welcomed as a guest. Empty jars are like empty
hearts and empty lives, so he says, fill them up, and the good news is that
they obeyed, and best of all, they filled them to the brim! That’s the way to
respond to what God asks. No half-hearted reluctance, no half-done response. Go
all the way, and look what happens when they do.
It’s an experience that will
be repeated more than once. Think about the loaves and fishes and what happens
when those who are with him do what Jesus asks. These are signs of things to
come. They are signs of what happens when with Jesus we use what little we have
and discover that it is always more than enough. There is in our life time too
much dryness, too little joy, too many empty jars, and too many liturgies that
have too little spirit, and no passion. Too many have become accustomed to all this
going through the motions without any expectation of what is to come. The real
sadness is not the lack of wine, but the passivity of those who do nothing.
Mary refused to do nothing and accept a joyless wedding feast. She was already
convinced of how extravagant and bountiful life can be lived in the presence of
God. She teaches us today how to make things different, how to take a dry,
empty life, lived with no expectations about the future. This Gospel, and this
Church proclaims again and again that God has come, that God is the guest who
can change everything with lavish love when we turn Jesus and do what he asks.
A
few weeks ago, I was sitting with the RCIA group, and it was time for some open
questions. Someone in the group asked why Jesus had to be Baptized. It seemed
strange to this man that Jesus would be baptized as though he needed to repent
or be saved. I always love the questions that get asked at RCIA, because they
so often touch on things that those of us who were Baptized as infants and
raised in Catholicism never think to ask, but probably should. The paradox of
the Christ’s Baptism is in every way another Epiphany or manifestation of who Jesus
Christ is for us. It’s a good question, and the answer leads us deeper into the
wonder of the Incarnation, the wonder and the profound mystery of God becoming
one of us.
For
the earliest followers of Christ who were living side by side with the followers
of John the Baptist, the very thought that their Lord had undergone baptism by
John was embarrassing and troublesome. There was some competition between the
two groups, and this issue pushed it further. They wondered, and we should too,
how the Immaculate Lamb, the very Holy Jesus might have submitted to this act
of purification. Could it possibly mean that he too was part of the unclean,
guilty, and sinful humanity?
The
Church’s best answer to the question is simply this feast itself, and its placement
as the conclusion of the Christmas Season. This feast in a sense is a great
AMEN to what we as a church have celebrated since Advent began. What we have
here is a concrete example of God stooping down in loving kindness to us. What
we have here is a deeper revelation of what it means for the Word to become
Flesh. There is in a gesture, an act of humiliation on God’s part as an
introduction to what is to come with the final humiliation and death on a
cross.
When
we look back at the Baptism of Jesus from the view point of his Crucifixion, it
begins to make sense. What is revealed through Jesus, from his baptism to his
death is the perfect love God for us. At his Baptism, the Savior chose to be
one of us right where we are. He chose to enter into solidarity with us sinners
though we are. The whole destiny of Jesus begins in the waters of the Jordan at
the hands of John, and this feast and what it means can carry us on to Easter.
There
is then cause for rejoicing here, because no matter where we are, who we are,
and no matter what we have done, Christ has been there and done it with us.
Ours is a God who enters the darkness again and again when we are in the
darkness in order to lead us into the light.
Now
we know what it really is we have celebrated since December 24th.
Now we see the plan of God revealed in the simplest of ways: a plan to be with
us, to be within us, and to raise us up through the waters of death to the
Light of the Kingdom. Think about it through this week, and think about what it
means for God to be so humbled and so humiliated as to stand with sinners who
need to be purified. The real purification will not be by water, but by his
blood poured out for us.
There is often a real historical element to Gospel events
that the writers use as a basis for bringing forth some revelation. This story
is a perfect example. It makes the story complex and requires some time to sit
with it turning over all the facets and elements that Matthew brings together. At
the time Christ was born, the word “Magi” described powerful people from the Parthian
empire just east of Judea. First readers of Matthew would know that Herod and
Parthians were not friendly. The Parthians had invaded Judea just a few decades
earlier. When they were eventually driven out, Herod took advantage of the
chaos to size the throne. The Parthians never gave up a dream of coming back,
and Herod knowing that as long as people saw him as a Roman puppet he would never
be secure on the throne. So, when Parthians show up using the “K” word (King),
Herod suspects someone is after his throne, and he goes wild; and the murder of
infants is the result. What all this does in Matthew’s Gospel is put Jesus
right in the middle of a political struggle that in the end, threatens and
eventually costs him his life. Even though just a baby, in the first year of
his life, huge forces rise up to threaten his mission. No matter what is going
on between the Parthians and Herod, Jesus is at the center, and Herod’s actions
begin to make the mission of Jesus, even as an infant, the center of attention,
and a threat to those who have something to lose.
When the political situation begins to touch the religious
situation, something more disturbing spins out of this story. Those religious
leaders of the day had every reason to keep the peace – to not make waves so
that they could continue running the Temple as they always had in spite of the occupation
of the Romans. Their rituals gave them a living and did nothing to disturb the
peace. It is both odd and disturbing that when these religious leaders are
called upon to explain what the Scriptures foretold about a messiah, they could
quote chapter and verse, confirming what was happening. Yet, they were complacent,
unaffected, and not even curious. Have you not ever wondered why they didn’t
throw everything aside and join up with these magi? They know that the prophecy
was being fulfilled. They missed the
point entirely, and it set them up for what they continued to do with Jesus:
block what God had begun.
My friends, this story reminds us that Immanuel is still waiting to be discovered. We can either be threatened by the possibility of that happening or know that it is happening remaining unaffected and not even curious, or we can get into the search which might take us to places we never thought of and invite to look toward people we never considered worthy. Our best bet is that we join these “magi” who are curious and willing to wander, look, inquire, and seek. All around us there are contemporary magi: young people hungry for spiritual nourishment they have not found among us. There are women, who feel like unwelcome outsiders when they come to offer their gifts. There are gay women and men who are judged and treated as though they were contagious, and there are foreigners at every boarder whose children are taken or who are chased off at gun point, because they might ask something of us. Even more sadly, ten percent of the U.S. population identify as “former Catholics” not because they lack faith, but because they have been hurt or betrayed. All of these people are also sincere seekers like the magi who made a mistake and went to the wrong place, powerful Jerusalem rather than the humble place, Bethlehem.
The star of this story could be like the sun in the morning
giving us a wake-up call inviting us to get up, to get curious, to wonder, to
look and seek because the really wise came with treasures of earth in their
hands and left with the treasure of Heaven in their hearts. My wish and hope
for this New Year is that anything that leaves us complacent and unaffected by
the Gospel will be gone leaving us excited, joyful, and expectant about the final
coming of Christ.
1 January 2019 at St. Peter & St. William Churches in Naples, FL
Number 6, 22-27 + Psalm 67 + Galatians 4 407 + Luke 2, 16-21
When you say “Yes” to God, a lot of stuff happens that doesn’t always make sense, and just because you believe and trust in God there is no “free pass” when it comes to confusion, doubt, and even sometimes fear. This woman whose memory and whose name we honor today said “Yes”, and with that, her life began a spiral of surprises and unexpected events. There was that visit to Elizabeth whose child leapt at Mary’s arrival. There were these shepherds we hear about today. How could they have found her? There were those old people in the Temple, Simenon and Anna who said such strange things about her child. There were visitors from afar, and shortly thereafter there was a hurried, unexpected rush off to a foreign place to escape violence and death. Then there was her son himself who seemed so at home in the Temple and ran around with a wild man from the desert. Then he went off with those fishermen and began to keeping company with tax collectors and suspicious women. He got people upset with his behavior in synagogue, and some of the Pharisees were cautious around him while scribes were downright angry. With some other family members, she went to bring him home and talk some sense into him, but he started talking about other mothers, brothers and sisters. Don’t fool yourself with some misguided piety. She didn’t get it. She never understood.
There is no reason to believe that she understood any of
this or that she understood what God was asking of her. Like anyone else who is
a parent, like any of you, time after time you look at your children and wonder
where they came from? Where did they get those ideas they brought home?
Sometimes you may have even wondered where they found some of those friends
they hung around with. They start out the door and you ask, “Where are you
going?” The answer you get is: “Out.” “Who with?” you ask, and they say, “Friends”,
and you are left to wonder why you even asked the question. “What will they be?”
you wonder, and at that point you and this woman from Nazareth suddenly have
something in common: wonder.
Wondering is the skill of a faithful parent who knows the
difference between their will and God’s will. Think of it this way. Consider
how this woman grew as she continued to ponder not just the stuff that was
happening, but ponder and reflect on how that stuff that was happening could be
God’s will and part of God’s plan which is always bigger than we are. When her
son was twelve-year-old, she said: “How could you do this to us?” Years later
at the foot of the cross, there is none of that reproach even though there was
even greater pain. She does not stand before her tortured son and say: “How could
you do this to us?” We all know that at any point, he could have gone silent
and returned to the carpenter shop. Step by step, in a sense, he got himself into
that mess. This time, I think she had grown enough in faith and wisdom to
surrender to something she did not understand, and stand with hope and
confidence in the one promise God had made to her at the very beginning. “Nothing
is impossible with God.”
Wonder does not always lead to understanding, but it can
lead to acceptance and surrender in the face of the unknown and unexpected.
What we see here is the importance of reflection which is the active side of
wonder. Only by reflection do we come to understand our experiences. From
reflection comes insight. Sadly, some people learn nothing from experience. But
there are others for whom experience is their real school. Wisdom is not simply
accumulating fact and knowledge. No one become wise in a day. It takes years,
and wisdom is the fruit of reflection.
Parents, Mary shows us, need a lot of wisdom. Mary got her
wisdom from pondering, and I believe she passed that on to her son, who Saint
Luke reminds us, grew in wisdom, grace, and favor before God. That Jesus was
taught, nourished, and formed by a wise woman who loved God with all her heart.
We honor her today, and we begin a new year led to wonder, ponder, and reflect
upon the past year so that with wisdom me may be prepared for whatever is to
come.
There is some great wisdom
behind our old tradition of reflecting upon family just after Christmas. After
all, when God had finally decided it was time to enter into a real and lasting
covenant with us, God seemed have decided that it should be through and within
a real family. Taking a breather between Christmas and the celebration of a New
Year offers us the chance to reflect and wonder about the mystery of family
life. Of course, in our own times, what makes up or identifies a “family” is
not quite as consistent as it might have been a generation or two ago.
Regardless of who makes up a family these days when single-parent families seem
to be growing in numbers, and extended families are more scattered, there is
one element that doesn’t change. A family is bound, in one way or another, to
consist of parents, and in that there lies some mystery.
This unique family who leads
our reflections today may be unique in how it all got started by the message of
some angels, but I don’t believe for a moment that after that birth there was
anything terribly unique. Mary and Joseph were parents facing the frustrating
and demanding challenges that St. Luke describes throughout the Gospel. Those
two parents, just like any of you who have parented face the difficult
discovery that your child is just not going to go along with you every step of
the way. Their story with their son is the story of a real family living with
conflicts, disappointments, frustrations, fear, and surprises. I think that
this little family in Nazareth, or where ever they were, are symbolic of all
kinds of relationships.
What those parents
experienced is nothing different from what any of you have experienced. When
they couldn’t find their son, you know what that fear is like. When they did find
him and faced the fact that he was going to discover his own path in life, it
had to have come as a jolt. He wasn’t going to be carpenter. He wasn’t going to
inherit the shop. No matter what they might have hoped for him, he did not
belong to them, and you know what it is like to come to that realization.
It might be fun to let your
imagination run with that scene in the Temple when they finally found him.
Isn’t it interesting that the Temple is where they went to look for him? Not in
the market or a Mall, not in some night-spot that might attract adolescents,
but in the Temple. As his first teachers, they taught him what every child
needs to learn: something about God. So that is where they went, and that is
where they found him. I love to imagine the real conversation not polished up
by Saint Luke for his Gospel. My best bet is that he got grounded, and from the
way the Gospel is put together, he was grounded for about twenty more years. I
like to think that in response to his comment Mary really said: “Your time has
not yet come. Get on the donkey.” It would be with a son’s knowing smile that
some years later, he would repeat what she said at a wedding in Cana: “My time
has not yet come”, and in quick response I think she said: “Oh yes it has,
there is no wine. Do something to help.” Consistent with everything we have to
go by in the scriptures, Joseph never says a word, but he is always there and
he listens, and then he vanishes. The scriptures put very few words on Mary’s
lips; but not much. Yet, every mother in this church could put words in her
mouth, and they would probably be true. I can imagine her prayers now and then:
“Dear God, that angel never warmed me about this!” “Will someone explain to me
why he went off after that wild trouble maker named John.” “What in the world
was he doing out there in the desert?”
What we are left to celebrate
today is our relationships with those we love most deeply. What we may ponder
in our prayer today is that the greatest gift we can give others is respect and
the freedom to become all that God has created us to be. It is the secret of
parenting I think. It is the key that unlocks the mystery of God’s plan for
each one of us. Don’t be grieving because your children did not do what you
wanted or live the way you expected. Rejoice in their freedom and trust in the
one thing promised to Mary: “Nothing is impossible with God.”
If I had children, I would
call them today and just tell them once more how much they are loved and give
them a blessing.
At
the heart of this story there hangs a “no vacancy” sign that even today can
trouble a sensitive conscience, and leave us wondering about what to do. Not
too long ago a school Christmas pageant was being presented by a group of
enthusiastic children all ready to play the parts. Among them was a boy named
Billy who has “Downs”. The teacher, Billy’s parents, and members of his class at
school worked hard to help Billy remember his lines: “There is no room in the
Inn.” For weeks, they rehearsed the lines with Billy, “There’s no room in the
Inn. There’s no room in the end.” Over and over they practiced with Billy. Then
came the night of the show. Everything was just as planned and as rehearsed.
Mary and Joseph walked up to a sagging door, knocked, and Billy opened the door
and spoke his rehearsed lines: “There is no room in the Inn.” Everyone was
relieved. Mary and Joseph looked sadly at each other and began to walk off at
which point Billy shouted: “There is no room in the Inn, but you guys can stay
at my house.” It is almost a casual remark, but yet it is a cry that leaves us
wondering why we can’t see things the way an innocent child sees, and why we
can’t think the way an innocent child can think. Billy was listening to that
story he was part of, and he added his own tidings of great joy.
In
his Gospel, Saint John takes up this chance comment about the lack of room when
in his Gospel he talks about the Word became flesh. “He came to his own and his
own received him not.” My friends, we have gathered here because Jesus Christ
is still coming, and after all this time, too often there is still no room.
This world is filled with time saving tools and devices, but we seem to have
less and less time, and there is too little room for God. In a real and
practical way, our attitude toward the homeless and refugees takes on a deeper
dimension here when we think there is no room. Yet this season reminds us that
God keeps knocking, and those who saw that Christmas pageant with Billy may
make room and invite God into their hearts and home.
On
the night and in the ancient Gospel story we have just proclaimed, there are two
kinds of people who heard the cry that night. Shepherds who know they know
nothing, and wise men who know that they do not know everything. They are the
very simple and the very learned. In both cases with these two kinds of people,
something happened because they listened and headed what they heard. They
listened. In fact, every part of this Gospel is about listening; and every
person whose story is woven into this Gospel are people who know how to listen.
Old Zachariah, young Mary in Nazareth, and a man who never says a word in our
scriptures named, Joseph listened. That’s all he did: listen and act. They all
listened, and because of their willingness to listen, God was able to
accomplish something great. When they came, these shepherds and these wise men
whose story will soon be retold saw tiny hands that would one day hold a heavy
cross and tiny feet that would walk on water. They saw eyes that could see the
secrets of every human heart. They saw ears that could hear people in a
distance crying out over the noise of a large crowd, “Son of David, Have Mercy
on me.”
Some
historians believe that western monasticism saved civilization in the dark ages,
and I believe that the ancient wisdom of their Rule may once again save
civilization as we know it. A man named Benedict wrote that Rule by which
western monasticism has been guided to this day. For hundreds of generations
those monastic men and women were inspired by the wisdom and common sense of
that Rule to be generously hospitable to anyone searching for a place to stay, while
the very first line of that Rule says: Listen, and the silence of those holy
places is just what it takes to hear the cries of people in this world.
Once in an interview, Stephen Spielberg was
asked, “What would you hope God will say to you when you finally meet him.
Spielberg responded, “I hope God would say to me: ‘Thank you for listening.’”
What a great answer! It is true about the Christmas story. All have heard it,
and some have listened. At the Annunciation Mary is listening. In today’s
Gospel, those shepherds are listening. Two-thousands years later we confront
this stunning message of comfort and joy, and look around and wonder if anyone
is listening. God is with us. God wants a place in our lives, but not just in
some back room or just when some crises arises, but in the very center of our
lives and our homes. The great light that people in darkness must see is the
light of our lives and our faith in the hands of people like us who have been
baptized and handed a lighted candle to be kept burning brightly.
Those
shepherds whose story we have just proclaimed did not only listen, they shared
with others what they had heard and what they had seen becoming messengers of
Joy. Their glad tidings touches human hearts and changes human lives, and it
bears repeating more than once a year.
In those shepherds, we find our own identity and purpose: messengers of
joy. Today we can say to them, thanks for listening and for sharing, and we can
say to the Lord and to every holy family, “You can stay at my house.”
As we stand at the threshold of this year’s celebration of the
birth of Jesus Christ, we find ourselves being asked to reflect upon the
unexpected ways in which God works. Here we are on a ship that a year ago was
not even on the water. I knew it was planned, but on December 23, 2017 I never
expected to be here. Yet here we are about to disembark, and many will head
back home where it is entirely possible and even likely that the unexpected will
again break into our lives. Because, that is how God works, unexpectedly. The
three readings for this final Sunday of Advent all communicate some element of
the unexpected. There had been a long tradition of sacrifice as the ultimate
religious practice. In the second reading we find it replaced by something
else. Who would then have ever thought that God would tire of sacrifices in a
Temple. Then we discover that Jerusalem, long the place of honor and prestige,
the city of power, is passed over and a little no-where place provides the
savior. The major actors in this story are women, and it is a woman whose faith
is the beginning of a new covenant. No one in that man’s world could ever have
imagined such a thing. Then, story we are about to tell once again is a
reminder that God approaches us through the seemingly insignificant in surprising
ways.
The divine project that we are about to celebrate is revealed
in actions as much as in words. Old Zachariah, one of the Old Testament’s
priests is silenced. He and his wife Elizabeth are like Abraham and Sarah for
their day, but their day has passed, because now Mary arrives, the mother of a new
covenant. Her pregnancy has nothing to do with human plans, because God is
doing something entirely new. This passing away of the old, and a recognition
of something new and unimagined is a cause for joy. Unlike many these days who
find change to be threatening and unwelcome, these people of faith believe that
God can and does work in surprising and different ways never before dreamed of.
That God is not finished; not finished with creation, not
finished with us, and not finished being revealed. Make your journey home in
the morning a bit of an imitation of Mary’s journey to a loved one and family
member. Carry with you the refreshment of these days. Celebrate the Joy of your
reunion. Remember to look for and enjoy the surprise of little things and the
little ways in which God can be found all around you, and especially in the
little and least of gifts you may receive from those who, like God, love you
very much. When you do remember, you will be among the Blessed who believe that
what has been spoken to you by the Lord will be fulfilled.
The prophet is the voice of God speaking in this assembly today. This prophet whose voice cries out to us is a man whose authenticity is beyond question because of his honesty and his passion for justice. Unafraid to speak truth those in power, he deserves the same respect and attention today that he earned ages ago. Here was a man who cared nothing for comfort, money, or fame. He could not be bought or manipulated by anything or anybody. For the people of his time and for all of us in this time, he still speaks for God with a message that is direct and simple.
There
is no watering down what he proposes. There is no way to intellectualize or
avoid his message. It is so urgent and clear that people asked, “What shall I
do?” If we believe as they did that a Prophet is the voice of God, we should be
asking the same question. “What shall I do?” This has nothing to do with “What
shall I buy or give” or, “What will I get for Christmas?” The question has to
do with, “How I shall make ready for the coming of Christ?” This message is not
a seasonal one or something we just think about at Christmas. It is something
that should nag at us all the time.
John
does not ask tax collectors to stop collecting. He does not tell soldiers to
desert. To the tax collectors he simply says, “Do not collect more than the
amount owed to you.” To the soldiers he says, “Do not extort money from anyone
or intimidate them with threats. Be satisfied with your wage.” There is nothing
profound or complicated about this. It is simply the rule of integrity. The
message is timeless, the Word of God is alive, and God speaks to us in this
assembly. Do not cheat. Share what you have. Be honest. Never use or exploit
others for your gain, comfort, or security. Being prepared for the coming of
the Messiah requires no great heroics although sometime heroics might seem
easier than living a humdrum daily life well.
Let’s be clear about one thing: when we speak of
and anticipate the coming of Christ, we are not in some nostalgic fantasy
imagining Christmas in Bethlehem. We are thinking about and anticipating our
death and the final coming of Christ at the end, which we may not really want
to think about right now. Be that as it may, the whole divine plan beginning in
Nazareth and Bethlehem was to save us and prepare us for that day when we shall
stand before God face to face. When we are sincerely facing that reality, the
question: “What shall I do?” is very real and very urgent. To that question the
prophet speaks today. How do we get to ready to die and face the Christ? It’s
not hard nor complicated. None of us here have to do anything really remarkable
to be ready. What God expects of us that we simply live life with integrity and
honesty, with a passion and desire for justice and truth. That may require some
repentance, some changing of our ways, our thoughts, and our desires. The good
news is, there is still a little time to do that, and John would suggest that
we not waste this time.
December 9, 2018 at Saint William Church in Naples, FL.
In this second week of
Advent, it might be a good idea to put the image of the desert in front of us
because it is the antithesis of the mall. In the desert there is nothing to
buy. In the mall it is all about noise and lights and crowds of people. In the
desert the only light is the stars, a beauty that is beyond our reach yet seems
to have been created for nothing more than our wonder and delight. All around
us there are other kinds of deserts. There is one on our southern boarder where
poor people wander seeking something better as they bet their lives on a chance
for peace and safety. There are deserts of loneliness in the midst of big
cities and in nursing homes everywhere. These are deserts of desperation and
helplessness, and we don’t have to go far to find them. These are deserts
created by selfishness and greed, by human sinfulness, by power abused for
self-protection rather than service. Those who suffer in these deserts are
never the guilty.
This prophet who speaks for
God is speaking to us today. The promise of this season is made for people in
these deserts, and we are being charged with a mission to straighten out some
things. These mountains he speaks of are still dividing people from one another.
Mountains of debt keep poor people and poor nations helpless and hopeless. The crooked paths that the helpless follow
seeking a place that is safe for the sake of their children need to be
straightened. Twisted words and lies need to be straight forward so that words
of compassion and understanding may bring comfort where these is none.
We need courage to enter into
the valleys of depression and desperation that have trapped our brothers and
sisters for too long leaving them with loneliness and fear. The prophet calls
us to build bridges and repair broken relationships healing old wounds
sometimes by simply saying: “I’m sorry”. To do that, we have to bend low, come
down off our mountains of pride and privilege. None of that will ever happen as
long as we hang out in the Mall and distract ourselves in a season of
commercialism and consumerism. It is desert time for the people of God. The
promise of these readings, and for that matter, the promise of Christmas is
made for desert people. When you already have everything money can buy, there
is not much to hope for; but in the desert, we can re-discover our greatest
needs, to be loved, cared for, forgiven, and healed. These are gifts we can
give one another because they have already been given to us so often and so
freely.