Comfort, give comfort to my people. Is 40:1
Prophets are fascinating people. Like all good leaders they warn us about dangerous paths we might be taking or reprove us when we fail to live up to our values, but they can also be incredibly gentle and consoling. The 40th chapter of Isaiah is like this.
The Jewish nation is in exile. Many have forgotten who they are and to whom they belong. Others are finding ways to compromise with their captors as a way of staying alive, but are neglecting their religious obligations. Isaiah knows all this and decides that honey works much better than vinegar when people are lost and in pain. Like the Samaritan who stops to help the fellow left for dead by robbers, he reminds his listeners that soon they will be home, among their friends and families and will be free to worship in Jerusalem. Don't worry, he seems to be saying, God is near and, "Like a shepherd he feeds his flock; in his arms he gathers the lambs, carrying them in his bosom, and leading the ewes with care."
Advent's scriptures are often like spiritual comfort food for me. Just as a big bowl of coffee ice cream can transport me back to childhood vacations with my family in Westport, Ma, Advent fills me with warmth and hope. As life was once simple and rich, so it will be again. As we prepare to celebrate the Lord's birth, we are reminded that Christmas is not about the gifts we give and receive, but the incredible promise of God not to leave us orphans nor abandon us when we are in exile.
Today, comfort someone who seems lost.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Saturday, December 3, 2011
St Francis Xavier
"The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few; so ask the master of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest." Mt 9:8
Although the church has been proclaiming loudly for the last fifty years that every Christian must be a missionary, the message has been slow to find acceptance at the core of the Catholic community's faith life. Too many of us, educated in faith before the Second Vatican Council, reserve the word missionary to those who like St Francis Xavier in the 16th century leave their homeland, cultures and families and travel around the world announcing the Good News of Jesus Christ. While it is good to honor those women and men who have given their lives to cross cultural and overseas mission, the word mission simply means sent, and we are all sent at Baptism when we are reminded of Jesus' command to, "Go and make disciples of all nations." (Mt 28:19)
At the end of every mass, when the priest or deacon echoes the words of Jesus, saying "Go and announce the Gospel of the Lord," it does not merely mean that mass is over and we ought to rush for our cars or the religious ed program or the nearest diner for breakfast. Rather, it challenges us, having been renewed in our faith by sharing God's word and Eucharist, to bring the Good News to those who have never heard it, forgotten it or rejected it. Further, we are to do this without fear relying on the Lord to give us the words and personality that allow others to know that God has come to set us free from sin and self absorption so that together we can be the body of Christ on earth. Being a missionary means not only that we speak the gospel with words, we must become good news by the choices we make about lifestyle, work and the place of prayer in our lives.
Today, ask to be sent as you are to those who have never heard the gospel.
Although the church has been proclaiming loudly for the last fifty years that every Christian must be a missionary, the message has been slow to find acceptance at the core of the Catholic community's faith life. Too many of us, educated in faith before the Second Vatican Council, reserve the word missionary to those who like St Francis Xavier in the 16th century leave their homeland, cultures and families and travel around the world announcing the Good News of Jesus Christ. While it is good to honor those women and men who have given their lives to cross cultural and overseas mission, the word mission simply means sent, and we are all sent at Baptism when we are reminded of Jesus' command to, "Go and make disciples of all nations." (Mt 28:19)
At the end of every mass, when the priest or deacon echoes the words of Jesus, saying "Go and announce the Gospel of the Lord," it does not merely mean that mass is over and we ought to rush for our cars or the religious ed program or the nearest diner for breakfast. Rather, it challenges us, having been renewed in our faith by sharing God's word and Eucharist, to bring the Good News to those who have never heard it, forgotten it or rejected it. Further, we are to do this without fear relying on the Lord to give us the words and personality that allow others to know that God has come to set us free from sin and self absorption so that together we can be the body of Christ on earth. Being a missionary means not only that we speak the gospel with words, we must become good news by the choices we make about lifestyle, work and the place of prayer in our lives.
Today, ask to be sent as you are to those who have never heard the gospel.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Compassion
"Son of David, have pity on us!"Mt. 9:27
The word pity in English always makes me uncomfortable. It sounds patronizing, something one might show a defenseless enemy, but perhaps this is all the blind men in today's gospel account really want or expect. The blind would have viewed themselves as beneath contempt because of their disability. Everyone knew blindness was a punishment for sin, either your own or your parents. Blindness made you into a beggar. Unable to work, you would have to sit by the side of the road and ask people in their charity for food and clothing.
Not infrequently, we can feel like blind people. A new illness strikes us or a family member and because we have little experience with which to deal with this new invader, we feel like we are groping in the dark for answers. A rare form of cancer or a difficult to diagnose heart ailment strikes a friend out of the blue, and everyone begins scrambling to understand, to find a doctor, to get a second opinion, to choose a form of treatment, and all of this before acceptance, the key to spiritual health, has a chance to emerge with its healing hopefulness. At times like this, we yearn for someone to take pity on us. Pity is enough because it is concrete and understandable, but in the long run, we realize that Jesus offers us something much more empowering. He offers us, not just a light in the darkness, but compassion.
Compassion, in English, implies something more heartfelt than pity. It is the quiet presence a friend offers when we are lost, confused, anxious and doubtful. It is rarely surrounded with a multiplicity of words. Rather, it looks like an open hand extended to us with love and tenderness. It is not condescending or judgmental. It is the simplest form of love and lets us know that we are not something to be fixed, but someone who needs a companion and friend with whom to take the next step.
Today, offer a stranger compassion.
The word pity in English always makes me uncomfortable. It sounds patronizing, something one might show a defenseless enemy, but perhaps this is all the blind men in today's gospel account really want or expect. The blind would have viewed themselves as beneath contempt because of their disability. Everyone knew blindness was a punishment for sin, either your own or your parents. Blindness made you into a beggar. Unable to work, you would have to sit by the side of the road and ask people in their charity for food and clothing.
Not infrequently, we can feel like blind people. A new illness strikes us or a family member and because we have little experience with which to deal with this new invader, we feel like we are groping in the dark for answers. A rare form of cancer or a difficult to diagnose heart ailment strikes a friend out of the blue, and everyone begins scrambling to understand, to find a doctor, to get a second opinion, to choose a form of treatment, and all of this before acceptance, the key to spiritual health, has a chance to emerge with its healing hopefulness. At times like this, we yearn for someone to take pity on us. Pity is enough because it is concrete and understandable, but in the long run, we realize that Jesus offers us something much more empowering. He offers us, not just a light in the darkness, but compassion.
Compassion, in English, implies something more heartfelt than pity. It is the quiet presence a friend offers when we are lost, confused, anxious and doubtful. It is rarely surrounded with a multiplicity of words. Rather, it looks like an open hand extended to us with love and tenderness. It is not condescending or judgmental. It is the simplest form of love and lets us know that we are not something to be fixed, but someone who needs a companion and friend with whom to take the next step.
Today, offer a stranger compassion.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Knowing our Rocks
"For the LORD is an eternal Rock." Is 26:4
Sometimes we get confused about who or what our rock is. Too often we rely exclusively on our knowledge, insight, wealth or experience as guides, and while all these tools are important and helpful, they cannot be our rock. For a Christian there is only one Rock, the Christ of God, the one who was promised from the beginning, who came among us as a man and who continues to guide and direct us. The Christ, our Messiah, is the fulness of God's love and the new Covenant. Keeping the memory of Christ's love fresh is a daily challenge.
When Jesus, in today's gospel, reminds us to build our house on rock, not sand, he invites us to use our imaginations. Picture a house with four corners each of which is built on a rock, and ask yourself, in a transparent examination of conscience, what the rocks of your life are that others see in you. To do this more simply, ask yourself what your passion is, how you spend your time, who you trust? Fortunately, or unfortunately as the case may be, this reflective exercise almost always reveals some sandy spots. For some it is an addiction to alcohol or other chemicals that obsess them. Others know this because our behavior, no matter how careful or hidden, gives us away. For others, their rock is success at any price, despite its effects on their family. For too many, it is blindness to the world as it is, and for a few it is using prayer and religious devotion as an escape. None of these rocks last. They crumble and our house begins to list and topple.
Christ is the house in which we live and Advent is a time to do ordinary maintenance on the foundation.
Today, pick one pillar and work at making it a cornerstone of your life.
Sometimes we get confused about who or what our rock is. Too often we rely exclusively on our knowledge, insight, wealth or experience as guides, and while all these tools are important and helpful, they cannot be our rock. For a Christian there is only one Rock, the Christ of God, the one who was promised from the beginning, who came among us as a man and who continues to guide and direct us. The Christ, our Messiah, is the fulness of God's love and the new Covenant. Keeping the memory of Christ's love fresh is a daily challenge.
When Jesus, in today's gospel, reminds us to build our house on rock, not sand, he invites us to use our imaginations. Picture a house with four corners each of which is built on a rock, and ask yourself, in a transparent examination of conscience, what the rocks of your life are that others see in you. To do this more simply, ask yourself what your passion is, how you spend your time, who you trust? Fortunately, or unfortunately as the case may be, this reflective exercise almost always reveals some sandy spots. For some it is an addiction to alcohol or other chemicals that obsess them. Others know this because our behavior, no matter how careful or hidden, gives us away. For others, their rock is success at any price, despite its effects on their family. For too many, it is blindness to the world as it is, and for a few it is using prayer and religious devotion as an escape. None of these rocks last. They crumble and our house begins to list and topple.
Christ is the house in which we live and Advent is a time to do ordinary maintenance on the foundation.
Today, pick one pillar and work at making it a cornerstone of your life.
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