Today we have a strange confluence of Church events. This morning we celebrate the Fourth Sunday of Advent when we normally prepare to wait a little longer for the celebration of the Incarnation. We have, however, by liturgical rules and the calendar, run out of days before December 24th – Christmas Eve – which ushers in what is never a moveable feast: Christmas Day! So perhaps we are brought up short in our spiritual preparation and need to step back to assess our readiness.
For me, this is a moment of “Stop the world; I want to get off!” as I can already hear the preparations in full swing downstairs. As I look at lectionary readings for the Fourth Sunday of Advent, I hear again and again the promise of God’s faithfulness and know that these reminders will remain and even be strengthened during the Christmas season when the appearance of the Christ as a tiny child is the evidence. I need now to find moments of inner stillness in this day of heightened expectation, to stop and breathe into the great mystery of love that is unfolding in the silence.
Can we stay in the waiting while on the verge of the bursting forth? Only as we breathe the peace that we long for. Breathe now…just breathe…
One might call the hymn “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” the theme song of Advent since it is sung throughout the season of Advent in almost any Christian Church. Perhaps not everyone knows all seven verses or that the lyrics come from these symbolic titles we have been considering for the past week. Today, however, we are in familiar territory. Many of us know that Emmanuel means “God with us.”
Plants are amazing metaphors, I think, for the seasons of our lives. I have only two green plants in my bedroom now and although I smile at them and greet them as I come and go, I am sometimes rather inattentive. Happily, I know they are both always willing to forgive me. One is a Christmas cactus that is not a great indicator of the coming feast as it tends to flower at Thanksgiving – or sometimes whenever the inclination to burst forth gets hold of it. This year, however, it seems to have heard the Advent cry of “Come!” and, although with only one bud, is right on schedule to flower around – if not on – the actual feast of Christmas. I am always surprised at the budding and never mind whether or not it skips a year or comes unexpectedly because it is strong and requires very little care. Steadfastness is its gift to me.
There’s a subtle shift for me today in the Advent theme. Perhaps it will only last until tomorrow but the message of anticipatory waiting is given an additional push from the gospel acclamation – in a rather unusual way. After the psalm I read: Alleluia, alleluia. The Lord will come; go out to meet him! He is the prince of peace. Alleluia, alleluia.
Three times in the readings for this second Sunday of Advent we hear the call to “Prepare the way of the Lord!” We are accustomed to this directive but I always question how it is that we are preparing. Is the rush to Christmas shopping the way? The thought of gift-giving is certainly part of the thinking about that activity but it has become such a frenzy in our culture that I wonder how many of us stop to think about the genesis of the custom. Here are some questions for us – me included – for today’s reflection about preparing.
Today I sit staring at a blank page, feeling a bit empty, as happens sometimes on the Monday after an important holiday. While I was not counted in the millions of people who took to the road or the sky over the weekend to be with faraway relatives or friends (the return trip perhaps not concluded yet), the Thanksgiving holiday just concluded seemed to me to hold more energy than usual in the wishes of “Happy Thanksgiving!” shared sincerely among friends and strangers alike. Maybe we needed some distraction from all the distress of our country and the world that made us try harder to find the joy of sharing. Maybe it was just the slowing down and relaxing together that pervaded our household. Whatever the source, I feel the need to regroup today so that I will live consciously throughout the wonderful season of Advent leading to Christmas. As the world turns from another beginning to a conclusion marked by the calendar of feasting and celebrations, I am heartened and challenged by Thomas Merton’s words to wake up and get about this new day.
The prophet Isaiah has had a lot to say during the season of Advent and today, when Christians celebrate the feast of the Nativity of Jesus the Christ, there are four different possibilities from the Roman Catholic lectionary for reflection on those prophecies. Whether from the vigil Mass, the Mass during the night, at dawn or during the day today, this prolific book of the Hebrew Scriptures is a call to attention, recognition and renewal in God’s love. My favorite is always IS 9:1-6, which speaks of the light seen by the people who have been walking in darkness. I should remember to read it more often for the sheer poetry of it. This morning two things stand out.
Tonight there will be candles lit all over the world in celebration of light. In a wonderful coincidence (a happening of two things at once) not only will Christians celebrate the birth of the Christ beginning with vigil services in the evening, Midnight Mass, and/or celebrations tomorrow throughout the morning, but this year will also see tonight the lighting of the first candles as Jewish families and congregations begin the eight days of Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights, celebrating the dedication of the temple in Jerusalem.
This morning’s Scripture readings began with the familiar phrase, “On that day…” that is usually followed with a promise of some import to be visited on God’s people. Today it is Isaiah promising “luster and glory…honor and splendor…” (IS 4:2-6). Promise for the future is important to keep us going; I spoke of it yesterday in terms of Advent and the coming of Christmas. But sometimes I wonder if we are really interested in the possibility that awaits us – or even if we believe what we are reading, perhaps based on what we have experienced in past years when the cycle has come and gone with little effect on our lives.
