Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, our Gospel offers us the luminous account of Gabriel’s Annunciation to young Mary. In my prayer, I think I would just like to sit beside Mary and wait for the graces God wishes to give me – to wait confidently as she did, and to do so with her guidance.
Annunciation – Edward Burns-Jones
I will use the powerful poem by Scott Cairns to focus my heart. You may want to use it as well.
Deep within the clay, and O my people very deep within the wholly earthen compound of our kind arrives of one clear, star-illumined evening a spark igniting once again the tinder of our lately banked noetic fire. She burns but she is not consumed. The dew lights gently, suffusing the pure fleece. The wall comes down. And—do you feel the pulse?—we all become the kindled kindred of a King whose birth thereafter bears to all a bright nativity.
Music: Monteverdi – Vespro della Beata Vergine led by John Eliot Gardiner
Claudio Giovanni Antonio Monteverdi (1567 – 1643) was an Italian composer, choirmaster and string player. A composer of both secular and sacred music, and a pioneer in the development of opera, he is considered a crucial transitional figure between the Renaissance and Baroque periods of music history.
The Vespro della Beata Vergine consists of 14 components: an introductory versicle and response, five psalms interspersed with five “sacred concertos”, a hymn, and two Magnificat settings. Collectively these pieces fulfil the requirements for a Vespers service on any feast day of the Virgin.
In March 1964, as a student at King’s College, Cambridge, John Eliot Gardiner led a performance of Monteverdi’s Vespers that not only launched his conducting career, but also his world-renowned Monteverdi Choir.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, Isaiah describes the upside-down nature of God’s Reign:
Trust in the LORD forever! For the LORD is an eternal Rock, who humbles those in high places, and the lofty city he brings down; He tumbles it to the ground, levels it with the dust. It is trampled underfoot by the needy, by the footsteps of the poor.
Isaiah 26:4-6
God humbles the haughty, dwindles the lofty, tramples the elite with the “footsteps of the poor”. Wow! God turns our messy world on its head to right it!
This eloquent prophecy was intended to bolster the hopes of Isaiah’s careworn exiled community. It imagines the embodiment of the hope for which they have no evidence. Isaiah tells a geographically imprisoned people that they will be the ultimate conquerors. He assures a shackled community that their trust will earn them jubilant liberation. He enjoins them to believe!
It is really hard to have that kind of faith and trust when we have no evidence of delivery from whatever imprisons or assails us. Sometimes we wait a lifetime for a prayer to be answered but it seems that it never is. Are we fools to keep believing under such circumstances? Or are we wise enough to trust that the answers have come in ways we could not yet discern?
Our Gospel summons us to the same type of wildly hopeful trust. Jesus says that we cannot foresee nor control what kind of weather will assail us in life. Therefore, we must have a firm and sure foundation in faith so that we may survive any storm.
Jesus tells us to hear the sacred word with integrity and to measure ourselves according to it, because simply murmuring “Lord, Lord” doesn’t merit a pass to eternal life.
Everyone who listens to these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise one who built the house on rock. The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and buffeted the house. But it did not collapse; it had been set solidly on rock. And everyone who listens to these words of mine but does not act on them will be like a fool who built the house on sand. The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and buffeted the house. And it collapsed and was completely ruined.
Matthew 7:24-27
In this Advent time, let’s pray for a simple, wise and strong faith for ourselves and for those we love.
Prose: from On Obstinacy in Belief by C.S. Lewis
… a little bit long from Lewis but so worth it! If you like the excerpt, here’s a link to the entire essay:
Christians seem to praise an adherence to the original belief which holds out against any evidence whatever. I must now try to show why such praise is in fact a logical conclusion from the original belief itself.
This can be done best by thinking for a moment of situations in which the thing is reversed. In Christianity such faith is demanded of us; but there are situations in which we demand it of others. There are times when we can do all that a fellow creature needs if only he will trust us.
In getting a dog out of a trap, in extracting a thorn from a child’s finger, in teaching a boy to swim or rescuing one who can’t, in getting a frightened beginner over a nasty place on a mountain, the one fatal obstacle may be their distrust.
We are asking them to trust us in the teeth of their senses, their imagination, and their intelligence. We ask them to believe that what is painful will relieve their pain and that what looks dangerous is their only safety. We ask them to accept apparent impossibilities: that moving the paw further back into the trap is the way to get it out; that hurting the finger very much more will stop the finger hurting; that water which is obviously permeable will resist and support the body; that holding onto the only support within reach is not the way to avoid sinking; that to go higher and onto a more exposed ledge is the way not to fall.
To support all these incredibilia we can rely only on the other party’s confidence in us—a confidence certainly not based on demonstration, admittedly shot through with emotion, and perhaps, if we are strangers, resting on nothing but such assurance as the look of our face and the tone of our voice can supply, or even, for the dog, on our smell. Sometimes, because of their unbelief, we can do no mighty works.
But if we succeed, we do so because they have maintained their faith in us against apparently contrary evidence. No one blames us for demanding such faith. No one blames them for giving it. No one says afterward what an unintelligent dog or child or boy that must have been to trust us. If the young mountaineer were a scientist it would not be held against him, when he came up for a fellowship, that he had once departed from Clifford’s rule of evidence by entertaining a belief with strength greater than the evidence logically obliged him to.
Now to accept the Christian propositions is ipso facto to believe that we are to God, always, as that dog or child or bather or mountain climber was to us, only very much more so.
Music: Sheep May Safely Graze – J. S. Bach from from Cantata No. 208, “Was mir behagt” (Hunt Cantata), BWV 208, arr. by Egon Petri, (Oliver Schnyder – Piano)
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, Isaiah tantalizes us with his vision of the sumptuous heavenly banquet:
On this mountain the LORD of hosts will provide for all peoples A feast of rich food and choice wines, juicy, rich food and pure, choice wines.
Isaiah 25:6-7
I can picture myself at that table munching on a savory turkey leg washed down by a bottomless pilsner. But if I stop there in my meditation I will have missed the whole point! The menu is not even the tip of the treasures to be had when we gather on Isaiah’s “Parousia Mountain”.
On that mountain, the veil will be lifted from our perception. The tangly web of our stresses and confusions will be wiped away. We will see ourselves and all Creation with God’s clear and loving eyes. Death – the lurking intruder threatening every earthly table – will have been eradicated, dissolved into Eternal Being.
On this mountain God will destroy the veil that veils all peoples, The web that is woven over all nations; God will destroy death forever.
Isaiah 25:7-8
In our first reading, Isaiah paints the picture of a mountain lifted from time and transformed with heaven. In our Gospel, Jesus too is on a mountain when he pulls heaven down to heal and feed the yearning crowd.
Jesus walked by the Sea of Galilee, went up on the mountain, and sat down there. Great crowds came to him, having with them the lame, the blind, the deformed, the mute, and many others. They placed them at his feet, and he cured them.
Matthew 15:29-30
No doubt the gathered people, cured of their nagging maladies, were stunned into an instant faith. But Jesus knows that they can not stay on this heaven-charged mountain forever. They have their life’s journey ahead of them, and the energy of nascent faith may wane on the long road. So he reinforces the healing miracles with the comfort and sustenance of common food:
My heart is moved with pity for the crowd, for they have been with me now for three days and have nothing to eat. I do not want to send them away hungry, for fear they may collapse on the way.
Matthew 15:32
In this incident, which is another version of the miracle in Matthew 14, the simple common folk have with them only the merest provisions. It is these that Jesus uses to fuel an enduring faith in these earth-bound believers:
Jesus said to them, “How many loaves do you have?” “Seven,” they replied, “and a few fish.” He ordered the crowd to sit down on the ground. Then he took the seven loaves and the fish, gave thanks, broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, who in turn gave them to the crowds. They all ate and were satisfied. They picked up the fragments left over–seven baskets full.
Matthew 15:34-37
God uses our merest provisions too to charge our daily life with faith’s energy. But we must take the holy time to let any misleading webs and obstructive veils fall from our perceptions. Our godless culture layers the world with so many distractions and fallacies that we are hard-pressed to see what’s really essential to true life.
Especially at Christmas time, God is nearly buried in tinsel, hype, and commercialism. A good Advent, spent in the awe-filled silence of scriptural reflection, is the antidote to this malady. Let’s be committed to it.
Poetry: Adult Advent Announcement – by David A. Redding, (from If I Could Pray Again – 1965)
O Lord, Let Advent begin again In us, Not merely in commercials; For that first Christmas was not Simply for children, But for the Wise and the strong. It was Crowded around that cradle, With kings kneeling. Speak to us Who seek an adult seat this year. Help us to realize, As we fill stockings, Christmas is mainly For the old folks — Bent backs And tired eyes Need relief and light A little more. No wonder It was grown-ups Who were the first To notice Such a star.
Music: When I Can Read My Title Clear – arranged by Tim Sharpe This is an acapella version of the hymn text by Isaac Watts (1674 – 1748) interpreting Isaiah 25:8.It is set to the tune PISGAH, an American Folk Melody by the 19th-century composer Joseph C. Lowry
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, Isaiah challenges us with his outrageously hopeful poetry.
After describing, in lyrical magnificence, the Messianic Ruler, Isaiah tells us this:
Then the wolf shall be a guest of the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; The calf and the young lion shall browse together, with a little child to guide them. The cow and the bear shall be neighbors, together their young shall rest; the lion shall eat hay like the ox. The baby shall play by the cobra’s den, and the child lay his hand on the adder’s lair. There shall be no harm or ruin on all my holy mountain; for the earth shall be filled with knowledge of the LORD, as water covers the sea.
Isaiah 11:6-10
We love this lilting Advent balladry, don’t we? Its movement is laced with hidden bells and waft of pine. It makes us remember Handel’s Messiah and resolve to find and play the CD we put away last January.
But as much as we might love the passage, do we believe it? Is the era of messianic peace possible, and will it be realized through the mystery of Divine Love incarnate in Jesus Christ?
Well, here are the facts:
Isaiah lived and prophesied a redeemed kingdom about 700 years before Christ. When Christ was born, the world was in pretty much the same sad shape as it was when Isaiah wrote.
Jesus lived 2000 years ago, speaking and modeling specific instructions for the world’s transformation. But the world is in pretty much the same sad shape today as it was when Jesus lived.
So where is all this “peaceable kingdom” stuff happening? Is it non-existent or just invisible? Is it just the rather lunatic imagining of ancient prophets?
Today’s Gospel offers us an understanding of God’s Reign too deep for the world’s logic. By the gift of faith and the grace of Baptism, we have been given a new set of eyes, charged with the same outrageous yet real hope evident in Isaiah and enfleshed in Christ.
I give you praise, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to the childlike…
… Turning to the disciples in private he said, “Blessed are the eyes that see what you see. For I say to you, many prophets and kings desired to see what you see, but did not see it, and to hear what you hear, but did not hear it.
Luke 10:21-24
If we can give ourselves to the vulnerable simplicity Jesus describes, faith can transform us. The “Kingdom” can live in us and because of us!
We too will see the bud beyond the stump. New life will arise from what appears lifeless. The worldly fears and inhospitalities that prey on us will be tamed by a holy confidence. In life’s sinuous circumstances, we will see the Holy Mystery unfolding.
The Kingdom, so indiscernible in our fractious world, will “advent” in us. This is what we long for in our Advent prayer.
Poetry: Advent Credo – Allan Boesak, a South African pastor in the Dutch Reformed Church, politician, anti-apartheid activist, and author of fifteen books. This poem is taken from his book Walking on Thorns (Eerdmans, 1984), and is often but wrongly attributed to Daniel Berrigan.
It is not true that creation and the human family are doomed to destruction and loss— This is true: For God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life;
It is not true that we must accept inhumanity and discrimination, hunger and poverty, death and destruction— This is true: I have come that they may have life, and that abundantly.
It is not true that violence and hatred should have the last word, and that war and destruction rule forever— This is true: Unto us a child is born, unto us a Son is given, and the government shall be upon his shoulder, his name shall be called wonderful councilor, mighty God, the Everlasting, the Prince of peace.
It is not true that we are simply victims of the powers of evil who seek to rule the world— This is true: To me is given authority in heaven and on earth, and lo I am with you, even until the end of the world.
It is not true that we have to wait for those who are specially gifted, who are the prophets of the Church before we can be peacemakers— This is true: I will pour out my spirit on all flesh and your sons and daughters shall prophesy, your young men shall see visions and your old men shall have dreams.
It is not true that our hopes for liberation of humankind, of justice, of human dignity of peace are not meant for this earth and for this history— This is true: The hour comes, and it is now, that the true worshipers shall worship God in spirit and in truth.
So let us enter Advent in hope, even hope against hope. Let us see visions of love and peace and justice. Let us affirm with humility, with joy, with faith, with courage: Jesus Christ—the life of the world.
Music: Lo, How a Rose E’er Blooming – pre-17th century anonymous hymn
From Wikipedia: The hymn was originally written with two verses that describe the fulfillment of the prophecy of Isaiah foretelling the birth of Jesus. It emphasizes the royal genealogy of Jesus and Christian messianic prophecies. The hymn describes a rose sprouting from the stem of the Tree of Jesse, a symbolic device that depicts the descent of Jesus from Jesse of Bethlehem, the father of King David. The image was especially popular in medieval times, and it features in many works of religious art from the period. It has its origin in the Book of Isaiah:
And there shall come forth a rod out of the stem of Jesse, and a Branch shall grow out of his roots.— Isaiah 11:1
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, Isaiah opens our prayer with this amazingly inclusive passage, both a vision and an invitation:
In days to come, The mountain of the LORD’s house shall be established as the highest mountain and raised above the hills. All nations shall stream toward it; many peoples shall come and say: “Come, let us climb the LORD’s mountain, to the house of the God of Jacob, That he may instruct us in his ways, and we may walk in his paths.”
Isaiah 2:2-3
These first chapters of Isaiah were written about 8oo years before Christ, near the time of the Babylonian Captivity. The faith, vision, and hope of Israel were being sorely tested. Isaiah’s core message to these beleaguered people is that even when we do not see God, God abides. This abiding God will lead them to a new reality … to the “highest mountain” as opposed to their current valley of tears.
Isaiah is clear that this abiding promise is extended not only to Israel, but to all nations! What a surprising statement to find in the precious literature of Israel’s exceptionalism!
Jesus Heals a Centurion’s Servant – William Brassey Hole
To confirm this open invitation to “all nations”, our Gospel relates a complementary story. One of the first figures presented to us early in this Advent journey is the Gospel centurion, a Gentile with imperceptible religion but striking faith. His humble response to Jesus acknowledges that he, with all Creation, is subject to an infinitely loving Authority:
Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof; only say the word and my servant will be healed. For I too am a man subject to authority, with soldiers subject to me. And I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes; and to another, ‘Come here,’ and he comes; and to my slave, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.”
Matthew 8:6-9
Our Advent lesson? Maybe this. To bring, as the centurion did, our beloved hopes and needs before God. To place them lovingly, confidently in the Divine Heart. To trust and receive God’s answers with all the faith we can gather. And to look, not past the moment, but through it to the holy mountain in the distance – a distance which is shortened by our faithful Advent prayer.
Poetry: I couldn’t come up with a written poem today, so I drew one:
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we celebrate the Feast of St. Andrew, the brother of Peter, also a fisherman, a beloved Apostle and friend of Jesus.
Our Gospel tells the story of Andrew’s call.
As Jesus was walking by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon who is called Peter, and his brother Andrew, casting a net into the sea; they were fishermen. He said to them, “Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men.” At once they left their nets and followed him.
Matthew 4;18-20
Another favorite passage about Andrew is when he points out to Jesus that, in the hungry crowd, there is a young boy with five loaves and two fish.
One of the disciples—it was Andrew, brother to Simon Peter—said, “There’s a little boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But that’s a drop in the bucket for a crowd like this.” Jesus said, “Make the people sit down.” There was a nice carpet of green grass in this place. They sat down, about five thousand of them. Then Jesus took the bread and, having given thanks, gave it to those who were seated. He did the same with the fish. All ate as much as they wanted.
John 6:8-11
How simple and complete was Andrew’s faith! Those seven little groceries must have seemed so minute among 5000. Can you picture Andrew looking into Jesus’s eyes as if to say, “I know it’s not much but you can do anything!” Maybe it was that one devoted look that prompted Jesus to perform this amazing miracle!
We trust that our deep devotion and faith can move God’s heart too – or, more accurately, can move our hearts to embrace God’s Presence. On this feast of St. Andrew, many people begin a prayer which carries them through to Christmas. Praying it, we ask for particular favors from God.
I love this prayer because it was taught to me by my mother, a woman blessed with simple faith like Andrew’s. As I recite it, I ask to be gifted with the same kind of faith.
( Another reason I love it is this: how often in life do you get a chance to say a word like “vouchsafe“! )
St. Andrew Christmas Novena Hail and blessed be the hour and moment in which the Son of God was born of the most pure Virgin Mary, at midnight, in Bethlehem, in the piercing cold. In that hour vouchsafe, I beseech Thee, O my God, to hear my prayer and grant my desires through the merits of Our Savior Jesus Christ, and of His blessed Mother. Amen.
As we draw near to the Season of great blessings, we see our world filled with conflict and violence. Let’s fold our Advent prayers around its many wounds.
Poetry: Monet Refuses the Operation – Lisel Mueller
How wonderful to allow ourselves to see the world differently – to see it charged with heavenly illuminations and latent miracles!
Rouen Cathedral: Morning Light (1894) – Claude Monet
Doctor, you say there are no haloes around the streetlights in Paris and what I see is an aberration caused by old age, an affliction. I tell you it has taken me all my life to arrive at the vision of gas lamps as angels, to soften and blur and finally banish the edges you regret I don’t see, to learn that the line I called the horizon does not exist and sky and water, so long apart, are the same state of being. Fifty-four years before I could see Rouen cathedral is built of parallel shafts of sun, and now you want to restore my youthful errors: fixed notions of top and bottom, the illusion of three-dimensional space, wisteria separate from the bridge it covers. What can I say to convince you the Houses of Parliament dissolve night after night to become the fluid dream of the Thames? I will not return to a universe of objects that don’t know each other, as if islands were not the lost children of one great continent. The world is flux, and light becomes what it touches, becomes water, lilies on water, above and below water, becomes lilac and mauve and yellow and white and cerulean lamps, small fists passing sunlight so quickly to one another that it would take long, streaming hair inside my brush to catch it. To paint the speed of light! Our weighted shapes, these verticals, burn to mix with air and change our bones, skin, clothes to gases. Doctor, if only you could see how heaven pulls earth into its arms and how infinitely the heart expands to claim this world, blue vapor without end.
Music: Hear my prayer, O Lordis an eight-part choral anthem by the English composer Henry Purcell (1659–1695). The anthem is a setting of the first verse of Psalm 102 in the version of the Book of Common Prayer. Purcell composed it c. 1682 at the beginning of his tenure as Organist and Master of the Choristers for Westminster Abbey.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we have a fascinating passage from the Book of Daniel, a masterpiece in apocalyptic literature. I enjoyed imagining the scene described by the author in which a magical hand appears to execute “the handwriting on the wall”.
As King Balshazzar and his thousand guests drank sacrilegiously from the sacred Temple chalices, this fabulous thing happened:
Suddenly, opposite the lampstand, the fingers of a human hand appeared, writing on the plaster of the wall in the king’s palace. When the king saw the wrist and hand that wrote, his face blanched; his thoughts terrified him, his hip joints shook, and his knees knocked.
Daniel 5:5-6
The image is so wonderful that it has peppered our language and imagination for over two thousand years!
Belshazzar’s Feast – Rembrandt
Morris Bender, an American neuroscientist, offered this clever quip:
A skeptic is a person who,
when he sees the handwriting on the wall,
claims it is a forgery.
After a little chuckle, I realized how wise and accurate Bender is. How many times have I not only missed, but actively ignored, the handwriting on the wall! Our minds, hearts, and spirits continually give us signs to direct us in life. How well do we do at discerning these gifts.
The fruit of a deep spiritual life is to become more attentive to the suggestions of grace, and to respond to them with faith and courage. In our Gospel, Jesus makes it clear to his followers that this kind of faithful response will cost them much — possibly even their lives.
Jesus said to the crowd: “They will seize and persecute you, they will hand you over to the synagogues and to prisons, and they will have you led before kings and governors because of my name.
Luke 21:12
Still, Jesus tells them not to be afraid, that their lives are “secured” by their faith:
You will even be handed over by parents, brothers, relatives, and friends, and they will put some of you to death. You will be hated by all because of my name, but not a hair on your head will be destroyed. By your perseverance you will secure your lives.
Luke 21:16-19
The Church uses the apocalyptic stories from Daniel and the dire warnings from Jesus to remind us that we do not live for this world alone. The fullness of eternal life awaits us after the completion of our earthly journey. We have to keep ourselves aware that our life is infinitely larger than it may appear to us in any given moment.
Faith, prayer, and the practice of interior silence can help us to live in that infinite largeness even though we have limited vision of it in this world. The coming days of Advent offer us a dedicated time to renew ourselves in these practices.
Poetry: from Rumi
O love, O heart, Find the way to heaven. Set your sights on a place Higher than your eyes can see. For it was the higher aim That brought you here In the first place. Now be silent. Let the One who creates the words speak. He made the door. He made the lock. He also made the key. How many men have found tragic ends Running after beauty? Why don’t they look for you? - The heart and spirit of all beauty.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, Daniel interprets a dream in which a statue spontaneously breaks apart, and Jesus warns that the beloved Temple will someday do the same thing. Our scriptures beg the question: how does one find strength to rebuild again?
We don’t like things to break apart that we hadn’t expected to break apart – even stupid things. I had a favorite old plastic mug that I loved to pack with ice and B.O.C. (beverage of choice) as I headed to the beach on a hot summer day. It was about a thousand years old but part of its famed origin was still visible on the faded side:
For some inexplicable reason, one morning I decided to pour my hot tea into that irreplaceable mug. It basically melted into itself like the wicked witch in the Wizard of Oz. It wasn’t a tragedy tantamount to Daniel’s dream or the Temple collapsing, but I’ll tell you, I have NEVER since had a matching drink on the beach!
My treasured mug disintegrated because I used it for the wrong purpose. And that is also the point of both our readings. Daniel describes how the ensuing generations, who misuse their power, will disappear one after the other until God establishes the permanent reign of justice:
… the kingdom shall be partly strong and partly fragile. The iron mixed with clay tile means that they shall seal their alliances by intermarriage, but they shall not stay united, any more than iron mixes with clay. In the lifetime of those kings the God of heaven will set up a kingdom that shall never be destroyed or delivered up to another people; rather, it shall break in pieces all these kingdoms and put an end to them, and it shall stand forever.
Daniel 2:42-44
Jesus describes the same dynamic in relationship to the Temple because its use has been diverted into material show and adornment rather than worship and the works of justice:
While some people were speaking about how the temple was adorned with costly stones and votive offerings, Jesus said, “All that you see here– the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down.”
Luke 21:5
But, here’s the thing about God’s action to break up in our lives that which is no longer life-giving — the breakup will always yield new life if we can open our hearts to its grace.
As we look back over 2023, we may see a lot of disassembled pieces scattered across the landscape. Maybe some of the plans we had never flew, or maybe the string broke on some of the kites we’d been flying for years! There may have been small losses that seemed monumental at the time, or truly monumental losses whose significance has only deepened.
Wherever we stand amid our dreams and our temples, we can be sure of this as 2024 approaches: grace is always with us, renewing us in the ever clearer image of God.
This final week before Advent is a great time to take inventory of our spiritual lives. What needs to go and what needs to be strengthened? Most likely, we already know the answers. Now let’s gather the courage and focus to do what grace suggests.
Poem: Beginners – Denise Levertov
Levertov writes about hope, courage, justice, and mercy. The poem begins with a stanza from The Garden of Proserpine by Algernon Charles Swinburne, introduced by a dedication to activists Karen Silkwood and Eliot Gralia.
“From too much love of living, Hope and desire set free, Even the weariest river Winds somewhere to the sea—“ – – – – – – –
But we have only begun
To love the earth.
We have only begun
To imagine the fullness of life.
How could we tire of hope?
— so much is in bud.
How can desire fail?
— we have only begun
to imagine justice and mercy,
only begun to envision
how it might be
to live as siblings with beast and flower,
not as oppressors.
Surely our river
cannot already be hastening
into the sea of nonbeing?
Surely it cannot
drag, in the silt,
all that is innocent?
Not yet, not yet—
there is too much broken
that must be mended,
too much hurt we have done to each other
that cannot yet be forgiven.
We have only begun to know
the power that is in us if we would join
our solitudes in the communion of struggle.
So much is unfolding that must
complete its gesture,
so much is in bud.
Music: Sacred River – Gandalf As you experience this beautiful video, allow your spirit to remember the challenges and blessings of this past year that have brought you to this place with God, ready for a new beginning and a deeper love.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we begin a series of readings from the Book of Daniel. It is the only time throughout the Liturgical Year that we get a good dose of Daniel. And it is well placed, coming in this final week before Advent.
Daniel is apocalyptic literature, a genre that conveys the author’s perception of the end times through dreams, visions, and prophecies. Like many of our readings of the past weeks, Daniel focuses us on God’s Final Coming into time by interpreting current circumstances in a spiritual light.
Today’s Gospel also focuses us on our “end times”, but in a little different way from Daniel.
Jesus tells the story of the poor widow who gave everything she had for the sake of the poor. This widow, in a sense, already lives in the “end times”, a time when our only “possessions” will be the good we have done in our lives.
Jesus said, “I tell you truly, this poor widow put in more than all the rest; for those others have all made offerings from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has offered her whole livelihood.”
Luke 21:3-4
Both these readings orient us to reflect on our lives and times as we approach Advent. This sacred season is the annual reenactment of Christ’s First Coming in order to prepare us for:
Christ’s daily revelation in our lives
Christ’s Final Coming at the end of time
All of Daniel’s complex visions and prophecies can feel a little confusing, but we can focus on this:
God is continually revealing the Face of the Trinity in the ordinary circumstances of time.
We can open ourselves to this revelation by our humble prayer and good works.
Staying awake like this in our hearts and souls will allow us to pass seamlessly into God’s Presence when the end times come.
Poetry: Psalm 96 – Isaac Watts (1674-1748)
Christ's first and second coming.
Sing to the Lord, ye distant lands, Ye tribes of every tongue; His new-discovered grace demands A new and nobler song.
Say to the nations, Jesus reigns, God's own almighty Son; His power the sinking world sustains, And grace surrounds his throne.
Let heav'n proclaim the joyful day, Joy through the earth be seen; Let cities shine in bright array, And fields in cheerful green.
Let an unusual joy surprise The islands of the sea: Ye mountains, sink; ye valleys, rise; Prepare the Lord his way.
Behold, he comes, he comes to bless The nations as their God; To show the world his righteousness, And send his truth abroad.
But when his voice shall raise the dead, And bid the world draw near, How will the guilty nations dread To see their Judge appear!
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, our two readings are dramatically intense.
Who can read the story of the Maccabean Martyrs without a mix of horror, empathy, and astonishment?
It happened that seven brothers with their mother were arrested and tortured with whips and scourges by the king, to force them to eat pork in violation of God’s law. Most admirable and worthy of everlasting remembrance was the mother, who saw her seven sons perish in a single day, yet bore it courageously because of her hope in the Lord.
2 Maccabees 7: 1;20
And don’t we all feel a pang of pity for the poor, fearful servant who hid his talent in a handkerchief much to the King’s displeasure?
‘Sir, here is your gold coin; I kept it stored away in a handkerchief, for I was afraid of you, because you are a demanding man; you take up what you did not lay down and you harvest what you did not plant.’ He said to him, ‘With your own words I shall condemn you, you wicked servant. You knew I was a demanding man, taking up what I did not lay down and harvesting what I did not plant; why did you not put my money in a bank?
Luke 19:20-23
The two stories paint a contrasting picture of courageous faith against fearful subservience. The difference between the actors lies in their capacity, or lack thereof, to look beyond themselves toward eternal life.
The Courage of a Mother – Gustave Doré
Mother Maccabee bolsters her sons with her faith in a life beyond their current circumstances:
… the Creator of the universe who shapes each man’s beginning, as he brings about the origin of everything, he, in his mercy, will give you back both breath and life, because you now disregard yourselves for the sake of his law.
The poor soul in Jesus’s parable doesn’t have that faith and vision. His perception of God, represented by the King, is one of only harsh judgment. His fear causes him to bury not only his talent, but also his openness to the possibilities of grace and transformed relationship with God.
Jesus told his parable because indeed the Kingdom was at hand. He and his disciples were near Jerusalem where the Passion, Death and Resurrection events would begin.
He wants his followers to realize the challenging gift they have been given in their call to be his disciples. He wants them to see that it is now on them to magnify his message courageously and generously until he returns to perfect the Kingdom.
He wants us to understand that too.
Poetry – John Milton, Sonnet 19
Milton (1608- 1674) is widely considered one of the preeminent writers of the English language. By 1652, Milton had become totally blind and had to dictate his verse. He appears to wonder, in this sonnet, how his God-given talent for writing will be enhanced now that he is “light denied”. He looks to another parable for his answer – the Parable of the Workers. Even those who only stood and waited were rewarded.
When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one Talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide;
“Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?”
I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts; who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o’er Land and Ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.”
Music: Be Not Afraid – written by Bob Dufford, SJ, sung here by Cat Jahnke
Lavish Mercy 