Advent Reflection: Finding A Light of Hope in a World of Darkness

And so it begins: our annual journey toward the Incarnation at Bethlehem, toward the Christ Child who is also the King of Glory. Each Advent is about new beginnings, yet this year, after a brutally antagonistic election and its aftermath, that seems just a little beyond reach.

Personally, I am tired and rather discouraged that the battle for decency, justice, human solidarity and peace seems so much more difficult these days. For now, at least, it looks like many of humankind's baser instincts have been unleashed upon our nation - from all sides of the political divide.

That's why I read that marvelous Collect in the Roman Missal for the First Sunday in Advent differently this year:

Grant your faithful, we pray, almighty God,
the resolve to run forth to meet your Christ
with righteous deeds at his coming,
so that, gathered at his right hand,
they may be worthy to possess the heavenly Kingdom.
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, for ever and ever.

Resolve. For me, that is a strong "ask" this year. Negativity cannot be allowed to triumph. Injustice, hatred, prejudice and anger cannot be allowed to triumph. Most of all, fear cannot be allowed to triumph.

I want to run forth to meet Jesus, but my heart is too heavy for that sort of eagerness right now. Lord, grant my heart wings and give the strength to stand upright in your light.

What are the righteous deeds God asks? The core message of the Gospel certainly calls us to love our neighbor. But today, who is our neighbor? For me, my literal neighbors are the Mexican-American family across the hall, the white-like-me single mom and her teenage son next door, the Muslim family down the hall, the East Indian and Eastern European families upstairs, the maintenance guys who only speak Spanish... Yes, these are all my neighbors. Broader than that, however, my neighbors are my "friends" online - people of all races and orientations - on all sides of that very contentious political spectrum.

What righteous deeds will make me worthy to possess the Kingdom? Jesus has defined them in Matthew 25 and the Tradition of the Church has interpreted these as the Works of Corporal Mercy:

To feed the hungry.
To give drink to the thirsty.
To clothe the naked.
To welcome the stranger.
To visit the sick.
To visit the imprisoned.
To bury the dead.

This year, this list seems to present an even bigger challenge. It seems to me that if we profess to follow Christ, we should not only perform these acts on a personal level, but also stand firmly against those who, out of self-interest, desire for financial gain, and prejudice wish to abandon the very people who most need our help.  Should we not speak up when the disabled are mocked, when the elderly are threatened with loss of the "entitlements" for which they have worked their entire lives, when refugees are refused asylum, when women are insulted and assaulted because of their gender, and when all immigrants come under suspicion? Should we not speak up when the rich are rewarded for being rich and the poor are penalized for being poor? And should we not speak up against these forms of injustice just as loudly as we have spoken up.in the name of God for the rights of the unborn?  As the song says, if I don't do that, what good am I?

This is not mere politics. This is a fight for Christian principles against a climate of self-interest and self-righteousness. This is resistance against a culture in which many no longer see justice for all as necessary, because some are more valuable than others. It is a fight to preserve the rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness for all, not just for some.

I want to be able to present Christ with righteous deeds, but today, the responsibility seems particularly heavy. Lord, lift me up and strengthen me to serve and advocate for the "other" - those who are unfortunate, different and rejected.

As I light the first candle on my home Advent wreath tonight, I will most ask for hope. Hope that I might be a light in the darkness. Hope that I will not lose heart. Hope that other people of good will will likewise work while the night is upon us so that when the dawn of the Son of Justice arrives, we will be able to say we fought the good fight in his name.

Come, Lord Jesus!

The LORD is King: In Him Alone is Hope

This weekend, amid the uncertainty and political turmoil in the wake of recent violent terrorist activity, we find ourselves at the end of the liturgical year. As we turn the page to The-Solemnity-Formerly-Known-as-Christ-the-King, the first thing that strikes me is that the new name, "The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe" expands our very image of Christ. No longer is he just King over all the earth. Now, he is King of the Universe. (How very interesting that despite formal rejection of the theology of the Cosmic Christ, the name of this feast almost begs for it.)

If Jesus is all-powerful King, then every knee should bow indeed. No power on earth or anywhere else in the universe can match him. No political leader, no king, no dictator means anything in the end. What would such a universe look like if we took that seriously? Interesting to consider.

More than that, this is a celebration that helps us see who is really in charge. It's not us. It's This Guy:

R.  The LORD is king; he is robed in majesty.  

The LORD is king, in splendor robed;

robed is the LORD and girt about with strength.

R. The LORD is king; he is robed in majesty.

And he has made the world firm,

not to be moved.

Your throne stands firm from of old;

from everlasting you are, O LORD.

R. The LORD is king; he is robed in majesty.

Your decrees are worthy of trust indeed;

holiness befits your house,

O LORD, for length of days.

R. The LORD is king; he is robed in majesty.

If Christ the King of the Universe "the firstborn of the dead and ruler of the kings of the earth" is in control, if "his decrees are worthy of trust indeed," as long as we believe and trust, there is nothing to fear. Not terrorism. Not uncertainty about what people might or might not do if allowed into our country. We need only to follow his commands - to "Do this in memory of me." (Celebrate the Mass and receive Eucharist) and "Go forth and preach, teach and make disciples" - (Evangelize)  Most of all, we need to "Do as I have done" - wash feet, be servants, not masters, and trust in the will of the Father, even when it leads into Paschal Mystery - suffering, death - because that ultimately, leads to resurrection. 

If in Christ alone is certainty, then in the end, all we have is hope - and the promise that all will be well. At the end of time, good will prevail.  "The Lord is my light and my salvation. Of whom shall I be afraid?" (Psalm 27)

Two Resurrections: Paschal Mystery in Loss and Recovery

In today's Gospel we heard about resurrection from the dead:  

Jesus journeyed to a city called Nain,
and his disciples and a large crowd accompanied him.
As he drew near to the gate of the city,
a man who had died was being carried out,
the only son of his mother, and she was a widow.
A large crowd from the city was with her.
When the Lord saw her,
he was moved with pity for her and said to her,
“Do not weep.”
He stepped forward and touched the coffin;
at this the bearers halted,
and he said, “Young man, I tell you, arise!”
The dead man sat up and began to speak,
and Jesus gave him to his mother.
Fear seized them all, and they glorified God, exclaiming,
“A great prophet has arisen in our midst, ”
and “God has visited his people.”
This report about him spread through the whole of Judea
and in all the surrounding region.  (Luke 7:11-17)

Of course, Jesus raised man who had died. What is not as clear is that he metaphorically raised his mother from a kind of death as well.

In a time and culture when a woman only had status if she had a husband or a son, to be a widow and to have one's only son die was a kind of death. Had Jesus not reversed this, her future would have been bleak.  Most likely, she would have been totally without resources. Her old life would have been gone, her new one a kind of living hell. Her future was hopeless, so when Jesus had pity on her, it was not just because of her grief, but because he knew what would become of her. The resurrection of her son meant she could live again and once more have an identity and dignity in her community. She, too, was "resurrected".

Do we have the courage not to lose hope in our times of dire loss and transition, knowing that Jesus can reverse the most negative of situations, as he did with the widow - as he did with his own death on the cross? Do we believe in Paschal Mystery - in the undying hope that Christ brought us?  Pray for the virtue of Christian hope. It does not come easy in a world sometimes so full of loss and pain.