Dai­ly Reflec­tion
Decem­ber 19, 2011

Monday of the Fourth week in Advent
Lectionary: 195
Rev. Andy Alexan­der, SJ

But the angel said to him, “Do not be afraid, Zechari­ah, because your prayer has been heard. Your wife Eliz­a­beth will bear you a son, and you shall name him John. And you will have joy and glad­ness, and many will rejoice at his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord. He will drink nei­ther wine nor strong drink. He will be filled with the Holy Spir­it even from his moth­er’s womb, and he will turn many of the chil­dren of Israel to the Lord their God.” - Luke 1

We have come to the Sec­ond Part of Advent and are treat­ed to the great sto­ries which describe the sto­ry of our sal­va­tion. The first read­ing, from the Book of Judges, tells the mar­velous sto­ry of Sam­son’s birth. Sam­son was one of the Judges God chose to help his peo­ple at the time of their dom­i­na­tion by the Philistines. His father - Manoah - and his moth­er - unnamed - were pray­ing for a child. The sto­ry of how Manoah first doubt­ed the promise of an angel, before the promise was ful­filled. This reminds us of the sto­ry of Zechari­ah’s doubt.

The grace offered me this Advent is to trust the promis­es of our God, espe­cial­ly the promise of hope in the midst of dark­ness and the gloom that sur­round us - the first read­ing for Mid­night Mass: “The peo­ple who walked in dark­ness have seen a great light; upon those who dwelt in the land of gloom a light has shone. You have brought them abun­dant joy and great rejoic­ing, as they rejoice before you as at the har­vest, as peo­ple make mer­ry when divid­ing spoils.” Isa­iah 9

Why do I/we doubt? Because there is just so much dark stuff out there. There is so much evi­dence of bad peo­ple doing bad things. There is such a ten­den­cy in our world to think of my needs first, and to ignore the great suf­fer­ing and sor­row of oth­ers, and this atti­tude is becom­ing contagious.

Zechari­ah could speak again, when he acknowl­eged his belief in the promise. He con­firmed the name giv­en to the promised child, “his name is John.” The name “John” means “God is gra­cious.” When I/we can say “God is gra­cious,” then I/we can speak again. The abil­i­ty to speak, live, act, wit­ness a hope in God’s fideli­ty to us starts with our acknowl­edg­ing that “God is gracious.”

That’s our Advent jour­ney - to say in my heart and out loud: “I believe that you are and will be gra­cious, for I believe you love me and have come to set us free from the pow­er of sin and death. The big­ness of your promise is hid­den in the mys­tery of the lit­tle­ness of your coming.”

Dear Lord, give me the grace these very busy days to trust in your love and mer­cy. Give me hope. Open my heart and my eyes to see your good­ness, in the midst of the gloom around me. Each day this week, let me expe­ri­ence being on a jour­ney of expec­tant hope in you. Soft­en my heart with your love that I may be a source of com­fort and joy for those around me who need com­fort­ing and a renewed joy in your fidelity.

Pray­ing with our Imag­i­na­tions: Eliz­a­beth Remembers

Pray­ing with our Imag­i­na­tions: Con­tem­plat­ing the Vis­i­ta­tion with Zechariah

Pray­ing with our Imag­i­na­tions Home Page

Rev. Andy Alexan­der, SJ

Co-founder of Creighton’s Online Min­istries, Retired 2025

I was born and raised in Oma­ha, 8 blocks from where I now work.  My par­ents were very involved in the Jesuit parish here and were out­stand­ing exam­ples of a com­mit­ment to ser­vice for my sis­ter and me as we were grow­ing up.  I entered the Jesuits in 1966, and was ordained in 1979.

I love giv­ing the Spir­i­tu­al Exer­cis­es of Ignatius, in any adap­ta­tion.  One of my great­est priv­i­leges was to serve as pas­tor at Gesu Parish in Mil­wau­kee for 8 years before com­ing here.  The com­mu­ni­ty there taught me about church, and the rela­tion­ship between the wor­ship which says who we are and the min­istry to which it sends us.

One of the priv­i­leges of being back in Oma­ha was help­ing my moth­er care for my father, the last four and a half years of his life.  Both of my par­ents have died and are enjoy­ing the embrace of the Lord which they taught me about all of their lives.

When I write these reflec­tions, I try to imag­ine the peo­ple who will be read­ing them.  I try to imag­ine what ways I might be in sol­i­dar­i­ty with peo­ple strug­gling in any way.   Then I read the read­ings.  Then I ask, “what is the good news that we need to hear?”  Some­thing usu­al­ly just comes, to me.

It is tremen­dous­ly con­sol­ing to receive mail from peo­ple around the world, sim­ply express­ing grat­i­tude for a reflec­tion.  Most of the time, it is enough to know, from the num­bers, that peo­ple are find­ing this site to be a help­ful spir­i­tu­al support.