Dai­ly Reflec­tion
Novem­ber 27, 2011

PRE-PRAYER­ING

We begin the new litur­gi­cal year this week­end. We begin with a revised trans­la­tion of many prayers with­in the litur­gy. We begin with singing new trans­la­tions of some of the usu­al songs. We have been prepar­ing for the new and it will take some “get­ting over it.” We priests and dea­cons are hav­ing the same cus­tomiz­ing-prob­lems as every­body else in the con­gre­ga­tion. Let’s, togeth­er, hang on to the new “Pew Cards” and the new Com­ing of the always-now Jesus.

We begin the longest Advent sea­son pos­si­ble; we actu­al­ly have four full weeks so there is no rea­son for us not to be pre­pared for the great cel­e­bra­tion of God’s becom­ing earth­ly. The more there is of the pre-Christ­mas jin­gle, the more we pray for free­dom from the com­mer­cial jan­gle. We have time and we need time for our spir­i­tu­al­i­ties to catch up with our “heck­tic­i­ties”.

The impor­tant prayer of this sea­son is the com­ing-to-aware­ness of our need for a Sav­ior. We pray for a greater sense of aware­ness and alert­ness to all the var­i­ous ways God is try­ing to enter our world and our indi­vid­ual lives. Christ’s com­ing is an always event, but dur­ing this litur­gi­cal sea­son we are invit­ed to take time for our­selves to whom He comes.

REFLEC­TION

In the First Read­ing Israel makes some dra­mat­ic state­ments: some are pleas, some chide God, and some are hum­ble reflec­tions on their own guilt and shame. When all is said, much is need­ed to be done.

Israel expe­ri­ences itself as dis­tant from God and pleads that God would look down from heav­en and come right down here and change our behavior.

There is a hint that it is actu­al­ly God’s fault that Israel has wan­dered away and been so sin­ful. If God were clos­er, Israel would be bet­ter. And for all their mild and prayer­ful com­plain­ing, the Prophet Isa­iah does recall the name of God in Israel is “Abba” and “Pot­ter”. Israel, who was cre­at­ed as God’s peo­ple, now admits it needs to be refash­ioned, renamed and recreated.

There is a strong sense of long­ing to belong again in this read­ing. There are some piti­ful cries for God to not seem so far away, but return to the inti­ma­cy of ages past. Our human con­di­tion is equal­ly scat­tered and we’re quite unsure to what or whom we belong. Our per­son­al prayer is that of all human­i­ty as well, “Why do you let us wan­der?” “Oh, that you would rend the heav­ens and come down.”

The Gospel is a sec­tion from Mark’s lead-up to Christ’s Pas­sion. The entire chap­ter deals with the end­ing of things. For all the images of com­ing dis­as­ters pos­si­ble, Jesus is exhort­ing His fol­low­ers to states of readi­ness: “Be watch­ful. Be alert.” “Watch!” These are strong words which catch the ear of His dis­ci­ples. They are also words by which Jesus Him­self has lived His per­son­al mis­sion of redeem­ing this world. Aware­ness can be a func­tion of fear, but also of love. If being redeemed is our final end and if Jesus’ mis­sion was to redeem us and bring us all back to the Hands of the “pot­ter” - the Cre­ator - then fear of His com­ing is not the final dis­as­ter, but the final rev­e­la­tion of God’s cre­ative love.

Jesus uses a lit­tle image which is impor­tant, but can be eas­i­ly over­looked. Jesus uses the image of a land own­er who goes on a jour­ney, but leaves his ser­vants, “each with his own work” to do. The chal­lenge is not just to stay awake, but awake so as to do the work of bring­ing light and life to God’s world. Wait­ing and watch­ing out of fear is pas­sive and par­a­lyz­ing. Wait­ing in faith is eager and excit­ing. We can wait expect­ing to be caught, or expect­ing to be caught up in our part in His com­ing into this world.

Now that I admit to being a bit old­er, I am wait­ing more active­ly for Christ­mas and enjoy­ing Advent more. As a younger per­son Advent was eas­i­ly endured, because I had my eyes on the prizes of Christ­mas under­neath the largest Christ­mas tree my father could con­vince my moth­er to allow in the house. Empti­ness in our liv­ing room was replaced with branch­es whose full­ness promised com­ple­tion. Dark­ness was replaced by as many lights as our elec­tri­cal sys­tem would per­mit. Silence was moved out by car­ols and sto­ries of the old times. We kids enjoyed it all of course, but it was all about hav­ing and wait­ing for more.

I sound like an old fud­dy now, but what I ask of Christ­mas has changed and the days bring­ing Christ­mas to me are dif­fer­ent. There is the song from the musi­cal play, Mame, whose main line is, “We need a lit­tle Christ­mas, right this very minute”. Before I need Christ­mas, I need a lit­tle empti­ness, dark­ness and silence. These Advent days do get busier, packed, brighter and loud­er. What I need is some sense that I need an expe­ri­ence of being redeemed, recre­at­ed, renamed, and reborn. I would like to be more watch­ful and alert to how loved I am and how many ways there are to bring Christ to life in the world around me.

In the next three Dai­ly Reflec­tions for the Sun­days of this Advent, I hope to prayer­ful­ly share about these three Advent graces: vacan­cy, dark­en­ings, and still­ness. I would wish not to fill these pages and the minds of the read­ers, nor give bril­liant illu­mi­na­tions, nor clam­orous words and images. I do begin with my invi­ta­tion to myself about just what kind of Christ­mas am I wait­ing for this year. So stay awake, alert and watch­ful for what’s com­ing and who’s com­ing next.

“The Lord will show­er his gifts, and our land will yield its fruit.” Ps. 85,13