Advent
reflection Extend Gods peace in this poignant season of hope
By RICHARD BRODERICK
Each morning the devout rabbi would
awake, look to the world outside his window and seeing the cruel afflictions
and pain humans were inflicting on each other, he would turn away, shake his
head and say sadly, The messiah has not yet come.
On Sept. 11, millions watched through the window of the TV screen
the cruel acts of terrorism taking place. As two symbols of financial power
suddenly collapsed with precious human beings within, we felt our own national
and personal sense of security vanish in the smoke rising from the ashes. Soon
to follow were warnings by FBI and threats of anthrax. We too might be tempted
to echo the rabbis words: Surely, the messiah has not yet
come! Or ask in the words of Thomas Merton what messiah would come to
this demented inn. We felt a loss of hope. Thousands gathered in
churches, synagogues and mosques to pray for the victims, to let our tears flow
and embrace our fears. Rather than stand alone in this dark, we drew strength
and comfort from each other in community.
The terrorists acts confirmed the truth of this gospel
passage of Advent: As for the exact hour, no one knows
two men
will be in the field: One will be taken and one left. Two women will be
grinding meal; one will be taken, one left (Matthew 24:40-41).
Suddenly we wanted to be within hugging distance of each other. We
suddenly saw how precious are the bonds of love that hold us together, and how,
like gossamer threads, they can be unexpectedly rent asunder. Hostages on
jetliners placing cell phone calls to loved ones in the last moments of their
lives reveal that truth.
Never before has Advent, the season of hope, been more poignant.
Advents grace is the gift of bold hope as proclaimed by the prophet
Isaiah, whose words once stirred the hearts of a defeated people in the 8th
century before Christ with a vision of their restoration. He comforts us:
Be strong. Fear not. Here is your God who comes to save you.
This Advent should be different for us. We shouldnt let our
lives ever get back to normal, such as the rush of Christmas shopping. The
Baptists voice tells how to live Advent. Make ready the way of the
Lord.
Clear a straight path for him. Make Gods ways your ways.
Exact nothing over and above your pay.
Let the one with two coats
give to one who has none.
In what new and creative ways can we show how much we care and
love others without the conspicuous consumerism? How can we put our lives more
in line with the needs of others by sharing our coats?
Advent is communal as well. We gather to strengthen and reassure
one another in faith and to light Advent candles while singing hymns of hope.
As we gather, Isaiahs vision challenges us to expand our notion of
community beyond our own parishes, centers of learning and national boundaries.
The mountain of the Lords house shall be established as the highest
mountain.
All peoples of the world, Isaiah says, shall stream
toward Gods holy mountain (Isaiah 2:2).
What kind of community is God calling us to become? How does our
community worship, reflect and express our solidarity with other cultures and
peoples of this earth? So much of our worlds values stand in contrast and
against the values of Gods reign evident in Isaiah, so evident in the
term superpower. Isaiah warns against putting more of our trust in
militarism than in messianic promises. Woe to those who depend on horses;
who put their trust in chariots because of their number (Isaiah 31:1).
War has never created a lasting peace.
Isaiahs word reminds us that our God is not a tribal
god that favors any one nation. Our God is a universal God. Do we dare
become a more inclusive community that asks God also bless places like China,
Guatemala, India and Iraq and Afghanistan as well?
Advent is the antidote to feelings of hopelessness and lethargy.
The rabbi in the story was waiting for the messiah to come and change
everything. He was not an active agent in the transformation of his world. We
believe the messiah has come and dwells in this demented inn. God comes to save
our fragile communities and asks us to extend Gods peace. What will those
now looking out their windows into the world see? Evil and destruction. Or will
they see the messiah present in us and in our communities of solidarity? Will
they find a reason to hope?
Fr. Richard Broderick is a priest of the diocese of Albany,
N.Y., and author of The Leather Tramp Journal: A 12-Mile Mountain
Retreat (Forest of Peace Books).
National Catholic Reporter, December 21,
2001
|