December 1, 2013

Gospel Commentary from the Irish Dominicans

Years ago a friend of mine in Italy took her very simple computer to be repaired. The man in the shop glanced quickly at it and said, “That is not a computer, signora; it is a domestic appliance – è un elettrodomestico.” Today our computers and tablets and iphones, though much smaller, are thousands of times more powerful than those early PCs. They have penetrated everywhere; they have found their way into our lives to the point that we could scarcely imagine life without them. This came home to me recently when a 90-year-old lady said to me, “Why don’t you google it?” (I had just uttered the words, “I don’t know.”)

There are many things, however, that we google to no avail. We can find information about every subject, but information is not the only kind of knowledge. There are other kinds of knowledge that do not come at the tapping of a few keys. There is understanding, which no one can do for you; there iswisdom, which doesn’t come to order, but comes only when we are ready for it.

Jesus is called the incarnation of the Logos, the Wisdom of God. The theme of Advent is that we have to wait for him to come. Waiting is something we have more and more trouble with, and computers are driving the pace: ‘zero wait state’ is considered the goal – no waiting at all. Advent is like a four-week course on how to wait.

Waiting… but not falling asleep; “Stay awake,” Jesus often said (Mt 24:42; 26:40; Mk 13:33; etc.). ‘Awake’ means attentive to what is happening – attentive to the present, not dreaming about the past or the future. This is the wisdom of the ages.

I chose a few short passages from early Christian writing (3rd, 4th, and 5th centuries) in deliberate contrast to the computer age. We won't throw out our computers – I am using one to write this and you are using one to read it – but it may be helpful to dwell on ancient wisdom at the beginning of Advent.

Commenting on today’s gospel reading, Origen (3rd century) wrote: “All who listen to the depths of the Gospel and live it completely… care very little about whether the end of the world will come suddenly and all at once, or gradually and little by little…. What is important is to be vigilant.”

John Chrysostom (4th century): “If ordinary persons knew when they were going to die, they would surely be striving earnestly at that hour. In order therefore that they may strive, not at that hour only, the Lord does not tell them the hour or day. He wants to keep them on their toes looking for it, that they may be always striving.”

And from the 5th century, the Incomplete Commentary on Matthew, a comment on the verse ‘If the head of the household had known the hour at which the thief would arrive.’ “The head of the household represents the human soul, the thief is the devil, the house is the body, the doors are the mouth and ears and the windows are the eyes. Like the thief who gains access through the doors and windows to despoil the householder, the devil also finds easy access to the soul through the mouth, ears and eyes to take a person captive. This is why Jeremiah wrote, “For death entered through our windows.”

-- Today’s Good News, the website of the Dominicans of Ireland

Gift of Wonder . . . . . . .

Each year, God asks us to shed one more coat of awareness, one more dream state and come alive to the vision of God’s plan for each of us and the world-at-large. The older we get, the harder this is to do. As children we had a sense of wonder. Our eyes were wide open and drinking in the fascinating gifts we beheld…Our thirsty souls could not have enough of the wonders of creation.

Then, somehow, we grew too old to dream. We tired of the abundance of the world, or at least grew weary of keeping up with the feast of life, and stepped away from the banquet of life.

The natural gift of wonder God gave us as children was meant to be kept alive. … Instead, we let wonder go to sleep. We entered the typical dream state of most humans. Why else does Jesus tell us today, ‘Stay awake!’… Advent says, ‘Wake up and realize the gifts of love you have received.’

…Psychology says, ‘Let go.’ Spirituality says, ‘Wake up.’ In both cases there is a withdrawal from the busyness of daily life (our dream state) and a waking up to the subconscious and spiritual depths of ourselves. ---------Rev. Alfred McBride

We ask too little of life.

We dream too small.

We stand at open gateways into the divine,

but forever hesitate, satisfied with the view through the cracks in the wall.

- John Kirvan

“Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: You don't give up.”

― Anne Lamott

Winter is a dangerous season for people who live in cold climates. Farm animals often are killed by the bad weather. In some places, roads get muddy and become rutted, making travel difficult. Cold weather lowers our resistance to infection. Before modern medicines were invented, most human deaths resulted from bacterial infections. In times past, some families would run out of food or fuel during winter. People had to work closely together to help each other survive.

The coming of winter can be a frightening time because the nights are growing longer . … Advent is a season to name our fears. We struggle with them. With God’s help, we see beyond them. We can do none of this alone. Like people who help each other through the winter, we keep Advent together, as a church. That’s the only way to make it thorugh safely.

One of our helpmates during Advent is the Blessed Virgin Mary. During Advent we remember the expectation of Mary, when she waited for the birth of her child. Through the message of an angel, she heard God’s word and kept it. She was filled with the Holy Spirit, and in her body the body of Christ came to be.

Waiting for the birth of a child is a lot like Advent. There is a strange mix of happiness and contentment, along with nervousness and fear. Advent is a season of waiting. Keeping Advent well is practice for all the other times in our lives when we must wait.

For what is the church waiting during Advent? … We wait for the day when God will remove the veil that separates people and nations from one another. When that happens, we shall see things as they really are. – Mary Ellen Hynes, Companion to the Calendar

Reflection for December 1, 2013: Climbing the Mountain of God

Are there any words in the Old Testament more beautiful than the ones that Isaiah shares with us throughout the soft blue weeks of the season of Advent? Consider today’s First Reading: In days to come, Isaiah tells us, 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.”

And what will happen when we climb God’s Holy Mountain? An extraordinary thing, the Prophet proclaims:

The LORD shall judge between the nations…

They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks;

One nation shall not raise the sword against another, nor shall they train for war again.

Oh, what an astonishing notion that is – an end to human warfare, the dawning of true peace! Alas – even though I have a pretty good imagination, it’s awfully hard for me to picture such a thing happening. Transforming swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks? I’m afraid our tendency is to plunge as whole-heartedly and hot-headedly as we can in the other direction. If we still had any swords around the house, we’d most likely be using them to (literally) cut our way ahead in line at the post office or store, and I’m sure the Internet has several handy recipes for re-jiggering your leftover pruning hooks into handy destructive devices of some horrific kind. After all, we’re already figuring out how to make functional guns using a three-dimensional home printer! No, as near as I can tell, it looks like we’re as about as far from achieving world peace as we usually are, which, given our long sad bloody dark dreadful history, is pretty darn far.

And yet peace on earth is the very thing that God wants us to aim for. Jesus has given us a seemingly impossible assignment: To learn to love, or at least behave as if we love, everyone on earth, including our enemies, not to mention our families and friends and coworkers and the guy who just passed at high speed in the wrong lane during an unexpected snowstorm. Never as easy as it looks, is it, this love business? So far the best grade I’ve received on this particular bit of spiritual homework has been an “Incomplete; needs to concentrate & work much harder.” Truth is, half the time I can hardly stand myself – how am I supposed to love people who don’t like me, let alone people who have never even met me but still seem to think they should hate me, just because my political or religious beliefs differ from theirs? (Note: Avoid reading anonymous Internet comments, if you want to retain your faith in humanity.) Not to mention the folks who are convinced that it’s their patriotic, economic and/or religious duty to completely erase their so-called “enemies” from the face of the poor bleeding planet. Still, there it is, in Jesus’ own words: This is my commandment, he says. (Observe his word choice, please: He is giving us a commandment, not simply a vague suggestion that we occasionally tell other people to “Have a nice day!” (through gritted teeth if necessary) as if we all work as greeters at Walmart. No, this is an official commandment, a full-time, lifelong, serious commitment, not just an optional project for “extra credit”: Love one another, he says, as I love you. And how does Jesus love us? Look at the Crucifix above the altar, if you need to be reminded. I’m afraid, if I’m honest, I’ve never loved anyone quite that much. I’m not sure I have it in me. But then again, I’m not sure I’ve ever really tried. After all, as Mother Teresa once put it, when asked about how well she fulfilled God’s commandments: “I’m not called to be successful. I’m called to be faithful.” Jesus has made it clear: We are supposed to love one another, no matter what. And forgive one another, no matter what. And feed one another, and tend one another, and look out for one another, and even, as unlikely as it sounds, to stop bashing one another upside the head and body with murderous intent. You can’t have peace on earth until you have in your own neighborhood, in your own church, in your own family – in fact, you can’t have it anywhere, unless you first make a place for it somewhere in your own heart.

But I don’t know how to get there from here, anymore than anyone else does. I get so depressed from the news sometimes that I just want to curl up on the floor in the fetal position and whimper quietly. Peace on earth? It’s hard enough to get through the holidays without hollering at people, or at least scowling balefully at the person with the squalling kids or the uncertain driving skills. How can I forgive my enemies, when even the people I love get on my nerves? I’m sorry, Jesus, I think as I read the Gospels. You must have got me confused with a member of some other, NICER species. Are you sure you got the right person here?

Jesus, of course, knows exactly what I’m thinking; he knows what’s in our hearts, and our history, far better than anyone else. Don’t you think I know exactly how hard it is to be human? he tells me. I died on this planet of yours, after all – and more than that, I lived here. I know just how violent and contrary and greedy and goofy you human beings can be. But I also know the very best of your hidden and holy hearts. My dear ones: If you could see your inner brightness as I do, you’d all have to walk around wearing sunglasses! I know that peace will not come overnight. But I also know it won’t come at all unless you seek for it. Unless you begin to try to lives filled with love. Unless, as my old friend Isaiah told you, you begin to climb the mountain of the Lord.

But I don’t know the way, Lord, I whine in reply. Where’s the turnoff and the trailhead? How do I get started? How does a person start climbing the Mountain of God?

The same way a person climbs any other mountain, Jesus replies. Where do you start? You start where you are, right now – in this very place, and at this very moment. And how do you climb it? You put one foot in front of the other – inch by inch, step by step, mile by mile, day after day and year after year. You do not give up, and you do not turn back. You just keep on walking up the mountain toward God – and God will show you the way.

Jesus has promised us many wonderful things, but he never once said that following him would be easy. He just told us that we should do it, and, more than this, that we can do it – if we really want to. He is there to help us, after all: Emmanuel, the God who is with us. He’s with us right now, in fact, reaching out his hand to help us get started, showing us the way to go from here. The hand of the Lord will rest on this mountain, Isaiah says elsewhere. On these mountains, as well – the ones we live on and among, the mountains we look up at every day.

But none of us can make this climb alone. So let us start up the mountain together, shall we? O House of Jacob, come! Let us walk in the light of the Lord! Amen, in Jesus’ name. – Diane Sylvain