“Oh that you would rend the heavens and come down.”
Our parish men’s group was meeting yesterday and reflecting on the readings for the First Sunday of Advent. Perhaps not surprisingly, most of us seemed to interpret the command to “be alert” in the context of our own personal salvation. Are we going to be among the sheep or the goats when judgment day comes?
I wonder whether there are risks in reading this text in such an individualistic way. The coming of the Lord-which should be a source of joy and hope for Christians-becomes a source of anxiety, as in the famous bumper sticker from the 1970s: “God is coming and boy is she pissed!”It may be helpful to remember that the coming of the Lord’s judgment is also the coming of the Lord’s justice, the justice that restores exiles to their home, rebuilds ruined homesteads, and provides hope for the widow and orphan. It is about the definitive triumph of God over sin and evil.
Perhaps one of the reasons that such a coming fails to fill us with joy and hope is that we have become too attached to our lives as we currently live them. As the Franciscan spiritual writer Richard Rohr once observed, to be able to pray “thy kingdom come,” we must also be able to pray “my kingdom go.” I know that my own life is one of relative peace and prosperity, especially when compared to people outside the United States. It’s not surprising that I might feel anxiety over the loss of this way of life.
One hermeneutical principle I try to follow is to read a difficult biblical text through the eyes of those who are poor or oppressed. I suspect it is easier, for example, for those living through the unending war in the Congo to pray “come Lord, and do not delay” than it is for me. When we look at some of the more intractable examples of evil and suffering in this world, it is easy to despair of the ability of human beings to set them right.
Some will see this as an invitation to ignore our responsibility to work for what peace and justice may be obtainable in this world. That is not my intent. There is always, however, a shadow side to human progress. The same technology that has given us our high standard of living can be used to slaughter millions living in a modern city or a sole child in her mother’s womb. The wheat of civilization and the weeds of barbarism grow together until the harvest.
At the end of the day, we must ask ourselves whether we need Christ or not. Do we long for a world transformed by His coming or would we prefer that He tarry a little longer? Our relatively comfortable lives can make it hard to think clearly about these questions. Ultimately, it is only when we come to a deep appreciation of the grip that sin and evil has on our world-and on ourselves-that we can make Isaiah’s prayer our own: “Oh that you would rend the heavens and come down!”
Excellent post and agree with your thoughts. Here is a new addition to Rocco Palmo’s Whispers in the Loggia – a 1st Advent Sunday homily by Mgsr. James Moroney. I think it captures fairly well your thoughts, concerns, and reframing the scriptural call:
“I remember the day that Gerry died, as Mary held his hand. She wept. Oh how she wept as she clung to his body in the hopes of somehow not losing the fifty-seven years of married life they had lived and loved together. The kids tried to console her, but it was of little use. She just needed to cry until she couldn’t cry anymore. The pain and the emptiness was deeper than I could ever imagine.
She spent the next days and weeks longing for Gerry more than she had ever longed for anything ever before. She so wanted him to come back that every creak of the floorboard and shadow around the corner made her heart leap in hope.
I lost track of Mary, but bumped into her again about a year later. She was still sad, but not as desperate as the last time I had seen her. I inquired how she was doing and she told me about the day that made all the difference.
She had gone to Church and she was sitting all alone in the pew staring at the crucifix above the tabernacle, she said. When all it once it occurred to her that it was not Gerry for whom she longed, but God. The God who she prayed would forgive Gerry’s sins. The God who would keep her in his grace until the last day. The God who had gone to prepare a place for Gerry and for her and for all who loved others as he had loved them.
And Her waiting for Gerry was just a shadow of her deepest longing for God, her desire for love, and her desire to live in God and to know peace with him forever.
We all ache for God, and we wait…
The addict in the alley behind the Cathedral waits:
for a God who will come and remove all that enslaves him…
The single mother waits:
for a day when she no longer has to work 54 hours,
a night when she can sleep eight,
a life when she’ll finally know the kids will be ok.
The soldier in a ditch in Iraq waits:
for a morning when there are no more explosions of IEDs,
and every look is not feared as the precursor to an assault,
and you don’t have to bury your new best friends.
The old man in the nursing home waits:
for the day he will no longer be alone,
when pain will no longer be his most constant companion,
and when he can once again rest in the embrace of her whom he loved.
The prisoner on death row waits:
for a place where he will no longer be seen as evil,
for a life that makes sense,
for a time when love can be given and received,
for the coming of a God who will love him.
The investment banker waits:
for the day when he’s not gripped by the fear
that he’s about to lose everything,
for the day when he can count his value
in the quality of his love rather than the size of his profit.
The little child waits
within her mother’s womb:
for a world that will welcome her.
and parents that will love her,
and a country who will protect her.
We all wait in joyful hope, with baited breath, as we gaze toward the Eastern skies in expectation of the one who rises with healing in his wings…
Exiled in a Babylon of our own selfishness, we cry out: “rend the heavens, O Lord, and come down to us!” Yet he waits for us in that confessional, ready to embrace us pick us up on his shoulders and carry us home to himself.
Longing to be loved, orphaned by our infidelity and broken promises, we cry out “Why do you let us wander and harden our hearts?” Yet he waits on that altar, to feed us with himself and to make us sons and daughters of his Father, to live in us that we might live in him.
Frightened that we have been abandoned, strangers in a strange desert, we cry out: “Let us see your face and we will be saved!” Yet he waits for us in the poor, the sick, and the old, ready to console our frightened spirits.
We wait in joyful hope. The part of us that is afraid to confess that secret sin. The part of us that doesn’t think it’s possible to forgive what ‘that one’ did or that God could really forgive me. The part of us that cries in the middle of the night. The part which feels empty and alone. The part that’s overwhelmed and confused. The part which amidst all the din and doubt, waits…waits in silence for the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ upon a cloud in all his glory.
Get ready my brothers and sisters. Get ready! “Be watchful! Be alert! Go to confession, celebrate the Sacred Mysteries, and pray! Feed the poor. Go visit the prisoners and the old people in nursing home. Find the one you’ve not yet forgiven and call him right now.
Make your heart a manger to receive your king, for he is coming. He is coming very soon!”
“Paul describes the rule of sin with the metaphors of the Roman
empire. Sin rules, subjects, conquers, pays out wages, spreads
terror and death. Paul identifies sin in the context of social
history.” [Dorothee Solle]
Today we live under violent forces: exploitation, militarism,
over-consumption, the wasting of energy, sexism, anti-gay/lesbianism,
racism, etc. If they are understood as the terror exercised by sin,
the question becomes how I react to it and what choices do I make.
Often being able make a good choice is just plain luck because of the
world’s established structures of sin. We all partake to at least
some extent in the imagination that dominates our society and
culture. None of us are outside the social constructions of meaning
produced by our own groups. In New Testament terms, sin is a power
which rules over us.
The least problematic sin is the sin of individuals. The most
problematic sin is corporate (local, national, international) sin.
This does not rule out the importance of individual action, freedom
and decision. However, I think it is naive not to realize that the
world needs a radical change of heart.
Who is Jesus of Nazareth for me? “He gave me – still gives me -
things to do. He is involved in a great work, the greatest here on
earth: the revolution of the human race, the individual and all
people, for a new life, for real, fulfilled humanity…The dust of
transitoriness, an ultimate meaninglessness, constantly lies on
them. The connection of Jesus’ great work gives an eternal
significance even to the most unlikely things: nothing will be
lost. A joyful meaning enters all action.” (Helmut Gollwitzer)
I told everyone at Masses the past two days to read the last ten chapters of Isaiah. Sure, it’s not light stuff, but these chapters show how God seeks the conversion of all people and not just conversion of individuals and how he wants collective righteousness and not merely good conduct on the part of individuals.
Relating the fiery voice of the prophets to the manner Jesus used in instructions, I have encountered many people who admit that they simply like the Jesus who says “Come to me all who labor…” rather than Jesus who speaks of wailing and grinding of teeth, but we have what we have in Scripture and it is unwise to ignore it even if we do not like the tone of voice. Despite the harsh tones, the prophets make clear the relationship that God prefers to have with his people and Jesus makes clear what relationship he and his Father would like to have with people, too.
Celebrating Advent in this region is a shock to some people, but it really is around my parish. Almost all of the churches here do not celebrate Advent or any liturgical seasons. Folks around here have complained to me because we do not place Jesus in the outdoor manger until Christmas Day. I simply respond that you are not going to see Catholics tossing out their Christmas trees on December 26.
Then there was the problem with the local “Spirit of Christmas” pageant. It is often scheduled on the evening of the 7th or the 8th. It’s a hoot trying to explain why my church cannot participate and what Catholics are doing on those nights.
“One hermeneutical principle I try to follow is to read a difficult biblical text through the eyes of those who are poor or oppressed.”
This is what makes you rich, Peter. “The least of our brethren.”
Post enlightenment we learned that two terrible wars still ensued and the holocaust committed by the people of the enlightenment and Christianity. It is well known that in the early 1900′s there was plentiful antisemitism among intellectuals in Europe. As there was in the halls of Christian leaders.
Yet Jesus promises you a more abundant life. The riches within. This is why Jesus comes to his own. Because they realize they can never do enough. “When was it Lord that I saw you naked and clothed you……?”
Peter, I liked your meditation a lot.
The Second Coming or Rapture, as my fundamentalist in-laws understand it, is a second destruction (the Flood was the first), where creation is wiped out (including my garden and cats) and all the bad people “get theirs.”
This has always struck me as a vision contrary to the nature of Christ.
I see the Second Coming as Christ bringing things to fruition and making them whole again. We who are impeded by age, infirmity, illness, doubt and sin will be freed from those things to do God’s work more fully and freely.
Not to reduce a grand idea to absurdity, but if it works the way I hope it does, my aching back will be gone so I can plant a bigger garden, have more tomatoes to give to the neighbors, and accommodate more homeless cats.
In “America” Sr. Barbara Reid is the new author of the weekly column, “The Word.” Her first column dealt with the readings for the First Sunday of Advent. It was great. She seems well equipped to continue the fine commentaries that Fr. Harrington provided for the last three years.
“Peter, I liked your meditation a lot.”
Me, too. I’d like to see more of this sort of reflection at Dotcom, and in the magazine.
Peter, it is time for a resurrection of Sursum Corda!
Bishop Sheen used to say that we should not be anxious about our proclamation, that we should do our best and the Holy Spirit will fan the flames and do the rest. Your proclamation is thus, Peter. If were to exercise discernment it is clear how the people of God respond to you in kindred Spirit.
May you stay humble and steady in your proclamation.