The Veil of Suffering

First Week of Advent - Wednesday

Isaiah 25:6-10a / Psalm 23:1-3a, 3b-4, 5, 6 / Matthew 15:29-37

The Veil of Suffering

Leaf through the newspapers, take a quick look at the television news or browse your favorite internet news site, and you’ll find that the earth is pock-marked by war. You’ll be reminded that Africa is being ravaged by AIDS; cancer is still without a cure; and that poverty is still plentiful. More examples could be given of the “veil that veils all people,” the web woven over all nations. One of the things that knits us all together, stitching us into the same tapestry of life, is suffering. Regardless of the source, we all suffer.

Suffering – be it our own, or that of someone we love – wearies us. Death is often not just final, but downright cruel – slowly draining the life out of a once vibrant friend. Pain is like a wet blanket wrapped around arthritic hands and feet, knees and back. The illness or accident that took away the mobility of one who once moved about freely in a way that had been taken for granted; suffering seems to rob us of our pursuit of happiness and bring us to tears.

But in the Gospel this web in which we are all caught, this veil that veils all peoples is torn, and we are freed. The gospel is clear:

    the lame were carried to him, and walked away under their own power;

    the mouths of the mute were opened to praise God;

    the eyes of the blind were opened to behold beauty;

    the deformed were reformed and made whole;

    and the hungry were fed.

And what is our response to suffering?

Consider the words of St. Teresa of Avila:

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.

·         As you go about your routine today, pay attention to the suffering of others, or to what makes you uncomfortable, what makes you suffer, or inconveniences you. 

o   Make time to reflect on this suffering. 

o   Be careful not to overlook what might at first seem like petty grievances or familiar gripes. 

o   If you or someone else seems distressed over something insignificant, realize that often something deeper is at work — perhaps a misperception of the world and what’s important, what’s real verses what is simply perceived as such. 

o   Speak to Jesus about what you observe.

Image Become Reality

First Week of Advent - Tuesday

Isaiah 11:1-10 / Psalm 72:1-2, 7-8, 12-13, 17 / Luke 10:21-24

Image-Become-Reality

In the reading from Isaiah we find the classic imagery that graces so many Christmas cards: the peaceful reconciliation of predator and prey in the animal kingdom. One can purchase tandem stuffed animals: a lamb lying in the embrace of a larger lion’s paws. Natural enemies have become cordial neighbors.

As an image-become-reality what would this mean for our world?

What would it mean for Hindu-Muslim tensions in India and Pakistan?

What would it mean for Iraq, Iran and the United States?

What would it mean for the environmental crisis?

What would it mean for Israel and Lebanon?

What would it mean for our economy?

What would it mean for our families?

Perhaps the most shocking of the images in this passage from Isaiah is that of the snake in a crib among a child’s blanket, pillow and toys. What caring parent would allow this? I have yet to see a rendition of this in artwork. Yet the blossoming of the shoot of Jesse will make worrying about such a peril a non-issue. We won’t even have to worry about the safety of our defenseless children. What a world indeed! May the Kingdom come!

What will turn the carnivorous, blood-lusting lion into a vegetarian whose idea of a feast has gone from gazelles to bales of hay? Knowledge of the Lord. When everyone knows the Lord, knows God’s unconditional embrace beyond a flinch of doubt, this peaceable kingdom will be established. When ignorance of God’s love is banished by the familiarity of divine friendship, there shall be no more harm, or ruin, or threat thereof. When knowledge of God is as complete as the image of droplet of water upon droplet of water upon droplet of water… that forms the ocean, then we shall be living in this kingdom. But until then, what?

Until then this kingdom is being revealed little by little. The kingdom is being revealed in Jesus: in his parables, and in his flesh. It is this revelation which we revisit in the seasons of Advent and Christmas. The curtain is being pulled back in this season as the days grow shorter and the light diminishes. But to see it we must use our imagination, and conjure a scene of nature reordered and at peace — all enmity set aside. If we can dream it, we can do it – in faith.

·   Contemplate the scene of peaceful reconciliation that Isaiah describes. Can you sit still and allow natural predator and prey to mingle together? What feelings and thoughts arise as you reflect on this image?

·   Call to mind any artwork you have seen depicting this scene. Is this scene realistic to you? What would need to happen for it to come about?

·   Whether you consider this realistic or not, what are you inspired to do in response to Jesus who fulfills this prophecy, and whose coming we await in these days of Advent?

·   What relationship in your life is a lion-lamb situation? How does this prophecy help you to see the relationship differently?

Willfulness and Willingness

First Week of Advent - Monday

Isaiah 2:1-5 OR in Year A Isaiah 4:2-6 / Psalm 122:1-2, 3-4b, 4cd-5, 6-7, 8-9 / Matthew 8:5-1

Willfulness and Willingness

Isaiah’s promise that the weapons of war (spears) will be changed into tools for a harvest of peace (pruning hooks) has great appeal in our war-torn world. Yet today’s readings seem to imply a peace that is established by dominance. 

The sovereign who rules from the top of Mount Zion shall impose terms on the peoples. We are uncomfortable with terms being imposed on us. We would prefer to accept terms we agree to after skillful negotiation of a favorable deal. We don’t do orders well. We resent being subject to commands: “Go.” “Come here.” “Do this.” We want God to agree to our terms. Do we have the courage and faith that true prayer requires? True prayer requires that we submit to God’s will rather than imposing ours on him with abracadabra-like petitions. Do we prefer to tell God what needs to change, and when and how it needs to be done? Or are we willing to let God determine the terms of our relationship?

As we join the psalmist in ascending the mountain of the Lord, are we climbing headstrong rather than going up rejoicing? Faith requires confidence and perseverance not stubbornness and triumphalism. It is an exercise in patience not pushiness. War, the stuff of swords and willfulness, is often born of impatience. The harvest, the stuff of plowshares and willingness, is born of patient planting, nurturing, nourishing and respecting the rhythms God has inscribed in nature.

In the passage from Matthew’s Gospel the faith shown by the centurion surpasses what Jesus has found among his disciples. As disciples ourselves, we so easily self-identify as insiders, as people who already follow Jesus. With this bias we might be inclined to contemplate this gospel passage by seeing ourselves sitting with Jesus when the centurion arrives rather than arriving with him, or as him. Perhaps today would be a good day to learn from an outsider and his hopes and expectations: take the centurion’s perspective. We come to faith not by willfulness, but by willingness.

For your prayerful consideration:

·         With whom do I identify in this Gospel passage?

·         How is my reflection changed when I reflect on this gospel passage imagining myself as a disciple sitting with Jesus in contrast to when I imagine myself as the centurion or one of his companions?

·         Is my approach to prayer one of trying to impose my will on God, or do I use prayer as a way to come to acceptance of his will for me? What difference might each of these perspectives make in my life as a disciple?

First Sunday of Advent: What Time Is It Now?

First Sunday of Advent – A

Isaiah 2:1-5 / Psalm 122: 1-2, 3-4, 4-5, 6-7, 8-9 / Romans 13:11-14 / Matthew 24:37-44

What Time Is It Now?

What time is it now?

There are so many ways we keep track of time:

     clocks, watches and calendars;

     the rising and setting of the sun;

     the phases of the moon;

     the turning of the seasons;

     the rotation of our planet around the sun;

     the speed of sound or light;

     innings, quarters, halves or periods;

     holding our breath for as long as we can while driving over a bridge or through a tunnel;

     celebrating wedding anniversaries and birthdays;

     marking the anniversary of a loved one’s death;

     tapping our fingers or feet to the beat of the music;

     nine months to a baby’s birth.

We measure the past and anticipate the future. We say something happened so many years ago, or something else will come to pass when… Keeping track of time usually sets us either looking back or forward. It rarely sets our attention on this moment.

What time is it now?

Today we begin measuring time with candles, colors and a circle of greens. We know that the more candles we have lit, the shorter the time is to the day we await; the shorter the candles, the closer we are; the further around the circle, the closer we are.

In our culture we tend to focus so much on the future, whether it be what we’ll be doing an hour from now, or what’s on our schedule when we get back to work, or school, or when our next doctors’ appointment is and how long we’ll be in the waiting room.

What time is it now?

We can get stuck on a past memory because we can’t let go of the hurt. Or we can be so terminally future-oriented - often to a distant future (college for the infant; retirement for the new worker) - that we miss the present moment, pregnant with possibilities.

What time is it now?

It is now the hour for us to wake from sleep.

What time is it now?

The Kingdom of God is at hand.

What time is it now?

Christians are called to live according to a new time, one not governed by clocks and calendars.  We are to develop a sense of timing — knowing the value of each moment. We are to fill our time doing the works of Christ.

Advent’s sense of timing calls us to expectation: the Son of Man is coming at the time we least expect. That is a frightening prospect. That is a thrilling expectation.

We must constantly ask ourselves, “What time is it now?” 

For your prayerful consideration:

• Consider a time in the past week when the time flew by. As you look back on that time, what are you now aware of that escaped your awareness at the time?
• What is a time in the near future when you fear you will be inattentive to the moment before you? What are you afraid to miss?
• What are you thinking of right now? What are the distractions that keep you from being present to the Lord right now? What helps you to turn your focus on him?

Why the name?

Welcome to Christ Is Little Known.

If you think you know where the name of the blog comes from, please post. The reference is to something in particular.

This Time Again

What do we often do when we are waiting? We watch the time. The Advent Wreath, be it in our churches or in our homes, is a great way to watch the time during this season packed with anticipation and joyful hope. As the candles burn they grow shorter, as does the time. When I grew up we lit the candles of the Advent Wreath at home before every evening meal. We speculated on whether or not the violet candle of the first week would last long enough. As the weeks went by we sometimes blew out its flame before we were done eating to help make it last.

Candles spending their wick and wax as they disperse the darkness of winter remind us that time once spent cannot be retrieved. We can measure it, but we can’t control it. And despite the immortality of our souls, we experience time on this plane of existence as limited. Too often we find we don’t have enough time to accomplish everything we’d like.

But the wreath of Advent also gives us another way of looking at time: time is cyclical. We approach Advent and Christmas as seasons most of us have been through before. The circle of the wreath reminds us that we’ve done this before — not in a déjà vu fashion, but in a comforting way, like a familiar blanket, a comfortable shirt, or the smell of baked goods can evoke a memory or a feeling.

For those who’ve seen many Advents and Christmases, the readings will be familiar. The prophets offer the hope of a world made new by God reigning among us.  There is promise that God will respond and act definitively to establish peace and justice. But more than that, the readings of Advent and Christmas are not just familiar, they are repeated often. The story of the Annunciation and the genealogy of Jesus are repeated more than once in the liturgies of these seven weeks. The First Letter of John, read during the weekdays of Christmas seems to cover the same ground repeatedly. The readings from the prophets may seem interchangeable. The repetition testifies to the common hope we hold, and the way we revel in hearing good news more than once. 

The round wreath and the repetitious readings will tell us we’ve been here before; the diminishing candles and our daily lives will tell us there’s something different this time around.  And hopefully we can say “I never heard it like that” or “saw it that way before”. Hopefully we’ll find that re-visiting this trusted path of Advent and Christmas will lead us to know God as we haven’t before. And though God hasn’t changed, we may feel like we can this time.

It is a joy to offer you these reflections and suggestions for your own prayer during Advent and Christmas. I pray they will help you find new insights into your relationship with Jesus Christ, born for us.