Category Archives: Advent

On their own land

Posted on by
Reply

The first reading today is from Jeremiah, the prophet to the nation during times of crisis in the final days of the kingdom of Judah. The prophet was given the daunting task of prophecy to Jerusalem who was at the end of a “death spiral” of horrible leadership under the kings of Judah, the descendants of King David. In the midst of his oracles against and city, king and people, the prophet proclaims: “Behold, the days are coming, says the LORD, when I will raise up a righteous shoot to David; As king he shall reign and govern wisely.” (Jer 23:5). 

Here is the season of Advent we hear and understand Jeremiah as speaking of “the days” being some 580 years later long after the crisis of the Babylonian Empire and the coming Exile. We hear the trace of the messianic prophecy of Jesus – the “righteous shoot” that will bloom from the stump of Jesse (cf. Isaiah 40). In Jeremiah’s day, I suspect the people knew their days were numbered as none would be able to stand against the power of Nebuchadnezzar and his Babylonian armies. They were sure to be dispossessed of the land and their inheritance. But to them Jeremiah says that the children of Israel “…shall again live on their own soil.” (Jer 23:8). Even if dispossessed, they would return to claim their inheritance.

In our days, the Righteous King has already come, bringing the Kingdom of God to those who claim their inheritance – and so it has been for more than 2000 years… There are certainly days when here in the United States we can feel like the faithful remnant of Jerusalem in Jeremiah’s day. According to Pew Research landscape studies, Christianity has been declining in America. In 2007, 80% of people identified as Christian; by 2024 that number had decreased to 62% of the population. By 2024 only 45% of young adults identified as Christian. In that same period between 2007 and 2024, the share of U.S. adults identifying as Catholic declined 21%.

As I read Jeremiah and consider the Pew Studies, one can be disheartened that, as a people, we are being “dispossessed” of our inheritance of faith. But at the same time, I am encouraged. All across the United States, Catholic parishes are experiencing a phenomenon of increased numbers of people in the OCIA programs, the means by which people come into the Catholic faith as adults. It is a movement in which I hear the echo of Jeremiah: “they shall again live on their own soil.” (Jer 23:8)

My unscientific sampling of Catholic parishes points to a doubling of the numbers of participants in OCIA just from last year with a marked increase in the numbers of adults seeking the Sacrament of Baptism. A statistical blip? Time will tell. A renewal of faith? I certainly hope so. Time will tell. But it strikes me that we need to be people that are not satisfied that the Messiah has come but even if we are but a faithful remnant, to be aware that the promise of the Messiah and the Kingdom are everlasting and we are called to witness to those signs among us.

Jeremiah | detail of Sistine Chapel | Michelangelo | PD-US | Pexels CC-0

A call to remember

Posted on by
Reply

Today you might ask a new neighbor or a new parishioner, “Where are you from?” It is a normal question. Growing up in the South it was equally likely for someone to ask, “Who are your people?” Today’s gospel is the answer to that question, which at first hearing, sounds like just a long list of names—Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, David, Solomon, and those are just the ones you recognize. It is the kind of passage we are tempted to skim over quickly or just flat out skip all together. But St. Matthew begins his Gospel in this way for a reason: he is showing us that Jesus is not an isolated figure who appears out of nowhere. Rather, He is the fulfillment of God’s promises, and His life is deeply rooted in the history of Israel.

Each of these names carries a story. Abraham reminds us of the promise that God would bless all nations through his descendants. David points to the royal line and the expectation of a Messiah, a son of David who would shepherd God’s people. Even the less famous or less noble figures—like Rahab, Ruth, and Bathsheba—remind us that God works through unexpected people, through sinners and outsiders, to bring about His plan.

Matthew is teaching us that the Old Testament is not just background information; it is a living testimony to who Jesus is. Without Abraham, we don’t understand what it means that Jesus is the fulfillment of the covenant. Without David, we don’t grasp why the Messiah must be a king. Without the prophets, we would not recognize in Jesus the one who is born of a virgin and called Emmanuel, God-with-us.

This passage invites us to treasure the Old Testament as the story of God preparing the world for Christ. The genealogy reminds us that our faith is not built on myth or imagination, but on real people, real history, and a real promise fulfilled in Jesus.

So when we read the Old Testament—whether it’s the faith of Abraham, the courage of Ruth, or the prophetic hope of Isaiah—we are not just reading ancient stories. We are hearing witnesses who point us to Christ. They remind us that God has been faithful throughout history, and that He remains faithful in our lives today.

May this genealogy, then, not be for us a list of names to hurry past, but a call to remember: the whole story of Israel is our story too, and it leads us to Jesus, Emmanuel, God-with-us.

Image credit: Pexels, CC-0

Advent Landscaping

Posted on by
Reply

Isaiah certainly has away with words. In the first reading for today’s Mass, Isaiah describes mountains being leveled, valleys being filled, and rough places being made smooth. It is a complete revision to the topography of the wilderness. Even in its earth-bound description, it is cosmic in its scale. Can you imagine the earth moving equipment and explosives needed to reshape this wilderness landscape?

But then again, Isaiah is not primarily talking about landscape. He is talking about the human heart. “Prepare the way of the Lord…make straight a highway…for our God.” He is admonishing us to remove anything that keeps us from seeing God’s glory. Isaiah is announcing that when God comes, nothing, not mountains, not valleys, not rugged passes, should stand between the human heart and God’s presence. Advent is the season when we hear this call anew and is our signal to let grace reshape our inner terrain.

What might all this mean for us during Advent?

“Every valley shall be filled in.” We speak of the highs and lows of life; of the hills and valleys along the way. A valley is a place where we feel spiritually or emotionally low. The place where we encounter discouragement – and often silently or alone. Perhaps it is a fear that prayers are unanswered, a sense we are failing or have failed, or a point we give up and no longer believe that change is possible. To that Isaiah proclaims: God wants to fill those valleys with hope.

Isaiah told the people of Judah and Jerusalem long ago, when the barbarians were at the walls, when the leaders had compromised faith and covenant, when hope was a dying ember that theirs was the God of Hope. The God who comforts His people lifts up the discouraged so as to remind us that He has not abandoned us, that His promises still stand, and that His coming is nearer than we think.

“Every mountain and hill shall be made low.” In our age we speak of mountains of money or we hold mountains as impenetrable fortresses where we are kept safe. But in Old Testament scripture, mountains often represent pride, self-reliance, or stubbornness—anything that rises up and blocks our view of God. Here Isaiah likely has in mind “mountains of pride.” Isaiah says these mountains must come down. Not because God wants to diminish us, but because pride blocks our sight. We cannot see the glory of the Lord when our own achievements or opinions tower in the foreground.

During Advent we might ask is our “mountain of pride” blocking our view of God or serving as a barrier to His voice? What part of our life do we insist, “I know best,” even when God is nudging us in another direction? Pride is just one mountain. Advent is a time to recognize and name your particular mountain and begin the landscaping project.

“The rugged land shall be made a plain.” Rugged, uneven ground makes walking difficult. It interrupts our pace and gait making it easy to stumble and fall. I suggest that these represent the patterns of sin, the habits we excuse, or the choices that keep tripping us up.

Advent is a season when God invites us to let grace smooth out what has become rough in us. The Sacrament of Reconciliation is one of God’s great tools for leveling uneven paths so that His coming is not hindered by obstacles we refuse to let go.

“Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed.” Isaiah’s whole point is this: When the obstacles are removed, we see God. The glory of the Lord is not something God hides; it is something we fail to see when the terrain of our heart is cluttered or distorted. Advent reminds us God is coming. Clear the way so you can recognize Him when He arrives. Be attentive because God’s coming is not only a future event. He comes to us today in Scripture, in the Sacraments, in moments of grace, in the quiet voice of conscience. But we only perceive Him clearly when our interior landscape is open and straight and uncluttered.

Advent is not simply a countdown to Christmas. It is a spiritual landscaping project. So today, in this Eucharist, let us ask for the grace to let Him fill our valleys, lower our mountains, and smooth our rugged paths. Then we will see, not just with our eyes, but with our hearts, the glory of the Lord who comes to save us.

Image credit: Prophet Isaiah, Mosaic, Right of Lunette, South Wall of Presbytery, Basilica of San Vitale | PD-US | Pexels

Hope Restored

Posted on by
Reply

Readings from the Prophet Isaiah are part-and-parcel of Advent. This past week all the first readings were from Isaiah taken from various chapters and all well chosen for the Season of Advent. Every reading proclaimed verses which, to our Christian ears and understanding, are promises of a Messiah to come – a covenant promised fulfilled. It is a message of Hope for us. The words were a much needed beacon of hope in the darkness that surrounded the people of Jerusalem in the prophet Isaiah’s own time. 

The audience was the people of Judah and Jerusalem in the late 8th century B.C., during the reign of King Hezekiah. More specifically, Isaiah addressed three groups of people. Firstly, Isaiah addressed the leadership of Jerusalem (political and religious). Isaiah often portrayed them as blind, deaf, and stubborn (cf. Is 29:9–16) because they paid more attention to pomp, circumstance, gold and glory. They were not leading the people into covenant with God, much the opposite. And so Isaiah also spoke to the wider population, those led astray and whose spiritual perception had become dulled. 

The glory days of King David are long gone and by comparison, the great tree of Jerusalem is like a stump: lifeless and increasingly barren. And now the Assyrians are at the gates of Jerusalem. They have conquered 10 of the 12 tribes already. Jerusalem is next. Hope is quickly fading like a dying ember as the hour approaches midnight.

But there is another group within the city. The prophet Isaiah also addressed a faithful remnant – people who are righteous before God and yet their world is crumbling. They need reassurance that God will act to save and restore the situation that is clearly going astray. They need hope that a Messiah would come to set things aright. Today, our first reading gives us one of the most hope-filled visions in all of Scripture: “A shoot shall sprout from the stump of Jesse, and from his roots a bud shall blossom” (Is 11:1).

That single line can be an anchor for your Advent reflections. Why? But Isaiah teaches us one of the great Advent truths:  God does His best work with stumps.

When everything looks finished, when the situation looks hopeless, when the future seems cut down to the ground, it is then that God begins something new. The “shoot” is small, fragile, humble. But it is alive, and it carries the promise of a new Kingdom. Someone small, fragile and humble was born in a manger in Bethlehem. It was the beginning of something new. Someone who was revealed, just as Isaiah said, with the gifts of the Spirit: “a spirit of wisdom and of understanding, a spirit of counsel and of strength, a spirit of knowledge and of fear of the Lord” (11:2). He was the One for whom Israel waited. He is the One we await at Christmas yet the One who already reigns. He is the One who can work with the stumps in our lives – that part of us that seems cut down or dying. What might that be?

Hope, because there are days when the news feels overwhelming; when the world feels unstable; or when personal disappointments pile up. Hope can feel like a cut-down stump. Yet Christ is the “shoot” who revives it.

Maybe trust seems dead or dying in our lives because we experience betrayals, family wounds, and broken promises. A person can feel unable to trust others, family members, themselves or even God. Trust can feel like a cut-down stump. Yet Christ is the “shoot” who revives it.

Compassion and tenderness seem absent because stress and busyness can harden hearts. We become too preoccupied and so we respond more with irritation than empathy. We find we can neither give or receive compassion. It can all feel like a cut-down stump. Yet Christ is the “shoot” who revives it.

Has our ability to forgive been cut back? Are we still a forgiving people? Forgiveness might be absent because we carry the burden of memory and hurts that we can’t shake, can’t set down. Resentments have settled in over the years and petrified a part of our heart. It feels even worse than a cut down stump. Yet Christ is the “shoot” who revives it.

What about our prayer life? Because of everything already mentioned and even more, we may be bereft of courage, of joy, of wonder, and patience. Prayer feels dry, mechanical, or absent. It seems “dead,” as though not even the stump is left. Christ can awaken it with one small word spoken into a dark night: “Lord, help me to pray.”

“Lord, help me to hope, trust, be compassionate, and forgive… even when I don’t feel like it. Lord, take my stumps and from them may your grace give forth a bud that will blossom.”

Advent is a time to be attentive and bring “our stumps” to prayer and to the Sacraments, especially the Eucharist. Bring them and give them over to the One who brings life out of nothing.

“A shoot shall sprout from the stump of Jesse, and from his roots a bud shall blossom” (Is 11:1) The Messiah has come and will come again – but He is with us even now in the Word of God, the Eucharist, and in the Spirit. A shoot is ever and already sprouting. In Him through Him and with Him you have the possibilities of being restored and renewed so that from you the bud of Christ will blossom.

And in time from that bud shall come a new, strong, tall tree upright before God.

Amen

Image credit: Prophet Isaiah, Mosaic, Right of Lunette, South Wall of Presbytery, Basilica of San Vitale | PD-US | Pexels

Being Attentive

Posted on by
Reply

Each Friday, the daily Mass includes the children, teachers and staff of our parish elementary school. And so the readings are taken from the Children’s Lectionary – while the themes are the same, the readings may be different. The post at 9:00 am today was a homily that would have been for one of the readings of the day -Isaiah in particular. This post is a reflection for elementary school students on Luke 12:35-38 – be prepared and keep the lamps burning.

Without a doubt the gospel is about being ready, being prepared. Even the opening verse says, “Be ready and keep your lamps burning.” And absolutely do that, be prepared for Christmas. Make room in your hearts for Jesus’ coming: be kinder, be more patient (especially when things don’t go your way), express your gratitude by saying thank you and letting people know you appreciate them – and make more time for prayer.  All of these are ways to prepare for Christmas.

But you know what stands out for me in that gospel? The servants are paying attention. Their eyes are open, their ears are listening, their hearts are awake. They don’t want to miss the moment when their master arrives. Jesus is not just saying, “Be ready.” He’s also saying: “Pay attention to Me. Don’t miss the ways I come to you.” During Advent, that is one of the most important things we can learn—how to pay attention to Jesus. How can we do that?

Pay Attention to People Who Need Love. Sometimes Jesus comes to us in a person who needs something: someone sitting alone at school, a sibling or classmates who seems sad. A parent who looks tired. When we pay attention, we notice these things. And then we can pray that Jesus help us to do or say the right thing. Or maybe combining “bring prepared” and “paying attention” we can start the day by praying: “Jesus, help me notice who needs kindness today.”  Now you are specially prepared to be attentive to the needs of others. And in this way you are attentive to Jesus living in others.

Pay Attention to Quiet Moments. Advent is a busy time—lights, music, shopping, parties. But Jesus also comes in the quiet moments, when our hearts can hear Him best. During Advent you might:

  • Sit silently for 20–30 seconds and talk to Jesus in your heart
  • When you see an Advent wreath and remember Jesus is near
  • When you see someone who needs kindness, say a small prayer on the way to school

These simple moments help us and remind us to pay attention to Jesus’ gentle voice.

Pay Attention to Goodness. Jesus often shows Himself through good things around us: a friend’s smile, a teacher’s patience, a sunset, a moment when you felt forgiven, a time when you did something kind or loving. During Advent, try to notice the good things God puts in your day and simply say: “Thank you, Jesus, for being with me.” Gratitude helps our hearts stay open, making room for Jesus.

Paying Attention to the Christmas Story. Sometimes we can get so excited about gifts and decorations that we forget the real story. During Advent, you can pay attention to Jesus by intentionally looking at a nativity scene and thinking about each person in the scene. Read a Bible story about Jesus’ birth with your family. When you see a Santa Clause in a book or in the shopping mall, smile and remember Mary and Joseph making their way to Bethlehem.  Amidst all the family traditions, always remember who we’re waiting for.

Each day of Advent, try to be attentive to moments when Jesus is close—and respond to it. It might be a person, a prayer, a good action, or a quiet moment. This is how we “pay attention” to Jesus as Christmas draws near.

So today, let’s ask Jesus to help us: Open our eyes to see Him. Open our ears to hear Him. Open our hearts to welcome Him. That is the Advent way of paying attention to the Lord who loves us.

Still in Need of Conversion

Posted on by
Reply

In today’s reading from Isaiah, we hear a beautiful vision: “The deaf shall hear… the eyes of the blind shall see… the lowly will find joy in the Lord.” These words are full of hope, and we rightly cherish them during Advent. They promise renewal, justice, and a people restored to God. But if we read the whole chapter, Isaiah’s hope comes only after a very hard truth. Before the healing comes the diagnosis. Before the restoration comes the revelation of what is broken.

Isaiah speaks to a faithful remnant, people who want to follow God and so cling to the covenant. But he also tells them that they are still part of a larger community of people who have become blind, deaf, self-satisfied, unjust, and spiritually forgetful. It is a remarkable tension: Israel is both remnant and rebellious; faithful, yet deeply flawed; and chosen, yet still wandering.

That well describe many of us here in the first week of Advent

We are the faithful remnant. We are here at daily Mass listening to the Word of God. We pray. We serve. We try to love our families and neighbors. We want the Lord to come and find us ready.

But we are also the people Isaiah warns. We are not separate from the blindness and deafness he condemns; some of it lives quietly within us. We hear God’s Word, but we can be deaf to the parts that challenge our comfort. We see God’s blessings, but we can be blind to our own patterns of sin. We pray with our lips, yet our hearts drift into distraction, self-protection, or indifference. We want justice, but sometimes resist the personal conversion that justice requires. We admire God’s mercy, but can be slow to offer it to others.

Isaiah is not just speaking to the miscreants and wayward. He is speaking to all of God’s people, including those conscientiously trying to walk in faith. This is why the Church gives us Isaiah in Advent. Not to condemn, but to awaken. Not to shame, but to shake loose what has grown numb or complacent in us. 

The good news is that God does not reveal our blindness to punish us. He reveals it to heal that blindness. Isaiah says: “Those who err in spirit shall acquire understanding, and those who find fault shall receive instruction.”

This is a promise directed not to strangers, but to us. If we admit what is not yet right in our hearts, God will teach us. If we bring Him the parts of us that resist Him, He will give understanding. If we acknowledge our spiritual deafness or blindness, He will open our ears and eyes.

Advent is only a few short weeks, but we can still name our blindness and deafness. And then ask God to show us how we might be part of the problem. We can examine our prayer life. Is it routine? How is our attitude? Are we becoming more jaded? Impatient? Uncharitable? 

Advent is not only about waiting for Christ. It is about making room for Him and making room requires clearing away what blocks the door. But it is also remembering that all this is spoken with a hopeful message surrounding it all: God already sees the remnant in us. He can heal what we cannot. He can restore what looks worn out. He can remove what blinds us or renders us deaf.

Advent offers that grace now that we might be ready, not only as the faithful remnant who hope, but as the people who allow themselves to be ever changed and growing so that the promise of Isaiah will be fulfilled in us: “The lowly shall find joy in the Lord.”

Image credit: Prophet Isaiah, Mosaic, Right of Lunette, South Wall of Presbytery, Basilica of San Vitale | PD-US | Pexels

From his roots

Posted on by
Reply

Our first reading gives us one of the most hope-filled visions in all of Scripture: “A shoot shall sprout from the stump of Jesse, and from his roots a bud shall blossom” (Is 11:1). Why hope-filled? Because Isaiah is speaking to a people who have watched their nation fall. The royal line of David, the great tree of kings, has been cut down. All that remains is a stump: lifeless, abandoned, barren. From a human point of view, the story is over.

But Isaiah teaches us one of the great Advent truths:  God does His best work in stumps.

When everything looks finished, when the situation looks hopeless, when the future seems cut down to the ground, it is then that God begins something new. The “shoot” is small, fragile, humble. But it is alive, and it carries the promise of a new Kingdom.

Isaiah goes on to describe the Messiah endowed with the gifts of the Spirit: “a spirit of wisdom and of understanding, a spirit of counsel and of strength, a spirit of knowledge and of fear of the Lord” (11:2). The Messiah is the One for whom Israel waits.

This is the One we await at Christmas yet the One who already reigns. He is the One who can renew what seems dead in us. And what might seem dead or dying in our lives?

Hope, because there are days when the news feels overwhelming; when the world feels unstable; or when personal disappointments pile up. Hope can feel like a cut-down stump. Yet Christ is the “shoot” who revives it.

Trust, because we experience betrayals, family wounds, and broken promises. A person can feel unable to trust others, family members, themselves or even God. Trust can feel like a cut-down stump. Yet Christ is the “shoot” who revives it.

Compassion and tenderness because stress and busyness can harden hearts. We become too preoccupied and so we respond more with irritation than empathy. We find we can neither give or receive compassion. It can all feel like a cut-down stump. Yet Christ is the “shoot” who revives it.

Forgiveness because we carry the burden of memory and hurts that we can’t shake, can’t set down. Resentments have settled in over the years and petrified a part of our heart. It feels even worse than a cut down stump. Yet Christ is the “shoot” who revives it.

Our prayer life, because of everything above and even more. We are bereft of courage, of joy, of wonder, and patience. Prayer feels dry, mechanical, or absent. It seems “dead,” as though not even the stump is left. Christ can awaken it with one small word spoken into a dark night: “Lord, help me to pray.”.

Advent is a time to bring “our stumps” to prayer and to the Sacraments, especially the Eucharist. Bring them and give them over to the One who brings life out of nothing.

“A shoot shall sprout from the stump of Jesse, and from his roots a bud shall blossom” (Is 11:1) The Messiah is coming. A shoot is already sprouting. In Him through Him and with Him you are being restored and renewed.

Image credit: Prophet Isaiah, Mosaic, Right of Lunette, South Wall of Presbytery, Basilica of San Vitale | PD-US | Pexels

At the beginning

Posted on by
Reply

Today is the first weekday of the Season of Advent. The gospel reading is the account of a centurion who approached Jesus and asked that his servant, paralyzed and suffering, be healed. Does it strike you as odd that this is the gospel? It seems like something suited to Ordinary Time rather than Advent. Or does it? I think that here at the very beginning of Advent the choice of this gospel is quite appropriate for Advent. Let me suggest six reasons why this gospel is a great choice.

It highlights Advent’s central theme: It is Faith that welcomes the Messiah. The centurion expresses one of the most remarkable statements of faith in all the Gospel: “Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof; only say the word and my servant will be healed.” (Mt 8:8) At the start of Advent, the Church places before us the posture we must have to welcome Christ: humble, trusting, expectant faith. This faith is so exemplary that the Church echoes it at every Mass before Communion.

This gospel reveals that Christ came for all nations. Advent looks forward not only to Bethlehem but to the final coming of Christ, when all nations gather before Him. Jesus’ response would have been startling to the listeners in the 1st century: “Many will come from the east and the west, and will recline with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob…” (Mt 8:11) The centurion is a Gentile, yet he recognizes Jesus more clearly than many in Israel. This scene is a partial fulfillment of Isaiah’s Advent prophecies which proclaim that all nations will come to the Lord – “In days to come, 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. (Isaiah 2:2)  Here at the very beginning of Advent we are reminded that Christ’s Kingdom is universal. It is for outsiders, seekers, and anyone drawn to the light of Christ.

The gospel mirrors our Advent longing: “Come, Lord Jesus” The centurion comes seeking the Lord, confident that Jesus’ arrival brings healing. Advent is the season we sing “O’ Come, O’ Come Emmanuel” expressing our longing, a longing embodied by the centurion. He seeks Christ, calls out to Him, and trusts His word even before seeing results. It holds up for us a model of our Advent posture: not passive waiting, but active reaching.

Advent’s weekday readings are filled with Isaiah, a prophet whose words shaped Israel’s hope for the Messiah. This gospel emphasizes the Power of the Word of Christ. The centurion believes Jesus’ word alone is enough: “only say the word and my servant will be healed.” (Mt 8:8)  From the Word made flesh, the Word goes out to accomplish its mission. We are given an example that God’s Word fulfills what it promises. As Isaiah foretold and as the centurion believed, the Word made flesh is coming and will accomplish healing and salvation.

The readings for the early Season of Advent carry themes of healing and restoration. The first days of Advent feature several healing miracles: the centurion’s servant, healing the two blind men who cry out to him, sending apostles out with the specific mission of healing, and others. These early readings present Christ as the One who restores creation, heals what is wounded, and makes all things new. This is the very mission promised in Isaiah and fulfilled in Christ’s coming at Christmas and in glory.

And last but not least, this gospel anticipates the Eucharist. The centurion’s words echo through the liturgy: “Lord, I am not worthy…” Placing this Gospel early in Advent highlights the link between Christ who came at Bethlehem, Christ who comes at every Mass, and Christ who will come again in glory. As many have noted: these are the “three comings” of Christ during Advent.

It is a great choice for the first weekday of the Advent Season.

Image credit: The Healing of the Officer’s Son | James Tissot, c.1880 | Brooklyn Museum | PD-US

The coming flood to sweep us away

Posted on by
Reply

In our first reading, the Prophet Isaiah says that All nations shall stream toward it. Of course he is speaking about a day in the future when the light of salvation will shine from the highest mountain. If you grew up in Orlando, you could be forgiven for thinking Isaiah was referring to Space Mountain at Disney World. Based on all measures of tourism, people indeed stream toward that Magical Kingdom – that entertainment mecca that offers a respite from the imperfect, unredeemed world in which we live.

 Our world is not too dissimilar from the apocalyptic images of wars and rumors of war. In our world, people are homeless, hurting, and helpless. People are lonely, lonesome, and lost. It can be a struggle – and there is a part of us that wants the holiday season. That wants a break, a pause, a Disney moment. We need to recharge, be happy, be hopeful, and hospitable. So, we also open our homes for gatherings of friends and families. There are concerts, lots of children’s Christmas pageants, musicals, and we light up our homes and streets against the darkness of winter, the darkness in the world. And like Disney, our homes are filled with people and music: familiar tunes like “Silent Night” where  All is calm, all is bright.  But the world we live in is not perfect, not redeemed, not Disney. 

The words of our Advent scripture are neither “Christmassy” or “Disney.”

…the flood came and carried them all away.
Two men will be out in the field;
one will be taken, and one will be left. 
Two women will be grinding at the mill;
one will be taken, and one will be left. 

On this first Sunday, the message is ominous and dark. It takes us by surprise.  The message of our Advent Scripture roars, asking us to look around because it is just like it was in the days of Noah. We are going about business as usual, but there is a coming flood that will sweep us all away. While the world would present a huggable, domesticated, Disney Christmas, Advent begins with a roar that shatters the calm on this day.   It cries “wake up!” because Salvation is coming; Redemption is on its way!  You have to be ready.

If we really hear the Advent message, we would better understand the power of the coming God. If we are deeply connected with the reason for the season, we would not come to church at Christmas in our finery, we would be prepared and come wearing crash helmets and life preservers, prepared to be swept away in the flood of God’s power and grace.

God is not like Disney.  God does not want to pacify us – He wants to electrify us. He does not want us lining up for Space Mountain, but rather would have us stream towards the mountain of the LORD’s house. He does not want to dazzle us with fireworks and Main Street – He wants to mystify us the idea that God, our Redeemer, the one to heal, house, and give hope –  would come to us as one of us – as a helpless child.  Would draw us into the hard and demanding work of raising a child.

A child in a manger, arms raised upward, inviting you into the embrace.  A child we are called to pick up and take into our lives, doing the hard work of nurturing our faith into maturity. A Child that will make the demands of love known. A Child that will point to homeless, hurting, and helpless – past all the magic of Disney – and remind us of Love’s demand to be played out away from the Magical Kingdom – on the highways, byways, back alleys, and streets of the Kingdom of God.

The readings of this first Sunday in Advent asks us to wake up, be vigilant, and reminds us that this Child’s story cannot truly be rolled into malls, markets, Main Street Disney, or any endeavor that would soften, temper, domesticate, obfuscate, or obliterate news that should roar at us like the full grown lion, sweep us away in the flood waters of change. It truly is “As it was in the days of Noah…”

Salvation is coming; Redemption is on its way!  You have to be ready. You have to ready your family. That’s the gospel message…. and now comes the hard part: what will you do to prepare? And in midst of all the fun holiday endeavors, what part of Advent will you carve out for the Lord? What’s the plan? What are the actions? 

I have faith in you… after all, you have organized the family vacation to Disney World – a logistics miracle in itself! You prepared, you readied the family, y’all had a great time. You got this. You can make your Advent family plan to be electrified by the love of God, break out the Advent crash helmets and life vests, prepare for the coming of the Christ Child, with your prayer, time to volunteer, and more. You got this.

“As it was in the days of Noah…” but unlike those days, you can be ready for the Redemption that this way comes. It’s Advent – prepare yourself.

Amen

Image credit: Canva, St. Francis, CC-BY-NC