Still in Need of Conversion

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

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

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

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