To
exiles, comfort is spoken, comfort is tenderly spoken. The Israelites had been exiled for well over
a generation now. So many had grown up
with talk of their Land, their own king, their own Temple being foreign to
them, being something almost unimaginable, something they had never known,
something that they know engenders a sparkle in the grandparents’ eyes, but not
something they had ever touched or seen for themselves. They were Israelites who had not known
Israel, but only Babylonian captivity.
They had only known lush gardens they were shut out of. They had only known themselves as foreign, as
alien, as unwanted except as cheap labor.
They tried to sing their people’s songs in a strange land, but the
melodies had never been wrapped around their tongues in their homeland.
To
exiles, comfort is spoken, comfort is tenderly spoken. And the comfort which the heavenly host is
charged with singing of finds its earthly voice in political news. The exiles hear that Cyrus is raising a vast
army in Persia, that he’s conquering Babylonian territory and will soon strike
at their heartland. They hear that he
plans to let the Israelites return to their homeland, and even to help them
rebuild. Cyrus, their savior, anointed
by the Lord to make them exiles no longer.
God’s hand is active in this Persian (a daring assertion to begin
with!), and the prophet dares to dream of returning not via the circuitous but
well-watered route that the original captives had been taken on by their
Babylonian captors, but straight through the desert. The prophet dreams of God acting so
decisively to bring them home, that a great highway would be constructed in the
desert, valleys filled in and mountains made low: creation yielding to bring
God’s people home.
He
pictures God as mighty as a warrior and as tender as a shepherd, ruling with
strong arm and carrying us in his bosom.
Our God conquers and nurtures with one will, with one aim: to bring us home,
back to him, to comfort us, to tell us that our exile is over. Because we’re exiles too. Not in the embodied way the Israelites were
in the 6th Century BC, not in the embodied way over 50 million
refugees, asylum seekers and internally displaced people are today, but in a
true, real and spiritual way. In fact,
in the limited contact I’ve had in my life with refugees, they’ve helped me
understand what that means. What it
means to claim that I, that all of us, are exiles from the lush garden; are
alienated from the joy-filled intimacy with God we picture Adam and Eve as
having enjoyed. As the Hail, Holy Queen prayer puts it we are “poor
banished children of Eve,” living where we don’t belong, strangers in a world
plagued by sin and death.
John
the Baptist realized this, that Exile was not a one-time event for his people
they could consign to the history books.
Sin makes us all exiles. And just
as God did something about his people’s plight in Babylon, God does something
about sin. “One mightier than I is
coming after me.” In Mark’s gospel,
right after John makes that speech, Jesus appears. God made a road to bring his people back from
Babylon. Well, now he comes to us. He comes to conquer sin and death and help us
rebuild. And John invites us to say yes
to that, that we want sin conquered, and we want to start with our sin. That’s what repentance is. It’s desire for God to act. It’s recognizing that valleys and mountains
don’t keep us apart, but sin does. Sin
does erect a wall; sin makes arid what could be lush. To repent is to take a brick out of that wall,
to destabilize it, and so prepare the Way of the Lord… His Way to claim,
embrace and sanctify us. He made his way
to us by Jordan river and re-presents it here, in this Eucharist. I’d like to close with four short prayers to
the Eucharistic Heart of Jesus, from our Holy Cross Directory, that pray for
that Way to be made all the way to our hearts.
Eucharistic
Heart of Jesus, fill my heart with that same love that burned in your heart. May I become love and mercy to those who live
in pain and suffering. May I become the
living Gospel of your compassionate love.
Eucharistic
Heart of Jesus, fill me with faith, hope, and love. When I find myself lacking in charity, help
me to see your presence in those around me.
Increase my faith when I find it hard to understand. Give me hope when life around me seems empty
and forsaken. May your presence in the
Blessed Sacrament of the altar be my courage and strength.
Eucharistic
Heart of Jesus, your gift of the Holy Eucharist strengthens me on the journey
of life. Transform me into your disciple
and send me to those who are in need of your love. May I be your hands to those who are
helpless. May I be your heart to those
who are unloved. Summon me with your
light and allow me to be an instrument of your peace and joy.
Eucharistic
Heart of Jesus, many times I find life to be difficult and filled with
anxiety. Help me in times of uncertainty
to come into your Eucharistic presence.
Be my strength, my rock, my fortress, and my refuge. Help me, by the power of your Holy Spirit, to
feel the light of your resurrection, surrounding me and protecting me from all
danger. In you I hope, Lord; may I
never be disappointed.
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