Sunday, December 10, 2017

God brings us exiles home – Isa 40:1-5,9-11, Mark 1:1-8

2nd Sunday of Advent, Year B; Holy Infant parish

To exiles, comfort is spoken, comfort is tenderly spoken.  The Israelites heard this comfort after living for well over a generation in Babylon, after the Babylonians had razed Jerusalem and brought them captive to Babylon.  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 is not just a warm feeling, it’s political news.  The exiles hear that Cyrus the Persian is raising a vast army, that he’s conquering Babylonian territory and will soon strike at its heartland.  They hear that he plans to let the Israelites return home, 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 pretty daring assertion!), 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.  Us, because we’re exiles too.  Not in the bodily way the Israelites were twenty five hundred years ago, not in the bodily way over 65 million refugees, asylum seekers and internally displaced people are today, but in a true, real and spiritual way.  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. My old parish back in South Bend helped resettle some Iraqi refugees, and I can never forget the felt absence of the family matriarch who was the only one who wasn’t permitted to come to the US. Their pain at her absence helps me understand what it means to say that we are exiles, we’re a long way off Eden, we are not at home, we are splintered as a family.

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. From one another, from God.  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.  To repent is to let our sin be lowered somewhat, 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 makes his way to us again 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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