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Comfortably Disturbed

29/11/2019

A Reflection on the Gospel for December 1st, 2019:
First Sunday of Advent

Matthew 24.37-44

Jesus spoke to his disciples: “As the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark, and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man. Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left.

“Keep awake, therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”

“In the case of rapture, this car will be unmanned.” Occasionally I see this bumper sticker when I’m sitting in traffic. It’s meant to be funny, but it has the opposite effect on me.

I feel ill at ease. There rises in my imagination a post-apocalyptic image of my surroundings: cars, unmoving, with engines running and radios playing but no drivers at the wheel; car doors hanging open in the middle of a normally busy road; the left-behind people wandering between the vehicles, looking bewildered and frightened. It’s eerie.

In the gospel for the first Sunday of Advent, Matthew warns: “Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming.” He reminds us that Jesus came to comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable. Like the five wise virgins, we must be prepared to meet Him with our lamps filled, trimmed and burning.

"Jesus came to comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable."

The Gospel also says, where two women are grinding meal together, one will be taken and the other left. The woman taken, where will she go? I always assumed she’d go to heaven and, therefore, it was better to be taken than left behind, but is that what the Bible says? Upon reflection, I don’t think it does.

Luke 17:20-37 gives a similar account. Jesus tells the disciples: “There will be two women grinding meal together; one will be taken and the other left.” They ask him: “‘Where, Lord?’ He says to them, ‘Where the corpse is, there the vultures will gather.’”

“Where the corpse is, there the vultures will gather”? A place where birds of prey feed upon the dead? That is no place I would ever want to be. Is it better, then, to be behind? Yes, I believe it is.

Again, in Luke, the Pharisees ask Jesus when the kingdom of God will come, and He replies, “[T]he kingdom of God is among you.”

“The kingdom of God is among you.” Well, in that case, I really do want to be a person left behind.

I know already that here, today, is where the Lord comes to find me, in the midst of my messy life, my struggles, my mistakes. I don’t have to wait for heaven to be with Him. My life in this world should be a cycle of preparing for and encountering Him. Each time I prepare afresh, I make a better place, a more worthy place for Him and, in this way, I encounter Him at a deeper level.

During this Advent season, I begin to prepare again, and I invite you to do the same. Then, at the feast of Christmas, we will be more ready and our hearts will be the most welcoming home we have ever offered Him.

This is where the kingdom of God is. In the case of rapture, by His grace, my car will not be unmanned. I will not be bewildered and frightened. Instead, I will be fully present and ready to meet my God.

Donna Davis

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With God's Help

28/11/2019

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A Reflection on the Second Reading for December 1st, 2019:
First Sunday of Advent

Romans 13.11-14

Brothers and sisters, you know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers; the night is far gone, the day is near. Let us then lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armour of light; let us live honourably as in the day, not in revelling and drunkenness, not in debauchery and licentiousness, not in quarrelling and jealousy.

Instead, put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.

“Dear God,

So far today I’ve done alright. I haven’t gossiped, haven’t lost my temper, haven’t been greedy, grumpy, nasty, selfish or overindulgent. I’m really glad about that. But in a few minutes, I’m going to get out of bed. And from then on I’m going to need a lot more help.”

(Author Unknown)

I love this prayer. It reminds me of how much I really need God. When I read the words that Saint Paul wrote to the Romans in this scripture passage, I thought of this prayer. There is little chance of me being able to wake up, lay aside the works of darkness, clothe myself in Jesus, and subdue the desires of my flesh without God's help. Some days I struggle just to get out of bed without His help!

A few years ago, I found myself in a spiritual desert and I knew that the solution was to spend more time alone with God in prayer. As a mother of eight it can be difficult to find any time to do anything so I knew the only way this was going to happen was with God’s help. So I prayed, “Lord I want to spend more time with You. Help me to find the time.”

How did the Lord act in my life? Well, I found myself waking up at 6am morning after morning and not being able to go back to sleep. I did not think this was going to work. I need my sleep, and nobody benefits from me being tired! But God was answering my prayer, and not only was I waking up early, but I was feeling more rested than I was when I was sleeping longer. This allowed me an hour each day that I didn’t think I had to sit alone with Him.

God wants good things for us. He wants us to wake up to Him. He wants us to be able to see the darkness in our lives and to have the strength to put on Jesus over top of it all. He wants our desire for Him to be stronger than any desire of our flesh and He wants to help us do it!

Let us Pray:

Dear Lord Jesus, I want more of the good things that You have for me. I may not know what they are or how You want to give them to me, but I trust in You. Work in my life in a new way today. Amen.

Maxine Brown

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My House

27/11/2019

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A Reflection on the Psalm for December 1st, 2019:
First Sunday of Advent

Psalm 122

R. Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord.

I was glad when they said to me, “Let us go to the house of the Lord!” Our feet are standing within your gates, O Jerusalem. R.

To it the tribes go up, the tribes of the Lord, as it was decreed for Israel, to give thanks to the name of the Lord. For there the thrones for judgment were set up, the thrones of the house of David. R.

Pray for the peace of Jerusalem: “May they prosper who love you. Peace be within your walls, and security within your towers.” R.

For the sake of my relatives and friends I will say, “Peace be within you.” For the sake of the house of the Lord our God, I will seek your good. R.

Growing up in a traditionally Catholic household had both benefits and drawbacks. My faith was external—dependent on my circumstances—and it was shallow. In short, I prayed when I needed stuff. The benefit to this upbringing was the way in which it enhanced my admiration of, and desire for, tradition—particularly as it relates to family. My dad had a handful of siblings living in our small town, and they all had kids who were somewhere about the age of my sister and I. As it was, if you tallied the number of parishioners who attended our church in those days, my family likely comprised a good twenty-five percent of the total. This was a benefit. I love my family—quirky though they be. So, the tradition of meeting up with family each Sunday was one I held dear. The fact that we met up in the house of the Lord, though, was a drawback. I saw faith as legalistic, rigid, and outdated. Because of this, I would have much preferred to meet with my family at my grandparents’ house and skip the inconvenience of mass.

As I reflected on Psalm 122, I thought about the way I perceive the house of the Lord today and contrasted it with how I saw it back then. Today, I am still meeting in the house of the Lord with family, but family looks different. They’re still pretty quirky, but outside of my children, none of them are related by blood—at least, not by my blood. We are related by the blood of the cross. And we are entrenched in an even deeper and more intimate relationship than I was with the family of my childhood, with good reason: we strive toward the same ultimate goal. The way in which we individually strive toward this goal sometimes looks different, but the objective remains the same—we all want to become more like our Father. In order to achieve this goal, our relationship with the house of the Lord is paramount.

"Psalm 122 is not only calling us to go rejoicing to the physical house of the Lord, but to the metaphysical one: We are the house of the Lord."

Psalm 122 is not only calling us to go rejoicing to the physical house of the Lord, but to the metaphysical one: We are the house of the Lord. In my youth, I had a lot of housecleaning to do before I was able to shift my perspective on what it truly meant to have peace within my walls and security within my towers. Christ is peace and security. The more I have of Him within me, the more peaceful and secure I become.

This song of David is a reflection of the traditions of his time, but it is also a premonition of what is to come: the physical birth of the Prince of Peace, and the free gift of His spiritual birth within us. It is a prayer for the good of the whole—the physical and spiritual house of the Lord—that each might find peace and security within. What we want to see around us, though, we must first achieve within us. So, may we build a tradition of fidelity to our family in Christ this advent season, as we increase our consumption of Him who brings us peace.

Lori MacDonald

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Down By The Riverside

26/11/2019

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A Reflection on the First Reading for December 1st, 2019:
First Sunday of Advent

Isaiah 2.1-5

The word that Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem.

In days to come the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be raised above the hills; all the nations shall stream to it.

Many peoples shall come and say, “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob; that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths.”

For out of Zion shall go forth instruction, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. He shall judge between the nations, and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.

O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!

When I read Isaiah’s book, I feel Advent pressing into the Ordinary. His words, when they are collected and seen from a distance, show a vein — a stream of gold running through the rough rock. These glimpses of a Messiah coming. Images of meekness and suffering, of majesty and splendour. The virgin shall bear a child. Unto us a Son is given. The Prince of Peace. A Light in the darkness. A Stone that makes people stumble. A Lamb to the slaughter. Root of Jesse. Jesus. He comes.

The word Isaiah was given was so vivid that it couldn’t be limited to something heard — ‘The word that Isaiah son of Amoz saw…’ It was a word seen, not heard. And what a sight.

A mountain with the Lord’s house built into the side of its summit, pushes and rises above the rest. All nations stream to it, forming a reverse river wending its way up the mount’s slope toward the city on a hill.

They come, that He may teach them His ways
They come, that they may walk in His paths
The nations are stepping in the route marked and made by the crush of His feet. They are going where He goes. It’s not a list of rules, it’s a lived relationship.

And where does He go? In the diversity of nations coming, He makes community. As they move toward Him uphill, He flows downhill out of His house to meet them — a River moving between the nations, filling the spaces between them. The Word of the Lord coming. The Living Water. And as they are standing in the same Water, something changes.

"When I read Isaiah’s book, I feel Advent pressing into the Ordinary. His words, when they are collected and seen from a distance, show a vein — a stream of gold running through the rough rock. These glimpses of a Messiah coming."

What were implements of destruction become implements of production. Blades carried in conflict are reshaped into blades carried by a plow to gather in the harvest. And then Isaiah lets out that part of his word that settles in me beyond hearing and seeing into a weight I can feel in my hands, ‘…neither shall they learn war any more.’

How did I not know that the lyric ‘Ain’t gonna study war no more’ was quoting Isaiah!? Part of a song that was used as a pruning hook instead of a spear in the progression of the promise.

We won’t do things to tear one another apart anymore; we will do things to feed each other. At least it’s possible. This promise of peace as part of His coming requires our participation. My participation. Even in this vision where God is moving among the stream of people coming to Him, Isaiah sees that these people are part of the process. They have to drop their sword while standing next to an adversary, pick up a hammer and start beating their weapon into a new shape.

Help me to do that too, Jesus. As I get ready for Your coming, Your advent, help me to take what I’ve shaped to protect myself or hurt others and to reshape it into something that breaks up the ground, readying it to receive Peace on Earth, Goodwill to ALL. And thank you for coming for us, Root, Lamb, Stone, Light, Prince, Son of Mary. Jesus.

Noreen Smith