Isaiah 54:1-10
Luke 7:24-30
Today’s reading from Isaiah 54 is also used in the Liturgy of the Word at the Easter Vigil. In the light of the Paschal candle this reading speaks of the promise of rescue from death and the hope of new life. In our Advent liturgy we can hear it as a text of eager longing for ‘the Holy One of Israel’.
Through all of the complexities of Israel’s covenant relationship with God the prophets make appeal to the faithfulness of God, in Hebrew, ‘hesed.’ It’s a word which encompasses steadfastness, loyalty, mercy and love. Israel must face the painful reality that she has wandered from the path of God’s ways. She has not shown herself faithful. In some vivid images Isaiah imagines a new reality for Israel:
‘Widen the space of your tent,
stretch out your hangings freely,
lengthen your ropes, make your pegs firm,
for you will burst out to right and to left.’
I love the idea of making space for something that God is promising. Every care is taken that the tent is robust and sturdy. There are no half-measures when God acts.
After the trauma of Exile, Israel can dare to hope that God can do something new. Israel is no longer to feel abandoned, but cherished, protected and loved. So powerful is God’s promise that even if mountains were to disappear, God’s love will never leave the people of Israel.
‘for the mountains may depart,
the hills be shaken,
but my love for you will never leave you
and my covenant of peace with you will never be shaken,
says the Lord, who takes pity on you’.
I chose this text for the entry procession for my Solemn Profession. It seemed to me to sum up my hope in my monastic journey. 22 years on and my hope still holds.
If you have ever been invited to the Solemn Profession of a Religious, you’ll know that it is a ceremony of great simplicity and power. Each Religious Order has its own traditions surrounding Religious Profession. In the Benedictine tradition a verse from Ps 118 holds a central place:
Receive me, (Lord), as you have promised, and I shall live; do not disappoint me in my hope.
In monastic language this is often referred to as ‘The Suscipe’, suscipere being the Latin word for ‘receive’. Commenting on this verse, Sr Aquinata Bockmann, says;
‘Suscipere means to take something very carefully and lifting it up, taking it to oneself, embracing it, cradling it in one’s hand, and covering it. The father of the family receives the child after birth, and this means he accepts it.’
This is the monastic’s covenantal prayer to God and to her community: it binds her in love and hope. The guidance of the community and the rhythm of the life will make sure that ‘ropes are lengthened and tent pegs firm’. What unfolds in the space she makes for God will be unique.
How is God calling you to ‘make space’ for him this Advent?