Today’s text from Isaiah continues the themes of God’s promise of rescue and re-assurance. The words of prophesy re-assure Judah that God is more than able to subdue the power of Babylon. God is the original creative agent in the world and cannot be confined by anyone. His power is cosmic and even the most powerful of the world’s nations pose no threat. Isaiah makes appeal to the beauty and power of the whole created order:
‘Lift up your eyes and look. Who made these stars if not he who drills them like an army, calling each one by name?‘
Before I entered the monastery, I took a month-long trip to Kenya. I spent one week on a ‘People and Places’ safari, travelling to the desert region of Turkana in an open truck. As we travelled between camps I spent many hours looking at the night sky. I was mesmorised by the clusters of stars that felt close enough to touch. I joked to myself that with my entry into the monastery just weeks away, I was busy filling my inner landscape with the night sky of Turkana. In that joking there was more than a grain of truth.
Take some time to look at the night sky this week. Read the text from Isaiah. Let God speak to you.
Today Isaiah paints the scene of a triumphant homecoming for Judah, their time of exile ended. Isaiah uses the familiar biblical theme of reversal, and we are invited to picture a landscape where valleys, hills, ridges and mountains are transformed. It’s likely that the image of ‘a straight highway’ will have reminded the hearers of this prophecy of the triumphal journey of the Israelites through the Red Sea and of the entry into the Promised Land. The language of triumph continues as a messenger shouts the joyful news: Here is your God! This God shows all the solicitude of a shepherd:
He is like a shepherd feeding his flock, gathering the lambs in his arms, holding them against his breast and leading to their rest the mother ewes.
The link is made easily with our Gospel story from Matthew of the man who leaves his ninety-nine sheep in search of one that has strayed. Dom Henry Wansbrough comments that while Matthew’s story lacks some of the affection of Luke’s, what is significant is that this story is told in the middle of Ch 18, which is all about living together in community. Going in search of the lost is intrinsic to Christian community.
The Rule of St Benedict is only seventy-three chapters long. It fits easily in a pocket. Yet within these seventy-three chapters there is wisdom which has stood the test of time. The more familiar I become with the Rule, the more I notice the nuances, and most especially the humanity of the text.
Ch 27 of the Rule deals with ‘The Abbot’s Concern for the Excommunicated’. It is part of a series of chapters which are often referred to as St Benedict’s ‘Penal Code’. They largely don’t make for easy reading. Even if we take into account St Benedict’s historical context, we are still left with practices and some attitudes which we wouldn’t and couldn’t countenance today. There’s is, however, a thread which runs through each chapter: actions done by one member of the community affect the whole. What motivates St Benedict is the good of the whole community in its search for God.
‘…he ought to use every skill of a wise physician and send in senpectae, that is, mature and wise brothers, who, under the cloak of secrecy, may support the wavering brother.’
I am always struck by the humanity of the words quoted above from Ch 27. The abbot deputises ‘mature and wise brothers’ to seek out the wayward brother. The fact that this is to be done in secret speaks volumes. The last thing you would want to do is make public the struggles of another. I get the impression that these ‘senpectae’ would have seen it all before and be unshockable. It is noticeable too that St Benedict doesn’t suggest that the abbot himself seek out the brother. As a wise physician he knows when to call upon the particular skills of others in the community. The abbot is to act with ‘speed, discernment and diligence’. St Benedict knows that timing is everything when difficulties arise.
Is Christ calling you this Advent to be a wise physician and to reach out to someone who is struggling?
Genesis 3:9-15, 20 Ephesians 1:3-6, 11-12 Luke 1:26-38
In her book Born Contemplative, Madeleine Simon writes about the spiritual development of young children and explores her thesis that we are all born with an innate capacity for God. She says that a child’s faith journey begins the moment the mother knows that she is pregnant. As we celebrate today’s Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception the church invites us to stand back and to imagine that moment when Mary was conceived, the beginning of her faith journey. All that we know of her parents comes from pious legend and so we are left to imagine the upright, God-fearing couple, Joachim and Anne, who have followed the path of Torah all their lives.
In our liturgy today we are engaged in a collective looking back over the story of our salvation. The story of the Fall in Genesis Ch 2 looms large and lays before us the human dynamic of sin and shame. It’s always important to hold Genesis Ch 1 alongside Ch 2, as here we find a theology of blessing: ‘And God saw that it was good.’ Our relationship with God is ruptured, but it is not beyond repair. God never loses sight of our innate capacity to live with Him in love.
The whole of Biblical revelation charts the path of God’s relationship with his people. We see in each page God’s desire to restore harmony. God will use the lowly and the weak to fulfill his plan. Mary enters the story of our salvation as one who is poor and lowly. She has been nurtured in a tradition of God’s Word (Torah), God’s Service (Prayer) and God’s Work (Kindness). She had learnt the ways of faithfulness and love.
In today’s Gospel story of the Annunciation we see the flowering of God’s plan, as Mary is told that she has ‘won God’s favour’. Every small choice from the very moment of her conception has led to this day. It’s easy to feel inadequate when Mary is held up as ‘the one without sin’. But perhaps we could see today’s feast as an invitation to make each of our own small choices count?
‘As we progress in this way of life and in faith, we shall run on the path of God’s commandments, our hearts overflowing with the inexpressible delight of love.’ Rule of St Benedict, Prologue
The day to day life of a monastic is made up of many little things. At the beginning of my novitiate my novice mistress said to me: ‘Never underestimate the energy it takes to turn up at the right place, at the right time, with the appropriate expression on your face.’ These were wise words indeed and I revisit them frequently. Saying my ‘Yes’ to God opened up a world where faithfulness is needed for the big things and the little. You largely don’t go in search of the big things, they come to you. But the small things are there around every corner in the monastery. When life seems overwhelming and there are many calls on your heart and your mind, I have learnt the wisdom of just doing the next right thing.
While last week’s Gospel text invited us to ‘Stay Awake!’, the message this week is no less urgent: ‘Repent, for the kingdom of God is close at hand.’ John the Baptist walks into our Advent landscape with a message that is uncompromising. His cry of ‘Repent’ is for deep and radical change where hearts are to be turned away from all that would hinder their love for God. John’s message echoes that of the Old Testament prophets who proclaimed the great day of reckoning, the Day of the Lord. With imagery of warfare and cataclysm the Old Testament prophets warn of a time when God will come to right all wrongs.
As Advent unfolds for us, we may find ourselves trying to hold together this radical call to conversion on the one hand, and on the other an atmosphere of expectant joy and glitz created in all our high streets and on our tv screens. I’ve been struck by the popularity of Dr Michael Mosley’s book and series ‘Just One Thing’ and wonder if this might hold the key for us. Mosley suggests that in the bewildering array of material available on health and well-being, changing just one thing can provide great benefits. Perhaps Advent might be the time when you could make a small change.
When St Benedict writes the Prologue to his Rule he is clear that conversion lies at the heart of his monastic vision:
Therefore, we intend to establish a school for the Lord’s service. In drawing up its regulations, we hope to set down nothing harsh, nothing burdensome. The good of all concerned, however, may prompt us to a little strictness in order to amend faults and to safeguard love. Do not be daunted immediately by fear and run away from the road that leads to salvation. It is bound to be narrow at the outset. But as we progress in this way of life and in faith, we shall run on the path of God’s commandments, our hearts overflowing with the inexpressible delight of love.
Amending faults and safeguarding love are the very stuff of monastic life. There is something about the regularity of the life which makes it relatively easy to see one’s own patterns of behaviour. Where the real hard work begins is learning how to amend faults. St Benedict doesn’t expect this to happen overnight. In Chapter Four of his Rule, The Tools of Good Works, he provides the monastic with a spiritual toolkit. There are seventy-four tools which will aid the monastic in their craft. I take great heart in the fact that the last tool of all is this: never lose heart in God’s mercy. The monastic way may be narrow and at times hard, but the promise is there that if you are faithful your heart will expand and overflow with love.
Is there one thing you would like to change this Advent?
I’ve often been asked how I knew I wanted to be a nun. I think people know when they ask me that me that I didn’t have a Damascus road experience. I usually answer by talking about my growing conviction that I wanted to follow Christ and put my whole trust in his promises. Their next question is usually, ‘And are you happy?’. This is actually more complicated to answer because the life of faith is a long journey with many twists and turns in the road. I have a sense that I am on the path that God wants me to be on. In this sense I am happy.
Isaiah’s words to the people of Judah are to assure them that they are on the right path. He promises an end to their weeping and God’s attentiveness to their cries: ‘He will be gracious to you when he hears your cry; when he hears he will answer.’ They must put their full trust in God and not be swayed by political alliances with other nations. In fact, they must acknowledge their need for God. The invitation is to walk in God’s ways: “Whether you turn to right or left, your ears will hear these words behind you, ‘This is the way, follow it.’” There is something very re-assuring about these words. Once they are firmly on the path a wonderful vision is promised. There will be an abundance of water, their every need will be provided for and their healing promised.
Look up the passage in Isaiah and notice the poetry of abundance. How do you see this promise in your own life?
In today’s text from Isaiah we have several images of reversal.
‘In a short time, a very short time, shall not Lebanon become a fertile land and fertile land turn into a forest?’
A radical new society is promised where creation is transformed and societal structures reformed. Together these reversals will make communal life possible. In common with the other social justice prophets, Amos and Hosea, Isaiah’s message is that faith in God shows itself in right relationship with everyone and everything around you. It’s the poor and the lowly who stand to gain in Isaiah’s vision. Judah is promised a new start.
‘But the lowly will rejoice in the Lord even more and the poorest exult in the Holy One of Israel…’
We could see Isaiah’s vision as one of ‘levelling up’, although this might have a rather hollow ring in our culture today. In Isaiah’s theology it is an essential part of God’s vision for the world. This vision is echoed in today’s Gospel reading where Jesus restores the sight of two blind men (Matthew 9:27-31). Matthew is showing us that where the kingdom of God breaks through, those who are marginalized are given priority.
We are all co-workers in his vision of the kingdom. It comes to us in small ways, when our path is made smoother by the unexpected kindnesses of others. We carry the life of the kingdom within us. Each day the choice is ours as to whether we take the opportunities to ‘be the change we want to see in the world’.
When I made my Solemn Profession in 2000 our artist, Sr Regina, made me a card with the text;
‘On this mountain, the Lord of hosts will prepare for all peoples a banquet of rich food, a banquet of fine wines, of food rich and juicy, of fine strained wines.’
I think this was her way of linking my job as kitchen manager with eschatological vision of the kingdom. I’ve always loved this vision of God’s abundance and generosity. There’s no portion control in God’s kingdom.
After giving us an assurance of limitless food provision, the text then moves to an image that is equally powerful. God promises to ‘wipe away the tears from every cheek.’ As a teacher I’ve sat with many a small child breaking their heart over something which has overwhelmed them. Isaiah’s image is human and deeply re-assuring. We need the visions and poetry which acknowledge our human condition.
Grief has swept our world this past year. We have had scenes of anguish of every kind. In so many situations people experienced a powerlessness that paralyses. Probably for many it’s almost impossible to imagine a time when tears will be wiped away. Isaiah’s vision invites us to yield in some way to our present circumstances, while holding fast to God’s promises for the future. This is not a once and for all thing. It’s something we do daily.
How can you hold fast to Isaiah’s promise this Advent?
When the Church lays before us texts from the Prophet Isaiah during Advent we are invited into several different thought worlds. Firstly, there is the thought world of the text in its original context. Secondly, there is the thought world of the early Christians who heard these texts as anticipating the Birth of Christ. Thirdly, there is the thought world of the Advent liturgy. And, fourthly there is the thought world of the personal circumstances of our lives. All of these thought worlds can intersect.
In today’s text Isaiah gives us a vision of an ideal king. This is in response to the real threat of Assyria, a super power of the day. Isaiah uses the metaphor of a tree to assure the people of new growth and hope for the future.
‘A shoot springs from the stock of Jesse, a scion thrusts from his roots: on him the spirit of the Lord rests, a spirit of wisdom and insight, a spirit of counsel and power, a spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the Lord.’
The promised king has every virtue prized by the Hebrew people. In mirroring God’s ways of faithfulness and integrity the new King will ensure peace. This is no ordinary peace. Isaiah paints something of a dreamworld where animals seem to change their natures and habits. It’s a vision where all the usual dangers are removed.
We are hardwired to scan for danger. Our cave dwelling ancestors depended on the fight or flight mechanism to avoid the dangers of wild animals. In Isaiah’s poetic vision we have the invitation to imagine a deeper reality for our world and for ourselves. This vision of peace and harmony starts here and now. It starts in our hearts. It doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a daily choosing to do ‘no hurt, no harm’.
How can you live something of Isaiah’s vision today?
As we begin Advent the Church lays before us a range of images as guides for our journey. We are invited to tune our ears to the voices of the prophets and to hear afresh a call to find in God’s word a personal call to conversion and the promise of salvation.
Isaiah preaches to a people who look in confusion on the brokenness of their physical and spiritual lives. The physical destruction the Temple in Jerusalem touches the very core of all their hope and longing. The God who guaranteed to be with them in the life and worship of the Temple now appears to be absent, the walls which once gave sanctuary are now rubble. Isaiah uses stern warnings and points to the people’s lack of fidelity. At the same time Isaiah sounds a note of hope in words that speak of a reversal of fortunes, where splendour and glory will be fully restored.
At the end of today’s text we are give another image: For, over all, the glory of the Lord will be a canopy and a tent to give shade by day from the heat, refuge and shelter from the storm and the rain. Isaiah speaks directly to Israel’s sense of abandonment in imagery that reassures and promises protection.
As Advent begins are there places in your own life where you can seek refuge? Are there people who have offered you shelter?
Each year as we celebrate the liturgical cycle, I am grateful for the opportunity to take stock and refocus my mind and heart. We begin Advent with Isaiah’s prophetic vision of all nations gathering in peace. Isaiah invites us to imagine the peoples of the world being restored to unity. It’s a hopeful vision which sets peace and harmony at the heart of God’s plan. It can be helpful to hold onto this optimism when we come to the Gospel.
Matthew strikes a warning note, urging us to be ready for the Second Coming of Jesus: ‘So, stay awake, because you do not know the day when your master is coming.‘
These words speak to me of being alert and on the watch for the signs of Christ’s coming. Largely we don’t live with a sense of Christ’s Second Coming being imminent, but we can, like Matthew’s community fall into complacency. Advent rouses me to action.
Writing in the Sixth Century, St Benedict begins his Rule with several invitations which all have a sense of urgency. The Roman Empire is crumbling, and St Benedict sets forth a bold and dynamic vision for a life lived in search of God. The Prologue of his Rule is a clarion call to all who long for Christ to be the centre of their lives. There’s no sitting back and letting things unfold for St Benedict. He rouses us to action:
‘Let us get up then, at long last, for the scriptures rouse us when they say: It is high time for us to wake from sleep. (Rom 13) Let us open our eyes to the light that comes from God, and our ears to the voice from heaven that every day calls out this charge: If you hear his voice today, do not harden your hearts. (Ps 95)’
St Benedict’s monks are to be ever on the watch. Such is the power of Scripture that it can rouse a monk from his bed and spur him into action. If he opens his eyes to the divine light of Scripture, he opens himself to the possibility of transformation.
Every other day in Advent when we will begin our communal prayer by singing Ps 95 as the Invitatory Psalm, I will be invited to keep my heart open and ready for Christ’s coming. The message is loud and clear. Christ calls me today.
How is Christ calling you to stay awake and open your heart this Advent?
