Getting Ready to Pray
The Jesuit poet, GM Hopkins, wrote a poem about patience as a hard thing to pray for. Waiting, longing, wondering what’s taking so long—these are experiences we’d rather avoid. But that for which we do not have to wait, things and persons who are automatically present, these tend to become, well, just there. The usual.
There is a comfort in the normal, but there is something in the human soul which urges the new, the different or surprising. As we pray with an Advent spirit, we want both the expected and the unexpected. This is a wonderful way to pray and live, because there is something of God in both. We pray with our experiences of being surprised, with the different and unusual of each day as a preparation for our celebration of this Eucharist and of God’s becoming one of us. The different can be an annoyance, but it does keep us alert and alive. We might pray also with our resistance or skepticism about the unexpected.
Some Thoughts
The historical setting for our First Reading is the Exile. The Jewish nation is distant from Jerusalem, in Babylon. In the midst of their alienation from land and temple, a prophetic voice sings out a poem of hope. For us, these verses give a picture of reversals. The people in exile would find this a dream, an “is it possible?” They were far from home, in a captivity brought about by their failures to respond to God. They hear of a day “coming soon,” which is from the very same God whom they had rejected.
A promise is made to the people that things are about to change. Natural things will change: the desert will become fertile and all the flora will sing out of the goodness and glory of God.
Then we hear words spoken to the frightened of heart. God is coming so stay awake, do not give in to despair. These are words of encouragement to a repentant nation long in exile.
The final section of the poem returns to the pictures of physical changes. The blind and mute and deaf will be made whole. The entire people will see and hear and sing with joy as they re-enter Jerusalem, while sorrow and mourning flee from the city and from the hearts of those whom the Lord has recalled.
The Gospel pictures the Baptist, now in prison, but whom we heard last week baptizing and announcing that something, someone new is coming. It seems that John is not doubting Jesus, but, in his personal exile in prison, he needs a sign of hope. He sends his followers to Jesus with one good question: whether or not Jesus is the Messiah.
There is a two-fold ending to this Gospel reading. First, Jesus relies on John’s familiarity with the messianic texts, especially the verses we have heard in the First Reading. The blind, the mute, the leper are healed. The dead are raised and the poor have the “good news” preached to them. The proof is in putting the hopeful verses into practice. John will be comforted by the report his disciples give him. Then, as they are departing, Jesus speaks to crowds about this person, John. They had gone out to see him and listen to his calling. They might have had certain expectations and even suspicions. John was found to be strong, dedicated and living what he believed. He was not a trembling reed, but a true prophet whom Scripture had announced. Of all the prophets and indeed of all born the natural way, John is the greatest.
Then Jesus takes the opportunity to confound, yet invite his listeners. There is a new level of existence. There is a new way of being born. There is a different way of judging greatness. The least person living this new way is greater than John the Baptist, whom Jesus has just stated to be the greatest born in the old and natural way. Jesus is continuing his call to all listeners to be born of this new, unexpected, surprising, “supernatural” way. He has affirmed John, affirmed himself to be the Messiah, and confirmed the establishment of his kingdom or way of living.
It is “Rejoice Sunday” and there is some cause for that spirit. Here’s the problem though.
We are invited to pray with the coming of Jesus as a baby. We hear it said that we should be careful about what we pray for. Advent can be dangerous! The real problem with Jesus is that he grew up and spoke his truth, lived his truth. By his doing that we are invited to listen and live those same truths! We are all in captivity to the familiar, to our ways, to our expectations. Jesus asks to be born again in us—who are to live with joy at our being released from our fears, blindness, deafness and leprosy. We are praying with dangerous and disturbing concepts.
Be careful what you pray for. John was affirmed in his belief that Jesus was the Messiah. The crowds and now we ourselves hear that Jesus is changing, rearranging us, our values, our ways of seeing, listening, living. Surprises, such as Jesus was and is, do take time for us to get accustomed to. Jesus is about to be born, but more than that!
The Lord has done great things for us; we are filled with joy. Ps 126
