Lord of All Nations,
We longed to see your face, to hear your voice.
We kept the faith, and reached out in prayer
But too often, we failed to find you.
And then, one day in time you placed yourself
within reach in the person of a child as vulnerable as any of us.
King and peasant beheld you, Woman and man,
Slave and free, Jew and gentile.
For many of us, this pandemic has felt like a long, endless winter night. I am reminded of the Chronicles of Narnia, where the White Witch ruled over a land where "it was always winter but never Christmas." But when Aslan came, spring returned to Narnia. So too, for Mary and Joseph, the road from Nazareth to Bethlehem was a hard, cold journey
There was a slight, yet brisk breeze blowing; it was as if the breeze were guiding me to the Temple. The sun was barely peeking over the surrounding hills as I walked into the courtyard. I started pacing, and as I turned around, a flickering light caught my eye. It seemed to be coming from one of the Temple rooms. It may have been a candle, but I couldn’t stop looking at its brilliance pouring from the window.
A lot is stirring in today’s readings, and it’s all being stirred by the Holy Spirit. How in touch am I with the Holy Spirit? Where in my life do I feel the Spirit moving, calling me? If I were to “testify to the light” as John the Baptist is called to do, what in my life would I point to it? If others asked “Who are you?” how would I respond? Who am I in terms of my relationship to others? In terms of my relationship to Jesus?
Traditionally, the four candles on the Advent wreath, symbolizing the four weeks of our preparation for the coming of Christ, invite us to practice four virtues: hope, peace, joy, and love. Last week’s call to “HOPE” is enhanced this week by an invitation to live in “PEACE”. As we heard last Sunday, hope is much more than “optimism”. Hope is the conviction that even when the night seems dark and cold, the dawn is near. Hope means we are not alone: God will never abandon us. God hears and answers us.