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Advent

Jan 24 2025

A No Can Open Up to a Yes from God

In today’s Gospel, the Baptizer shakes his head and says no to his  questioners: No, I am not the light; I am not the Christ; I am not  Elijah; I am not the Prophet. No, no, and no. 

We often hear about Mary’s yes and how we should imitate her.  What about John the Baptist’s no? Should we imitate his no too? What if the man crying out in the desert had answered yes? What  if he had taken the praises he received as his due, puffed out his  camel hair–covered chest and said, “Yes, I am Elijah. I am good. I  am the Prophet. Look at me!” He could have. But he would have  lost his way. 

I was pondering that no a few days ago as I walked to my office.  I was treading one of the numerous sidewalks on the Notre Dame  campus, the one that leads from my car to the theology building.  Directly in front of me was one clear line where the concrete sections  came together. I put my left foot on that crack and tried to walk  straight and stay straight. I imagined, “Hmmm . . . so this one is my  line, my path.” If I turn aside from that line, through envy or the  distraction of wishing that I were on someone else’s route, I could  lose my way and miss what I was created to do. 

John the Baptist stuck to his path. He was as at home with who  he was not. His clear no opened the space for the grander yes of his  particular mission: he readied the world for Jesus. 

We can imitate that no to what we are not. You and I are unique  children of God, each with a unique mission. We too can ready the  world for Jesus.

Consider/Discuss 

  • Who are you? Who are you not? To what identity does God ask you to say  no? How can you and I lose our way, wishing we were someone else? 
  • Where are the small ways we say no in our lives? Saying no to that slice  of double-chocolate cake may open the space for a slimmer figure. Telling  ourselves no to that extra fifteen minutes of sleep after the alarm rings  opens space for a healthier breakfast and a more relaxed preparation for  work. How can no open the space for God’s vision for us of a bigger  and grander yes? 

Living and Praying with the Word 

Savior of the World, here we are. As we are. You have anointed  us to bring glad tidings to this world. Give us the courage to imitate  John the Baptist’s no. Strengthen us, so that we are people of honesty,  clarity, and valor, willing to say no to anything that does not further  your glory. For you are coming soon. We rejoice heartily that you  want to use our unique gifts and talents to help to prepare this world  for your coming. Come, Lord Jesus, our Emmanuel!

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Jan 24 2025

Scripture Study for

Despite the promises of glorious restoration given through earlier  prophets, decades after the Exile, Jerusalem and Judah remained  small and poor. Isaiah’s answer to the question “Why isn’t God  doing anything?” has two aspects. The first answer is to be patient  and trust, with a hopeful confidence that what God has promised  will be done. The second aspect is captured by the phrase “wrapped  me in a mantle of justice.” The people must also take responsibility  for the problems that led to the Exile in the first place, especially  widespread injustice, which seems to have continued after the Exile.  Trust in God’s fidelity had to be combined with resolve to mend their  ways and live within God’s will. 

Saint Paul concludes his First Letter to the Thessalonians by  encouraging a people that has struggled to make sense of the apparent  delay in the return of Christ. It is difficult to maintain religious fervor  and faith under such circumstances, and the tendency was to grow  doubtful or negligent. But the Thessalonians should rejoice and keep  up their prayer, especially thanksgiving. Attend to the gifts that God  has given, Paul says, but do not be naïve: everything must be tested  for its goodness. The letter ends with a prayer that God will preserve  the Thessalonians during this difficult time, keeping them holy and  blameless. God is faithful. The promises given in Christ will come  to pass.

As in last week’s Gospel, John the Baptist announces that he is  preparing the way for one greater than himself. In response to a  challenge from the priests and Levites, who want to know what role  John believes he plays in the expected coming of the Messiah, he  assures them that he is not the Messiah, nor Elijah (see Malachi  3:23–24), nor “the Prophet” promised by Moses (Deuteronomy  18:15), understood by some Jews in the first century to be a  messianic figure. By what authority, then, does he baptize, if he has  no messianic pretensions? John affirms that he has no authority; his  role is simply “to testify to the light” coming into the world. 

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Jan 23 2025

The Status Un-quo

It was a football weekend at the University of Notre Dame.  Sacred Heart basilica was packed. People from all over streamed  forward in a straight line, holding open their hands—tender hands  with well-formed nails, broad hands accustomed to strength. A few  opened their mouths. All had straight white teeth. And I kept saying  it: “Body of Christ.” And they replied: “Amen.” “Body of Christ.”  “Amen.” “Body of Christ.” “Amen.” The multitudes streamed toward  the Lord.

Then I saw him in line. He didn’t fit among the well-dressed  crowd. Scraggly long hair. Shorts (in November?). Hiking boots.  Gray wool socks with red stripes. He might have walked in straight  from the Appalachian Trail. What was he doing here? He stopped  in front of me and opened his hands to receive the One who was  mightier than he. Eager for the One he so obviously loved, his eyes  gleamed with joy. 

I wondered, if John the Baptist were here among us, is this what  he would look like? Would he choose to deliberately unsettle the  status quo? Would he intend to show us how transitory this life is?  Would he want us to be cognizant that all earthly things will pass  away? That this glorious building, with these good-looking people  celebrating this famed football team—would John the Baptist rail at  us not to forget that all is nothing compared to the grandeur of the  One who comes to us at Christmas? In spite of our self-assurance  that we control the present, would he remind us that we are simple  Advent people—never secure in the now, always on a tenuous trek  to something more? Maybe he would. Maybe he should. 

I focused back on my task for those who flowed forward, offering  food for the journey: “Body of Christ.” “Amen.” “Body of Christ . . .” 

Consider/Discuss 

  • Unexpected events unsettle our surety. What has sharpened our focus,  made us realize that this earthly life is not sufficient, not all there is? Where  has God been in those moments? 
  • In this tenuous Advent of our lives, paths are not always straight, mountains  can seem high, valleys can feel abysmally low. How can we be like John the  Baptist for each other, helping to prepare the way for the Lord? 

Living and Praying with the Word 

Lord, with you, one day is like a thousand years and a thousand  years are like one day. Yet we can become so focused on what we are  doing right here and now that we lose sight of your bigger picture.  Sharpen our eyes to see your broader vision. You alone are enough.  Ready us to receive your forgiveness as we prepare for your coming,  eager to be found without spot or blemish. Come, Emmanuel, come  and be born in our hearts!

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Jan 23 2025

Scripture Study for

The beginning of this passage from Isaiah combines fierce language  of the Divine Warrior with pastoral images of the Divine Shepherd.  Together the two metaphors evoke confidence in God’s power and  desire to save, which is motivated by care for God’s “flock.” The  highway in the wilderness is the path of the Divine Warrior, who  marches into Babylon to retrieve Israel. The language of “reward”  and “recompense” refers to plunder that a warrior could expect to  gain from pillaging conquered lands. Here the “war booty” is God’s  own people. God gently scoops them up and brings them home.  The overall image is of a fiercely loyal Warrior on a rescue mission,  marching into enemy territory to retrieve (redeem) the Chosen People. 

The community to which Peter in his Second Letter writes has  struggled to be faithful in the face of persecution, and has doubts  about the delay in the Lord’s return or the coming of the day of the  Lord. The apparent delay also challenges fervor and perseverance  in discipleship. Peter first assures them that the “delay” is only from  their limited human perspective; in fact, it is for their benefit that the  Lord does not return right away, as it gives time for repentance. But  be assured, he says, that the day of the Lord will come and when it  comes, the Lord will want to find this people faithful, holy, devoted,  “without spot or blemish.” 

Last week’s Gospel reading featured Jesus warning his listeners  not to put off repentance. At the beginning of today’s Gospel, we  have John the Baptist also warning his listeners to be prepared for  the (first) coming of the Son of God. The baptism John preaches is  one of both repentance and forgiveness. His message is not simply  “repent,” but also “allow yourselves to be forgiven.” Both repentance  and forgiveness prepare the crowds for the One who is coming, the  One who will complete the work by making it possible for the people  to receive the Holy Spirit, the divine agent of sanctification, ensuring  that repentance and forgiveness bear lasting fruit. 

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Jan 23 2025

Advent Is Calling!

She stokes the fire and stirs the logs so that they get more air.  From upstairs, she hears the breathing machine, whirring in and  out, bringing oxygen to the one she loves. She cannot see the air  around the logs. She cannot see the oxygen in the machine. But she is  continually attentive to its movement. It is always there. It is always  moving. Something could happen. She needs to be ready. 

He is chopping onions, humming a tune. A pan lid clangs. A grunt  sounds as a diaper plops to the floor. From the corner of his eye,  he sees movement and then feels a tug on his pant leg. He reaches  down to lift his beloved onto his hip. He slides vegetables into the  skillet. The toddler is always there. He is always moving. His dad  is continually attentive to his noises, alert to his motion. Something  could happen. He needs to be ready. 

For Israel, the Lord is always present, always active, always  moving. The prophet Isaiah is alert to that invisible motion. He  pleads to the Redeemer who has been faithful in the past, for his  people are at risk: “Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come  down!” Today’s psalmist begs, “Come, come to save us!” The divine  “you” is constantly in Israel’s awareness as their enduring reality:  always present, continually moving, forever acting. 

It may not be the noise of the breathing machine in Mary Oliver’s  poem “Oxygen.” It may not be the crawling boy in my son’s kitchen.  But you and I, we too may have seasons of hyper-alertness at the  edge of consciousness. In situations that carry some risk, we are  ready. 

Jesus alerts us today: The One we love is here. Something is  happening. Be attentive. Watch!

Consider/Discuss 

  • Consider the times in your own life when you have had that attentiveness  at the edge of consciousness. What was the situation? Who was the  beloved? What was the risk? 
  • Like the oxygen that continually flows within us, the Spirit of God  breathes in our lives right now. Like the toddler crashing pan lids around  us, the Spirit is active and moving in this world. As we begin anew this  Advent, how can we allow the grace of God to cultivate within us a livelier  attentiveness to this divine movement? 

Living and Praying with the Word 

Savior of the world, you are the Prince of Peace. We are not at  peace. We feel some risk. You have always been faithful to us. We  are not always faithful to you. As we move into Advent, bring us to  deeper conversion. You ask us to be more aware of your presence.  You are here. You are active. You are always moving in our lives.  Thank you for rescuing us in our past. We trust you to take care of  our future. O come, Emmanuel. Come and save us!

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