Jesus is not deterred by human suffering. He welcomes all who approach him; his healing touch reincorporates those who have been ostracised; his loving embrace reassociates those who have been alienated. In the reign of God, there are no outsiders. All belong to Jesus, and, therefore, all belong to each other. When the one afflicted is embraced by the community, the community is an authentic manifestation of the inclusive reign of God. In suffering we witness human vulnerability and our desperate need of each other and of God. There, at the edge of life and on the fringes of the community, we may experience the tenderness and compassion of God. The loving touch of Christ that can heal our souls, if not our bodies. It is there that we may most authentically participate in the cross of Christ. Joined to him we are anything but unproductive or worthless.
Suffering comes to everyone. It can take such a hold of us that the happiness of the past is swallowed up, the beauty of better days is forgotten, and the hope of a brighter future is imperilled. Life ceases to be an adventure and takes on the guise of drudgery. At such times suffering appears to be our permanent fate, and life seems too short for suffering to run its course. If we become identified with our distress, we will be tormented. Jesus knew the harshness of life, because he was one of us. He saw it in the lives of those he loved, and he was touched by their torment. He came to release people from the demons that possess them, from the illness that undermined their lives. He came to bring the reign of God, the reign of peace and fulfilment. He came to heal the broken-hearted, to bind up their wounds.
Discipleship requires a change in us. We want to change because in so many ways we are being strangled to death by demons. We are caught in dysfunction and sin; we live in the midst of the battle between good and evil, the struggle of human finitude and failure. We are plunged into the throes of human suffering and pain, and there seems to be no escape. When we are released by Jesus from the demons that possess us, we are freed from the stranglehold of evil and liberated to live far less encumbered and divided lives. No Earthly reality will possess us, neither relationships nor obligations nor even religious practices. Rather, we will be possessed by Christ who liberates us for the reign of God. Therefore, whether married or unmarried, whether in the midst of the community or at its margins, we will be able to heed the voice of God in our hearts and to recognise Jesus in our midst.
In the peace and joy of this wonderful season, we wish all connected with our parish communities a truly blessed and treasured time, and may God continue to be present to us, and all with whom we share His wonderful gift of life and love, this Christmas.
The waiting of Advent is over. In the face of the impossible, God works the possible. During Advent, we have been waiting for the realisation of the promise made to David. We have been waiting for Mary’s yes. With this yes, hope is enlivened, and history is changed. There is an unimaginable future for all people, a future that comes from God. Salvation is created among us, and the fate of history is altered by a godly presence. This salvation resides in the hearts of those who believe in the gift, and who stay awake eagerly to know its coming. With David we await it, with the nations we long for it, with Mary we behold it.
Traditionally, the third Sunday of Advent is called Gaudete Sunday, the Sunday of Joy. The joy of this Sunday comes both from the message of the readings and from the anticipation that Christmas is nearing. As described in the Isaian passage, the Messiah is the one imbued with the spirit and with the power of the prophet, the one who will fulfill the promises of God. It becomes obvious in the Gospel that the Messiah is the one proclaimed by the Baptist. John cleared a path for the coming of the anointed one, and from that time on the lives of believers have been the pathway through which the Messiah has entered the world.
In the wilderness God’s salvation comes to a broken people. In the midst of what is seemingly an impossible situation, hope emerges with vigour. In this context, hope is an openness to surprise, the surprise that God is in no way limited to the imaginings of human minds and the consequences of human history. This is the kind of hope that is proclaimed in the wilderness by John; it is the kind of hope that trusts that from the impossible, God can work a new creation and inspire broken-hearted people. The contrite heart is a broken heart, an emptied-out heart, a hope-filled heart. It is a heart that is unencumbered by the past and that lives currently in the passing of time and the fragility of being alive. The contrite, broken heart can be filled only by what is promised in the future. This is the paradox of Advent. In the middle of the wilderness, God works the impossible in those whose hearts are ready for the surprise of hope.
Today’s readings at the beginning of Advent shapes the context for understanding the entire season. They fix our gaze on the world of human pain and then moves beyond it to the hope of a brighter future. Lamentation and expectation find fulfilment in the Day of the Lord. Waiting is a prominent image this Sunday. The readings suggest that we should wait with patient expectation for the day of reconciliation and peace; we should wait in joyful hope that what is to come will come soon. While we wait, we should faithfully fulfil our responsibilities. We believe that we have a future worth waiting for, that there are promises that God will keep. And so we look expectantly to the Day of the Lord, that future day of ultimate fulfilment.
We have now come to the end of the liturgical year, the point that marks the transition from one period to another. Today we see that the kingdom of God is inclusive. Its embrace is as comprehensive as is the embrace of God. Criteria for membership are not based on obedience to the commandments or on conformity to ritual obligation, but on the bonds of love and concern. What we do for others, we do for Christ, because Christ is identified with those in need. We very seldom see the face of the glorified Christ in the faces of the needy; it is more often the face of the disfigured Christ that is turned to us. We see his fear and his shame, his brokenness and sense of loss. As difficult as it may be to look into such eyes, it is precisely the needy with whom Christ is identified. Having entered into the frailty of human nature, identified himself with the needy, and handed himself over to death, in the end Christ will have conquered all. It is a curious kingdom that he has won, a kingdom of the weak rather than the strong. He has turned the standards of the world upside down. He has shown that it does not take strength to ignore or to exploit the needy, but it does take strength to overcome our own selfishness in order to serve them. The kingdom that Christ hands over to God is a kingdom of love and care.
The 33rd Sunday of the Year brings us close to the end of another liturgical year in the church. Next week’s feast of Christ the King concludes the current Year A liturgical cycle before we celebrate the beginning of Year B and Advent. So today’s readings reflect the nearness of the end times. The gospel has the theme: “the responsibility of talent.” No two of us gathered here today are alike. God has given us different talents or gifts to use for the good of all. Ultimately the “talent” from God is God’s very life, or grace. It is the talent of love that explodes from the reign of God everywhere in our midst, combating every form of evil. In using these talents we enrich our life and the lives of those around us. Sometimes we bury that gift. The first reading speaks of the wise woman who uses her talents to live a simple yet industrious life. The second reading suggests that the Master is nearer than we think. But the overall message is for us not to fear, but to know the Lord, and ourselves, in a new way, and be glad that his Day is near.