Peaceful waiting in Advent Hope

Loaves and Fishes, by Laura James Art

We heard in the Gospel this week of the miracle of the loaves and fishes. The miracle being, the sharing of the food, amongst the many. The many had been waiting with Jesus for three days, thousands of people "the lame the maimed and blind, the mute and many others."[1]

Waiting, waiting with Jesus, sat together, in union and in hunger. The miracle surely is not only in the food multiplying, but in the waiting of thousands of people, waiting for the blind to see, mute to talk, the lame to walk; thousands of people waiting in hope and faith and hunger.

Pope Francis calls us to be aware of the charade of celebrating Christmas this year.  He says that with our world so broken, by climate change, war, poverty and greed, "We should ask for the grace to weep for this world which does not recognize the path to peace… God weeps, Jesus weeps."[2]

A path away from peace is a path to making us all lame, mute, maimed, and blind; such a path is not far from our own feet.

We could despair at the state of the world, at the charade that is looming, but first we have a choice. Just like those waiting with Jesus, hungry and broken, we could chose to stay. We can and must choose the path of peace, hope and love; we can all choose to wait.

I am reminded of the words of Jean Vanier, 

"Each one of us is waiting. Creation is waiting, humanity in its totality is waiting. But sometimes we forget that Jesus is also waiting. Jesus is waiting and sometimes, we may imagine him, in tears, as he weeps over this broken humanity saying 'If you had but known the gift of God. If you had but known the message of peace."[3]

Advent is a time of waiting, a time to celebrate the waiting of an Emmanuel, God with us. As we prepare a path, we are called, more so than ever before, that this path must be one of peace.

We must, moreover we need to be mindful of how we, the broken, forgotten, the unwanted, are invited to wait alongside Jesus to be freed, nourished and welcomed, in love, hope and peace.

---

[1] Mt 15:29-37[2] http://time.com/4123703/pope-francis-christmas-charade/[3] Jean Vanier - Images of Love, words of hope pg112-13

Transforming in to the people of The Resurrection

Empty Tomb- He Qi

The Good Friday altar is bleak

three crosses, rough with nails,

we are mean to think

of someone in pain, approach

a cross, each step a prayer,

and take a nail to lighten

the burden. I think of you,

John O’Donohue- for Good Friday – Echoes of Memory

We don’t typically have to wait for much nowadays, we can tell when its going to rain in the swipe of a finger, the probability of a sports score in a mater of seconds, the sex of an unborn child in an afternoon. We can choose to exile the pain and suffering of those around us, to hide those we don’t agree of worse embarrass us.

The women on that first Easter morning - who didn’t have the luxury of choice in waiting - rushed to the tomb in garden in hope and reality, with words of Jesus ringing in their ears, along with the mutterings of doubters. But they waited, trusted and believed.

They hadn’t lived through Triduum after Triduum, years of vigils, but rather; the death of a friend, son and brother; 3 days of agony of questions; exiles- friends disappearing. 

And then as they hear the whispers of past, of their Friend our Christ, they see the unimagined the stone moved the tomb empty.  

As I sit with these women some 2000yrs on I remember that I to am able to wait to discover the unimagined, to question, to open my ears and my heart to the words of past beloveds, to let my soul speak to that of the son, friend, brother which dwells in those around me. And with this comes a newness, like the birdsong in that garden with those women,  as I do every morning with the hearts that shape my day.

We were sent here to search for the light of Easter in our hearts and when we find it, we are meant to give it away generously.

The dawn that is rising this Easter morning is a gift to our hearts and we are meant to celebrate it and to carry away from this holy, ancient place the gifts of healing and light and the courage of a new beginning.”

John O’Donohue Easter Sunrise at Corcomroe

A revisiting of The First Thanksgiving.

The first Thanksgiving- Bruce Weaver and Luke Smith

When our 6th St Home first opened we placed up on the wall next to our table an image of the Last Supper. It is a familiar image to many who visit us. It was a familiar image to me and I thought I knew what it meant, what it represented. I thought I knew the story being told. But then I met Bruce, a man who in only a few words changed my understanding of what the Last Supper is.


One fall Saturday morning as we ate our breakfast, I asked Bruce what he thought heaven would be like; he simply shrugged his shoulders, as only Bruce can, and replied, “Thanksgiving, The first thanksgiving!” He pointed up to the image of the Last Supper, the institution of the Eucharist, and taught me what the Last Supper is, the First Thanksgiving. Bruce continued, “We came as strangers, we eat and we become friends, its Thanksgiving.” His smile, his words, his ability to point out the seemingly obvious, was and continues to be liberating.

Art by Sieger Koder

 How we are called to do similarly, as a family in L’Arche, to welcome each other as strangers, as we all were at some point, to share a meal, be nourished by word and food, to wash each others feet is Thanksgiving, is a celebration of, service, of forgiveness and celebration; of Eucharist.

Bruce I say to you, Thank you.

Come, Come to The Manger

Children come!

The Shepherds- John August Swanson

The first visitors to Jesus were the shepherds, a group of people who lived on edges of society, a group of people who lived in the wilderness, away from civility, viewed as the other, seen as being incapable and untrustworthy.

There were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock.

An angel of the Lord stood before them, the glory of the Lord shone around them, they were terrified.

But the angel said to them,

“Do not be afraid; I am bringing you good news of great joy for all: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.”

And suddenly there was the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,

“Glory to God in the highest heaven,

and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”

The shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” So they went quickly and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them.

 

Us Shepherds- L'Arche GWDC in Arlington- courtesy of Brian Taylor 

I see a great connection with our life as L’Arche and the shepherds, we aren’t at the front of the line when it comes to government policy, or even at times able to vote. We are looked at as being different, with our own way of communicating, and at times hold different values to those we share our neighborhoods with.

Like the shepherds, in our constancy, commitment and vulnerability, through our ability to say yes: a yes to going for a walk, to leading prayer, to welcoming weakness, to welcoming the messages of strangers; so we, like the first visitors to the Christ, are invited to the manger.  


I would like to share with you this song by Nick Lowe- I was born in Bethlehem http://youtu.be/gwvfwkqagrI


Happy Christmas

O Root of Jesse

O Radix Jesse- O Root of Jesse

Peaceable Kingdom- John August Swanson

O Root of Jesse, standing as a sign among the peoples; before you kings will shut their mouths, to you the nations will make their prayer: 

Come and deliver us, and delay no longer.

Radix, is in Latin the origin of both radish and radical.  Advent is a time for us to be radical, to be a sign, to counter the loud voices, to be a voice in the wilderness, to listen to those unheard. We are called to be like radishes, peppery, noticeable and of the earth.

There shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse, 

and a branch shall grow out of his roots - Isaiah 11:1

The shoot that came from a stump, delivers us. The root that was born to a teenage mother, to a carpenter, in a unknown place, over 2000 years ago, today continues, in the midst of the everyday, the mundane, the profane, to remind us of the radical nature of God.

 A God that choose to be known as a child, A God that is present in the stumps and roots of our own families, in our brokenness, our struggles, our hopes and joys. 

Human beings suffer.

They torture one another.

They get hurt and get hard.

No poem or play or song

Can fully right a wrong

Inflicted and endured.

The innocent in gaols

Beat on their bars together.

A hunger-striker’s father

Stands in the graveyard dumb.

The police widow in veils

Faints at the funeral home.

History says, don’t hope

On this side of the grave.

But then, once in a lifetime

The longed-for tidal wave

Of justice can rise up,

And hope and history rhyme.

Seamus Heaney- The Cure at Troy