Archive for the Advent Category

Dating God Podcast #22 — Mary DeTurris Poust and ‘Cravings’

Posted in Advent, Dating God Podcast with tags , , , , on February 5, 2013 by Daniel P. Horan, OFM

Cravings-Deturris-Poust-Mary-9781594713057Happy New Year! This episode of the Dating God Podcast, the first of the year 2013, includes an interview with author and journalist Mary DeTurris Poust about her new book, Cravings: A Catholic Wrestles with Good, Self-Image, and God (Ave Maria Press, 2012). She is the author of several books including another book released in 2012,Everyday Divine: A Catholic Guide to Active Spirituality (Alpha Books, 2012). In addition to writing several popular books about faith and prayer, Mary blogs at http://www.notstrictlyspiritual.com and is a co-host of the television program, Guided By Gracewhich is produced by Telecare and is available for streaming online if you don’t live in the broadcast area.

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Photo: Ave Maria Press

O Come Emmanuel: Savior of All People?

Posted in Advent, O Antiphons with tags , , , , , , , , , on December 23, 2012 by Daniel P. Horan, OFM

christmas-mass-timesO Emmanuel, king and lawgiver, desire of the nations, savior of all people, come and set us free, Lord our God.

In recent years there has been a hot theological topic, made public and popular by discussions surrounding Rob Bell’s book, Love Wins, that centers on what the meaning of salvation is and for whom it applies. Today’s O Antiphon, the last of the seven, directs our attention to the coming of Christ as God-with-us, Emmanuel. It is no surprise, perhaps, that the last of the antiphons focuses on the uniqueness and significance of the Incarnation and ties that reality — the truth of God-with-us — to Christ’s role as “savior of all people.” The technical term for what it means to talk about salvation for all is Apokatastasis, which is a fancy word for the belief that God desires and is capable of universal salvation. As one might imagine, as many saw with the melee that broke out around Bell’s reflection on this question, there is a natural tension present in such a claim. What about sin? What if I don’t want to be “saved?” What, then, is salvation all about?

Without getting into the complications of these questions, which have been the source of reflection dating back to St. Paul’s time (read his letters to the Thessalonians, for example, this is a persistent concern throughout) and seen considered from the Patristic area onward, I want to offer this consideration for us to ponder as the celebration of Christmas draws near: What does it mean to profess that Christ, emmanuel, is the “savior of all people?”

Take, for example, this passage from Gaudium et Spes, which seems to help us to understand better what this antiphon might mean in affirming that Christ is “savior of all people.”

While helping the world and receiving many benefits from it, the Church has a single intention: that God’s kingdom may come, and that the salvation of the whole human race may come to pass. For every benefit which the People of God during its earthly pilgrimage can offer to the human family stems from the fact that the Church is ‘the universal sacrament of salvation’ simultaneously manifesting and actualizing the mystery of God’s love. For God’s Word, by whom all things were made, was Himself made flesh so that as perfect man He might save all men and sum up all things in Himself. The Lord is the goal of human history, the focal point of the longings of history and of civilization, the center of the human race, the joy of every heart and the answer to all its yearnings. He it is Whom the Father raised from the dead, lifted on high and stationed at His right hand, making Him judge of the living and the dead. Enlivened and united in His Spirit, we journey toward the consummation of human history, one which fully accords with the counsel of God’s love: ‘To reestablish all things in Christ, both those in the heavens and those on the earth’ (Eph. 1:10). [no. 45]

Do we celebrate this sense of what God has done for us by entering our world as one like us? Or are we more prone to treat salvation as the reward for lifelong membership in an organization? Do we see the working of God’s Spirit in the world, bringing all people and all of creation (see Romans 8) back to God’s self in Christ? Or is Christ only the savior of those for whom it is easy, palatable, and comfortable for me to imagine or for whom I desire this telos?

This Christmas, may we come to see the world and the human family the way that God does: without borders, without discrimination, and with the hope of peace shared among all people, a peace that the world cannot give, but a peace that has been given to us by the coming of Christ, by Emmanuel.

Photo: Stock

Dating God Podcast #21 — Fran Rossi Szpylczyn Returns to Podcast!

Posted in Advent, Dating God Podcast with tags , , , , on December 22, 2012 by Daniel P. Horan, OFM

337459_378656508873622_76686740_oThis episode of the Dating God Podcast is the last of the Calendar Year 2012. Just a few days before Christmas, Fran Rossi Szpylczyn, who had previously been a guest on the podcast back in 2011, returns to talk about her social media ministry and her contributions to a new book titled, Hungry, And You Fed Me: Homilies and Reflections for Cycle C. You can find more information about the book and how to order it by visiting:Facebook.com/Homilists. Be sure to visit Fran’s Albany Times-Union blog: http://blog.timesunion.com/bread as well as her parish ministries at http://stedwardsblog.wordpress.com and http://pastoralpostings.wordpress.com.

Listen to the podcast online (streaming)

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Photo: Mickey McGrath, OSFS

O King of All Nations: This is My Song

Posted in Advent, O Antiphons, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on December 22, 2012 by Daniel P. Horan, OFM

Draw_Me_The_World_by_stickerstickerO King of all nations, the only joy of every human heart; O Keystone of the mighty arch of humankind, come and save the creature you fashioned from the dust.

In the United States, especially in times of political contestation and in a year when even religious leaders decry specters of threats against “religious liberty,” it can be difficult to think of the coming of Christ as the coming of the “King of all nations.” The king of Iran, the king of Israel, the king of North Korea, and of China, the United States, and Haiti. Because of this truth, the fact that we believe that Christ is indeed the keystone of the “might arch of humankind,” that we need to put down temptations of extreme patriotism, jingoism, and discrimination on all fronts.

The United States is not the greatest nation on earth. All nations have things about which to be proud and things for which to be ashamed. Greatness, at least greatness as conceived by Jesus’s instruction to his disciples to be the least and to serve all, has not been intentionally achieved by any human community on this earth.

Nevertheless, the King of all nations comes. Christ is near. Are we ready to accept that? To accept our interrelatedness with all people on earth? Or will we, especially in the United States, continue to look only at ourselves to the disregard of all others?

In honor of today’s O Antiphon, I want to share the lyrics to one of my favorite songs: This is My Song, set to Sebelius’s famous tune, Finlandia. This is my song today, my prayer for this O Antiphon.

This is my song, O God of all the nations,
A song of peace for lands afar and mine.
This is my home, the country where my heart is;
Here are my hopes, my dreams, my sacred shrine.
But other hearts in other lands are beating,
With hopes and dreams as true and high as mine.

My country’s skies are bluer than the ocean,
And sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine.
But other lands have sunlight too and clover,
And skies are everywhere as blue as mine.
O hear my song, O God of all the nations,
A song of peace for their land and for mine.

May truth and freedom come to every nation;
May peace abound where strife has raged so long;
That each may seek to love and build together,
A world united, righting every wrong;
A world united in its love for freedom,
Proclaiming peace together in one song.

This is my prayer, O Lord of all earth’s kingdoms:
Thy kingdom come; on earth thy will be done.
Let Christ be lifted up till all shall serve him,
And hearts united learn to live as one.
O hear my prayer, thou God of all the nations;
Myself I give thee, let thy will be done.

Photo: File

O Radiant Dawn: Come, Creator of Light

Posted in Advent, O Antiphons, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on December 21, 2012 by Daniel P. Horan, OFM

Space sunriseO Radiant Dawn, splendor of eternal light, sun of justice: Come, shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death.

The name “Creator of Light” has always been one of my favorite names for God. I remember first reading and loving a children’s book titled, In God’s Name by Sandy Eisenberg Sasso and illustrated by Phoebe Stone, a few years ago that presents a number of children and adults and talks about the various ways each person, given his or her cultural, work, and familial histories, named God. The book begins:

After God created the world
all living things on earth
were given a name.
The plants and the trees,
the animals and the fish
and each person,
young and old,
had a special name.

But no one knew
the name for God.

So each person searched
for God’s name.

With beautiful and bright illustrations, the book continues with a short glance into the worlds of different people who, as it would happen, name God based on his or her context and location. The first example is:

The farmer
whose skin was dark
like the rich brown earth
from which all things grew
called God
Source of Life.

Another example later on shows a soldier sitting under a tree and embracing a saddened lion while surrounded by Poppies. The soldier is crying.

The tired soldier who fought too many wars
called God
Maker of Peace.

I really love this book, for it helps identify an existential truth of our historical situation, something that so many religious leaders and believers choose not to accept: our names for God are at one-and-the-same-time helpful and true, while also inadequate and human. Yes, as it is sometimes argued, we have revealed names for God — the Bible is full of them. Nevertheless, the God of our ancestors, the God of Jesus Christ is also far beyond any of the human language in which the Scriptures is cast and by which we express our faith.

My favorite name for God in this book, is Creator of Light, which is given by “the girl whose skin was as golden as the sun that turned night into day.” One does not need to have skin the color of the sun — everybody knows that my Irish-American skin is anything but that — to appreciate the significance, beauty, and awe that comes with the move from night into day.

Furthermore, the Creator of Light is already also the Source of Life as we know so well from our knowledge of biology. Without the sun, without light, we would have no existence, and for this gift of life and light, we are grateful.

The coming of Christ announced in today’s O Antiphon points to this truth, the truth in a physical way and in a spiritual way, if such a distinction really can be made. Light gives life, but it also uncovers and makes known the injustice of our world, gives hope to those in the dark shadows of death, and offers us the promise of a future, of something more, of a breaking dawn.

Photo: Stock

O Key of David: God’s Will and Prisons of Our Own Making

Posted in Advent, O Antiphons, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on December 20, 2012 by Daniel P. Horan, OFM

gate of heavenO Key of David, O royal Power of Israel controlling at your will the gate of heaven: come, break down the prison walls of death for those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death; and lead your captive people into freedom.

In the past, I’ve thought about today’s O Antiphon in terms of the captivity that binds us, entraps us, and prevents us from the freedom that God desires for us. The coming of Christ as the “Key of David,” presumably offers us the escape by means of the unlocking of these restraints or prisons, literal or figurative, of our lives.

However, this year I’m much more attentive to the first line of the antiphon: “O royal Power of Israel controlling at your will the gate of heaven.”

This tone-setting introduction for the rest of the antiphon that deals with captivity, imprisonment, and freedom, could easily be overlooked or misunderstood. It could be overlooked because force with which the remainder of the antiphon captivates the proclaimer and hearers. It could be misunderstood because of the general feeling that comes with talking about prisons, death, darkness, and captivity — it doesn’t take much imagination to think that some might see God’s controlling the gate of heaven at will as arbitrary and threatening.

This is not my sense of the opening line. That God controls the gate of heaven, as it is described, at will suggests to me that what we might likely fear — an arbitrary, spiteful, or vindictive God/Gatekeeper — is not at all the occupier of that position. In fact, what God has revealed about God’s self to us over the course of human history, what is contained in Scripture and experienced in the Christ event, really rejects this sort of caricature of the almighty hall monitor.

I see a God who desires that all people and all of creation return to their source — God. Creation does a pretty good job on its own being what it truly is. In other words, blades of grass or puppies have a difficult time sinning because they aren’t in the business of trying to be something that they’re not.

We humans, however, make that a full-time job.

What God really desires from us is that we live to the fullest the lives we were created to live, individually loved into being, uniquely and particularly cared-for from all eternity. Yet, this is not how we live. We live out of fear, out of a desire for power or control, out of a sense of our own best interest over against that of anybody (or everybody) else.

What God really desires, it would seem to me, is that all come through the “gate of heaven” and escape the prison, the darkness, and the shadow of death that ensnares us in the fear of facing ourselves, others, and God simply as we are.

To say that Christ, the key of David, controls the gates at will suggests that it is “Thy Will” that is done, not our own. God’s will in Christ is to care for all people and welcome home the prodigal son, the woman at the well, the lame, the blind, the unholy, the adulterer, the cheater, the sinner, all people. Thank God that it is Thy Will by which the gate of heaven is controlled and not according to our will.

That this might be the will of God, the desire for all to be themselves in right relationship with others, creation, and God, means to live in the freedom mentioned at the end of the antiphon. The prison is of our own making. The key to the chains is living as we are supposed to live in God’s eyes. The freedom comes with making God’s will “on earth as it is in heaven.”

Photo: Stock

O Root of Jesse: The God Who Comes From Within

Posted in Advent, O Antiphons, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on December 19, 2012 by Daniel P. Horan, OFM

community-helping-handsO Root of Jesse, you have been raised up as a sign for all peoples; kings stand silent in your presence; the nations bow down in worship before you. Come, let nothing keep you from coming to our aid.

There is a line that is often attributed to St. Augustine and that others, like St. Bonaventure, later appropriated and paraphrased. It reflects the intimacy and immanence of God: “God is closer to you than you are to yourself.” This year, while reflecting on today’s O Antiphon, O Root of Jesse, I thought of this line because of the way in which the coming of God as emmanuel is anticipated here as coming from within. It is not an utterly transcendent God that comes from outside, as if beaming down from outer space, but a God who comes from within the family of the People of Israel, from within the limitations of human form, from within the time and space of our existence in creation.

This is partly what is conveyed in the reference to the messiah’s coming from the lineage of King David’s father, Jesse. Jesus arrives as a member of that family tree (hence the importance of the ‘boring’ genealogies in Matthew and Luke) and it should indeed give us pause about how we view our families and the importance of that connection with our past, present, and future lineage. Like all of humanity, God enters our world as part of a particular line of human persons with their own diverse histories, blessings, and sinful pasts. God knows a thing or two about what it’s like to be part of a family.

Yet, it is not just those who follow in the line of David that can appreciate that Jesus was born in that line, for the broader human family is what we celebrate on Christmas. Because God enters the world as one like us, it was necessary for there to be a particular family line into which Christ would be born, but it is the fact that God becomes human and, therefore, part of the human family that is so much more significant than any particular clan to which the infant Jesus would be associated.

In light of this familial dimension to the Incarnation and the coming of Christ, I wonder how we might understand the last line of the antiphon: “let nothing keep you from coming to our aid.” Superficially, it almost appears as though we are praying that God doesn’t get stuck in traffic or become distracted by something else or disinterested for some reason. Yet, there is a profound implication that this line bears when we put the whole familial observation in perspective.

Christ continues to come into our world today in many and varied ways, albeit not in quite the same way as that day in Bethlehem. The way that Christ comes into our world to aid us, however, is through the other members of the body of Christ. As Teresa of Avila so brilliantly said:

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.

God is only ever prevented from coming to the aid of humankind by the inaction or disinterest of other human persons. This antiphon reminds us of our familial bond to God in Christ through the Incarnation, but it should also remind us of our role in salvation history to care for one another as Jesus cared for those he encountered during his earthly lifetime.

When we pray for the Root of Jesse to come, we are praying that the Spirit of God take root in our heart so that we can be instruments of God’s peace in this world, allowing God to indeed come to the aid of our brothers and sisters. But it only happens through us. It only happens from the God who comes from within: within human history and within our hearts.

Photo: Stock

O Holy Lord: Come, God of All Possibilities and Set Us Free

Posted in Advent, O Antiphons with tags , , , , , , , on December 18, 2012 by Daniel P. Horan, OFM

walking young man over field and sunsetO sacred Lord of ancient Israel, who showed yourself to Moses in the burning bush, who gave him the holy law on Sinai mountain: come, stretch out your mighty hand to set us free.

The use of the honorific “Lord” has, over the years, become the source of some controversy. Many women and men, with good reason, have suggested that its use reflects the inherent and uncritically appropriated patriarchal traditions of ancient and even more-recent male-dominated power structures that subordinate women to the men who lord over them. There have been mixed responses by black theologians, some of whom see the association with the nineteenth-century American slave holders who were the lords of their manor, while others value the title’s use because, in reference to God or Jesus Christ, the notion subverts the power-structure, abusive association, and priorities of the earthly lord. These are but two of many of the ways the term has come under question. With due respect to those who find the term offensive or problematic, we are nonetheless left with “lord” on this second day of the O Antiphons and we should try our best to see in what ways it might be speaking to us.

In the past I’ve written on this day about imprisonment and what it means to have the lord come and “set us free,” but I’m thinking this year a bit more of the recent tragic events in Newtown, CT, where so many young lives and those of adults were senselessly taken away. I’m thinking about the reflection I offered this weekend in response to that event and recalling what it might mean to talk about God’s “mighty hand.”

If we are to understand God’s mightiness as evocative of a God of all possibilities (as in, I might do this or might do that), then what could it mean for us to consider a lord, for whom “nothing is impossible,” that could set us free?

Perhaps one of the the ways this God of all possibilities sets us free is by undoing our human expectations. This reference to the coming of Christ as adonai, “Lord” as it’s translated from the Hebrew in the Old Testament, refers to the term of respect that the people of Israel would use as a place-holder for the name of God. Because the lord’s name could not be said, “Lord” became the stand-in reference for the God of all possibilities and the God who was, as Exodus reminds us in the account of Moses before the burning bush, the God of our ancestors who cares about God’s people and who is there for us.

The greatest fulfillment of the covenant comes in the form of a complete and utter surprise: a newborn child who is anything but the lord of the manor, the oppressive ruler, the powerful God who had smote the Egyptians. God continues to surprise us by unsettling our expectations.

So what does this God, the coming of adonai as a human being, mean for those who are in need of being set free? Could it be that at times we don’t really know that it is that holds us back? We really don’t understand what is and isn’t important in our lives, such that we become captive to things that we no longer thinkingly realize?

There are indeed those for whom the prayer of this O Antiphon applies in real and concrete ways, for their captivity is of the most identifiable kind. But we are all, in some way, constricted by the confines of expectations, pressures, guilt, fear, self-importance, self-hatred, and so on. Yet, the freedom of a God of all possibilities is offered to us in new and unexpected ways in this particular, divine, mighty hand. The hand of a child. The hand of a God-with-us.

God’s hand is there, extended in invitation to be in relationship and offered to free us from the captivities of our lives. How do we respond to the coming of adonai?

Photo: Stock

O Wisdom: Recognizing The Spirit of God in the World

Posted in Advent, O Antiphons, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on December 17, 2012 by Daniel P. Horan, OFM

earthO Wisdom, O Holy Word of God, you govern all creation with your strong yet tender care. Come and show your people the way to salvation.

Those who are most familiar or, perhaps, only familiar with the O Antiphons from the popular Advent hymn, O Come, O Come Emmanuel, might be surprised to see the terms “creation” and “salvation” appear in the actual Magnificat antiphon for today. Two of the most popular settings for this verse include one of these sets of lyrics:

O come, Thou Wisdom from on high,
Who orderest all things mightily;
To us the path of knowledge show,
And teach us in her ways to go.

Or, the more classical translation from the Latin verse:

O come, Thou Wisdom from on high,
and order all things far and nigh;
to us the path of knowledge show,
and teach us in her ways to go.

The interpretation of the meaning of Wisdom in the musical adaptation, which dates back in this form to the early-19th century, is that what the first line of the antiphon is really about is God’s order in the universe. One can think of the scholastic notion of order or of Divine Providence in some general way, but what appears to be celebrated is might and control and structure and order.

But, what’s odd about that view, the one expressed in our sung recounting of this O Antiphon, is that the passages from scripture that talk about Wisdom, from which the Prophet Isaiah gleans this term of divinity, suggests something else. Order is a part of the picture, as we see in the first book of Genesis — chaos, disarray, the tohuwabohu ( תהו־ובהו) is what existed and from it, God’s Wisdom (hokmah, חוכמה), seen here as God’s Breath or Spirit (ruah, רוּחַ), is what encounters the tohuwabohu and enters into relationship with the messiness of life. It is this relationship with the divine wisdom, the spirit of God that does bring about order, albeit the order isn’t what’s the most important thing here.

That God is immanently present in creation, that God’s spirit — personified as Wisdom — is in and among creation is the most important detail to take away from this first creation account. Yet, it isn’t a feature of just the first creation narrative. Even in the second account, the one when God creates women and men ha-adamah (פי האדמה), which means “from the earth,” it is God’s ruah or Spirit that is what animates (from the Latin: anima, or spirit) humankind. We forget that these are the creation accounts and, as the O Antiphon today calls us to remember, it is God’s very self — God’s wisdom, breath, spirit — that “governs all creation with…strong yet tender care.”

There is a powerful sense of divine immanence in today’s O Antiphon, one that does anticipate the fullness of God’s revelation in the Incarnation, which we will celebrate this week. However, this is not the only way that God enters our world, nor is it the only way that God remains close to all of creation.

We can look to one of the great creation Psalms to see how it is this absolutely immanent presence of God, depicted in this Wisdom tradition by ruah, spirit. After twenty-six verses of description about the wonders of God’s glory in creation, manifested in myriad ways through animals and insects and plants and natural elements, the psalmist turns to recount again how this is made possible:

These all look to you
to give them their food in due season;
when you give to them, they gather it up;
when you open your hand, they are filled with good things.

When you hide your face, they are dismayed;
when you take away their breath (ruah, רוּחַ),
they die and return to their dust (adamah, האדמה).

When you send forth your spirit (ruah, רוּחַ),
they are created;
and you renew the face of the ground.
(Psalm 104:27-30)

It is the Spirit of God in the world that gives life, sustains life, and renews the life all creation shares. The ruah of our human breath is the same ruah that governs all creation, that brings order out of the tohuwabohu. Today’s O Antiphon brings us back to the beginning to understand what is to come.

For the Wisdom, the Word of God, that governs all of creation with strong and tender care is also what shall show God’s “people the way to salvation.” One of the ways we come to see the way or path to salvation is through the recognition of our interconnectedness with the rest of the created order. That we, human persons, are not other-than or apart-from the rest of creation, but we are creation, made of the some physical matter that fuels stars and creates animal life.

Part of our sinfulness, I believe, is a forgetfulness of what it means to be governed by the word, wisdom, breath, spirit of God, just as the rest of the created order is. Part of what we might call “original sin,” our human hubris that leads to wanting to “be like God” — for God is truly the only real Other-than-creation, and the forgetfulness or denial of our creatureliness is, I believe, a form of wanting to be God without God.

As St. Paul in his writings, the early Fathers and Mothers of the Church in their writings, and so many theologians over the centuries in their writings have continually pointed out, salvation is not just for human persons. It is the returning of all of creation back to the Creator. It is the cosmic exitus-reditus of creation-salvation, one singular act in accord with history. The path upon which that journey of salvation takes place is the real history of our time and space.

What this O Antiphon reminds us and what the Incarnation indicates in the most perfect way, is that God encounters us, enters into relationship with us, and is present among us through creation. But do we recognize the Spirit of God in the world?

Our prayer today, especially in light of the darkness of tragedy in our world — in places as close in the United States as Newtown, CT, and as far as Syria — is the prayer of the last line of this antiphon: “Come and show your people the way to salvation.” Come, come Lord Jesus — open our eyes to our interrelatedness with the rest of the created order, open our eyes to our interdependence on the whole human family, open our eyes to see your Spirit in the world.

Photo: Stock

The Advent of Almighty God after Newtown, CT

Posted in Advent, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on December 16, 2012 by Daniel P. Horan, OFM

1215_ct-candles-620x410I have been too shocked, upset, and wordless about what happened in Newton, CT, to offer any comments until now. In fact, I’ve avoided reading about it and talking about it as much as I could these last few days, at least until I felt some sense of balance in the tragedy’s wake. Some balance. This morning’s New York Times cover with the stark and simple list of the victims of the shooting, listed by name and age for the children, name and staff position for the adults, was too overwhelming. To see ages “6″ and “7″ repeated after so many names is almost too much to bear. But while at Mass this morning, I realized that I needed to say at least something.

The homilist (not me, for a change) kept coming back to the Season of Advent as a time of eager anticipation for what John the Baptist in today’s Gospel announces: the coming of one mightier than us.

Tied together with the scandalous realization that God has, in real time and space, entered our world as a human being, one like us, embodied and incarnate like us, weak like us, this proclamation of our need for someone to come and offer us “the peace the world cannot give” must be mightier than us, too, is striking. Or maybe confusing. Or maybe both.

One problem I have with this claim is the unqualified way that “mightier” is used. I am concerned that we are left to our own, finite, and all-too-human interpretation of what “mightier” means and what that would mean for the one whose arrival we celebrate during this liturgical season.  I am concerned that “might” is too often confused for strength and violence.  I am concerned that this is the image of God that too many have.

But God didn’t enter our world in a unique way at Christmas as one mightier than us in the way that we would likely surmise. This is the “scandal for Jews” and “nonsense for Greeks” that St. Paul talks about in his letters. God came as the Prince of Peace, not the secretary of defense; the wonder-counselor, not a force of brute strength; a human child, not the military and political leader others were expecting.

This is the Third Sunday of Advent – Gaudete Sunday, which means “Rejoice!” The presider wears the gentle color of rose instead of the penitential color of purple, because this is a time to celebrate what it “already and not-yet” — the in-coming of Christ, of emmanuel, of God-with-us.

Many people are asking themselves this weekend where is emmanuel, where is the God who is with us? Where was God with those innocent children? Where was God with these grieving families?  Where is God today? And for what shall we rejoice?

The answer, unsatisfying as it remains, is that God was with those innocent first-graders, their teachers and the other adults who tried to protect them; that God is with the families and with us now. But the God who is mightier than us doesn’t enter our world like a SWAT team or military leader or political official.

God enters our world in the possibilities that are infinitely open to us to be the mirrors of God’s unconditional, eternal love. God enters in the possibility that we reach out and care for one another in times of unspeakable suffering and pain. God enters in the possibility that we will live according to the logic of God and not the logic of human power and greed. God enters in the possibility that we will look to Christ and realize that our calling is not to be the biggest, best, strongest, or most powerful, but to be weak by the world’s standards, to be vulnerable in love and concern, and to exhibit mightiness according to a God who knows what it means to be human and to suffer and to lose.

See, mightier has another meaning. It is about possibility. We use this meaning of the word everyday: “I might do this or that,” to have the possibility of something. This is what it means to talk about a God who is almighty, it is to talk about a loving Creator for whom (literally) nothing is impossible; everything is possible; God is a God of all-possibilitiesAll-mighty.

I believe that one thing that we have to celebrate this Sunday is a God who is the Prince of Peace and is mightier than us, open to all possibilities and can heal the brokenness and broken-heartedness of those who mourn. I believe that there is still more we can do to live in the logic of Christ as emmanuel, the God of all possibility that we profess to follow. We too have the capability to do something new, to bring goodness to this world, for we were each created imago Dei, in the image and likeness of God — in the mightiness of God, in the all-possible love of God.

I pray for those children and adults who were murdered in the most absurd of circumstances. I pray that we who remain will celebrate Gaudete Sunday and every day with a recommitment to care for the hurting, end free and public access to tools of death and violence, and live out our true call to be mighty like God.

Photo: AP
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