Wednesday, December 4, 2024

Wednesday of the First Week of Advent

 Lectionary: 177

Great crowds came to him,
having with them the lame, the blind, the deformed, the mute,
and many others.
They placed them at his feet, and he cured them.

 I 'm sure there are many things to be considered when we build a major city, but top among them must be a major hospital. Or better, several major hospitals specializing in a panoply of services to meet as many needs as possible. There is no end of human sickness; its varieties are bewildering and, if the TV ads are to be believed, continually evolving. Who hasn't heard of a friend or a friend's friend with a rare one-in-a-hundred-thousand illness? Because we are people of prayer we're continually asked to pray for these suffering souls. Our prayer lists go on and on. 

Because we have prehensile hands, versatile bodies, and compassionate intelligence we do not abandon our loved ones to sickness and death. There is little animals in the sea or wilderness can do for one another, but we never quit caring for our fellow humans. Even when their case is terminal it is not hopeless. We care for them with elaborate hospice protocols, programs, and facilities along with specializing doctors, nurses, therapists, counselors, and chaplains.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. We were made in the image of God to enjoy simple gardening in Eden, but his image included free will. For whatever reason, we were not content to let our ambitious curiosity rest within the limits of not knowing. We lusted for more knowledge of what it's like to be God. And then, caught red-handed, we blamed him for the mess we'd made. 

They came to Jesus by the thousands, as many as could walk or be carried the distances to where he might be. As he moved about continually they pursued him or greeted his arrival. In his second chapter, Saint Mark describes a typical day of healings and exorcisms. 

His heart was moved with pity at the sight of so much suffering. And especially at their foolishly pursuing him into the wilderness where, after three days, they had nothing to eat. If his disciples threw up their hands and despaired of their predicament, Jesus had to do something. He would feed them as God had fed his people in the wilderness many centuries before. He would call upon the same Father who called everything from nothingness into being, to feed "four thousand men, not counting women and children." 

He could do that. He was not charged with feeding every human being on earth throughout an entire lifetime; nor was he sent to heal every sick human being who has ever lived or would live. But he could act there in the wilderness and demonstrate the compassion of the One who has never forgotten his people. That he was sent to do. 

As we consider our own pathetic situations in whatever places we find ourselves, we remember the promise of Advent and the hope of Christmas. Like the disciples we cannot imagine our way out of this predicament. What are seven loaves and a few fish for so many? We do what we can. People see God's compassion in our paltry efforts. And sometimes it's sufficient. 

But more importantly, we know He is with us. On this mountain, in the wilderness, in the same world many considered godforsaken.  


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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.

Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.

I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.

You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.