Jesus said to the crowds: “To what shall I compare this generation? It is like children who sit in marketplaces and call to one another, ‘We played the flute for you, but you did not dance, we sang a dirge but you did not mourn.’
Somewhere in our philosophical rambles about how things should be and how people should act we developed an image of God as cool and aloof, a master craftsman who does his job; sells his products at a reasonable rate; and, once they're out of his hands, doesn't much care what happens to them. He is the watchmaker whose watch is the amazing universe; he wound it up, set it on his bench and walked away, leaving it to unwind into eternity.
God's son, according to this narrative, is lovely, very kind, very patient, always generous because he is infinitely wealthy and can afford it; and never opinionated or judgemental. His love is unconditional.
Disciples of this fiction should also give endlessly without expecting repayment; they're friendship too is unconditional. And if you have never met such a person and have concluded that they don't exist, your Godlike dog, cat, or goldfish will give you unconditional love and devotion.
People who espouse this creed often cite the Bible as their source and foundation, apparently because they've not read it, or only select passages.
Fortunately, by God's mercy, we do not find that Frankensteinian fabrication in the Bible. Rather, we meet among the Gospels and writings of the New Testament, a man of flesh and blood who cares deeply and, for that reason, suffers intense disappointment. Nor does he hesitate to express his frustration with sarcasm and occasional cynicism, as he does in today's gospel. Which parent, teacher, or pastor has not met the same unreasoning, inflexible resistance and felt the same?
I treasure the memory of a counselor who held both hands in front of my face and said, "Ken, I offer you sympathy and you don't want it. I offer you advice and you don't want it. What am I supposed to do?"
She got me! In her anger I saw what I was doing to a woman I admired and respected. It wasn't her or anyone else. I was the problem; my attitudes, habits, and behavior were frustrating me and everyone around me.
If we don't hear Jesus's sadness, weariness, and determination in today's gospel passages, and others like it, we're missing the point entirely. Like children of an impoverished, single parent, we have no idea of the enormous sacrifices being made for us. We come to him and expect to be loved. We sit at the table and expect to be fed.
We have not seen the wounds in his hands and feet. We have not heard him say, "Unless you eat my flesh and drink my blood...."
He was not speaking metaphorically! We do not drink wine or eat bread during the Mass.
This Advent, laced with Covid-19, urges us to repent and turn away from sin lest we face a worse punishment. We must pray, fast, and give alms if we would be remotely ready, or worthy, to receive the Infant.
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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.