Most unlikely sources

While we're at it, here is a copy of this week's reflection. 

Most unlikely of sources
is based on the scripture texts proper to the Second Sunday of the Advent Season (Year A, 2010-2011).  In case you're unsure, those texts are Isaiah 11:1-10, Romans 5:4-9 and Matthew 3:1-12.

Listen to this homily


A number of years ago, I came to know a couple who live here in Sudbury.  They had been married for a number of years, but were never able to have children.  Only after having lost her father, and then discovering that her mother was also terminally ill did my friend discover that she was indeed pregnant.  As the months went along, she and her family cared for their dying mother, and all the while, there was a growing sense of joy that finally a miracle had been granted.  Little Isabelle was born two months premature, and it wasn't long before we discovered that she had some rather serious medical complications.  This didn't stop her parents from loving her; in fact they always called her their little miracle.  In subsequent years, Isabelle's brother was born, and until this week, he worshiped his big sister.  Just a few days ago, we learned that little Isabelle, after living six years on this earth has finally returned home.  Anyone who knew her during these past six years will speak about her amazing ability to warm hearts with her radiant smile, or about the many other lessons she taught us: lessons about acceptance, lessons about love, lessons about finding the secret to true happiness.  Kids have a way of cutting through all the worries of life, and concentrating on the things that are essential.  Would that we adults could learn these lessons well.

The most valuable lessons in life often come from the most unlikely sources.  In the first reading today, Isaiah's words paint pictures of a world that sounds like utopia.  It must have sounded like a dream to the Israelites, like a reality that could only exist in a foreign land.  Even here in Canada, despite our abundance and riches, we might be tempted to think that Isaiah must truly have been dreaming when he spoke of a world where mortal enemies will one day sit side by side, where those who are accustomed to competition will one day reach out a helping hand, where adults might just have to lay aside the wisdom of this world and dare to learn a lesson or two from the innocent ways of a child.

All of this sounds like it's too much to hope for, but the words addressed to the Christian community in Rome also challenged them to believe that the impossible could be made possible.  Even in the darkness of despair, a word of encouragement can help us to remember that there is always hope.  In the case of the early Christians, they were asked to remember that our God is steadfast.  Our God sticks to his guns.  Our God will always be there for us.  When this world challenges us to doubt the power of faith, God responds with encouragement for our hearts and our spirits.  This is the best medicine for those times when we might be tempted to think that there is no place in this world for a warm welcome, or that we should give into the temptation to see one another through any filter other than love.

Even the gospel today speaks of unlikely sources.  The Jordan River is not a raging torrent of water.  It is little more than Junction creek, and yet this was the place where John chose to baptise and to call others to repentance.  The baptist himself was not a man of means.  He didn't possess any degrees of higher learning, yet his words spoke with a wisdom far beyond his station.  The power brokers in our world would have us believe that they are the ones who can guarantee our happiness, yet I find it difficult to believe that war and military might can instill anything but a constant sense of fear and foreboding.  Walls, fences and wire do not instill peace, they define limits and territories as silent reminders of might that can too often lead to oppression.  Promises of progress which come from worldly powers too often result in the suffering of innocent souls.  Why is it so difficult for us to believe that God's way is possible?  Is it because we have learned only too well to put our trust in things we can see and touch? Is it because we have allowed ourselves to be seduced by the world around us?

Perhaps it's time to wake from our slumber, to dare to believe in a different kind of promise, to allow ourselves to be led not by promises that cannot be fulfilled, but rather by those that have called to us across the constructs of time with the promise of treasures much more worth our attention.  Perhaps we should look in the unlikely places, and find our hope in the most unexpected of places.

Isabelle's funeral was celebrated today (Saturday).  Unfortunately I was not able to be present, but I know that it was a wonderful occasion of thanksgiving, a gathering where people of faith confided a holy soul back to the loving embrace of our creator.  Isabelle's parents made a conscious choice for life, a choice they and those who knew her will never regret.