What shall I give?

As promised, here is the text copy of my reflection for this weekend, the third Sunday of Advent (Year A).  As always, you can check out the podcast version, or just read the text below:

What shall I give?
On the western coast of Israel, not that far from the city of Jerusalem is the port city of Haifa. It's a sprawling metropolis that speaks loudly not only of the prosperity it now enjoys, but of a place of promenence that it has known for centuries. Haifa is the gateway between the Mediterranian Sea and the trading routes toward the orient. It is also located in one of the most fertile areas of the country. Within the vicinity lies the Ofer forest, one of only a few wooded areas in the whole country, and within the Ofer forest is the majestic Mount Carmel: yes the very Carmel that is spoken of in today's first reading.


In a land which is mostly desert, a forest is truly a sign of prosperity, but forests are fragile things. Just a few weeks ago, there was a fire set in the Ofer forest, burning away some of the precious vegetation. We here in Canada are no strangers to forest fires, but because of the abundance of our forests, we may find it difficult to understand the impact of such devastation in a country where all is precious, or can we? People who have very little often teach some valuable lessons to those who have much. Those who have known such a long history of cherishing their trees can and do speak eloquently to those of us who pay little attention to our own treasures.

For many of us, these weeks of Advent are a struggle between trying to find time to understand the lessons of the scriptures, and trying to get all the physical preparations done in time for Christmas. As the next weeks unravel, our shopping malls will become more and more busy as at least some of us will become more and more frantic about finding the right gifts to give to friends and family. The statistics gurus tell us that the average family will spend $1000 on Christmas presents, and credit card companies love this time of year.

In contrast to all this frenzy and the apparent confidence portrayed in all the advertising we see, the scriptures today present us once again with the figure of John the Baptist. Last week, he was standing in the waters of the Jordan, calling out boldly for repentance, but this week, his words are spoken from behind bars, and there is a definite tinge of doubt as he sends his disciples to ask Jesus, 'Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?' You see, ever since the time Elijah prophecied from that cave atop Mount Carmel, John's people had waited for the promised Messiah. The intervening years have not always been kind, so it is understandable that they should be on the lookout for one who would free them from tyrany.

Perhaps we too have pre-conceived notions about the tyrany we live with, about the things from which we need to be freed. Perhaps like John and his companions, we too have difficulty identifying the freedoms that Jesus came to proclaim, or believing in the miracles we see right before our eyes. Like the crowds who listened to Jesus, perhaps we too should ask ourselves, 'What is it that we expect to see this Christmas? Who are we waiting for?' The answer might surprise us, because I'm willing to bet it will have little to do with the content of our shopping carts.

In the midst of our shopping for others, let's take a moment this week to consider the gift we would offer to Jesus. What would it look like? Remember that Jesus was a little boy who lived in Nazareth, an out-of-the-way place. He and his family were among the forgotten of society, the ones who had little time for empty promises, the ones who promised only that which they could deliver. In the words of the second reading, he too is patient as he waits for us to decide about the gift we want to offer, but once we make up our minds, he is counting on us to fulfill our promise. Don't let him down.