- TDF
Sometime around 30 AD there arose in Palestine an itinerant preacher. He spoke his message to whomever would listen, whether Judean or Gentile. This preacher spoke of God’s impassioned care for the poor and our calling to love in thought, word, and deed. He claimed that love was superior to empty observance of religious obligation. He healed the sick and gave hope to the despondent. He drew the attention of the local religious and military authorities as well as that of the crowds that clamored to hear and to hang onto each word. The word he preached was radically simple: love your enemy, pray for those that persecute you, love God above all and your neighbor as yourself. His career lasted no more than three years and ended with his execution. The Roman authorities tried him and found him guilty of insurrection and incitement of the masses. He might have been forgotten had his story not resonated in the hearts of those whom his preaching had touched. It is his Advent that we celebrate at the dawn of a new millennium and his story that we tell.
Advent is the season of hope. Hope is the attitude of faith that looks toward the future trusting that it will be brighter than the present. It is repentance from cynicism and despair; it is faithful affirmation that God’s good and perfect will for the creation might be accomplished in us. To this end we pray, “thy will be done,” trusting that the one to whom we pray is able to meet our prayers with good results. Our faith rests on a history of promise and fulfillment, each bringing us closer to the final day when Christ will come in beauty and in power to share with us the great and the promised feast. In this interim moment while we stand between what the prophets dreamed and what will be, we hope for hope's fruition.
More than anything, hope makes the story of this itinerant preacher real in our hearts. We claim to know him through the power of the words that he spoke which have been repeated for nearly two thousand years. We come to trust him because his word is worthy of confidence. We look to the past and see how his birth to a virgin mother calls us to either trust in the promise or to dismiss the premise as superstition unfit for this postmodern age. Trusting, we see and love the child and grow to love the man. Listening, our ears strain to hear the echoes of the angelic host, singing “Glory to God on high and on Earth peace to those who enjoy God’s favor.”
But mostly, we hope.
Indeed... I wish I could believe this now. Do I dare to hope?
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