Readings: Baruch 5:10-9; Psalm 126; Philippians 1:4-6, 8-11; Luke 3:1-6
Today’s selection from the Jewish scriptures is from Baruch’s Poem of Consolation. It follows the explanation of the trauma of the Jewish exiles in terms of the cycle of sin, punishment, repentance, and return. Exile in Jewish theology, is close to the Christian concept of Original Sin; it explains our alienation from God that can only be reconciled by God’s action.
Sin and our weakness in the face of temptation is something that we are all familiar with as humans. The consolation is a return of peace and joy by way of justice by God’s forgiveness of our sins. We may also come to know that God uses our sin to instruct us so that in the end; once we have repented, we are better people than we were before we sinned.
Though we continue to transgress throughout our life God continues to call us back through his prophets, and most especially his Son. “I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work in you, will bring it to completion.” (CF Philippians 1:6) This prayer of St. Paul to the Philippians (and to all believers) is also the prayer of the bishop over the deacon or priest at ordination. It is a prayer made in confidence of the Father’s faithfulness and the grace He provides to accomplish our work as faithful servants. We, in turn, are to extend God’s forgiveness to ‘those who have trespassed against us’ and in this way show the love God has for all his children as expressed with a charity even to those who have offended us. It is through the grace of forgiveness that we come to know salvation. This grace is how we prepare our hearts for the day of the Lord.
The ‘good news’ proclaimed by John the Baptist in the wilderness on the margins of society 2000 years ago, is the same good news proclaimed today in the wilderness on the margins of our hearts. Are we ready to hear these voices calling out in the desert, ‘prepare the way of the Lord?’ The voices are calling for a straight path to justice and a smooth road to salvation. If we hear this call, how can we fill the valleys of those in want and level the mountains that stand in the way of decency and life? When you go to the margins of our society on our southern border you will find the tired and poor, the huddled masses yearning to breathe free. They are the wretched refuse that Emma Lazarus wrote of in her sonnet, The New Colossus. Since 1903 this poem has beckoned the homeless and “tempest-tost” to our shores from the base of the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor.
Lady Liberty, this “Mother of Exiles,” stands for hope and a source of light for those who live in darkness. Do we have the necessary courage, undergirded by our faith in Jesus, to go out into the desert? Is Jesus the one, “or should we look for another?” (CF Luke 7:19b) Do we trust enough in God’s generosity to hold open the “Golden Door?” If you go, do not expect to see someone dressed in fine garments. Do not expect to see reeds swayed by the wind. These are people who have been hardened by violent struggles in their homeland and tattered by arduous travel for hundreds of miles. They are not criminals and they do not expect to live in luxury. They only have the same dream we have; to live in security with their God-given dignity intact. They don’t want our handouts; they want the opportunity to work, to have a place in society, and somewhere to call home.
With only their basic human needs met they will ‘be like men dreaming.’ Then ‘their mouths will be filled with laughter, and their tongues with rejoicing.’ We can be beacons of hospitality by sharing ‘the great things the Lord has done for us,’ and we too will be ‘filled with joy.’ (CF Psalm 126) We can make the ‘rough road smooth’ for our brothers and sisters as we ‘prepare the way of the Lord.’ (CF Isaiah 40:3-5)
The New Colossus
By Emma Lazarus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
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