Second Sunday Advent

Second Sunday Advent
December 5, 2004

"The baby shall play by the cobra's den... there shall be no harm or ruin on my holy mountain. (Isaiah 11: 1-10) May the God of endurance and encouragement grant you to think in harmony with one another... (Romans 15: 4-9). "... every tree that does not bear good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire..." (Matthew 3:1-12).
The prophet envisions a great age of peace on the earth; St. Paul encourages us to live together peacefully; John the Baptist (the last of the prophets, in the Christian tradition) denounces any who would frustrate the goal of paving the way for the Messiah with stern warnings about their fate.
There is a contrast between John the Baptist's attacks on religious hypocrites ("you vipers brood") and the prophet's metaphor of babies playing safely next to poisonous snakes in the messianic age. Pity the poor snakes: they don't deserve their reputation. How is the goal of attaining this age of universal harmony furthered by name-calling against those with whom we disagree or disapprove? Perhaps not every detail of what we read in the scriptures must be imitated. It is worth keeping in mind that it is not us who decides which of us are hypocrites or trees needing to be burned. That is the exclusive right of the Messiah.
John the Baptist has a privileged position in history as the prophetic announcer of the coming of the messianic age. His reputation as an ascetic (living in desert isolation and eating grasshoppers) is again a contrast with the abundance of the new age of love, forgiveness and harmony promised by Jesus. His ideal, like that of St. Paul, is that he should diminish in personal stature in order to prepare for the coming of the Messiah. Like all the great prophets and saints then and now, he was profoundly aware of his inadequacies and insignificance, and still able to speak the truth as it was revealed to him. Not a bad model for any of us.
After the Thanksgiving holiday, where feasting and family are the center of attention, we often feel a need for simplicity and solitude, for "getting back to normal". I was reminded during our Thanksgiving dinner that by next year at this time I will probably be taking most of my nourishment through a small tube inserted directly into my stomach. At first this was a very daunting prospect: no longer being able to enjoy the pleasure of eating. Now it seems like a fairly simple transition, even quite symmetrical: I began life in my mother's womb nourished through a tube and will end it similarly. I will finally be able to take my father's advice that we "eat to live, not live to eat", and the advice of a close friend about avoiding "recreational eating". Like John the Baptist. Life offers abundant opportunities to accept diminishment, and the asceticism which usually comes with it, as preparation for our expansion in the Kingdom of Heaven.