[The homilies I presented at Christ the Good Shepherd are included within a separate section of “CameosAndCarousels.com. However, this one is more historical and personal than many of them. It is, therefore, included within the regular section on life in Houston. It was given on December 7, 2003.]
“Vox clamantis in deserto,” a voice crying out in the wilderness. My trivia question for you today is based on this quotation from today’s gospel. My question is this: What U.S. college uses this phrase, “vox clamantis in deserto,” as the motto on its college seal?
Ok, native Texans are excluded from knowing this one. It probably takes a Yankee, maybe even a real New Englander, to get this one. The college is Dartmouth College in New Hampshire. And the reason is because Dartmouth was founded some two and a half centuries ago as a school in the wilderness for Indians, the Native American kind, not Father Sunny’s relatives. I don’t know if it’s still the case, but some forty years ago when I did my postdoctoral work at Dartmouth, Native Americans could attend the college without paying any tuition.
“Vox clamantis in deserto” – a voice crying in the wilderness. Do you ever feel that you are a voice crying in the wilderness? If you’re the parents of certain teenagers, you may feel that way. And yes, some teens may also feel that way about all of the adults around them. Or perhaps it’s at work where you feel as if you are alone in what you do. Or it may be life, itself, that is the desert, the wilderness surrounding you.
Or perhaps we all feel a bit of that wilderness, that desert, that darkness when we contemplate the world around us. These are, indeed, difficult times we live in. A time of war – war against terrorists, war in Iraq, in Afghanistan, in the Middle East. War and turmoil in other countries around the world.
Today, on December 7th, we think back to another Sunday morning some sixty-two years ago, a day of “infamy,” a day we thought could not be surpassed in horror until another day in September 2001.
Yes, whether for personal or for public reasons, all of us long for a time of certainty, a time of reunion, a time to be brought home from whatever wilderness ensnares us, from whatever exiles us
Some two and a half millennia ago the Israelites had the same longings. They listened intently to the words of encouragement spoken by the prophet Baruch: “Up, Jerusalem! Stand upon the heights; look to the east and see your children … rejoicing that they are remembered by God … [who] has commanded that every lofty mountain be made low, and that the age-old depths and gorges be filled to level ground, that Israel may advance secure in the glory of God.”
These words were spoken about the return of the Israelites from their captivity in Babylon. They may be remembered as we, today, contemplate the return of our own loved ones from the land of Babylon.
Yet, we also recall similar words spoken by another prophet, by John who baptized others in the waters of the Jordan. He, too, spoke words of encouragement: “Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths. Every valley shall be filled and every mountain and hill shall be made low. The winding roads shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth, and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”
John, indeed, saw the fulfilment of that prophecy. He was present when Jesus, the Anointed One of God, began his public ministry. Some who heard John thought that this Jesus, this Anointed One, this Jesus the Christ, would lead them to a final glory over all the peoples of the earth.
Yet this is not why he came; not to bring human victory over other people; but rather to bring victory to all people over their limited humanity. Jesus came to re-unite us with God. This is what both Christmas and Easter are all about.
Three weeks from now we will celebrate how God took on human flesh so that we could be saved; so that we could be re-united with God for eternity. Each Sunday we celebrate the Easter event of his death and resurrection, the Pascal Mystery, so that we can be re-united with God.
This is the season of Advent, the season of “coming.” Usually it is pointed out that Advent is a two-fold celebration of coming:
● the first coming of the birth of Jesus some 2000 years ago,
● the second coming of the return of Jesus the Christ at the end of the world as we now perceive it.
Yet advent is more than a preparation for the first and the second coming. Advent is the daily expectation of “Emmanuel,” God with us.
We are not a mere voice crying in the wilderness. We are a people, the brothers and sisters of a risen Savior, one who walks with us beyond the terrors of a December 7th or of a September 11th; beyond the wilderness of our daily life. He walks with us in our hours of sadness, in our days of conflict, when we feel deserted. He is with us even when we do not discern his presence.
The apostle Paul had a prayer for the Phillipians in which he wrote that those who are the followers of Christ might “… discern what is of value” while waiting for the coming in final glory of Jesus the Christ. Paul’s prayer is also for us – to discern during
● these waiting days of December 2003,
● these days of concern for peace in the world,
● these days of longing for the return of loved ones from all places and forms of exile,
… exile from others dictated by authority
… exile we have imposed upon our own selves, in our own self-constructed wildernesses.
Jesus walks with us in our hours of sadness, in our days of conflict, when we feel deserted. He is with us even when we do not discern his presence beside us. May today and every day be a day of Christ, a day with Christ.