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Reflection - 2nd Sunday of Advent

I don’t know if any of you have ever been in the desert. I know I haven’t. Yes, I’ve seen pictures in movies of people dying of thirst, crawling on their bellies in the sand, hopeful that what looks like water ahead really is. Our readings today focus on the desert, a place that most of us would probably try to avoid at all costs. After all, deserts deprive us of all that is life-giving and nourishing? But John the Baptist is in the desert; Isaiah says that it is in the desert that we prepare the way of the Lord. It was in the desert that God appeared to Moses; it was in the desert that a small nomadic tribe, with no resources other than what God had provided – manna and quail – not only survived but flourished. It was in the vast loneliness and heat of the desert that a people of God was forged. When Jesus began his mission, St. Luke says that the Spirit led him to the desert. When Saul was knocked down on his way to Damascus, before he became St. Paul, he spent three years in the Arabian desert.

Sometimes the desert times are forced on us, even when we don’t want them. For the past ten months, many of us have been quarantined, fearful to go out, wearing masks everywhere we go. Some in our community are in the desert of a violent and abusive home, and the life of the family slowly crumbles and ebbs away. Some are struggling through the desert of unemployment or financial crises; others the desert of loneliness, or illness and death, or addiction. And in all those deserts, it seems like nothing grows, that the vibrancy of life withers and dries up.

In the desert – away from the noise and distractions of the city, of the workplace, of the malls. Sometimes we need to be where there are no luxuries, no excess, so we can focus on what really matters. In the desert, we live in total dependency, from hand to mouth, from day to day. There are no distractions, no television sets, no microwaves, no cars, no nothing. Everything becomes intensely focused on the bare facts of existence, of yourself and of God. And the challenge the desert offers is this: What will you find there? Will you find God? If not here, then where?

The desert experience means solitude. It means prayer. It means stepping out of the fast track with its endless distractions and giving 10 or 15 minutes, a half hour, in prayer to God. We learn to live in our own desert solitude so that we might hear the word of God. John calls us to see the desert experience as a time of repentance. To repent means to change! To change our attitude, to change our heart, to put our relationship with God and with others in order. And all of this won’t, by itself, take away the covid-19 threat, or the abuse, or the unemployment struggles, or the loneliness or illness or addiction. But it can renew in us a sense of hope, it can make the path straight, it can wipe away all that hinders us from God.

Isaiah tells us my favorite words of Advent: “Comfort, give comfort to my people, says your God. . . Like a shepherd he feeds his flock; in his arms he gathers the lambs, carrying them in his bosom, and leading them with care.” If you’re in the desert now, remember those words. If your desert is still in the future, remember those words. If our faith is strong, God will provide comfort, he will gently carry us in his arms. It is not a mirage! But, we need to prepare the way. In these next few weeks, make extra time to pray, to reflect on Scripture, to repent and change your heart. Jesus wants to free us from whatever desert we are in. He wants this Christmas to truly be a re-birth of him in our lives.

If you have a brief faith reflection on today’s reading that you would like to share, please send it to me at deaconruss@holyspiritunoh.org.