Charles Dickens’ “A Tale of Two Cities” begins, “It was the
best of times, it was the worst of times.”
When the prophet Isaiah was writing to exiled Israel, it was simply,
“the worst of times.” The destruction of
Jerusalem, and the Temple, at the hands of the Babylonians was the ultimate
calamity for the people of Israel.
The Kingdom of Israel had already experienced division. The one Kingdom of David had been divided
into a northern Kingdom and the southern kingdom. The King of the North, not wanting his people
to travel south to the Temple, set up his own false temples to false gods, with
a false religion, false feast days, and false religious tenets. Because they had no real religion to support
them, they soon fell into immorality and became vulnerable to their enemies. The northern kingdom was conquered by the
Assyrians in 740 BC.
Witnessing what happened in the North, Prophets in the South
urged God’s people to remain faithful to God.
They had everything they needed to remain faithful: they had the holy
city of Jerusalem , home to the true Davidic Kingship and the True Temple, the
True Religion was being taught. Yet,
they began to slip. Prophets like
Obadiah, Joel, and Habakkuk warned that the disaster which befell the North
would soon befall the South if they did not reform their lives and teach their
children to walk in the ways of righteousness.
In the first reading today, Isaiah calls the southerners an “unclean
people” their deeds “like polluted rags”, their nation “withered like leaves”. Just as the prophets had foretold, their
wickedness had caused them to grow weak and vulnerable to their enemies. In 605 BC, the Babylonians captured the
South, in 589 Nebuchadnezzar laid siege to Jerusalem culminating with the
destruction of the city and the Temple in 587.
Because of their wickedness they were “carried away” by the wind.
The Jews of the South were carried off, in chains, with no
possessions, and marched into Babylon.
They were exiled from their homeland, from their temple; loved ones are
separated. Think of how devastated we
were on September 11, 2001, at the loss of life and that our great nation could
be attacked. The suffering of Israel was orders of magnitude greater. Everything had fallen apart. It was the darkest point in Israel’s history.
Imagine how shaken the Jews must have been. No doubt, they thought, How could God allow
this to happen to his chosen people, his city, his temple. Had God abandoned them?
The exiled Jews were in anguish, desperate for some sign
that God was still there. Isaiah even
verbalizes some of Israel’s frustration: “oh that you would rend the heavens
and come down with the mountains quaking before you.” Why don’t you show us your face, O God. Why don’t you act?
Why don’t you do something?
Who can’t identify with that sentiment. Who hasn’t felt captive? Who hasn’t felt like
everything has gone wrong, God has abandoned me? Perhaps, watching the nightly news, seeing
the violence, the war, the political turmoil, the civil unrest, the grave
immorality, wondering when, O Lord will you show yourself? When will there be peace?
Perhaps, you are in a very dry period in your prayer life,
wondering, when will prayer become sweet again for me? Even the great saints experienced times of
great dryness in their prayer life—when it felt like God had withdrawn. Sometimes it’s like God has hidden himself,
Isaiah verbalizes this in our first reading: he says, “God, you have hidden
your face from us.”
God allowed Israel to be exiled, so that that could
recognize the need to be obedient, the need to form their families in
faith. They had rejected the need for
worship, the need of the commandments, the need for holy learning; they
rejected the need for God, so God allowed them to come to realize how captive
they were to sin without Him.
The experience of longing for God is a good thing. It helps us recognize that without God we are
indeed captive. It helps us to cry out,
as we did in the Psalm, “Let us see your face and we shall be saved.”
At the end of the Isaiah reading, we get this beautiful
image—an image that we do well to remember for all of the season of Advent, in
image we do well to remember whenever God feels distant, or we are going
through any sort of trial or difficulty: “Yet, O Lord, you are our father; we
are the clay and you are the potter, we are all the work of your hands.”
When we are in anguish, frustrated that God’s face seems
hidden, captive by events we cannot control: illness, war, death, Isaiah
encourages us to consider ourselves clay to be shaped by the hands of Our
Father in heaven. God will use the hard
events of life, to form us into something great.
God is not distant, he is not absent, even when he seems
hidden. God is intimately involved with
humanity. He wants to be intimately
involved with every human soul. He wants
to form us, he wants to shape us.
Yet, we have to offer ourselves as clay to be formed, by
God. The clay of our hearts must not be
hard, unpliant, immalleable. We must be
open to change. We must be open to
becoming more prayerful, more generous, more patient.
This desire for God to shape us, form us, save us, is at the
heart of Advent. Advent is about
recognizing our need for a Savior—recognizing that all too often our hearts and
lives have been like hard stone, instead of soft clay.
St. Ireneus said that as long as the clay of our hearts
remains supple and moist, the work of the potter is relatively painless. But if the clay becomes brittle, and
hardened, it can break under the work of the potter.
We look inward at the state of our souls during Advent, to
do everything in our power to make our souls pliant to God. During Advent we look to people like King
David, John the Baptist, Mary of Nazareth as people who were open to allowing
God to use them, the shape them for his purposes, people of great active watchfulness. We prepare our hearts In Advent for the
celebration of Christ’s coming at Christmas, by doing penance, by going to
confession, by setting side time every day for quiet, yet active prayer,
spiritual reading, and engaging in acts of service.
As Jesus comes to us in the mystery of the Eucharist at this
holy Mass, may we allow him every deeper into our hearts, to prepare our hearts
for the celebration of his coming in history at Christmas and majesty at the
end of time, for the glory of God and salvation of souls.