Today we begin the new liturgical year with a spirit of anticipation and unbridled hope! Today we begin Advent. The first scripture of the day is taken from the inaugural prophecy of Isaiah. For Christians, it’s perhaps the most well known passage of the Old Testament.

It would be helpful to put Isaiah’s prophecy into an historical context. In the year 736BC a young king, Ahaz, succeeded to the throne of Judah inheriting a serious political situation. The king of Damascus and the king of Israel tried to persuade him to join them in an alliance against the king of Assyria. When Ahaz refused, they declared war on Judah. The king reached out to Assyria for help.

Isaiah tried to dissuade him, begging him to rely on God’s faithfulness, not on untrustworthy political alliances. To persuade him he delivered his famous oracle of a messianic time to come. We’re reading this oracle today.

Ahaz agreed to an alliance that put Judah under Assyrian protection. Assyria used it, however, as an opportunity to annex the northern kingdom, Israel, in 734BC. Samaria fell in 721BC.When Hezekiah succeeded Ahaz as king in 716BC, he reached out to Egypt to support him in a revolt against Assyria. The result was disastrous. The Assyrian forces devastated Palestine in 701BC. Only Jerusalem survived destruction.

The fear and uncertainty must have been traumatic for the Jewish leadership and the general population during those years. It’s in this context that Isaiah delivered his first prophecy. It began with a lament for Jerusalem, symbolic of the rulers of Judah.

“The faithful city, what a harlot she has become!

Zion, once full of fair judgment, where saving

justice used to dwell, but now assassins! Your

silver has turned to dross, your wine is watered.

Your princes are rebels, accomplices of brig-

ands. All of them greedy for presents and eager

for bribes, they show no justice to the orphan,

and the widow’s cause never reaches them.” (Isaiah 1:22-24) This lament over the corruption of Judah and Jerusalem is followed by a vision of a new world – a Messianic time. In the vision, Jerusalem is transformed from the place of corruption to the glorious kingdom of God. The temple mount, Zion, the Lord’s house, is seen flooded by people streaming in from every part of the world. The divisions and hostilities that have kept people and nations apart have dissolved. The Lord’s house welcomes everyone, Jew and Gentile alike.

This is a revolutionary image. The word “nations” is goyim in Hebrew. It has a much broader meaning than various countries. It means all those people who aren’t Jews – who aren’t God’s chosen people. In the Jewish vocabulary it’s the disparaging word for “them,” those who aren’t one of us. In the Messianic Time there will be no them and us. National borders no longer exist so that “the nations” may freely stream into the Lord’s house. The prophecy goes on:

“They shall beat their swords into plough-

shares and their spears into pruning hooks;

one nation shall not rise the sword against an-

other, nor shall they train for war again.”

What a prophecy! Imagine – a world with no national borders to defend – a world with no wars – a world at peace – a world in which God’s house is its only capital!

Isaiah’s prophecy leads us into Advent, but we must prepare ourselves for this procession to the house of God. We’re asked to shed our crippling cynicism. We’re asked to envision the corruption all around us as a thing of the past. We’re encouraged to abandon our narrow and divisive notions of nation, race and creed. We’re asked to open our eyes to the new world of the Messianic time. We are asked to take a spiritual step into that bright new world, and “walk in the light of the Lord!”

We’re privileged to witness one of the most intimate moments in the life of Jesus. Luke captures the moment for us. It’s Friday, the day after Jesus celebrated the Passover with his disciples. It’s Good Friday. Jesus has been nailed to the cross bar and lifted up. There are two insurgents being executed with him. One on a cross to his left and the other to his right. There isn’t anything awesome about the scene. It’s gruesome and ugly. It’s bloody and sadistic.

The religious leaders have banded together near the execution site. They’re grandstanding, shouting so that the crowd, and the people walking past the site, can clearly hear them. “He saved others, let him save himself if he is the Chosen One, the Christ of God.” The guards assigned to the execution begin to join in the jeering and the mockery. The whole thing is a macabre circus for them as they listen to the shouts of the religious leaders, and read Pilate’s sarcastic decree of execution. So, they shout, too. “If you are the king of the Jews, save yourself.”

In the midst of this madness, one of the crucified begins to join in with the religious leaders and the guards. “Are you not the Messiah. Save yourself and us!” His voice is constricted by pain and the terrible anger that rages inside of him. His choice to fight for the liberation of Israel brought him to his cross. The so-called Messiah being crucified with him did nothing to further the liberation of Israel, yet the focus is on this holy loser.

Then, another voice can be heard. A rebuke comes from the other cross. “Have you no fear of God, for you are subject to the same condemnation? And indeed, we have been condemned justly, for the sentence we received corresponds to our crimes, but this man has done nothing criminal.”

A few hours ago, Judas, a once follower of Jesus, embraced him, and kissed him. Now, a new disciple, a crucified disciple, turns toward Jesus to comfort him. For a few moments, the shouts, the rebukes, the noise, the suffering stops. “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus’ words embrace him in return. “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

In the Judeo-Christian tradition, the end of the liturgical year becomes a metaphor for the end of the world as we know it. Our world with its violence, its greed and power lust, its injustice, and its oppression will be exposed, judged and purified. We can clearly see this theme in the readings for this Sunday.

In the passage from the prophet Malachi we hear his prophecy of a day of universal judgment. “Lo, the day is coming, blazing like an oven, when all the proud and all evildoers will be stubble, and the day that is coming will set them on fire.” He concludes his prophecy, however, with a word of hope. “But for you who fear my name, there will arise the sun of justice with its healing rays.”

In the gospel passage, Jesus was teaching in the temple and overheard people commenting on the beauty and opulence of the temple. He remarked, “All that you see here – the days will come when there will not be a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down.” He then continued his teaching using language very similar to Malachi’s.

He cautioned his disciples not to be terrified when they heard of wars and insurrections because nations and kingdoms would inevitably rise against each other. There would be powerful earthquakes, famines, and plagues from place to place. There would even be mighty signs in the sky. In addition, another dynamic would be taking place as these events were un-

folding. Jesus’ disciples would be seized and imprisoned. They would even be handed over by friends and relatives. They would be hated because of their association with him. Some of them would be put to death. But this would not be the end of the world.

Malachi’s prophecy recognized the darkness of the world we live in, but it also looked to a world purified of injustice and oppression, of war and violence. We Christians, always hopeful, anticipate “a new heaven and a new earth,” a world in harmony with God, a new Eden. However, this new world won’t be forced on us. There won’t be a great rapture during which bad people will be obliterated and good people rise into the heavens.

We Christians hold that the new world will come to life though our self-sacrifice – our living, not for ourselves, but for others. This is the central teaching of Jesus. He modeled this teaching when he washed his disciples feet. He modeled it when he took up the cross. He asked us to follow him. To do what he did. To live as he lived. To continue his mission.

The new world will reveal itself gradually through the loving and sacrificial lives of people like you and me – people who take to heart what Jesus taught and modeled in his own life. In spite of the dismal condition of our world today, we can’t lose hope. We must be devoted to the vision of a new world. We must, no matter what it will cost us, live our lives for others.

We’re celebrating the feast of the basilica of St John Lateran, the pope’s cathedral as the bishop of Rome. There has been a church on that site for 1700 years. The first was built on land donated to Constantine by the Lateran family. It doesn’t seem very uplifting to celebrate a structure built of mortar and stone, a church. But it does make sense to celebrate the living structure it represents, the Church, the Christian community.

The readings for the feast focus our attention on the essence of Church. Ezekiel’s prophecy speaks of the river flowing from the temple to the Arabah where it empties into the sea transforming it into life-giving fresh water. The leaves of the trees watered by it are a source of healing.

Paul instructs the Corinthians that they are a living Church, built upon a living foundation, Christ himself, whose Spirit is always with them communally and individually. There’s no specific building in his mind. THEY’RE God’s temple.

We cap off our reflection with John’s account of Jesus cleansing the Court of the Gentiles in the temple. The one spot in the Jewish world where Gentiles were permitted

to pray had devolved into a raucous marketplace where money could be changed and sacrificial animals could be examined and purchased. Jesus was challenging the old regime, the Pharisees, to return the Court of the Gentiles to the Gentiles. Jesus quoted Isaiah the prophet to them, “My house shall be a house of prayer for all peoples.”

What lessons can we learn from these scriptures? First and foremost, we are the Church, a living structure built upon Christ the source of all healing and new life. Secondly, Christ reached out to the outcast, touched the leper, forgave the woman caught in adultery. As the living Church, we are the body of Christ; our words must be his words and our actions his actions. Today, we’re reminded of our relationship with Christ and one another. We are the Church.

PRAYER

Father, I pray that the invitation of Christ will always be the invitation of the Church and my invitation. “Come to me all you who labor and are heavy burdened and I will give you rest.

At this time of the year, we celebrate a triduum of feasts to begin the season of Autumn: Halloween, All Saints Day and All Souls Day. In conservative religious circles Halloween is often written off and sometimes even condemned as a pagan practice. Well, it is pagan, and it’s very popular. I think of it as a playful introduction to two days of spiritual celebration.

The pagan festival of Halloween celebrated the end of summer, the harvest and the beginning of the cold, dark winter. It was believed that as autumn arrived the veil separating the living from the dead was at its thinnest. People lit bonfires and dressed in costumes to ward off the roaming spirits. The Church was drawn to the festival and expanded it with two special days.

The Church celebrates the feast of All Saints Day, the day after Halloween, by commemorating the host of men and women who brought God’s light into this dark world through their Christian witness. As the gospel of John tells us, “What came through him was life, and this life was the light of the world. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” Bonfires and costumes won’t keep the darkness away. Our sharing the divine light which is the very

essence of God, will be our shield against the darkness. On All Saints Day we celebrate the divine life within us.

The next day, all Souls Day, the Church brings us to the veil that separates us. There, we remember the souls who have departed this world and send them our light. This is a healing light, a redemptive light, the powerful light of love. Our souls are the repository of love. We come into this world filled with divine light. But sadly, as we mature, we tend to lose our connection with that light. We become more and more conscious of the physical world we live in and become less and less conscious of the world within, the spiritual world of the soul. That’s why souls sometimes need a loving push, a shot of divine light, to pass through the veil.

Halloween joyfully acknowledges life beyond the veil. All Saints Day canonizes that life by celebrating it as our goal. All Souls Day completes the triduum with a communal, loving nudge for souls who are hesitant to take their first steps into the divine light.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. Amen.