December Reflection

At our upcoming Advent Day of Reflection, we will have time to consider what St.
Francis did at Greccio, what it means for us as Franciscans, and what our brothers and
sisters in the Holy Land are facing this Christmas as they endure war and terror.
As I write this reflection on the first Sunday in Advent, hearing the reading from the
prophet Isaiah is particularly poignant in light of the war in the Holy Land: “You, Lord,
are our father…Why do you let us wander, o Lord, from your ways, and harden our
hearts so that we fear you not?” Truly it seems that both sides in the war have forgotten
that they are all God’s children and that they must “fear” God by respecting His
commandments not to kill.


As followers of Jesus in the footsteps of St. Francis, we have a special gift and duty to
bring light into this darkness. Perhaps Jesus’ most famous and difficult teaching was,
“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell
you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children
of your Father in heaven” (Mt 5:43-45). Put that together with Jesus’ words in the gospel
reading (Mk 13:33-37) for the first Sunday in Advent, “Be watchful! Be alert! May [the
lord] not come suddenly and find you sleeping!” What this tells me is that I must love–
that is, care deeply about the welfare of–people who are different from me in every way:
religion, language, culture, history, political outlook. I must care about the safety of both
Israelis and Palestinians, no matter how much I might disapprove of their actions. And I
must not be found “sleeping,” that is, throwing up my hands and ignoring escalating
violence.


St. Francis showed us well how not to be found “sleeping” in the face of violence. In
1225, Francis heard about contention between parties in Assisi, contention he knew
from experience could easily explode into bloodshed. It would have been easy for
Francis, who was gravely ill and unable to travel into the city, to do nothing more than
shake his head. Instead he exerted great effort: he composed a new verse of his
Canticle specifically calling for forgiveness and reconciliation, promising that God
would “crown” those who bore tribulation and endured in peace. Francis sent two friars
to sing the new verse to the warring parties in Assisi, whose hard hearts were melted by
the beauty of the song and who reconciled.


Can I learn from Jesus, who told me to keep loving both sides in a conflict even–in fact,
especially–when it is difficult to do so? Can I learn from Francis to keep speaking up
with love, to pray and to use my creativity, even when I am physically unable to be there
to help solve a problem? It is so difficult to keep praying and taking loving action when
“we have all withered like leaves, and our guilt carries us away like the wind” (Isaiah 15).
Yet the prophet reminds us that no problem is too large for God to resolve and that we
are to be God’s instruments, because “we are the clay and you the potter; we are all the
work of your hands.” I pray that we will all have a Christmas in which we experience
peace and we bring peace to others