Second Sunday of Advent B - Wait Patiently
December 2008
The Gospel of Mark (which is the oldest of the four Gospels) begins with the appearance of John the Baptist.
John was sent (as we read in Isaiah) to prepare the way for Jesus of Nazareth.
This prophesy of Isaiah was written about 730 years before John appeared.
As we read in today’s second reading; ‘Do not ignore this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day.’ And then goes on to say; ‘The Lord is not slow about his promise, as some think of slowness, but is patient with you, not wanting any to perish.’
I suppose most of you have reared children to maturity or are in the process of doing so. It is a long, slow process requiring huge amounts of selflessness and patience. All parents make some mistakes with their children’s upbringing, and looking back will realise that these mistakes resulted from lapses in patience or imposing their own agenda. All of us, young and old, only learn by making mistakes.
When it comes to our relationship with God, Our Father and Creator, we are fractious children, rebellious and ‘know it all’ teenagers or self opinionated and stubborn adults. Sometimes all three at the same time.
But God treats me with the utmost patience. God allows me to be fractious, to be rebellious, to be stubborn, but helps me to learn from these faults - to learn about myself and to learn about God.
My oldest maternal uncle did not get married until he was 47 years old. This, not from choice, but because he did not inherit the farm until his father died and therefore could not get married earlier.
I stayed with them regularly during Summer and Christmas holidays.
When his daughter was about two and able to walk a bit he brought her everywhere around the farm with him. He was totally wrapped up in her and would spend hours talking to her, making funny faces to make her laugh, holding her hand to help her walk or carrying her when she felt tired. He would do anything for her and she could do no wrong. This deep bond between them lasted until he died suddenly and quietly at the age of 95 while his daughter was helping him to get up and get dressed, which she did every morning during his latter years.
At the mature age of eleven I could not see for the life of me what my uncle saw in this snotty nosed, grubby faced, dirty handed two year old with unruly and tangled rusty hair, who made strange and incomprehensible noises.
He saw the preciousness of this child which I could not see and his patient love and the freedom he allowed her produced the fine upstanding woman she is today, the likes of whom you would not find in a long days march.
For me, the face of my uncle as he gazed on his beloved, snotty nosed daughter is the face of God as he gazes on me, his beloved, snotty nosed son.