Two blind men were given sight by Jesus, Matthew’s gospel read on the Friday of the 1st Week of Advent says. They’re healed together. (Matthew 9: 27-31) Do they represent the blind whom the Prophet Isaiah says in our first reading will see when the Messiah comes. “And out of gloom and darkness, the eyes of the blind shall see.” (Isaiah 29: 17-34)

Notice there are two blind men, not one. Are they just physically blind, or could the two together represent those blinded by certain issues and common prejudices?

When John Newton, captain of an 18th century African slave ship, wrote the famous hymn “Amazing grace,” he said he “was blind, but now I see.” It wasn’t physical blindness he described. The tough seaman was converted after reading Thomas a Kempis’ “The Imitation of Christ” on a voyage. Gradually he came to see the horrific evil of slavery and other vices he had fallen into.

In 1788 after years of debate over the issue in England, Prime Minister William Pitt called a committee to investigate the slave trade. Until then, slavery was accepted by England and other countries  as necessary for the country’s economic welfare.

England, like other nations, was blind to the evil. A star witnesses during the investigation was John Newton, whose detailed descriptions of the slave trade made people see what a horrendous practice it was.

This advent may Jesus help our world, our nation, our church and us to see. There are always things we don’t see. The blindness the prophets describe isn’t a thing of the past.

Pope Francis spoke of our society’s blind acceptance of the “tyranny of the financial markets.” We pay attention to a 2% drop in the stock market and ignore the death of a homeless man who dies in the cold. We’re a throw-away society, we waste so much. Not only do we discard things, we discard people. We exploit immigrants and then throw them away. We’re blind to the plight of the economically unproductive, who have lost their jobs or don’t have the skills for work today.

Lord, help us to see.

I’m following an online Advent resource of paintings and commentary from the Victoria Albert Museum in London, England. Some paintings everyday. Here’s where you can get it. vcs@kcl.ac.uk

St. John Damascene was born in Damascus, Syria, in the middle of the 7th century. Declared a doctor of the Roman Catholic Church in 1890 by Pope Leo XIII, he was brilliant teacher who explained the faith in simple understandable terms. Maybe that’s why he defended the use of icons against those who saw them as unworthy of God. John Damascene believed God can be known through images. Jesus Christ is “the image of the invisible God”.

So John Damascene not only stood up for icons, but he also stood up for the statues, stain glass windows and art of all kind. He validated the work of Michelangelo and Bach and generations of Christian artists. How could we celebrate Christmas without images?

Now, perhaps, we need to defend against their loss, as our world becomes more secularized. Our Christmas carols are drowned out by “Jingle Bell Rock” and a thousand other noisy songs. Our Christmas tree, our Christmas cribs are lost under a lot of junk; Santa Claus is turned into a salesman in Macys, the small humble light of our advent wreath is swallowed up by bigger, brighter decorations.

Anyway, listen to some words from John Damascene:

O Lord, You brought me naked into the light of day, and by the blessing of the Holy Spirit, you created me, not by human will or desire, but by your ineffable grace. 

The birth you prepared for me surpassed the laws of our nature. You sent me forth into the light as your adopted son and you enrolled me among the children of your holy and spotless Church.

You nursed me with the spiritual milk of your words. You kept me alive with the solid food of the body of Jesus Christ, your only-begotten Son and our God, and you let me drink his life-giving blood, poured out to save the whole world.

  You loved us, O Lord, and gave up your only-begotten Son for our redemption. And he came willingly, not shrinking from the task. Although he was God, he became man, and in his human will, became obedient to you, God his Father, unto death, even death on a cross.

 You humbled yourself, Christ my God, so that you might carry me, your stray sheep, on your shoulders. You let me graze in green pastures, refreshing me with the waters of orthodox teaching at the hands of your shepherds. You pastured these shepherds, and now they in turn tend your chosen and special flock. 

Now you have called me, Lord, by the hand of your bishop to minister to your people. I do not know why you have done so;  you alone know. Lord, lighten the heavy burden of my sins. Purify my mind and heart. Like a shining lamp, lead me along the straight path. When I open my mouth, tell me what I should say. By the fiery tongue of your Spirit make my own tongue ready. Stay with me always and keep me in your sight.

  Lead me to pastures, Lord, and graze there with me. Do not let my heart lean either to the right or to the left, but let your good Spirit guide me along the straight path. Whatever I do, let it be in accordance with your will, now until the end.

  And you, Church of God, most excellent assembly,  summit of perfect purity, whose assistance comes from God. You in whom God lives, receive from us a teaching of faith that is free from error, to strengthen the Church, just as our Fathers handed it down to us.

There’s a beautiful continuity in our Advent readings between the Prophet Isaiah and the Gospel of Matthew. We see it today – Wednesday in Advent’s first week .

On his holy mountain, Isaiah promises God will provide a feast of rich food and choice wines, wiping away tears from all faces. (Isaiah 25: 6-10)

On a mountain Jesus teaches, then “wipes away the tears from all faces,” Matthew’s Gospel says. “Great crowds came to him, having with them the lame, the blind, the deformed, the mute, and many others. They placed them at his feet, and he cured them.” Then he feeds them all from 7 loaves of bread and a few fish.

It’s not a ration to keep them till they get home. It’s a banquet providing more than enough – there are leftovers. ( Matthew 15: 32-38 )

For Isaiah and Matthew the mountain is a symbolic place. All nations will stream toward it, Isaiah announces. “Great crowds” come to it, Matthew says. The  mountain is a place for a feast. 

Is it a future feast, a future kingdom we should wait for, or is it something to strive for now? “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven,” we say in the Lord’s Prayer. Even now, on earth, God’s wills his kingdom come. We need to strive for God’s kingdom to come, even now.  

What should we do? How can we beat swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks today? Can we work to destroy weapons of mass destruction and seek ways to disarm? Realists, like Ahaz, King of Judea, questioned Isaiah’s promises and said it couldn’t be done.

In a world where wealthy nations discriminate against poorer nations is it possible for all nations be fed? How can we bring all to share the fruits of the earth? And how can we care that the earth itself be respected for the common good?

Words from the past point to the present and the future. We’re called to bring about God’s kingdom now, on earth as it is in heaven.  

In Advent we celebrate the Lord’s coming, to Bethlehem in the past, to us now in the present, and again on a day we do not know. God comes in mysterious ways. Advent is a time for seeing God’s plan.     

At the celebration of the 1700 years of the Council of Nicea and the Nicene Creed in Turkey November 29th,  Pope Leo invited the leaders of the Christian churches at the celebration to join him in Jerusalem in 2033 to celebrate the Death and Resurrection of Jesus 2,000 years ago.

That’s 8 years from now.

Asked about Pope Leo’s journey to the celebration at Nicea and what it may accomplish, Cardinal Parolin, Vatican Secretary of State  said “It can be likened to sowing seeds; the Lord knows the fruits and the time to reap them.”

Will seeds sown at the reunion of Christians at Nicea in 2025 grown in Jerusalem in 2033? 

Jesus prayed that we be one. 

“Come, let us climb the LORD’s mountain,
    to the house of the God of Jacob,
That he may instruct us in his ways,
    and we may walk in his paths.”
For from Zion shall go forth instruction,
    and the word of the LORD from Jerusalem.” (Isaiah 2)

Isaiah spoke about all nations seeking instruction and disarming as Assyrian armies were rumbling toward Jerusalem to destroy it. People listening to him must have said “What’s he talking about? Can’t he see what’s at our door now?”

But Isaiah insists God will instruct the world in his ways. Yes, even now, God is instructing us. His message is not to hide because the Assyrian armies are coming; save yourselves!  Rather God says get ready for the days that are coming when “ they will beat their swords into plowshares, their spears into pruning hooks and there will be no wars any more.” God’s peaceable kingdom is coming.

Isaiah’s promises appear in wonderful imagery throughout Advent. There will be a cloud by day and a fire by night over God’s holy mountain. The mountain is a place of delight, not fear. Children play around a cobra’s den, the lamb and the lion lie down together, the poor become rich, a great banquet feeds them all. The fears of life give way to delight.

Wonderful imagery for a world today paralyzed by fear and confusion. Wonderful imagery for us who, like the shepherds at Bethlehem, wait fearfully in the dark. 

The Assyrian army surely had the equivalent of the Roman centurion in today’s gospel, who were the backbone of their armies. Powerful men, loyal soldiers, they could tell their troops ” Kill them all” or “Lay down your swords,” and their soldiers would do it.

The Roman centurion in today’s gospel represents power, yet power humbled before Jesus:  “Lord, I am not worthy that you should  come under my roof, but say the word and my servant will be healed.” He comes with a faith not found in Israel.

The Messiah has power over the proud and the strong, our gospel reminds us. No one, even a tough centurion, is beyond the reach of his mercy.

Advent is a time of hope, a daring hope that’s not just about surviving. It’s about much more. Jesus Christ instructs us and shows us the path to take. He’s knocking at the door, an Advent prayer reminds us. He invites us to work for the coming of God’s kingdom. He comes to lead us there.

Keep us alert, we pray, O Lord our God,

as we await the advent of Christ your Son,

so that, when he comes and knocks,

he may find us watchful in prayer

and exultant in his praise.

Who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,

God, for ever and ever.

Amen.

Follow the advent readings here.