Reflection for Sunday – December 22, 2024

Gloria UlterinoSunday Readings Homilies

Readings: Micah 5: 1-4a; Hebrews 10: 5-10; Luke 1: 39-45 
Preacher: Gloria Ulterino

I was there.  At the home of the priest Zechariah and his wife, Elizabeth, that is.  A dozen or so years ago now, on pilgrimage to Israel with some 30 other women.

On this one particular day, we headed to the “hill country,” as it’s called, just outside Jerusalem.  Upon arrival, we were met with a seemingly endless flight of stairs.  So, we climbed… up … up … and up again, until, finally, we arrived at the top, breathless.  Their modest home was surrounded that May by gorgeous flowers.  But, it was what I saw when I turned around, that took my breath away.  A deep valley, immediately rising up to yet one more hill!  So this is what is meant by “the hill country”?

 Yes.  This was the place where Mary spent time with Elizabeth.  Some three months, we are told.  So, imagine with me, if you will, the kind of conversations that they might have shared.  Here they were, two women of little or no account in their day.  A middle-aged woman, barren for years, unable to produce the son so greatly desired by her husband Zechariah.  And her young relative, Mary, seeking to make sense of a pregnancy rooted in the Word of God rather than a sexual encounter.  What on earth was going on?  Did Elizabeth remember the words of the prophet Micah?  That the Savior of Israel would come from one of the little clans?  From Bethlehem of Ephrathah, in fact, Mary’s hometown?  Was God doing something in them and through them?  Was God fulfilling the promises made to the prophet Micah for their very own people, in their very own time?  Was Mary’s Son, now in utero, the One who would feed his flock?  The Very One who could bring peace?  A peace way beyond all normal human expectations?  And, if so, why had their all-too-human hopes and dreams been shattered!  Only to be enlarged way beyond their normal human expectations?  Can we possibly imagine their questions?  Their concerns?

After their three months together, after feeding upon one another’s questions and growing insights, were they each able to proclaim, “I come to do Your will, O God.”  Did these words become a mantra of daily living, through the most ordinary of chores, the most mundane of tasks?  Did these two women, regarded as totally insignificant in their day, come to know that their faith would not only rock the cradle but the very foundations of some people of faith?

 I don’t know.  But I do know when I see signs of their faith in my daily life.  Just yesterday I was reading the story of some adoptions taking place here in Rochester on National Adoption Day, November 23rd.  Six families finalized their long-sought-after adoptions.  The Judge, Maria Cubillos-Reed, expressed her deep conviction that “there’s nothing greater than to see children smiling and finally, having a permanent support system.”  As one of the parents said, “The commitment is real.  It’s legalized.  You can say anybody’s my kids, but there’s no paper backing that up.  Now, we have a paper that backs it up.”  

 Don’t we all have questions and struggles that have rooted themselves in our lives?  For example, we believe that we seem to have a gift for something that is not readily received.  How can we continue to develop this gift, especially if we’re certain that it comes from God for the good of so many others?  Or, even when that gift is recognized and desired by others, we don’t have the means to develop it further ourselves.  Where will the money and support come from?  Or, what if our gift is usually regarded as being male or female, and we are the opposite gender?  Or, what if our gift is not readily found in people of our particular cultural background?  And yet, despite everything, something deep inside assures us that we must develop it, for the good of others, as well as our own personal growth.  You get the idea.

Here we are, near the end of the beautiful season of Advent.  The ultimate season of divine promises to very ordinary people, just like us.  Admit it: this is a busy time.  A time we try to meet so many needs, especially of the ones we love and care about.  A time that can be exhausting, rather than fulfilling.  A time whose beauty might well escape our noticing, even our flourishing, with all that needs to get done.  If so, can we each pause?  And notice, in the silence, all that matters to us?  Can we name whatever longs to be birthed in us?  So that we, too—male as well as female—might bring forth the Savior of the World?  So that we, too, might come to do God’s will?

Gloria Ulterino
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