This Sunday falls close to the Feast of the Immaculate Conception (Tuesday Dec 8). It also corresponds to dark days in the Pacific when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbour and, in less than 8 hours, HK, sinking American ships.
Two hours after HK it was the Philippines.
Advent then became a dark ‘novena’ when on Christmas Day, 1941, Singapore, then Australia, was within their sights.
Many voices “cried in the wilderness” in those days.
The peoples of S-E Asia, including Australia knew the taste of fear and the fate of capture.
It was a moment of testing but also of grace.
Foreign forces may well have taken our land and, who then, would be out hope?
The sword swung over Australia and people turned to leaders but, more so, to one another for reassurance and encouragement.
Fortunately, frightening times are rare.
But they do cause us look at our life in a different way.
John the Baptist called the people of his time to personal renewal and admission of their sins.
This may well be the need for us today but are we able to face up to our real lives?
We can often admit to bad habits; sloppy ways; indulgent lifestyles and tardy ways. But what about the dishonesty and compromises that keep our relationships together? The compromises in business and the professions? The duplicity of our words and the bitter feelings we hold?
Somebody said to me recently, in a moment of disarming honesty, that middle class pain is so often masked by the capacity to hide it behind the appearances of prosperity.
I am not sure about that. But I do think that John the Baptist calls us to a renewal and confession of sin that is a bit beyond what many of us are capable of.
Some people talk about the loss of the sense of sin and the obvious neglect of the sacrament of Reconciliation.
Our sin is best described as ‘attachment’; to ourselves, our egos, our bodies and our life as we dream it.
The gospel and the message of John the Baptist is a radical conversion to a new set of values and way of living.
It means stripping away our preoccupations with success, wealth and status, popularity and intoxication with a life that is often artificial and cultish.
We want to rev-up our life; define our bodies in the gym and insure our future in workplaces.
Last week we had the anniversary of the funeral of Phil Hughes. I remember the eulogy of Michael Clarke as the most eloquent of speeches.
It was all about somebody else, Hughes, who apparently lived the life and dreams of many young Australians.
But it was framed in the language of the Spirit. The spirit of cricket, personal relationships, a life not silenced by death.
Michael had gone aslone to the pitch at the SCG to feel the grass where his mate “was felled” by a rogue cricket ball.
“It sounds crazy but I swear he was there”.
Yes, an Aussie boy had found a life to play, at an innings without end. The boy from Macksville.
Somehow, his death had been a wake-up call to a shattered family, friends, mates, even a nation.
Not unlike the peril of 1941; not unlike the words of John the Baptist; and like the innocent death of Jesus, a Spirit is poured out that touches us to the core.
With shattered defences we might again see all that prevents us reclaiming our own integrity; making our paths straight and living again in the fresh air of the truth.
