+JMJ+
O Radix Jesse, qui stas in signum populorum, super quem continebunt reges os suum, quem gentes deprecabuntur: veni ad liberandum nos, jam noli tardare.
O Root of Jesse, who stand as a sign for the people, kings stand silent in your presence, whom the nations will worship: come to set us free, put it off no longer.
Picking up the 12 steps, again, with a bit of overlap from the last time, we’ve realised things were a mess. We’ve realised, in fact, that the mess is our fault and now, we’ve admitted all that. And we’ve asked for help from something we don’t quite yet understand.
- 5. We admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.
- 6. We were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.
- 7. We humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.
Come and set us free: put it off no longer!
There is a poem by George Herbert, called “The Collar“, wherein the poet is yelling and screaming at God. And, at the end, God has heard everything and says, “My Child…” and the poet turns and say, “Lord?”
Recovery is such: when we realise the mess we are in, we sometimes still do not like the answer. We must come, in fact, to that moment of silence before the Root of Jesse. He doesn’t mind the ranting, he doesn’t mind the raving, but there is that moment when God gets his turn to speak, a moment of silence. It is the moment of revelation in our recovery. Having admitted that everything was broken, we hear God say, “My child…”
We have to be ready: God will remove it all – painfully, slowly, and not without all possible love and tenderness. But it still hurts. We don’t like this in our word today: we think anything that hurts must be bad, must be stopped. We melt like snowflakes before pain so much so that even hearing someone disagreeing with us can be called a “micro aggression” and you’ll be treated as if you hit someone. We don’t like pain: so we run away from a God who wants us to change. God says, “My child, sit still…”
Advent, this season of waiting, is this moment of silence. It is, I think, the time when all of the world can hear God say, “My Child…” to each of us, individually. I don’t mean Advent, the liturgical season, however: the Church year is an Icon of our salvation. Each of us goes through Advent on her own terms. Each of us, eventually, comes to the stable when God says to him, “My Child…” and we each finally answer, “Lord?”
And then we can say, “come and set us free – and wait no longer!”
There is another poem, by John Donne, that speaks of this process rather differently. We’ll get to that next time and I promise it will not be late! But after God removes our short-comings, there is something more important for we are not set free for ourselves: Christianity is not about getting out of hell. It’s about getting into heaven. And, for all that it’s been a hard row to hoe so far, it only gets harder!
Doxos 