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“Watch yourselves, or your hearts will be coarsened with debauchery and drunkenness and the cares of life … Stay awake, praying at all times for the strength to survive all that is going to happen, and to stand with confidence before the Son of Man.” (Luke 21:24; 36)—Thus proclaims the theme for the First Sunday in Advent; its dire words startle, if anyone is listening

Like first-century Palestine, the setting for this mandate, our times are rife with turmoil, with reversals in values, with rampant greed, with untoward events that decry expression. Covert and overt oppression hold people hostage. Homelessness, actual or psychological, sours hearts. Indeed, whole cityscapes appear inert, frozen in toxic fears. And Black Friday’s madness launched the shopping craze until the eve of Christmas. This scenario, ramped up by devotees of Evil, continues emasculating spirit, year after year.

Yet there is another voice that rings through the centuries: ”Watch yourselves …” To heed its imperative toward conversion of life requires humility, prayer, and selflessness. Through the practice of these disciplines emerge stalwart hearts, clear vision, and unflinching truth. That’s what really matters.

But such disciplines are counter-cultural, many protest. I’d much rather hang out with my buddies at the bar or go shopping. That’s where real life happens.

Yet the challenge remains: to go apart, alone, in silence, and see whom we meet.

It works. It really does.

 

 

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Crazed hatred stalks the chambers of governments; fuels killings in war zones, in classrooms and back alleys, within wombs; shreds trust in all segments of society; demoralizes familes. In desperate straits, we cry out:

Our Father who art in heaven—We seek the center-point of your silence within our shadowy depths.

Hallowed be your name— Arms outstretched, we prostrate ourselves before your inexplicable holiness. We wait.

Thy Kingdom come—We yearn for color-flushes that alone eradicate the global gutting of psyches.

Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven—We surrender anew to this empowerment; its multifaceted bliss stirs us.

Give us this day our daily bread—We yearn for spiritual sustenance, one day at a time, which alone fortifies our tentative steps across rocky terrains.

And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us—We own our violence to ourselves and to others and beg forgiveness; such energize us to forgive others and repair rifts in the social fabric. Our part does matter.

And lead us not into temptation—We beg for discipline to listen for true guidance emanating from within and without.

Deliver us from evil—We pray for discernment to avoid the allure of evil in its multiple disguises.

For Thine is the Kingdom, the power, and the glory, both now and forevermore—We rejoice within this freshness and thrive, despite the cloying darkness that still surrounds us. We have the protection.

Amen—And so it is.

 

It all began on the chartered buses. Sizzling energy loosed introductions, stories, and prayer among the protesters, traveling from St. Louis, Missouri, to Washington, D.C. One of them was a ninety-four-old widow, supported by two canes, who had attended all the Marches for Life since their inception in 1974. The Supreme Court’s decision to legalize abortion in Roe vs. Wade still irks many.

The morning began with Mass at the downtown Holy Rosary Catholic Church, followed by the cafeteria-style-breakfast in a nearby government building. It would be a rigorous day. Brilliant sunshine spirited the protesters’ steps toward meetings with their Missouri Representatives and later with their senators.

Rallied in front of a large screen at the National Mall, the protesters then thrilled with warm remarks from President Trump and House Speaker Paul Ryan. Three others also spoke from the main stage.

Then an estimated half-million protesters began the long march down Constitution Avenue toward the Supreme Court building. Singing, praying, bands playing, banners and placards waving, they made their way—a moral force to be reckoned with.

Synchronistically, that very day, the House passed a bill ordering abortionists to provide medical care to babies should they survive. An observer was heard to say: “I guess this is some kind of progress, but look what our country’s come to. Like slavery in the South—Like if the master failed to kill his slave but then was legally compelled to tend his wounds—Amounts to the same thing.”

The impact of the day quieted the protesters as they returned to St. Louis. They would never forget.

 

 

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