Let me begin with a little curious detail about today’s first reading, which is the beginning of a new book.
It is of course supposed to have been written by the same author who wrote Isaiah chapters 1-39. But common sense tells us that it could not have been written by the same angry prophet who pronounced oracles of doom and judgment in the 8th century BC.
Why, you may ask? Well, first of all, it changes its tone from being judgmental to being hopeful. But more importantly, the historical event that he is talking about took place already around two centuries later, around the late 6th century BC, the end of the exile of the Jewish people in Babylon.
The original prophet Isaiah could not have lived for more than two hundred years! Some Bible scholars therefore suggest that it must have been written by another author who, for lack of any information about his identity, is simply called a “Second Isaiah.” It begins with chapter 40 and extends until chapter 55.
This author opens his book with an Oracle of Hope that says, “Comfort, give comfort to my people, says the Lord!” They are such tender and consoling words, they can make you cry if you know its background. Their armies gave a fierce fight, thinking that they could resist the invaders.
When the Babylonians finally succeeded in defeating the Jews, the whole city was reduced to a pile of ruins. Their temple was destroyed, the city walls were demolished, their houses were burned down, many women and children perished and the rest of citizens were taken as captives to the ancient Babylon.
Just to give you a feel of what that tragic incident meant to the Jews, I recommend that you take time reading the most heartbreaking Psalm of the Old Testament: Psalm 137. It is a bitter lament about the tragedy of the Babylonian captivity. If I may paraphrase it a bit, its says:
“By the rivers of Babylon we sat down and wept whenever we thought about Jerusalem. On the trees growing along their rivers we hung up our musical instruments. There our masters asked us to perform one of our native songs for them. But we told them, ‘How can we sing a song of our God as captives in a foreign land? If I forget Jerusalem may my right hand wither. May my tongue be forever silenced if I ever stop remembering you, O Jerusalem.’”
And so you can imagine, if you fast forward 50 years later what it must have been like to hear the prophet announcing comforting words, saying their exile was finally over, that they could now prepare to return home and rebuild their country?
It must have been like that hour on Aug. 15, 1945, when Filipinos gathered around their transistor radios to listen to the announcement that the Second World War was ended, that the Japanese had surrendered, and that the nightmare was over.
Yesterday, on Channel 7, I saw Paopao as guest on Eat Bulaga’s “Bawal and Judgmental.” He was the boy I wrote about in one of the stories in one of my my books, the boy who was born in prison because his mother was pregnant when she was arrested along with Pao’s grandmother for an estafa case. Pao should have been taken into the custody of the Social Welfare office as soon as he was born. But the jail inmates hid him because they had grown very fond of him.
Pao’s mother and “lola” eventually got convicted and got transferred to the National Penitentiary for Women, while Pao got left behind. But the prisoners took care of him and treated him as their own son and even supported his schooling. Yes, he went to school outside and returned every day to the jail that would become his home for the next 20 years. Pao eventually finished elementary and high school and got a scholarship for college. He obtained a degree in Education and became a teacher. Imagine what it must have been like when, after more than 20 years, he was told that his mother and “lola” were finally free and now they could live together again as a family? That is what good news is about!
Our Gospel today, like our first reading, is also the beginning of the book. But I am inclined to think that Mark wrote this introductory chapter already after he had finished the whole book. He wrote the beginning in the end. Therefore he begins by announcing in one line what his Good News is about. He says, “Here begins the Good News of Jesus—Christ, Son of God.”
Instead of introducing Jesus, he introduces the man who would introduce him—John the Baptist. This prophet had become so popular, people thought he was already the messiah they had long been waiting for. But John tells them plainly that he is just part of an advance party, a messenger of the real Good News. And that the good news was no other than Jesus, the one who would redeem his people.
John came at a time of gloom, when Israel found itself in captivity again, this time under the Romans. This prophet was the only one who had the courage to speak out. He was, to his people, a little spark of light in the darkness. And yet, in all honesty, he told the people that he was not the one they were waiting for. The one whose way he was preparing was going to be himself the Light!
In the third Gospel, this is anticipated beautifully in the Canticle that Luke puts in the mouth of Zechariah when his silence is finally broken by the birth of his son John: “In the tender compassion of our God, the dawn from on high shall break upon us. To shine on those who dwell in darkness in the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace.”
These readings are consistent with the spirit of Advent. They remind me of that song that the seniors among you know and probably sang as a Christmas carol, not realizing it was actually an Advent song: WHISPERING HOPE.
I gave a clue to this song in the Advent recollection that I gave yesterday by giving a KNOCK-KNOCK joke.
Knock knock?
Who’s there?
“Sopas!”
“Sopas who?”
Sopasdaboysopaneyndyel…
“Soft as the voice of an angel,
Breathing a lesson unheard,
Hope with a gentle persuasion
Whispers her comforting word:
Wait till the darkness is over,
Wait till the tempest is done,
Hope for the sunshine tomorrow,
After the shower is gone.
Whispering hope, O welcome thy voice,
making my heart in its sorrow rejoice!”
Is it too much to wish that this song be revived and given a new interpretation by our best choirs in the country, like the UP Madrigals, or the Loboc Children, or the UST Chorale? I imagine what comfort it can bring if they serenade the COVID patients in hospitals and quarantine facilities, even just by zoom with this song of hope.
This is a homily delivered by Bishop Pablo Virgilio David of Kalookan for Dec. 6, 2020, Second Sunday of Advent, Mt. 9:27-31
