Fourth Sunday of Advent, C

            There’s a marvelous scene in the Old Testament that sort of illustrates in a very stark fashion something of what is occurring in today’s scriptures.  It is the scene where the famous prophet Elijah, being pursued by his enemies, takes refuge in a cave and waits for the Lord to tell him what to do.  He is prompted to go to the mouth of the cave, and there is a great wind that sweeps through the valley, breaking the trees it is so powerful.  But the Scriptures say, the Lord was not in the wind.  Then there is a terrible earthquake and the mountains tumble.   But the Lord, we are again informed, was not in the earthquake.  Then a huge fire; but there again, the Lord was absent.  Finally, Elijah heard a still small voice, and he promptly covered his face with his mantle out of reverent fear of God’s holy presence. 

            A still, small voice.  Not in the wind or the earthquake or the fire.  But in the whispering of the breeze.  God speaks.  And in much the same way He spoke again, and for a final and complete time, when He spoke His ultimate Word to the human race for all ages.  For this time He began to speak in the soft cries of a little baby boy in Bethlehem. 

            This is no coincidence here but rather the signs of a pattern.  Think of all that went before Jesus’ coming on that first Christmas so long ago.  To prepare for the advent of Christ, God chose a single man and woman, Abraham and Sarah.  From them came a small group of distinct people whose history had hardly begun when they were enslaved in Egypt.  After 40 years of wandering through the wilderness to the Promised Land, they eventually founded a nation and kingdom small by the standard of the surrounding empires.  Their greatest king was the youngest and least important son of a shepherd.  In worldly terms, the Jewish people never compared with other nations; often they found themselves oppressed by others -- all the way up until the time of the Romans, when they conquered and occupied this now despised corner of the empire.  Out of that oppressed region, we narrow our way down to one of the least regarded towns in the whole area -- Nazareth.  And there, in the poor house of Ann and Jochim, is a young, humble maiden at her prayers.  Mary. 

            She is startled by the news that God is again about to do a marvelous work among her people, and He asks for her cooperation.  A still small voice speaking to the poor girl of Nazareth, a forgotten outpost in the banished corner of the world, a girl whose people the rulers of the world despised.  There again is God at work in His usual ways.  Quietly, unobtrusively bringing His will to pass.  A still small voice, itself so humble so as to ask for the help of a young, holy Jewish girl, who had never dreamed of such an honor. 

            How like God.  How like the mighty Creator of all things, to be so solicitous of our freedom that he will not overwhelm us with His long-promised visitation.  Rather, He comes in the cold, dark of night, to Bethlehem-Ephrathah, too small to be counted among the clans of Judah.  Too small to be included – among other bigger towns around it, considered as they were too, unworthy of notice by the rulers of this world.  Thus God comes.  Not in the wind, the earthquake, the fire, but in the still small voice.

            Once a few years ago I was talking to a friend of mine who had years before I met him fallen away from the Catholic faith.  And he was going through one of those terrible times that certain self-proclaimed unbelievers have -- you know, times of doubt (something suffered a lot more, very often, by atheists and non-religious people; for what a sad end of things it would be for such a one if God ended up existing, the Almighty Creator in whom one had refused to believe).  But my friend was losing his confidence, frustrated by the evidence that God does indeed exist, and in a fit of impatience he asked me, “Why doesn’t God just show Himself if He really exists?  Why does He play all this hide and seek?  Why doesn’t God show Himself?  Then I would believe.”  I answered, “He did show Himself, 2,000 years ago, and we crucified Him.”

            We are not used to listening to the still small voice, to a baby in Bethlehem.  We search, rather, for something more titillating, something more grand, something much more flattering to our twisted sense of self-importance (surely we deserve a fanfare of revelation, don’t we?).  And if we are not careful, we could get all caught up with the wind, the earthquake and the fire and miss the quiet voice when it comes.  One day, as we have been seeing during this Advent, God will come again in something more like fire, storm and earthquake.  But now God comes quietly, I repeat, because He comes to give us a choice.  He offers us Himself, but will not overwhelm us with His majesty; He will not overrule our freedom with His infinite glory.  So He comes in the stillness, in the cold dawn of a Judean winter in the smallest of villages of the whole empire.  He comes in a stable, born of a poor young virgin, under the foster care of a carpenter, greeted by shepherds, the poorest of the poor. 

            It’s all of a pattern.  The way God works.  And so the great tragedy when Christmas is so uprooted from its true nature and turned into a commercial enterprise, when the quietness and attentiveness to God that should reign is lost in the bewildering activities of just another holiday.  Oh yes, it certainly is a time to celebrate, especially with family and friends, to swap gifts that remind us of the greatest gift of all.  But we can only truly celebrate in the real spirit of Christmas if we think on the babe in the manger, who He really is, what God is saying to us through Him.  That still small voice, that will tell us, if we will listen, if we will put aside the storm, the fire, and the earthquake, that voice from the manger in Bethlehem will assure us that we are loved by the Most High, the God who brought the universe into being out of nothing.  The Creator has entered His creation to tell us that He loves us and wants to be with us and us with Him.  That would be a message not to be missed.