Candle Light

 

The Story of the Four Candles

The Four Candles burned slowly. Their ambiance was so soft you could hear them speak...
The first candle said, “I Am Peace, but these days, nobody wants to keep me lit."
Then Peace's flame slowly diminished and went out completely.
The second candle said, "I Am Faith, but these days, I am no longer indispensable."
Then Faith's flame slowly diminished and went out completely.
Sadly the third candle spoke,
"I Am Love and I haven't the strength to stay lit any longer.
People put me aside and don't understand my importance.
They even forget to love those who are nearest to them."
And waiting no longer, Love went out completely.

Suddenly ... A child entered the room and saw the three candles no longer burning.
The child began to cry, "Why are you not burning? You are supposed to stay lit until the end."
Then the Fourth Candle spoke gently to the little boy, "Don't be afraid, for I Am Hope, and while I still burn, we can re-light the other candles."
With shining eyes, the child took the Candle of Hope and lit the other three candles.
Never let the Flame of Hope go out. With Hope in your life, no matter how bad things may be, Peace, Faith and Love may shine brightly once again. (~ Author Unknown)

Advent Waiting

 

 

 

 

Light looked down and saw darkness.
“I will go there,” said light.
Peace looked down and saw war.
“I will go there,” said peace.
Love looked down and saw hatred.
“I will go there,” said love.

So he,
The God of Light,
The Prince of Peace,
The King of Love,
Came down and crept in beside us.
(Rev. John Bell)

December 8, 2024: Colleen McCahill Preaches for the Second Sunday of Advent

Reaching Hands . . .

  

 

 Advent Hands (by Catherine Alder) 

I see the hands of Joseph.

Back and forth along bare wood they move. 

There is worry in those working hands,

sorting out confusing thoughts with every stroke. 

“How can this be, my beautiful Mary now with child?” 

Rough with deep splinters, these hands,

small, painful splinters like tiny crosses 

embedded deeply in this choice to stay with her. 

He could have closed his hands to her, 

said, “No” and let her go to stoning. 

But, dear Joseph opened both his heart and

hands to this mother and her child. 

Preparing in these days before 

with working hands 

and wood pressed tight between them. 

It is these rough hands that will open 

and be the first to hold the Child. 

I see the hands of John, 

worn from desert raging storms and 

plucking locusts from sand ripped rocks 

beneath the remnant of a Bethlehem star.

A howling wind like some lost wolf 

cries out beneath the moon, 

or was that John? 

This loneliness, 

enough to make a grown man mad. 

He’s waiting for this, God’s whisper.

 “Go now. He is coming. 

You have prepared your hands enough. 

Go. He needs your servant hands, 

your cupping hands to lift the water, 

and place his feet upon the path to service and to death. 

Go now, John, and open your hands to him.

It is time.” 

I see a fist held tight 

and fingers blanched to white. 

Prying is no easy task. 

These fingers find a way of pulling back to old positions, 

protecting all that was and is. 

Blanched to white. 

No openness. 

All fright. But then the Spirit comes. 

A holy Christmas dance begins

and blows between the twisted paths. 

This fist opens 

slowly, 

gently, 

beautifully, 

the twisted fingers letting go. 

Their rock-solid place in line has eased. 

And one by one the fingers lift True color is returned                                                                                       

And through the deepest of mysteries,

The holiest of holies,

O longing of longings

beyond all human imagining

this fist,

As if awakened from Lazarus’ cold stone

dream

Reaches out to hold the tiny newborn

hand of God.

Beginning to Begin Again . . .

O God, help me to believe in beginnings


and in my beginning again,


no matter how often I’ve failed before.



Help me to make beginnings:


to begin going out of my weary mind


into fresh dreams,


daring to make my own bold tracks


in the land of now;


to begin forgiving


that I may experience mercy,

to begin questioning the unquestionable


that I may know truth


to begin disciplining


that I may create beauty;


to begin sacrificing


that I may make peace;


to begin loving 


that I may realize joy.



Help me to be a beginning to others,


to be a singer to the songless,


a storyteller to the aimless,


a befriender of the friendless;


to become a beginning of hope for the despairing,


of assurance for the doubting,


of reconciliation for the divided;


to become a beginning of freedom for the oppressed,


of comfort for the sorrowing,


of friendship for the forgotten,

to become a beginning of beauty for the forlorn,


of sweetness for the soured,


of gentleness for the angry,


of wholeness for the broken,


of peace for the frightened and violent of the earth.



Help me to believe in beginnings,


to make a beginning,


to be a beginning,


so that I may not just grow old,
 

but grow new


each day of this wild, amazing life


you call me to live


with the passion of Jesus Christ.

Taken from Guerrillas of Grace by Ted Loder

December 1, 2024: Valerie D. Lewis-Mosley Preaches for the First Sunday ...

Advent . . .Love watching . . .

 

There Was a Time: An Advent Poem

There was a time when there was no time,

When darkness reigned as king,

When a formless void was all that there was

in the nothingness of eternity,

When it was night.

But over the void and over the night Love watched.

There was a time when time began.

It began when Love spoke.

Time began for light and life, for splendor and grandeur.

Time began for seas and mountains, for flowers and birds.

Time began for the valleys to ring with the songs of life,

and for the wilderness to echo with the wailing of wind 

and howling of animals.

And over the earth, Love watched. 

There was a time when time began to be recorded.

A time when Love breathed and a new creature came to life.

A new creature so special that it was in the image and likeness of Love

Of Love who is God.

And so humanity was born and the dawn of a new day shone on the world.

And over humanity, Love watched. 

But there came a time when the new day faded.

A time when humanity who was like God tried to be God.

A time when the creature challenged the creator.

A time when humanity preferred death to life and darkness to light.

And so the new day settled into twilight.

And over the darkness, Love watched. 

There was a time of waiting in the darkness.

A time when humanity waited in the shadows,

And all creation groaned in sadness.

There was waiting for Love to speak again--for Love to breathe again.

And kings and nations and empires rose and faded in the shadows.

And Love waited and watched. 

Finally, there came a time when Love spoke again.

A Word from eternity--a Word

Spoken to a girl who belonged to a people not known by the world

Spoken to a girl who belonged to a family not known by her people

To a girl named Mary.

And all creation waited in hushed silence for the girl's answer.

And Mary spoke her yes.

And Love watched over Mary.

And so there came a time when Love breathed again

When Love breathed new life into Mary's yes.

And a new day dawned for the World

A day when light returned to darkness, when life returned to dispel death

And so a day came when Love became human --a mother bore a child.

And Love watched over Love—

And, lastly, there came a time when you and I became a part of time.

Now is the time that you and I wait.

Now we wait to celebrate what the world waited for.

And as we wait to celebrate what was at one time, we become a part of that time 

A time when a new dawn and a new dream and a new creation began for humanity.

And as a part of time, Love waits and Love watches over us.

Fr. Joseph Breighner (adapted)1980

The Catholic Review, 11-28-80