Reflection for December 11
This summer, while working out of state, I attended Mass in the town where I was housed. Being a visitor at Mass is always a bit of an adventure...isn’t it?
A few minutes in, just as the priest was beginning his homily, another visitor appeared on the scene.
A young woman approached the altar. She appeared to be in her thirties, maybe early forties...but there was something childlike about her gait. Her curly hair bounced in and out of her face as she stepped down the aisle. She wore a sweatshirt and jeans, seemingly hot for late June and noticeably different from the other churchgoers, who were all in their ‘Sunday best.’ She climbed the steps, planted herself beside the podium, and said simply, “I need to speak with you, Father.” Not a threat or a demand. Again, there was something about her that felt childlike. But it was also clear that she was in distress. The priest gently replied, “I will speak with you after Mass.” The woman – seemingly satisfied with this response – left. The priest took a moment to collect his thoughts and began to preach.
I found it difficult to concentrate on the homily. Something about what I’d witnessed didn’t sit well with me. It wasn’t so much the interaction between the woman and the priest; I believed him when he said he would make time for her. Rather, it was the expression on the faces of the other worshippers. As this woman walked down the aisle, the pews were awash with fear and judgment. With leering looks and eye rolls. When she left the space, there seemed to be a collective sigh of relief: ‘Now we can continue. Business-as-usual.’
To be fair to these folks, I had no context. Was this woman a member of the parish? Did she come in from off the street? Was she mentally ill? Had this happened before?
And I get it. We live in a dangerous world. But this woman was not a threat. She was a disruption.
We worship a God who, as we see in today’s gospel passage, welcomes disruptions. We worship a God who is a disruption. Time and time again, Jesus overthrows (and exceeds!) our expectations...beginning with His very Incarnation. This Advent, as we await the coming of Christ, may we be willing to recognize and encounter Him in the unexpected. May we let Him disrupt us.
Caelie Flanagan