December 6 -- Second Sunday of Advent (Guest Preacher: Cyndi Jones)

(by SVLC Teaching Parish Student, Cyndi Jones)

Comfort, O comfort my people.

Can't you hear the plea,

like that of a parent, longing for their child, knowing that they're in distress and yet unable to be present with them, -- they call out:

Will someone please watch out for my child?

He has been on the road for some while now, and I don't know where he is. I don't want him to be alone.

The journey to the United States is almost unimaginably dangerous for migrant children. They can be kidnapped for ransom, drown crossing a river, die of dehydration in the desert or get left behind along the way.

This is what it is like to be a parent in El Salvador today:

You feel you are a better parent if you entrust your child to a smuggler than if you keep them with you, where you can see them, where can you stand over them at night and watch as they sleep.

“If I send him, he may die, But if I keep him here, he will die.”  
                                     [From a story in The Globe and Mail, 8/29/15]

If you see someone who might be my son, could you reach out and let him know that you care?

Comfort, O comfort my people.

Will someone please look out for my child?

She was taken from her school in the middle of the night. We haven't seen her in over a year. It's been raining. Where will she sleep tonight?

If you see someone who might be my daughter, could you reach out and let her know that I care? Tell her I love her.

Comfort, O comfort my people.

Will you please look out for my children? Those who are sorrowful and lost.

And if you see someone who needs comforting, could you reach out and tell them that I care?

I don't know about you, but I just can't keep up with the tragedies.

In the beginning of 2000, as part of my work I read the national newspapers: NY Times, Washington Post, Wall street Journal.

A few days after 9/11 in 2001, the NY Times started running a full page of vignettes of those who had died in the tragedy -- maybe 6-7 short stories with a photo if they had one. Since my job required me to read the NY Times, I read these vignettes, and I would think about the families and I'd paused to pray over each one.

Day after day, I read these small tributes to those who had perished.

After diligently reading these for a few months, the NY Times realized it would take too long to complete this series, so it started running 2 full pages a day.

After a few weeks of reading two pages of tributes a day, I just couldn't do it anymore. I just couldn't absorb so much pain and sorrow -- every day. I became numb. And yet God does, every day, forever.
Sandy Hook, Charleston, Colorado Springs, Roseburg, OR, Aurora CO, on and on.

And just this week in San Bernardino more tragedy. Do we even know the names of the people who perished?

Or are they just another 16 people who died in a mass shooting?

Shannon Johnson. His girlfriend, Mandy Pifer, is a psychotherapist and  member of the crisis response team, met Johnson online about three years ago. Sitting in Johnson's kitchen, she struggled to recall details. "My memory is damaged right now," she said. It's a common phenomenon among trauma survivors. "I've studied it," she said. "I've read about it. I've heard about it from clients. Intellectually I understood it. Experiencing it is something different."

Robert Adams grew up in the Inland Empire. He and his wife were high school sweethearts. They had tried to have kids for some time. He adored their 20-month-old daughter, Savannah.

Harry Bowman had two daughters.

Sierra Clayborn, a 2010 graduate of UC Riverside.

Juan Espinoza, was "everyone's favorite... and he reciprocated by making every one of us feel like we were his favorite, too," Juan is survived by his wife, a daughter and a son.

Aurora Godoy met her husband at Carson High School. Aurora gave birth to their son, Alexander, who will turn 2 in January.

Nicholas Thalasinos was a Messianic Jew. Nicholas always wore a
tie clip with the Star of David. He is survived by his wife of 14 years.

Yvette Velasco the 27-year-old was "full of life and loved by all who knew her." Yvette's sudden death has stunned her loved ones.

Around Lake Arrowhead, Mike Wetzel was a frequent sight, running errands with his six children in tow, three from his first marriage and three from his second. 

Larry Daniel Kaufman refused to get a driver's license, saying he didn't want to give up the daily rides to and from work from his boyfriend of nearly three years, Ryan Reyes.

Damian Meins had spent 28 years working for Riverside County and had recently returned to a position with the Environmental Health Dept. after retiring in 2010. "I just want everyone to know that he was a good man," said a woman who identified herself as his daughter.

Isaac Amanios immigrated from Eritrea to California in 2000 to escape violence and repression in his home country.

Bennetta Betbadal fled to America with her family to "escape Islamic extremism and the persecution of Christians that followed Iranian Revolution."

Syed Rizwan Farook and Tashfeen Malik, they were married and are survived by a 6 month old daughter.  

Tin Nguyen was just 8 when her mother fled Vietnam with her child and maternal grandparents. The family toiled and saved their paychecks to rebuild after the war in a country they believed was safe.

"Only she can understand me — she understood everything I went through," said Tin's mother Vanessa Nguyen, sobbing.

Mother and daughter had planned for a wedding at their beloved St. Barbara's Catholic Church, a few miles from their house.

"She promised that no matter what, she would return to have her wedding there and now we're having a funeral. What will become of our lives?"

                                    [vignettes from the LA Times, 12/5/2015]

Comfort, O comfort my people.

If you see someone who needs comforting, could you reach out and tell them that you care?

You know, God too has been wandering for a long time, looking for a place to come to stay for awhile.

Along the way God has accompanied many travelers, who just needed a little shelter, a way station along the journey, a place where they could feel at home among people who speak their native language, a place to come in out of the storms of life and rest awhile.

But voices are shouting, "Refugees are not welcome here," 

-- a Palestinian family, fleeing political violence under the cloak of darkness attempt to find refuge -- reads the headline -- an infant -- and yet God incarnate.

In Matthew we hear: an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him. Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt."

Joseph a lowly carpenter, and Mary with a newborn. Who would take them in?

Would we?

But that is what being a Christian has always been about -- we may live in the United States, but this is not our homeland. We are like aliens wandering through the desert carrying extra bread and water for those we meet.

Let us Comfort, O comfort God's people.

This includes ourselves. God comes to us too during these trying times to bring us comfort. And sometimes God looks like the person next to you.

Listen! I am standing at the door, knocking; if you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to you and eat with you, and you with me.

Comfort, O comfort God's people.

If you see anyone who might need to be comforted,
could you reach out and tell them that you care? You may be the hands of God to them today.

I will weep when you are weeping
When you laugh, I'll laugh with you
I will share your joy and sorrow
Till we've seen this journey through.
                  The Servant Song, Richard Gillard