“I Am Always With You” :

A Reflection for the First Sunday of Advent 2014.

So, the season of Advent comes around once more. We read again from the psalms of the prophet Isaiah, promising a better world for suffering humanity, to be marked by equality, prosperity and justice. And yet, in spite of our best efforts, these things seem farther away than ever. Children are not set free, but are held in detention. Parents work hard for their families, yet cannot make ends meet, and are found lining up at food banks, along with the poor and the refugees.

The Gospel of Mark encourages us to wait for the Coming of the Lord, but I wonder if we have missed something? If Christ is found in the poor of our society – and social service organizations such as St Vincent De Paul will testify to an increasing demand for their help – then is He not already amongst us, waiting for us to recognize his presence?

In this last year, I have been impressed by the ministries of two young SVD men who have come from overseas for ministry experience in Australia: Simon and Arturo. Both have chosen to serve the poor in shelters and drop-in centres, in refugee shelters and with caring organizations. Through the eyes of Simon and Arturo I have begun to see just who the anawim are – and have reached out to them as well. In them, his poor ones, Christ's Advenio – his coming – is an advancing reality.

In honour of those who are often invisible to us because they don't quite 'fit in,' I have written these few lines:

You will see me if you go to Fitzroy
and sit at one of the tram shelters,
or just outside St Vincent's Hospital,
or in the tiny courtyard at Briar Terrace,
with the Sisters of Charity.
I am down at the docks, I have crossed the oceans,
I line up at the food bank.
I am in the Melbourne remand center
and I'm lying in a pool of my own urine outside Richmond station.
I am hungry in St Kilda, waiting for Sacred Heart mission to open.
I am sleeping under the Princess bridge where the Yarra runs deep,
where my friend drowned last year
when someone pushed him in.
You might have seen me nearby
on the steps of Flinders Street station,
or were you in a hurry to catch your train?
I don't have a Myki card,
so I'm not going anywhere,
but I'll hang about for a while and see what happens.
I might join the march for the refugees.
Did I hear you say, 'I am coming?'
Turn to me, look at me,
for I am already amongst you.
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(This is my final contribution for this series of Sunday reflections – from January next, someone else will take my place. I have enjoyed every minute, and thank you for reading my stuff.)