A Reflection for Thursday of the First Week of Advent
Find today’s readings here.
“Everyone who listens to these words of mine and acts on them
will be like a wise man who built his house on rock.
The rain fell, the floods came,
and the winds blew and buffeted the house.
But it did not collapse; it had been set solidly on rock.
And everyone who listens to these words of mine
but does not act on them
will be like a fool who built his house on sand.
The rain fell, the floods came,
and the winds blew and buffeted the house.
And it collapsed and was completely ruined.” (Mt 7:24-27)
I recently visited Amsterdam for the first time, and I went on a boat tour along the canals with a Dutch guide who taught us about his city’s history and culture. Along the way, we saw a few old homes along the canals that were leaning so far to the side that it looked like they might fall over. Our guide told us not to worry; there was no danger of them collapsing—at least not anymore.
When the homes were built on the swampy Dutch landscape, they were held up by underground wooden poles. Over time, the wood holding up some buildings began to rot, and that source of support began to falter. The houses began to lean against each other to stay up, and corner homes in particular struggled under the weight.
Many of the homes have now been aided by more modern reinforcements, but the image stuck with me when I read today’s Gospel. Jesus doesn’t mention this particular kind of foundation in his warning; wooden poles aren’t quite like a foundation of rock, and they also aren’t quite like a foundation of sand.
Maybe there’s something about the metaphor that makes sense for our own faith lives. We’d love to have perfect foundations rooted in God’s perfect love, solid as a rock. We’d never try to build on faulty sand that can’t support us. So in reality, we try a bit of ingenuity and build a foundation that works—until it gets put under pressure. Then it withers, and our house of faith begins to lean. But that doesn’t mean it will fall over completely; it might just need an update, a reinforcement, a new solution that more adequately responds to the weather of our lives. In the meantime, maybe it will lean, like those canal houses, on the neighbors nearby.
The beautiful thing about parables is that we can see them playing out if we open our eyes and look clearly at the world around us. Spirituality is far from theoretical when we can relate it to something as common as a house, something we not only lay eyes on but also find shelter in each day.
What is my house built on? Do I feel it leaning? Does it need new support? It’s comforting to know that there are ways in which we can reinforce the foundations of our faith lives, approaching them anew each day.
Get to know Molly Cahill
What are you most proud to have worked on at America this year?
I spent a few months this year working on a feature story on the future of single-sex Catholic education for the September issue of the magazine. As an alum of girls’ education, this topic was close to my heart, and the people who were generous enough to speak to me in interviews brought the story to life.
Also, one of the joys of my 2024 has been working with our postgraduate O’Hare Fellows. Fellows arrive in August and leave in June, so I have worked with two cohorts during this calendar year. Watching their development and their contributions to our work at America is one of my favorite parts of my job. This holiday season, I’m extra grateful to have crossed paths with our 2023-2024 class (Delaney, Christine and Michael) and our 2024-2025 class (Leilani, Connor and Grace).
Do you have any favorite Advent/Christmas family traditions?
I’ve shared this before, but my mother has given my sister and me small gifts on each Sunday of Advent since we were born. It’s inspired me to think about giving as a selfless and sacred thing, and I feel so blessed that it’s a tradition my family still keeps alive even though my sister and I are now adults.
Do you have any seasonal reading or movie recommendations?
A beloved former professor of mine recommended the historical fiction novel “Small Things Like These” by Claire Keegan to me last year, and she said it was going to become her annual Christmas read. I picked it up and couldn’t agree more. It’s short, not much more than 100 pages, so you can read it on your holiday travels or in front of the fire in an afternoon. But it’s stirring and challenging—particularly if you’re interested in Irish history and the Irish church. Plus, Cillian Murphy stars in a recently released film adaptation that I can’t wait to see!
