I know an American gentleman who calls his house, ‘Love-in-the-ruins’. I’ve never asked him why. But certainly it’s not the kind of name you forget.
If you look at Renaissance paintings of the Nativity, often the stable is shown as dilapidated, ruined. It’s a symbol of course of the world, of us. And there in the middle of the ruins is love there is the Child.
And the readings we’ve just heard begin in the ruins. ‘Break into shouts of joy, you ruins of Jerusalem’ (Is 52:9), said the 1st reading. Those words come from the 6th c. B. C. Behind them lies the most shattering experience ancient Israel endured, and over which the Jews still grieve and fast today. This was the destruction of Jerusalem by the Babylonians in 586 B. C., when its walls, houses, palaces, and most of all its Temple were all left in ruins. ‘The City where the most High dwells’, the pride and joy of every Israelite’s heart, the goal of his pilgrimages – in ruins.