Are We There Yet?

3^rd Sunday of Advent

Cycle A

Are We There Yet?

Here we are, three quarters of the way through Advent, at Gaudete Sunday. Gaudete literally means “rejoice”, and today we light the rose colored candle on our advent wreath and hear readings all about joy. Amongst the cold and barrenness of winter a rose has bloomed. Have you ever wondered why we stop here, change directions a bit from our longing and waiting for Christmas, and rejoice? I think it’s sort of like when we were kids. We adults tend to forget what it was like when we were little waiting for Christmas. We get all caught up in the stress of the season and forget how much we used to look forward to the coming of Christmas. It is like what kids say on a long car trip, “Are we there yet?” Today we say, “Not quite yet, but soon. And won’t it be wonderful when we get there?”

To a child, the four weeks of advent seem like forever. Time flies by for us old folks, and it seems like suddenly Christmas is upon us and catches us unprepared. For kids, Christmas can’t come soon enough. For us, we see the days getting shorter, the nights getting longer, and we put up our decorations and send out our cards hoping that that will put us in the Christmas spirit. For a child, every tree and every light and every mall Santa is just another wonderful piece of the Christmas puzzle to put together into a joyful expectation. They press their noses up against the storefront glass to peer at the wonders within and count down the days and the hours.

I remember when I was five or six, sitting on the edge of my bed around 5 o’clock in the morning, Christmas Day. Just staring into the dark waiting for my parents to wake up. The rule was I could not go out into the living room to see what was under the tree until my parents came and got me, and I was forbidden to go wake them up. So I sat and waited and stared at the bedroom door, willing it to open. I stared so long at the dark that I remember actually seeing stars before my eyes. My expectation was so great my stomach hurt.

Are we there yet? Not yet, but soon.

Today we say gaudete, rejoice. Be joyful again. It’s been a long three weeks. Stop and take a minute to actually find the joy of Christ and of Christmas again. That’s why we light the rose candle. That’s why we hear joyful readings again. Next week we will return to thoughts of preparation and waiting. Today we rejoice that it’s soon and very soon.

A friend of mine once had a job that he really hated. When he finally got up the gumption to quit, I asked him what he felt when he did so. He replied, “I quit with mixed emotions: joy and happiness.” I think a lot of us have mixed emotions when it comes to joy and happiness. Actually, I think we often mix the two up.

There is a difference between joy and happiness. We all want to be happy. We all strive for happiness, heck, it’s even in the Declaration of Independence. We all have an inalienable right to pursue it. But how many of us have every felt truly joyous? Happiness is fleeting, joy is so much more. Happiness is an emotion, how we feel at the moment, and it is the result of our reaction to events in our lives. I can be happy this moment and sad the next. Some people bounce back and forth between the two constantly. But joy is not a feeling, not an emotional response.

Joy is a state of being. Joy is an attitude. Joy is the wonder of knowing.

Joy does not depend upon happiness. Joy does not depend upon the things you have. Archbishop Charles Chaput of Philadelphia said yesterday, “One of the biggest sadnesses of modern life is this: We’ve mistaken comfort for happiness, and as a result, the pursuit of satisfaction has taken away our joy. We live in a culture increasingly based on the strange idea that whatever we want, we deserve — and we should have it, right now; a culture that constantly teases our appetites, fabricates new “needs” and then urges us to want more. This is a recipe for discontent.”

Your possessions can give you fleeting happiness, but it is always on the surface. The pursuit of happiness most often leads to much unhappiness. Joy is so much deeper, and paradoxically, joy can most often be found in the midst of great suffering. You don’t pursue joy. You become joy.

Dominique Lapierre, a medical doctor, wrote a book in 1992 called City of Joy, that chronicled his experience living and working in the slums of Calcutta, notorious for being a hell hole of human misery. What shocked him the most during his time there was that, in spite of living in such abject poverty, most people lived in a space no larger than a pup tent and resorted to scrounging in trash heaps for scraps of food, and horrific physical suffering, there was such a strong sense of peace and joy among them. Where you thought there would be selfishness and hoarding and violence there was instead giving and sharing and love. No one ever stole from someone else’s tent, even when they themselves were starving. Everyone looked out for everyone else. They didn’t share in their suffering, they shared their joy. Because that’s all they had of value.

You see, joy is contagious. I think we all know someone who radiates joy. It’s hard to pin down, and often you recognize it only when you see it, but there’s just something about them that you know is joyful. It’s no accident that Mother Teresa served in Calcutta and always radiated such joy. She received joy from her service to the needs of others, and others received joy from her service. Joy comes from the pursuit not of personal happiness but the happiness of others.

That is the mission of the Church. The Church truly is not about rules and regulations, do’s and don’ts. The Church is not about fear, the Church is not about us versus them. The Church is about joy. Pope Francis tweeted Friday morning, "We cannot think of a Church without joy. This is the joy of the Church: announcing to all the name of Jesus."

Announcing to all the name of Jesus. Just like John the Baptist did. The pope just published his apostolic exhortation, Evangelli Gaudium, “The Joy of the Gospel” The joy of the good news of Jesus Christ. Strip away all the other stuff and that is the core of Christianity. God became man so that man could become god, and that is the greatest news humanity has ever heard. No matter how much we suffer, no matter how much we fight, no matter how much we screw things up, God still came among us. God still loved us so much that he gave his only begotten son to us. God has given us hope, and that hope can and does overcome anything the world can throw at us.

We are preparing to celebrate that hope next week. Are we there yet? Nope, not yet, but soon. So press your nose up against the glass and peer at what’s inside. Let the expectation be so great within you it actually hurts. I hope that you have sometime in your life felt deep joy and recognized it for what it was. I hope you have been in the presence of someone who is joyful. I hope your joy will fill you up until you feel you will explode. Let it fill you. Let it explode from you so it gets all over those around you.

Let there be joy to the world. Let earth receive her king. Let every heart prepare him room and let heaven and nature sing.

Gaudete!

The Voice

2^nd Sunday in Advent

Cycle A

We are in the wilderness today.

The wilderness is wild, untamed. It is a place of unspeakable beauty and unseen danger. We are surrounded by wilderness here in Summit County. Many of us love to go up into the Uintas throughout the year just to be in the peace and quiet of nature. I’ll bet that all you skiers here today have found yourselves alone off on some deserted ski run from time to time. Didn’t you just stop for a moment, listen to the breeze moving through the trees, marvel at the view, and feel renewed?

We seem to be drawn to the wilderness. Jesus often went out into the wilderness to be alone and pray, braving the harsh conditions without food or water, in order to clear his heart, to clear his mind and soul so that he could understand his mission more clearly. Jesus appreciated the value of the wild. It was there that he felt closest to his father.

What is it about the wilderness that draws us so? What need do we have to seek answers far from all the things familiar to us? I mean, we built the cities, they contain the stuff of our daily lives, and we’re proud of them. They show the magnificence of human ingenuity and technology. Yet, they don’t seem to bring us much peace nor give us the answers we are truly seeking.

The people came to see John in the wilderness. They left their comfortable homes in the cities and towns and ventured out into the wild. They took a risk that they would survive bandits, the oppressive heat of the desert, and the lack of shelter against the elements.

Why did they come? Were they looking for some spiritual revival, some deep inner meaning, or were they just curious, looking for something to do on a Sunday afternoon? Perhaps they went to escape the problems of their lives for a little while, because they heard John had a message of hope.

Why do you come? What do you expect to find in the wilderness? What is worth the risk for you?

Repentance requires risk. When you’re all alone in the wilderness, you have no one to talk to but yourself, and it takes guts to ask yourself the questions that need asking. You have to keep yourself company. That can be a scary proposition. I often tell people the only reason I don’t take up cycling is that I couldn’t stand to be alone with myself on long rides. We are so bombarded with the noise of our civilization that when we are finally confronted with nothing but our own lives it seems too quiet. It takes guts to admit that you need to make changes in your life.

Repentance requires honesty. It can be scary to honestly examine our lives for what they truly are. John the Baptist’s message is brutally honest. He’s not addressing his words of condemnation to the wicked. He’s blasting the just! He’s calling out the churchgoers, the leaders who do everything they’re supposed to do. He’s challenging the “good” people to live up to what they espouse on Sunday. Fr. William Bausch once said, “There’s too much at stake when good people are content with the counterfeit comfort that they are good because they are not bad.”

Ouch. He’s talking to us.

John wasn’t exactly what you would call “tolerant”. He was on fire for the coming Lord and knew that the only way the people would recognize Jesus when he came was if there hearts were prepared. He had to sweep the decks clean, and he didn’t care what station in life you were in. He blasted everyone, from the poorest to the highest. He had the strongest condemnation for the leaders who should have known better, both religious and political, He blasted the people who should have been role models – and it finally cost him his head.

A few years back a scandal rocked the basketball world, when several pro players went into the stands and got into fights with some of the fans. Most of the pundits and sports analysts were quick to condemn the actions of all involved, yet, not surprisingly, some commentators actually tried to explain away the actions of these millionaires who were fighting. And it wasn’t just the players who were rich. The people they were fighting with weren’t sitting in the cheap seats. They were a couple rows from the floor. They had money, too. 

And what about all those rich reality show stars, who are famous just because they are famous. Are these the role models we emulate today? Are these the rock stars, our heroes? Who is condemning their actions today? Who is praying for their conversion? Are we all so “tolerant” that we’ll put up with anything? What would John the Baptist say today? Who would he take on?

I think he would chastise those of us who let these things happen, those of us who are good Christians yet say nothing. I guess repentance takes a bit of courage, also.

John was larger than life. He was a pro ball player, a rock star for his time. Yet he was an unusual hero. Instead of grasping for more and more power, more and more celebrity – remember, they thought he was the messiah – he gave it all up and placed himself lower than the servant who would carry his master’s sandals. He was content to stay in the wilderness. John’s success was that all his followers left him…to follow Jesus. He knew that he must diminish and Jesus must rise. Do we know that?

We are in the wilderness today.

Are we going to make good use of this wilderness? Will we leave our comfort zones and realize that we have the need for repentance, and then have the courage to take the risk? Or, are we like the Pharisees, who were more concerned with the external observance of religion than a true change of heart? Are we more concerned with the trappings of Christmas, along with all the stress, than we are about the true conversion that John preaches in today’s gospel?

It’s hard to imagine a world as Isaiah describes it today. It’s hard to picture peace when there is so much violence in the world. How do we get there? How do we beat our swords into plowshares? John spoke out against the hypocrisy of the leaders of his time, but when it came down to it, he was calling and baptizing individuals. He had a very public message that came down to personal conversion. He did it one soul at a time.

Maybe that’s how the world will change. Maybe our own personal conversions will bring about the conversion of the world.

A voice is crying in the wilderness. Shhh, do you hear it?

Sneaky Thief

1^st Sunday of Advent

Cycle A

Happy New Year!

Here we are again at the beginning of a new liturgical year, and, as always, it lands smack dab in the middle of the early Christmas rush. We’ve all been putting our gift lists together and decorating our homes and writing Christmas cards, and some of us actually woke up at ungodly hours to be the first to take advantage of the after Thanksgiving sales. We’re all getting into the Christmas spirit, we come here to the church decorated so beautifully for the season of advent, and the first thing we hear about in the readings is…the end of the world.

What a bummer! What is the Church trying to do, ruin it all for us? We’re preparing for the coming of Christ at Christmas, full of joy to the world and all that. Shouldn’t we be hearing about angels and mangers and wise men?

For the church, preparing for the coming of Christ at Christmas is exactly that. The true meaning of Christmas is not getting the “Christmas Spirit” by remembering something that happened long ago in Bethlehem. The true meaning of Christmas is the promise Jesus left us. The promise that he would not leave us alone, that he would come again in glory. That’s Joy to the World.

Early Christians didn’t celebrate Jesus’ birth. To them, the defining events of Jesus’ life were his death and resurrection. Only two of the gospels have any mention of Jesus’ birth, but they all have detailed accounts of his passion, death and resurrection. They took Jesus’ words to heart that some of them would not taste death before all these things came to pass. They thought Christ’s coming again was imminent. That’s where the glory was, not in a dirty manger surrounded by animals and shepherds. That’s where the promise was. In the coming.

The church teaches that there are three comings of Christ. The first is the actual incarnation in the person of Jesus of Nazareth 2000 years ago. The second is the final judgment, when Christ will come in all his glory to judge the living and the dead. The third is… today. That’s the coming that most affects us. We weren’t there 2000 years ago to witness the first coming, and we have no idea when he will come again in glory, nor can we control it. The only thing we can control is our acceptance of Jesus’ coming into our lives today.

If we take care of Christ’s third coming, the second coming will take care of itself. It is through the third coming that we are prepared for the second.

One will be taken; the other will be left behind. How many times have we and a friend been at an event, or heard a homily or listened to a talk, or read a book or an article, and one of us gets it and the other one doesn’t? Many times our understanding of these things is due to our openness to their message, or our level of commitment to it, or our level of knowledge about the subject. It’s the same with Jesus’ message. We are all here this morning celebrating together, hearing the same scriptures and saying the same prayers. Who will be taken and who will be left behind? Which of us will acknowledge Jesus’ coming into our lives this day and which of us won’t? And which of us will use that knowledge to change our lives in preparation?

Lew Wallace was one of the most accomplished men of the 19^th century. A general in the civil war on the union side, highly decorated, one of the judges in the conspiracy trial of the Lincoln assassins, the governor of the New Mexico territory and the ambassador to Turkey. He was also, like many people, completely indifferent to religion. One day in 1876, on a train to Indianapolis, he struck up a conversation with Colonel Robert G. Ingersoll, the most accomplished and vocal atheist of his day. For two hours, Colonel Ingersoll regaled Wallace on the absolute certainty that there was no God, no heaven nor hell, and that all who thought there was were fools. He was very effective.

As Wallace puts it, “I sat spellbound, listening to a medley of argument, eloquence, wit, satire, audacity, irreverence, poetry, brilliant antithesis, and pungent excoriation of believers in God, Christ, and heaven, the like of which I had never heard. He surpassed himself, and that is saying a great deal.”

To a man completely indifferent to religion, such a strong argument could have convinced him that what Ingersoll was saying was indeed true. Wallace could have accepted the argument and gone on with his life as before, because it required nothing of him. Instead, Ingersoll put in Wallace’s heart a burning desire to learn more about his religion, to study what it really meant and to put down his findings in writing. Seven years later, he came out with what became the bestselling novel of the 19^th century, a book that has never gone out of print, was made into a play that ran on Broadway for 25 years, and that was made into three major motion pictures. As Wallace puts it, “I did as resolved, with results – first, the book, Ben Hur, and second, a conviction amounting to absolute belief in God and the divinity of Christ.”

Two men having a conversation. Jesus came into both their lives that day.

One was taken, the other left behind. Unexpectedly, on a train.

The Son of Man will come when you least expect him. When you don’t think he’ll show up. When you don’t want him to show up. When you think everything’s hunky dory and you don’t need him. When you don’t have time for him in your busy lives. He has a habit of just showing up, uninvited, at the weirdest times.

Many of us are like the master of the house in today’s gospel. If we knew when the thief would come we would not let him break into our house. Unfortunately, for many of us the thief is Jesus, and if we knew when he was going to enter the houses of our hearts we’d bar the door and refuse him entry. We know that if we allow him in we’ll be asked to change our lives, and we like things just the way they are. We like our orgies and promiscuity, our drunkenness and lust, our rivalries and jealousies. We like our swords just the way they are, thank you. God can keep his plowshares. That’s just a pipe dream anyway.

Ah, but thieves are wily, aren’t they? No matter how well you prepare, they seem to find a way in. You really can’t prevent it. In the opening prayer this morning we heard Father pray that we “run forth to meet Christ.” Jesus came to earth once. That’s a historical fact. He will come again whether you like it or not. That’s his promise. How you meet him is up to you.