Did you ever discover bloopers in church bulletins? Friends sometimes email them to me for a chuckle. One bulletin blooper read: “Ladies, don’t forget the rummage sale. It’s a chance to get rid of those things not worth keeping around the house. Bring your husbands.” Or another: “Kevin Smith and Mary DiMarco were married last Saturday in the church. So ends a friendship that began in high school.” The point is: always proofread what will appear in print or online.
The holidays are here. Last evening the St. Petersburg Christmas tree was lit. While many people enjoy this festive time of year, some may experience the so-called holiday blues. Here’s one bit of advice to beat the blues:
forgive and apologize;
listen to advice;
check your temper;
make the best out of every situation; and
put the needs of others before your own.
This holiday season, we also may miss close family and friends who are no longer with us. You might think of this maxim: “Don’t cry because they are gone…smile because they once were!” Yes, we have much to be grateful for.
Today we begin Advent: in Greek it means “presence” or, more accurately, “arrival”: the beginning of a presence, God’s presence. Advent in Latin means “coming.” That’s why we pray: Come, Lord Jesus; transform us into new creatures; and re-create this universe into a new heaven and new earth. “Come, Lord Jesus” is the so-called “maranatha prayer” in the last chapter of the Book of Revelation.
As we reflect upon global, political and “mother nature” challenges, e. g., wars in Syria and Yemen, threats to peace and random acts of terrorism in many places, and earthquakes and wildfires, we may recall the sentiments of the Irish poet William Butler Yeats in his poem “The Second Coming”: “Things fall apart; the center cannot hold; mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, the blood dimm’d tide is loosed, the best lack all convictions, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.”
Advent speaks against those sentiments. Loudly and clearly. Advent is all about hope in a glorious future. It invites us to reflect on the threefold coming of Jesus. Yes, Jesus came to us centuries ago in Bethlehem; He comes to us now sacramentally in this liturgy; and He will come again with great power and glory at the end-time to transform this universe into a “new heaven and a new earth.” And we too will be transformed into a new kind of spiritual embodiment; we shall see God as God really is. What a glorious future.
The word of God situates us in the eighth century before Jesus (the 700s). Assyria conquered northern Israel. Despite this, the prophet Isaiah speaks about hope.
Here the prophet proclaims that people everywhere “shall go up” to the Temple in Jerusalem—the symbol of God’s presence among the Hebrews—not only to hear but to do the word of God. Everywhere there will be peace. Nations will turn weapons into instruments of peace. People will seek to do the right thing.
As we contemplate our own future, we might ask: do we trust in God’s unconditional love for us, especially when what’s happening to us is the opposite of what we want? And yes, do we try to do the right thing? And yes, do we remember, when things seem to be falling apart, that God ultimately is guiding this universe toward an omega point?
Paul in his letter to the Christian community at Rome speaks about his earthly life drawing closer to the end every day. So too is ours. Stay awake, be ready, live in the light, writes St. Paul. Practice virtue. Care for one another, pray earnestly, and please God.
In the Gospel according to Matthew, Jesus speaks to us about watchfulness or readiness. Jesus may come to us suddenly, when we least expect Him. And so, live each day with integrity.
The Advent season can be captured in one word: “waiting,” anticipating the Messiah. Now we do plenty of waiting, don’t we? We wait on line to buy an item, to board a plane or to see a doctor. Yes, we do a lot of waiting.
So too did folks in ancient Israel, but theirs was a different kind of waiting. They often waited for the Messiah to rescue them from their hardships, from the follies of their kings, from their exile, and from their many occupations by cruel foreign powers. And yet the Messiah often seemed to be hidden.
We, too, often pray to God to rescue us from a crisis of one kind or another. We beg God to suddenly appear and make things right for us. Some would say that this is the story of everyone. Where was God when a loved one was in harm’s way? Why didn’t God protect them? Of course, there are no answers that satisfy us. Yes, we pray for God to rescue us. And yet God can seem so silent, so hidden. But is God silent? Is God hidden?
We profess that God is indeed in our midst. Not in a manger -- that was centuries ago in Bethlehem. Then where is God? All around us! In nature, in people, yes, even in our beloved pets. God is with us, as we ache with all sorts of growing pains and as we worry, for example, about a life-threatening illness or a broken relationship or a job loss. God is especially with us in this mass, where we sacramentally encounter the living Christ, body and blood, soul and divinity.
Saint Paul wrote that God’s favor, God’s grace has been revealed in Jesus. And so, we wait and sing in Advent, “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.” In the meantime, we are the “hands and feet and eyes and ears and voice” of Jesus Christ, until He comes again in glory at the end time to transform this universe into a new, indescribable reality.
Let us pray this Advent season that the Spirit of God who through the Virgin Mary brought forth the Word made flesh, will reenergize us. Yes, through God’s grace, fire us up so that we can go forth into our communities to help those who doubt to find faith; those who despair to find hope; those who are weak to find courage; those who are sick to find healing; those who are sad or depressed or angry to find joy; those who wander to find the way; and those who are about to die to find eternal life. Amen.
