Year I Monday of the Third Week of Advent

Readings: Numbers 24:2-7.15-17a; Psalm 25:4-9; Matthew 21:23-27

Authority is a big issue for Christians. Historically, authority is the main reason for the two major splits in the Christian Church: the East/West schism of AD 1054, when what are now known as the Orthodox and Catholic Churches split, and the protest or Protestant split in the sixteenth century, usually dated to 1517, when the Augustinian friar, Martin Luther, nailed his 95 theses to the door of the Church of the Holy Spirit in Wittenburg, Germany.

As human beings, we like things to be neat and clean. But God is not bound by our tidy ways of thinking. While the history of the Church with regard to its fracturing is contrary to God’s expressed will, through the Holy Spirit, God never ceases to answer the prayer of His Son that we all be one as they are one.¹

When you look at today’s Gospel from the perspective of a twenty-first century Christian, it seems absurd that the chief priests and elders asked Jesus, the Son of God, who is true God from true God, by what authority He taught what He taught and performed the miraculous deeds He performed. While always done in concert with the Father and the Holy Spirit, we can safely say, the Lord acted on His own authority.

It isn’t Jesus who provides the parallel to Balaam in our readings. Rather, it is John the Baptist. Both prophets came out of nowhere to tell others of the ways of God and to foresee, even if dimly in the case of Balaam, the Lord's coming. The Baptist comes into play when the Lord turns the tables on his interlocutors by asking them what they thought of the baptisms John performed.

It’s easy to see the chief priests and elders "of the people," which I prefer take as the inspired author being sarcastic, wanted to deny the divine nature of the Baptist’s ministry. His ministry, if you remember, consisted of calling Jews to repentance, that is, back to fidelity to the Covenant by the righteous observance of the Law and baptizing those who heeded his call. This was a scandal to these Jewish leaders. Jesus put these men on the horns of a dilemma. Maybe it’s more accurate to say the Lord highlighted the existential dilemma we all must face in the realization that choices have consequences.

There is a line from the chorus of the song “Freewill” by the band Rush that states this dilemma well: “If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice.” By choosing not to decide in that moment, the chief priests and elders “of the people” only kicked the can down the road.

Ultimately, these men were forced to decide. Unwittingly, their choice to call for the condemnation and brutal execution of the Messiah, the Son of God, accomplished God’s purpose: the redemption of the world. So much for tidiness.

In His life and ministry as set forth in the Gospels, Jesus is always driving those who encounter Him to make a choice, to decide who He is for yourself. In the Gospels, this choice is somewhat evidence-based, especially regarding the miracles and wonders he performed.

Philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein, himself a Roman Catholic, albeit in adulthood not a practicing one, summed this dilemma up very well:

“No man can say that Jesus is the Lord, but by the Holy Ghost.”² - And it is true: I cannot call him Lord; because that says nothing to me. I could call him 'the paragon', 'God' even - or rather, I can understand it when he is called thus; but I cannot utter the word “Lord” with meaning. Because I do not believe that he will come to judge me; because that says nothing to me. And it could say something to me, only if I lived completely differently (italics in original)³

Unlike many professing Christians, Wittgenstein understood his dilemma. He understood, quite clearly, that were he to acknowledge Jesus’s authority by professing Him as Lord he would need to live “completely differently.” Do you?

Don’t worry too much about Ludwig. From there he launches into a reflection on faith by asking: “What inclines even me to believe in Christ's Resurrection?”

It’s important to see, as we do in our Gospel today, that Jesus never asserts His authority by making a power move. In Christ, there is no coercion, only freedom. After all, He did not reply: “On whose authority? Being God’s only begotten Son in the flesh, by my own authority given me by my Father!”

It is important to always keep in mind that for Christians, freedom is first and foremost freedom for not freedom from. As Saint Paul insisted in his Letter to the Galatians: “For freedom Christ set us free.”⁴

And so, back to Rush:

You can choose a ready guide in some celestial voice
If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice

---

1 John 17:11.^↩
2 1 Corinthians 12:3.^↩
3 Ludwig Wittgenstein. Culture and Value, 33. Trans. Peter Winch. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.^↩
4 Galatians 5:1.^↩

Year C Third Sunday of Advent

Readings: Zephaniah 3:14-18a; Isaiah 12:2-6; Philippians 4:4-7; Luke 3:10-18

Charity, which requires self-sacrifice, is the way to joy. By contrast, living only for yourself is the shortcut to misery and meaninglessness. This truth is clearly revealed to us in scripture, especially in the Gospels, which tell us of the life of the Lord. It is also the theme of what is perhaps the best-loved Christmas story in English: Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.

A Christmas Carol, as with most things Christmas-related, has been trivialized. Dickens, himself a Christian, albeit one with significant flaws, making him like the rest of us, did not write a story about a grumpy old man overcoming his grumpiness and finally joining in all the holiday cheer because, it’s just plain fun or on the premise “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

Rather, A Christmas Carol is about a disappointed old man who, granted the great grace of visits by the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future, responding to God’s grace and becoming a new man, or, perhaps more accurately, the man he was destined to be before life’s concerns jumped in, bringing him to where the reader initially finds him: alone and miserable on Christmas Eve.

After his harrowing night, Ebeneezer Scrooge not only seems to be a different but a much younger man, embodying these words from T.S. Eliot’s poem “Little Gidding”-

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time¹

Scrooge’s change, his rebirth, his finding true joy was his heeding the Baptist’s call found in our Gospel for today. Doing these things are the fruit of repentance, proof that you have repented, that you’ve undergone a metanoia, a Greek word that denotes a transformation.

Becoming charitable is not the price you pay to earn God’s favor. Rather, being charitable is the result of realizing that, in and through Christ, you always already have God’s favor. Hence, each genuine act of charity is an act of rejoicing.

Today is Gaudete Sunday. It is the Sunday of the pink candle and the pink vestments (“rose” for those who prefer). The Third Sunday of Advent is called “Gaudete” because Gaudete is the first word of the Introit (that part of Mass that is sung prior to ringing the bell for everyone to stand). Gaudete is Latin for “Rejoice!” It is an imperative, urging us, maybe even ordering us, to rejoice. Note that “joi” is at the heart of “rejoice.”

Gaudete in Domino semper: iterum dico, Gaudete = “Rejoice in the Lord always: again, I say rejoice.”² This comes from our second reading today, taken from Saint Paul’s Letter to the Philippians. As the apostle wrote in his Second Letter to the Corinthians:

Each must do… without sadness or compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. Moreover, God is able to make every grace abundant for you, so that in all things, always having all you need, you may have an abundance for every good work³

Charity should not be a once-a-year thing, acts you perform between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Being charitable is what it means to be a Christian. Being a Christian, at least on this side of eternity, amounts to becoming. It is a journey, like the one described by Eliot in his poem. In Christian parlance, caritas, the Latin word from which “charity” is derived, is a translation of the Greek word agape.

Scripture teaches that “God is love.”⁴ Agape is the word translated as “love” in this passage. Unlike English and most Western languages, koine Greek- the original language of the New Testament- has four words for love. Three of these are used in the New Testament. Eros refers to what we call romantic love; philos to brotherly love- think the city of Philadelphia, the city of brotherly love; agape to self-giving, self-emptying love.

I think motherhood is the closest human analog to agape. It’s beautiful that during Advent, this year in the week leading up to Gaudete Sunday, that we celebrate Immaculate Conception and Our Lady of Guadalupe. Agape, self-emptying love, is the essence of the nature of the Most Holy Trinity.

It is through the Incarnation of the Father’s only begotten Son, whom the Father sent because He so loved the world, that we can begin to understand what the revelation “God is love” really means.⁵ A few chapters earlier in Philippians, in the “kenotic hymn,” we read this of Jesus:

though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped. Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness⁶

True charity doesn’t consist only of giving something to someone in need, as important as that is. It requires giving something of yourself. While well-intentioned, things like “Giving Machines” make giving transactional rather than relational. Frankly, I find it fairly easy to give money and donate items. It’s much harder to give something of myself, to give time, attention, and care. Vulnerability is scary.

Our Lord only ever gives Himself whole and entire. In the Eucharistic exchange, you pledge your entire self to Him. In response to His self-giving, you pledge yourself to others, to charity, to self-giving, self-sacrificing love. You pledge to love your neighbor as you love yourself. Like Ebeneezer Scrooge, doing this is how you discover true joy. Only the joyful can rejoice.

---

1 T.S. Eliot, “Little Gidding,” Part V.^↩
2 Philippians 4:4-5; Roman Missal, The Third Sunday of Advent, Entrance Antiphon.^↩
3 2 Corinthians 9:7-8.^↩
4 1 John 4:8.16.^↩
5 John 3:16.^↩
6 Philippians 2:6-7.^↩

Advent & kwanzhanuaukamas

Apart from August, the period between Thanksgiving and Christmas is, at least for me, the least wonderful time of the year.

About the only thing born anew this time of year in late capitalist societies is consumerism. My typical response to "What do you want for Christmas?" is, "For it to be over." What I mean by that is that I want secular Christmas, which runs concurrently with Advent, to be over and done.

I enjoy celebrating Christmas after all the hoopla has died down and it's actually Christmas. I love the week between Christmas Day and New Years. I love St Stephen, St John the Evangelist, Holy Innocents, Thomas a Becket, Solemnity of Mary, the Mother of God, etc., playing games, reading books, watching movies, eating good food, thinking about the New Year. I am no Scrooge. I actually love Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol. It is a deeply Christian book.

This year, I made it almost to the Third Sunday of Advent before realizing I've had enough already. This is pretty good for me. I have been fascinated this year by the fact that Padre Pio's favorite liturgical season was Advent (for a short treatment of this, see "Padre Pio and Advent: A Journey of Renewal and Grace"). Of course, he lived in a Capuchin monastery, but still, his advice given in some letters is most helpful.

Here is a late Friday traditio that, I believe, captures well the spirit of this season. The Kinks' "Father Christmas":

In any case, here's to those who wait in quiet expectation, preparing their hearts to once again not merely celebrate, but experience the great mystery of the Incarnation, those and who ponder this great mystery in their hearts. The mystery of Christ, "hidden from ages and from generations past," we read in Colossians, and has now "been manifested to his holy ones... Christ in you, the hope for glory" (Col 1:26-27).

As for the rest, as John Calvin put it: "The human heart is a perpetual idol factory." For the Latinists, who are, rightly, suspicious of translations- from the 1559 definitive edition: hominis ingenium perpetuam, ut ita loquar, esse idolorum fabricam (Institutes I.11.8). "Man's genius, so to speak, is to perpetually make idols."

Kwanshanuakkhmasdinosaurias- a photo from my walk this morning

"by a singular grace and privilege"

Today the Church celebrates the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Of course, this does not refer to the conception of Jesus by the Holy Spirit, thus becoming "incarnate of the Virgin Mary." Rather, it is a celebration of the conception of our Blessed Mother herself by her mother, who tradition hands on was named Anne. Saint Anne's conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary happened in the normal way.

What the Immaculate Conception refers to is set forth very well in the dogmatic formula found in the Papal Bull Ineffabilis Deus, promulgated by Bl. Pope Pius IX in 1854:

We declare, pronounce, and define that the doctrine which holds that the most Blessed Virgin Mary, in the first instance of her conception, by a singular grace and privilege granted by Almighty God, in view of the merits of Jesus Christ, the Savior of the human race, was preserved free from all stain of original sin, is a doctrine revealed by God and therefore to be believed firmly and constantly by all the faithful

It was not until four years after the promulgation of Ineffabilis Deus that the Blessed Virgin appeared to the peasant girl, Bernadette Soubrious, introducing herself to Bernadette as "the Immaculate Conception."

Since the dogma of papal infallibility was not formally defined until 1870, the apparitions of Our Lady at Lourdes, France served as a kind of proof of the truth of the dogma of this de fide belief. It's important to keep in mind that dogmas do not appear out of nowhere. They are tenets of the faith that have to be shown both to be a part of divine revelation and, even if in seed-like form, believed always, everywhere, and by all. While theological reflection, examination, and even disputation are vital for the Church, even with regard to dogmas of the faith, for faithful Catholics, belief or at least assent to dogmatic teaching is of the utmost importance.

The Immaculate Conception of Los Venerables (Soult Madonna), by Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, 1660-1665

It surprises many people that since the First Vatican defined the dogma of papal infallibility in the constitution Pastor Aeternus, which was promulgated by the same Pope Pius IX 1870, there has only been one exercise of papal infallibility. This occured in the Jubilee Year of 1950, when Bl. Pope Pius XII infallibly proclaimed the bodily Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary into heaven in Munificentissimus Deus.

Falling as it does during the season of Advent, today's Solemnity, which, this year, is moved to Monday because the Second Sunday of Advent takes precedence, also reminds us something very important: the Son of God, as it pertains to his humanity, is consubstantial with His Mother, the Blessed Virgin Mary. And so, through Blessed Mother, who is also our Mother, is consubstantial with us.

To answer a popular song of yesteryear, "What If God Was One of Us?," through the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary, He became one of us. Through His Holy Spirit he remains present not just among us but, if we let Him, in us. If He is in us, then we can make Him present to others. This the famous third advent of our Lord set forth by Saint Bernard of Clairvaux in an Advent sermon a long time ago. Like the Gospel itself, while old, it is ever new.

Today, pray Our Lady's Rosary, say a Memorare or two, or three... Of course, observe this Holy Day of Obligation, this gift of the Church. Don't neglect to ask for the intercession of Saint Bernadette.

Baruch's message of hope

Reading: Baruch 5:1-9

It isn't often that we hear a reading from the Book of the Prophet Baruch at Sunday Mass. But in Year C of the Sunday lectionary, on the Second Sunday of Advent, our first reading comes from this little-known book of Sacred Scripture. Baruch is numbered among the deutero-canonical books. As such, many Christians do not consider this book to be part of the scriptural canon.

One of the features of deutero-canonical books is that they were written in Greek, not Hebrew. With regard to Baruch, some scholars believe that this book may have been originally written in Hebrew and then translated into Greek and that only the Greek manuscripts were preserved and handed down. There is a similar theory, albeit not widely held but with some credibility, concerning the Gospel of According to Saint Matthew.

While attributed to an assistant of the prophet Jeremiah, the Book of Baruch is not a unified text. The different texts that comprise the book were probably not written by the same author. It may have been during the compilation of these texts into a unified book that it was rendered into Greek.

Like a number of deutero-canonical books, the texts that comprise it were composed later than the time in which they are set. Given the disparate nature of the texts that make up the Book of Baruch, no definitive dating is possible. However, the book in its final form was likely put together between 200-1 BC.

The setting for Baruch is the Babylonian Captivity (597-539 BCE). Our passage for today comes from the part of the book known as "Baruch's Poem of Consolation." It is the final part of this poem. It is addressed, not to the exiles, but to the Holy City, Jerusalem, and those Israelites not exiled. I think that its being written much later than Babylonian captivity of Israel is a great aid for us in seeing how these inspired words have something to say to us today.

From the beginning, the Church has viewed herself as enduring a kind of capativity between Pentecost and Parousia. Especially during the first few weeks of Advent, the theological virtue of hope is the underlying theme. Hope should never be confused with optimism. Hope is what remains when all options are exhausted. I am probably one of the least optimistic people you will ever meet. Because of Jesus Christ, I have hope. But that is to state the matter poorly.

Jesus Christ is my hope! He is hope of the world, just as Baruch posits God as the hope of Jerusalem. I can only imagine how in, say, the middle of the 58 years of Babylonian exile how hopeless their situation must've seemed both to the exiled Israelites and those left behind. To many, it probably seemed like end. So much for being God's chosen people! At least to my mind, one of the greatest miracles of history is the survival of the people of Israel as a people.

I am not going to lie, I think the Church is currently going through a very difficult time. We are experiencing difficulties from within and without. While these struggles are real and, like many, I am deeply concerned about much of what is happening within the Church, we can't lose sight of our need, as Christians, to simply and steadfastly live our faith in its fullness, holding fast to what has been faithfully handed on. In other words, you must not lose hope, even as your optimism wanes.

Living your faith is what it means to "take off your robe of mourning and misery; put on the splendor of glory from God forever," even if some days it doesn't feel like it. Let's face it, many days it doesn't feel like it. But God is faithful. Yet, God is God. God's fidelity is made manifest according to your criteria or on your timeline. Knowing God, which means cultivating a relationship with God, is the only way to really understand what this means. Such understanding is a matter of experience.

In light of revelation, it's weird and detrimental to faith that we have made the Lord's return such a scary thing. "Apocalypse," which means uneveiling, revelation, is used synonymously with destruction, death, catastrophe. But for early Christians, whose prayer was Maranatha (an Aramaic word meaning something like "Our Lord, come!"), the day of the Lord's return is the day of liberation, the end of exile, salvation, the fulfillment of genuine hope. Stated simply, they lived in joyful anticipation of the Parousia. They knew the meaning of Baruch's exhortation:

Up, Jerusalem! stand upon the heights;
    look to the east and see your children
gathered from the east and the west
    at the word of the Holy One,
    rejoicing that they are remembered by God

Note: With this, I am getting back to the practice of posting reflections each Sunday. Time permitting and inspiration allowing, I may get back to posting the Friday traditio. I appreciate the encouraging messages from so many of you to continue my efforts here. I hope each of you are having a blessed Advent.

Year I Monday of the First Week of Advent

Readings: Isaiah 2:1-5; Psalm 122:1-9; Matthew 8:5-11

Advent is the season during which the theological virtue of hope comes into full relief. Longing is almost a one-word description of human experience. As human beings, we long for what we desire. When you think about it, desire expressed as longing, that which drives us, is what constitutes our humanity.

Longing often remains ambiguous because the object of one’s desire is often not clear. There is a tendency to think if I acquire this or accomplish that I will be fulfilled. Within a short time, one is left asking questions like, “Is this all?” or “What’s next?” It takes us time to learn that all accomplishment and all acquisitions are fleeting.

For those who are attentive to experience, the fleeting nature of things reveals over time that human desire is infinite. Infinite desire can never be satisfied by finite things. Infinite desire requires an infinite object.

Our reading from Isaiah paints a picture of something worth desiring: God’s kingdom as place of peace and tranquility. In this passage we hear the words “ways,” “paths,” and “walk.” These all refer to God: God’s ways, God’s path, walking in God’s light. We don’t need to wait until eschaton to walk in God’s paths, to follow God’s ways, to walk in the light of the LORD. In reality, these describe how to live between already and not-yet of God’s kingdom.

Saint Bernard of Clairvaux preached about the Lord coming three times. His first coming is as man, His Incarnation. In the end, He will come again in glory. But in between, this span between the already and not-yet, there is a hidden advent that happens in the one with true faith.

“In case someone should think that what we say about this middle coming is sheer invention,” says Saint Bernard, “listen to what our Lord himself says: ‘If anyone loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him’ [Jn. 14:23].” He then exhorts his listeners: “Keep God’s word… Let it enter into your very being, let it take possession of your desires and your whole way of life.”¹ This is how one brings desire into focus.

Christmas is not only about celebrating the Lord’s birth in Bethlehem, which often becomes very sentimental. It is much more about the present, about Him being born anew in you. Advent, then, is a gestation period. It is Jesus present in the Eucharist who bridges the span between the already and the not-yet.

If the Lord is truly present in the consecrated bread and wine and you receive Him under these signs, it stands to reason that He is in you. He comes to be present in you not merely for your own sake, but for you to make Him present to others.

Making the Lord present to others, thus living in and for Him is how you begin to fulfill your longing, to satisfy your desire. The title of a lovely hymn composed by Bach summarizes this well: Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring.

Rightly, the issue of worthiness comes up. As a wise mentor said to me years ago, “You’re not worthy. Get over it.” Try as you might, you will never make yourself worthy. Only One is worthy: Jesus Christ.

The words of the Roman centurion from our Gospel today should sound very familiar to you. At each Mass, we say aloud, or should say aloud, a variation of what this man says to the Lord in today’s Gospel: “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.”

To be fully healed is something we all desire because it is something we all badly need. Wholeness and holiness are integrally related. To become holy is to be made whole. We’ve all been wounded and all of us have wounded others. To be healed, therefore, is to become, in the words Father Henri Nouwen, a wounded healer.

Attend to the fact that the centurion did not reject what Jesus did because he was unworthy. His honest profession of unworthiness is a sign of genuine faith. It is what hope looks like. On the one hand, this pagan recognized who Jesus is and understood he had no right, no standing, to ask the Lord for anything. On the other hand, he recognized that this is what the Lord came into the world to do and so humbly implored Him, confident in the Lord's mercy.

If we follow the story beyond the bounds of our reading from the lectionary, after lauding this Roman soldier to his fellow Jews by way of rebuke, Jesus tells this pious pagan, “You may go; as you have believed, let it be done for you.” The inspired author ends this pericope with these words: “And at that very hour [his] servant was healed.”²

---

1 St. Bernard of Clairvaux (Sermo 5, "In Adventu Domini," 1-3: Opera Omnia, Edit. Cisterc. 4 {1966}, 188-190..^↩
2 Matthew 8:13.^↩

Year C First Sunday of Advent

Readings: Jer 33:14-16; Ps 25:4-5.8-10.14; 1 Thess 3:12-4:2; Luke 21:25-28.34-36

Prior to Mass yesterday, we celebrated the first liturgy of this new year of grace. With Evening Prayer last night, the Church throughout the world entered the season of Advent. Being a noun, “advent” means arrival. This is a season meant to prepare us both for the Lord’s return and celebrating His humble birth in Bethlehem at Christmas. Advent, therefore, is consciously living between the already and not-yet, about letting Christ be born in you as “we look forward to his second coming.”¹

The liturgical year is a great gift. Understanding it and living the seasons of the Christian year, not only at Church, but at home, and in your personal life, grounds Christian spirituality in the Paschal Mystery. In the words of pastor/theologian Trevor Hudson, all the seasons of the Church year “are ‘time-gifts’ that the church offers to help us participate more fully in what God has done [and is doing] in human history.”²

God has done nothing in human history greater than being conceived by the Holy Spirit and made incarnate of the Virgin Mary, thus becoming fully human.³ This is why, when reciting the Creed, we bow while professing this central truth of our faith, which marks the beginning of the Paschal Mystery. Jesus Christ is not only consubstantial with the Father as it pertains to His divinity, He is also consubstantial with His Mother as to His humanity.

During Advent, we celebrate two great Marian observances: the Solemnity of Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary, a Holy Day of Obligation, which we will observe this year on Monday, 9 December y el doce de diciembre, celebramos la Fiesta de Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe. En virtud de la Inmaculada Concepción, la Madre María es la patrona de Estados Unidos. Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe es patrona de todas las Américas. Under the Immaculate Conception, Mother Mary is patroness of the United States. Our Lady of Guadalupe is the patroness of all the Americas.

Keeping Christ in Christmas starts with observing Advent. Observing Advent requires you to live contra mundum, to swim against the stream of well-meaning but premature and excessive festivities that leave everyone exhausted. Let’s face it, Santa Claus has little in common these days with Saint Nicholas. By all means, in the fullness of time, let’s celebrate Christmas! In the meantime, let’s prepare ourselves so we are properly disposed to do so.

Christmas starts on 25 December and, here in the United States, lasts until the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord, which we will observe this year on 12 January. Traditionally, Christians prepare for great solemnities by observing a time of more intensive prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. Advent is to Christmas as Lent is to Easter.

While a relatively short season, Advent has a twofold character. We begin Advent as an extension of Christ the King, when we celebrate, not the end of the world, but end of time. Time will end when Jesus returns “to judge the living and the dead.”⁴ And so, for roughly the first two weeks of Advent, we look forward to the Lord’s Advent, His second coming. In a very real sense, the whole of human history is mostly an Advent, a time of waiting on the Lord.

Our reading from Saint Paul’s First Letter to the Thessalonians, is indicative of the beginning of Advent. Likely written in AD50, it is probably the first book of our uniquely Christian scriptures to be written, First Thessalonians possesses what might be called an eschatological urgency. In other words, it urges Christians to live in readiness for Christ’s return so as “to be blameless in holiness before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his holy ones.”⁵

“Eschatology,” in case you’re wondering, is just a fancy theological word referring to the end of time, to last things. It is often the case today that our eschatology does not extend beyond the fact that someday we'll all die. This even though Christ's return to judge the living and the dead (yes, judge) is credal, dogmatic, de fide, that is, an essential and indispensable element of Christian belief. Our dogmatic beliefs should have bearing on how we, as Christians, live our lives. Yes, you may die before the Lord returns. Then again, you may not.

As Saint Paul wrote to the Church in ancient Rome, in a passage from the scriptural reading for the Church’s Morning Prayer on the First Sunday of Advent: “it is the hour now for you to awake from sleep. For our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed.”⁶ Put simply, it’s always later than you think. How can we regain the proper sense of urgency? While not a panacea in and of itself, observing Advent can help in this regard.

It is tempting to explain away hard passages like the one from Saint Luke’s Gospel that is our Gospel for this First Sunday of Advent. But turning Christian faith into an exclusively this-worldly philosophy is to be unfaithful to what God has revealed in Christ. Note that our Gospel for today comes from the final chapters of Luke’s Gospel, not its beginning.

Let’s give our Lord the last word as we begin Advent, letting Him set the theme. After warning His followers not to be carried away either by excessive revelry or by excessive worry about “the anxieties of daily life,” thus living sub specie aeternatatis- under the aspect of eternity, always bearing foremost in mind the purpose of existence, He instructs us:

Be vigilant at all times and pray that you have the strength to escape
the tribulations that are imminent and to stand before the Son of Man⁷

---

1 Roman Missal, The Order of Mass, Eucharistic Prayer III, sec. 113.^↩
2 Trevor Hudson. Pauses for Lent: 40 Words for 40 Days. Upper Room Books. Kindle Edition. Location 73.^↩
3 Roman Missal, The Order of Mass, The Liturgy of the Word, sec. 18.^↩
4 Ibid.^↩
5 1 Thessalonians 13:3.^↩
6 Romans 13:11.^↩
7 Luke 21:34-36.^↩