It took me all the way to December to miss a Friday traditio. But miss one I did the Friday before last, 5 December. Thank heavens for Our Lady of Guadalupe this past Friday! She rescued me.
Today is Gaudete Sunday; "rejoice" Sunday. In a way similar to Laetare Sunday, which occurs toward the middle of Lent, Gaudete Sunday is supposed to be both a break from penitential practices that prepare us for the feast of the Lord's Nativity and a turn in the season when we focus more on celebrating Christ's birth
Culturally, I think we might consider Paenitemini Sunday, "repent" Sunday, when we take a break from all the busyness and partying.
As you can tell, I have strong views on this. It bears noting that there are two very common ways to reduce faith. Faith can be reduced to sentimentality. Faith can also be reduced to moralism. Christmas is a case study in both.
Christmas is often overly sentimental, even sickeningly sweet, which sentimentality is basically a hugely successful marketing technique. Perhaps the most notable result of Christmas sentimentality is how much we endeavor clean up our Lord's Nativity. "Swaddling clothes," at least to modern ears, sounds much better than "filthy rags."
It's Santa Claus who brings the moralism: you get what you deserve or what you have earned by your good behavior. Sentimentality can denigrate the Incarnation, the circumstances of which are neither incidental nor accidental. Santa Claus basically gives us an anti-Gospel. I don't designate the Santa moralism as such only because it is premised on getting what deserve/earn but because of the manipulating way it urges you to do what is right. Such a manipulation can never be a genuine good.
Historically, for Christians, Christmas is not just a day. It is a season. At least in the United States this year, Christmas extends from sundown on 24 December through sundown 11 January, when we celebrate the Baptism of the Lord. A season lasting 18 days, nearly three weeks.
With all of that out of the way, I want make an exegetical observation on today's Gospel reading from Sain Matthew. It is wrongheaded to assert or imply that Jesus did not answer the question posed to him by the disciples of John the Baptist. Of course, it was the imprisoned Baptist himself who bid his followers to ask it.
Jesus' reply, which the Baptist would've understood completely, was an emphatic "Yes! I am the one who is to come. I am here!" Jesus essentially replies by saying that He is fulfilling the Messianic prophecy found in our first reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah. Of course, this assumes that John the Baptist's disciples relayed the Lord's reply to him.
So, while the Baptist may have had some doubts prior to receiving Jesus' response, perhaps wondering in light of his near certain death, whether he had wasted his life and given it up for nothing, he died knowing he did not. This is surely a reason to rejoice!
No doubt many people who follow Christ, especially those who have made great sacrifices to do so, very likely including some martyrs, have wondered whether it matters in the end or even if they've made a grave mistake by casting their lot with the Galilean. It's especially easy to wonder this when your life doesn't seem to be going the way you want it go, or, by any outward measure, not going well at all.
For Christian parents distraught over children who have left the practice of the faith or left the faith altogether, for believers who've suddenly and unexpectedly lost their spouse or someone very close, received a dire diagnosis either for themselves or someone near to them, who have lost their livelihood, it can all seem for nothing, perhaps even seem pointless.
Contrary to the prosperity Gospel, which even sometimes finds its way into Catholic preaching, Jesus never promised those who follow Him health, wealth, and good fortune. He says, "Take up your cross and follow me." Your destination, while it necessarily passes through the cross, lies beyond the cross, just as hope lies beyond optimism. Following Jesus is not about living your best life now. Advent reminds us the best is yet to come and encourages us in that hope against all odds.
The Lord promises us ever so much more than passing things. Even someone who lives a long and healthy life can only count on perhaps 100 years. So, we wait in hope. Hope, which is a theological virtue, a gift from God, really kicks in when, like the Baptist, you find yourself in difficult circumstances, even dire straits. As a priest of my acquaintance once said, "God has a wondeful plan for your life. It may include being eaten by lions."
Hope brings joy. Joy, in turn, is overcoming adversity. Joy is not the result of the absence of hardship and pain. True joy, which is born from hope, comes from experiencing for yourself just how the Lord accompanies you as you walk through the valley of the shadow of death. Life is an Advent. Salvation history, with one brief interlude, is also an Advent.
The Antiphon for Gaudete Sunday, quoting Saint Paul's Letter to the Philippians, is "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say rejoice." Or, as each Preface for the Eucharistic Prayer emphatically states:
It is truly right and just, our duty and salvation,Christian life is Eucharistic life, a thankful life. Giving thanks for our hope: Jesus Christ.
always and everywhere to give you thanks, Father most holy,
through your beloved Son, Jesus Christ
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