Awaken your drowsy heart!

Homily: 2^nd Sunday of Advent – Cycle B

          Last Saturday marked the end of the liturgical year.  In the Gospel reading for the Mass of the day on that last day of the Church year, Jesus is quoted as saying, “Beware that your hearts do not become drowsy from carousing and drunkenness and the anxieties of daily life….” (Luke 21:34) It’s no accident that that particular reading is read on the last day of the Church liturgical year.  After 34 weeks of Ordinary Time—when we focus on growing spiritually and morally in the context of our daily lives—the Church realizes that most of us probably do have hearts that have “become drowsy”—perhaps from drunkenness and carousing, but most likely from the anxieties of daily life.  And so there is a certain genius on the Church’s part to place that reading right on the cusp of the new liturgical year.  It reminds us that perhaps our hearts have become drowsy and then it ushers us right into Advent, a season designed to help “wake us up.”

          Our first reading today from the prophet Isaiah is a beautiful reading—full of awe and wonder.  While [Name] did a great job reading it, I think it would require a method actor to really convey the joy-filled expectation that these words express.  Listen to some of these again:

Comfort, give comfort to my people,

 says your God.

 Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and proclaim to her

 that her service is at an end,

her guilt is expiated…

And still further:

…Go up on to a high mountain,

 Zion, herald of glad tidings;

 cry out at the top of your voice,

 Jerusalem, herald of good news!

 Fear not to cry out

 and say to the cities of Judah:

 Here is your God!

These are words of great joy and expectation and are simply wonderful to ponder.  Perhaps, however, we are unable to see the joy that these words convey, at least not in our current situation.  Perhaps, even after one week of Advent, our hearts are still drowsy—tired, weary, and numb—from the anxieties of our daily lives.  Of course, one need not look farther than the newspaper to understand why: violence and drug use continue to escalate in our cities and neighborhoods, jobs continue to be scarce and an economic recovery continues to be lethargic, national politics remains, it seems, disconnected from the daily struggles of individuals and families, natural disasters, like the hurricanes that ravaged south Texas, Puerto Rico and other Caribbean islands, and the wildfires that are consuming large swaths of inhabited land in California, continue to afflict us, and there are countless other reasons as well.  And so no, it’s not surprising that our hearts may have become drowsy and we are unable to relate to the awe and wonder expressed in today’s first reading.

          Yet, when we listen to the Gospel reading, we see that the Jews living during Jesus’ time also seemed to be struggling with the same problem.  Now, the Gospel of Mark is notoriously slim on narrative details and so we’ll have to read between the lines a little bit to see that their hearts were also drowsy and in need of awakening.  His Gospel begins by quoting our reading from the prophet Isaiah.  He follows it by describing John’s proclamation in the desert, calling for a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.  Essentially, Mark has equated the two, saying (without saying it specifically) that John’s call to repentance in the desert is the same call to “prepare the way” that Isaiah had made, centuries earlier.

          The Gospel then states that “people of the whole Judean countryside and all the inhabitants of Jerusalem were going out to him.”  In other words, the whole Jewish nation heard of John’s proclamation and began to come to him to be baptized.  Perhaps many of them were reluctant at first, unable to see the “awe” in the awe-filled proclamation that John was making.  Eventually, perhaps through the witness of seeing others go out to the Jordan River or of speaking with others who returned from there, these reluctant ones could see that their hearts indeed had become drowsy waiting for the coming of God that Isaiah had promised.  With “hearts awake,” however, they could experience the joy-filled expectation that the coming promised by the prophet was now at hand.

          And so we encounter these readings here today in this season of Advent for the same purpose: to call us to recognize the drowsiness of our own hearts so that we too may awaken to the experience of joy-filled expectation for the second-coming of Jesus.  Just like those ancient Jews, it feels like Christ’s promised return is long-delayed, but when we recognize—as Saint Peter reminds us in our second reading today—that “with the Lord one day is like a thousand years and a thousand years like one day,” it makes it easier to see that Jesus’ delay is, ultimately, for our benefit.  Christ wishes that all of us should come to repentance, as Saint Peter reminds us, and so every second that he delays—which is as nothing to him—is a gift of opportunity for us to wake up our drowsy hearts (and the hearts of others!), so as to be ready when he comes.

          My sisters and brothers, Jesus did not tell his disciples to “beware that their hearts not become drowsy” because he is an exacting master, demanding strict discipline so as never to sin.  Rather, he was instructing them—and so us through the preservation of his words in the Gospels—to remain vigilant so that they would not be “asleep”—that is, too focused on either indulgence in worldly things or on the anxieties of daily life—and, thus, miss out on the joy of witnessing his return in glory.  My sisters and brothers, this is what the season of Advent is doing for us.  It’s as if the season itself is saying, “Take comfort, for this time of suffering is at an end and the time for Christ’s return is near!”  If it hasn’t done this for you yet, then I encourage you to spend time praying with these readings in this coming week and to ask God to awaken in your heart a joy-filled expectation for his coming.  And if it has?  Well, I think the Gospel then shows us what to do.

          All of the people from the Judean countryside and the city-dwellers of Jerusalem came out to John to receive the baptism of repentance and to acknowledge their sins—to “make straight a path” in their hearts for the coming of the long-awaited Messiah, the one Isaiah promised.  We too, then, are called to repent and acknowledge our sins.  For the fully-initiated, that means the sacrament of reconciliation—or confession—and it is why the Church encourages all Catholics to celebrate this sacrament during the season of Advent.  As we hear the readings reminding us of how the ancient Jews prepared the way of the Lord in their hearts at the sound of John’s proclamation, so we too are called to prepare a pathway for Christ to come into our hearts by reconciling with both God and our neighbor through the sacrament of confession.

          Friends, beware that yours hearts do not become drowsy from the oversaturation of “Christmas Spirit” in which the world outside of these walls is drowning you.  Rather, use this time of Advent to prepare your heart well for Christ’s second coming and the best gift you will receive on Christmas day will be the joy of the Lord in your heart: the joy present to us, even now, here in this Eucharist.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – December 9^th & 10^th, 2017

What happens when we're left in charge

          Happy New Year!  I hope you all had a blessed 1st Sunday of Advent and are entering into this holy season full of hope with hearts open to our Lord for whom we wait in anxious expectation.

          This Sunday also opened the Year for Consecrated Life, in which the Church will celebrate the gift and beauty of men and women who have responded to God's call to live consecrated to Him for service to the Church and the world.  Check out the USCCB's web site for more information.

          Also, check out this series on Lifetime in which 5 women discern a call to religious life.  It is a great peak into what religious life is all about.

Christmas is still four weeks away.  Get into the spirit by living Advent instead of diving head-first into Christmas.  It'll make Christmas even better!

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Homily: 1^st Sunday of Advent – Cycle B

          If any of you here grew up with siblings, you’ll remember that life as you were growing up was a constant battle for superiority in your home.  From who gets the bathroom first, to who gets the preferred bunk, to who gets to decide which radio station you get to listen to and which television program you get to watch, there is always a constant battle to be “in charge” of something in the house.  This is never more true than when mom and dad are going to be away for an evening and leave one of the kids “in charge”.

          Being “left in charge” was like a dream come true for kid with multiple siblings (and often a nightmare for the others who were passed over for the responsibility).  For the one in charge, this was a chance to proclaim your superiority in all matters because if ever there was a dispute, you had the trump card because you were left “in charge”.  Thus you made all of the decisions and did everything your way.

          If you were a teenager when your parents left you in charge, then your power for abstract thinking opened many more possibilities for you.  Perhaps you’d invite some friends over and do things that you wouldn’t normally be allowed to do if your parents were home.  You’d bribe your younger siblings with candy to keep them quiet and then have fun the way you wanted to.

          Of course, your parents left someone in charge for a reason.  They knew that if anything came up there would need to be one person who could make decisions.  They also wanted to be sure that if anything happened, they would know who should be held responsible for whatever happened.  When they left someone in charge, they did so with the expectation that the house would be in the same order that they left it in (if not better); and if it wasn’t, that the one left in charge would be responsible for the consequences.  Often, they didn’t say exactly what time they would be home, but that shouldn’t have mattered because the one in charge would keep everything together until their return.

          This is not unlike the parable that Jesus uses in the Gospel today.  Jesus is warning his disciples to be alert for the day of his return and uses a story about a man who leaves his household for a journey and entrusts his servants to be in charge while he is gone.  His expectation is that his household will be in the same order that he left it in, if not better.  He tells them that he does not know when he will return and so leaves the expectation that the house will be kept in order throughout his whole journey.  Of course, if your parents came home and found you sleeping, then they’d probably figure that everything was fine.  In Jesus’ parable, however, the servants are admonished to stay awake, because being ready to respond to the master of the house when he returns from a journey is a sign that the servants were fulfilling their responsibilities.

          Now, as it sometimes happens, when one of the kids is put in charge, things can get a little out of control.  Perhaps you and your siblings have made a huge mess.  Or perhaps the friends you invited over invited other friends over—perhaps people you don’t know very well—and the gathering got uncomfortably large.  And perhaps you begin to realize that the situation is more than you can handle on your own.  You begin to think things like “What if mom and dad come home right now?  They’ll kill me!” and “Oh, why did they leave me in charge?  Didn’t they know that I would screw up?!” 

          If you ever had a reaction like this (or saw a sibling have one like it), then you know what the prophet Isaiah was feeling when he proclaimed the words in our first reading today.  Speaking during the time when the Israelites were exiled in Babylon, Isaiah is lamenting of how badly his people have failed God.  They had neglected their covenant duties—in particular, to cast off all false idols and to worship God alone—and so now they found themselves exiled—locked out of the house, so to speak—and they were powerless to fix their failures on their own.

          “Why do you let us wander, O Lord, from your ways…” is Isaiah’s way of saying “Don’t you know that we’ll just get in trouble if you leave us alone?”  And the rest of the passage is Isaiah’s desperate call for God to return swiftly so as to make everything right before it gets any worse.  It’s like when things get to the point that you realize that “I’ll be in less trouble if I call mom and dad now and ask them to come home and save me from this mess than if I wait for them to come home and allow things to get even worse.”

          Advent is the time for us to step back and take a look at what has been happening while we have been “in charge”.  It’s the time when we realize “It’s getting late and mom and dad should be home soon, we should start cleaning up!”  If we look at the state of the world that we live in, however, perhaps we’ll begin to feel like the teenager who has let the little gathering of friends grow out of control.  We begin to see that the world seems to be going to hell in a handbasket and we feel powerless to do anything about it.

          Thus, our lament at the beginning of this Advent season should echo that of Isaiah: “Why do you let us wander, O Lord, from your ways…?” and our cry for help, too, should be Isaiah’s cry: “Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down…”  This cry, of course, we direct to Jesus, who we wait for constantly in his second coming, especially in this time of Advent.  As we prepare to celebrate the memorial of his first coming, we are reminded that we are still awaiting his second coming in glory and so call to him earnestly to come now and save us from this mess that we are in.

          My brothers and sisters, Jesus has left us in charge, but he hasn’t left us alone.  When he returned to his Father, he said that he was going to prepare a place for us in heaven and that he would return to take us to be where he is.  His instructions to us were to go and make disciples of all men, but he promised us that he would be with us always.  And so we should not fear to call out to him, even if we’ve failed miserably to complete the work that he gave us; because if we admit our failure before him—that is, before he comes to find it on his own—then he will be merciful to us.

          My brothers and sisters, this time of Advent is a gift—an early Christmas present, if you will—an opportunity to refocus ourselves back on the horizon as we await the dawning of that day when Christ, who has already redeemed us from sin, will return to save us from this world and welcome us into the place that he has prepared for us in heaven.  Let us, then, receive this gift with joy and use this time to begin to put the house back in order, and to watch with hope for our Lord’s return to save us from ourselves and to bring us to the life promised to us even now, here in this Holy Eucharist.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – November 30, 2014

Opening of the Year for Consecrated Life