1st Sunday of Advent, B November 28, 2021
Fr. Albert St. John the Evangelist, Jeanerette
So it begins. Today starts the Catholic new year, when our liturgical calendar starts all over. The birth, life, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus, the descent of the Holy Spirit. Again and again we cycle through these events, with the looming promise that one year, the cycle will end forever. Jesus will come a second time and that will be it. It’s why the first week of Advent doesn’t even mention Jesus’ birth. It’s why, at the start of what many people call the happiest time of the year, Jesus gives us a harrowing warning about the powers of the heavens being shaken, great tribulations and assaults, and people dying of fright.
We’ve been on that theme of the world ending for a few weeks already, so the Church ties that to the beginning of the year, when we are reminded of the goal, the point of it all: “to strengthen our hearts, to be blameless in holiness before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his holy ones.” So the point is not just to do it all over again. It is to do it better this time… and better the time after that. Each year – whether we get 1 more or 100 more – has the same purpose.
Because when Jesus does come back, we should stand tall “and raise our heads because our redemption is at hand.” Yet, the reason we can stand tall at the end is that we will be “blameless in holiness.” You and I are expected to spend each year working towards that goal of holiness, of perfection. Are our hearts strong enough for that? No, only by God’s grace can this goal be met. And this takes practice. St. Paul prays that we can “increase and abound in love for one another and all.” Like any other virtue, any other good habit or skill, love is not simply on or off. It must be practiced and trained.
That practice is the reason both St. Paul and Jesus focus on the “heart.” For Scripture, the heart is not just irrational emotion. The heart is the center of the person, it is the part where thoughts, feelings, and decisions are meant to be integrated. Unlike worldly wisdom, we do not “follow our hearts,” we form and guide them, molding them through our learning and our actions. Jesus warns us about three particular threats to the human heart: drowsiness, drunkenness, and anxiety about daily life.
Drowsy. Jesus is not upset about physical tiredness so much as he is concerned that our hearts may become mediocre and passive. Resting, being quiet, taking time to be receptive… these are all necessary things. But being passive defeats the very point of life. Physically, a passive heart is a dead one. The same is true for the spiritual life.
A drowsy heart grows bored with the Mass and the repetition of the liturgical year because it is not attuned to the process of going ever deeper. A drowsy heart settles for the minimum, never seeking to love more. Such drowsiness is all the more dangerous because it seems mostly harmless. But A Christian is not called to be harmless. They are called to have the strength of heart to threaten everything in this world. A strong heart has such faith and hope and love that worldly things pale in comparison… it threatens those caught up in the world start with the realization that worldly living is futile when contrasted to a life of grace.
Carousing refers to excessively chasing after a good time. This covers all forms of entertainment: games, movies, vacations, any pursuit of pleasure and comfort. Such excess narrows our focus and makes us selfish. Drunkenness refers to deliberately impairing our ability to think and make good decisions. Alcohol can be used in moderation, but to use any substance with the explicit intention of getting “wasted” or “high” is a mortal sin. Our ability to think and choose is the part of us that reveals God’s image in us, so it is quite wicked to deliberately mess that up with various substances. Obscuring God’s image through drunkenness also bars us from conforming our hearts to His, which we need for holiness.
And then there is the anxiety. Rather than tuning out life with drowsiness or being distracted from it with partying and drinking, there is the risk of obsessing about it. If all we think about is the next deadline, the next bill, our professional network, or any other of the million things life throws at us, then we can forget the larger, eternal perspective.
So, how do we avoid these pitfalls? If these things weaken our hearts, how do we counteract them? Well, look at the color we’re using. It’s the same as Lent. And like Lent, the spiritual wake-up call of Advent uses the same tools: almsgiving, fasting, and prayer.
Almsgiving: At the root of most anxiety is a fundamental lack of trust. Jesus tells us not to worry about food and clothing. He tells us all about the catastrophic end of the world in the same breath as he tells us to lift up our heads with joy. At the root of this is that fundamental promise of God’s love and a radical act of faith in his providence. There are many ways to cultivate this faith and trust, but a great one to give alms. By freely giving away what we think we own, we remind ourselves and others that it’s not really ours, that all belongs to God and he provides for all. Christmas gift-giving might be an expression of this, but please reflect on whether your gifts might be tainted with the vanity of only appearing generous. Compare your tithing and charity giving to what you spend on knick-knacks, trinkets, and luxuries. unimportant.
Fasting: As opposed to drunkenness and carousing, fasting is a fairly stark reminder of how temporary this life is. By deliberately cutting away some entertainment or food, we can force ourselves to face the tribulations Christ has promised… to face them long enough to see the hope beyond them.
Prayer: As opposed to drowsiness, prayer is an act of alertness. It is the choice to give attention and time to God. Indeed, sometimes the best prayer comes from the choice to rise early or stay up late – losing sleep for the sake of visiting the chapel or praying a rosary. If holy things bore you, forcing yourself to spend time asking God to change your heart is perhaps the best cure.
So it begins. Another liturgical year to strengthen your hearts for what they were always meant to be. Start this Advent with almsgiving, fasting, and prayer. Not to prove your own strength, but as tools to overcome the anxiety, drunkenness, and drowsiness of a worldly way of life. The point is to cooperate with grace so that you can be blameless in holiness when, one day, the beginning will give way to the final end.