1st Sunday of Advent, C December 1, 2024
Fr. Alexander Albert St. Mary Magdalen, Abbeville
Remember Y2K? The great “end of the world” scare in the late 90s? Most early computers were programmed to only list the last 2 digits of the year: 85, 93, 99. I don’t know how, but the idea spread that, when we hit the year 2000 and computers rolled over to the number ‘00’ in their programming, something terrible would happen. As a kid in middle school, the impression I got is that there was a chance this computer glitch would lead to businesses failing, governments devolving to chaos, and even to nuclear explosions at power plants and missile silos – the end of the world basically.
Of course, the year 2000 came and… nothing happened. At least, nothing happened to the computers. For me, the evening of Dec 31, 1999 was a disaster. Though I wasn’t worried about computers and bombs, I did want that night to be perfect. In my 11 year old mind, this was an incredibly special moment, a super-rare occurrence just dripping with meaning, the beginning of a whole new millennium. It was almost like a superstition – like the way people think wearing the right jersey to watch the game will help the saints win. If I could just get in the right frame of mind, if I could just get my little fireworks to go off at exactly the moment we entered into this new era of history, it would portend good for me, it would mean I was special and destined for great things.
But it did not go well. I honestly don’t remember exactly what happened, but I missed the moment. It wrecked me. All that anticipation of greatness suddenly backfired into overwhelming dread. And the moment was gone, never to happen again in my lifetime. There was something so ominous, so permanent about it that registered just how fleeting life is, how not special I was. I fled. I hid in my room. I wallowed in pity. While everyone else was having a good time, I was miserable. Eventually, my parents caught on and were utterly baffled why I could be so upset. I couldn’t even explain it to them. So they comforted me in a general way and moved on. Surprisingly. So did I.
All that worry? Pointless. All that anticipation? Wasted. All the fear and dread? Unfounded. Life went on and life was good. It only took an hour or two to realize that I didn’t really “lose” anything when my little plans went awry and that I was silly for holding so tightly to them in the first place. December 31 was a disaster. January 1? Pretty good.
As silly as that little story is, we often fall into the same trap. Jesus himself warns us that “People will die of fright in anticipation of what is coming upon the world” and that we should not let “the anxieties of daily life” cause our hearts to “become drowsy.” Whether it was Y2K for adults or arbitrarily important fixations for children, all the anticipation, fright, and anxiety is wasted. Worse, it’s a distraction, a trap that blinds us to what matters.
As the First Sunday of Advent and the beginning of a new liturgical year, today is kind of like Catholic New Years day. Like our civic new year’s, this is a time for considering and preparing for the future. I asked you 2 weeks ago to consider how you can use advent to prepare for the end of the world. What did you decide? What are your Advent resolutions? The ways you’ll prepare both for Christmas and for death? If you have none, then pick something as soon as possible. Our Advent readings won’t even talk about the baby Jesus until the 4th Sunday. Until then, the Church is focused on the second coming of Jesus rather than the first. We should follow her lead at least a little!
At the same time, the goal here is not to make you anxious and fearful. Part of the reason that Advent combines the joy of the baby Jesus with the terror of Jesus the final judge ending the world is to inspire hope. On one level, it was a big deal to cross from the 1900s to the 2000s. On one level it is terrifying to remember that the world will end with fire and judgment. On a deeper level, however, what matters is not the worldly things we try to make it about, but the fact that these are moments of drawing closer to our final goal, to our eternal salvation.
So many people live in a state of near constant worry. Because we fixate on the wrong things, it freaks us out when those things don’t go the way we want or when they’re taken away from us. Your job, your reputation, the success or failure of your political party, the picture perfect Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner, the image you put forward of your home & & family & life, getting the perfect gifts for everyone, receiving the perfect gifts… these and so much more… they don’t matter as much as we think. And they will go wrong at least sometimes.
But, when they do go wrong, it is an opportunity. That’s why Jesus can spend so much time describing the awful, terrible evil, suffering, and destruction that is going to happen and then, with a straight face, command us to “stand erect and raise your heads,” to be glad when everything falls apart. Why? “Because your redemption is at hand.” That moment of your worst fears coming true, the moment of realizing you have no control… it’s a moment of liberation, a moment that allows you to finally accept that you’re not in charge, that the things of this world are temporary, and that the only way to eternal life is through death.
If we learn this lesson sooner rather than later, we can actually begin to be less anxious, to surrender control rather than God having to wrench it out of our hands. To gain the eternal perspective on life and death and the end of the world means that, instead of fleeing our troubles with “carousing and drunkenness,” instead of killing ourselves with “fright in anticipation,” we can look forward with hope.
What does that look like, practically speaking? The usual things: prayer, sacrifice, study the faith, care for the poor, participate in the sacraments. Still, I want to emphasize three specific things.
The first thing is to continue to deepen our knowledge of Jesus and our faith. Satan is a fallen angel – he was the most powerful and intelligent angel before the fall and now he uses all the power and cleverness to lead us astray. We need to constantly reinforce the truth about Jesus in our minds, to make clear to ourselves what we actually hope for: not a picture-perfect Christmas Morning, but a path to a holy life on earth and eternal life in heaven.
The second thing is to kill our idols. What are you worried about? What most often fill your mind in the morning and at night? Identify what most competes with God in your heart and then look for away to intentionally act against that interest at least a little. If it’s a thing you consume, fast from it. If it’s an image thing, let it be messy. If it’s a power thing, let someone else do it. If it’s money, give some away.
Finally, give it all to Jesus. After the Our Father, I pray “Deliver us, Lord, we pray, from every evil, graciously grant peace in our days, that, by the help of your mercy, we may be always free from sin and safe from all distress, as we await the blessed hope and the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ.” Pay attention to that. Every time you go to Mass, consider what it is that worries you. Then, when this prayer comes up, mentally hand over that worry as the priest asks for “peace” and to be “safe from all distress” on your behalf.
Jesus came once before as a child and we rightly celebrate that with joy. He will come again as judge to end the world by fire. Strange as it may seem, that should also bring us joy and hope. If we can just take Jesus at his word and stop obsessing over silly things like computers, firecrackers, and Christmas presents, then maybe we’ll be able see what this season is really about.