Rejoicing Before Dawn

Would you say you are ready for Christmas? The calendar says that we’re now less than two weeks away from the big day. If you’re like me, there’s still many things to be done between now and then – preparations to make and gifts to buy and plans to arrange. And our students know that we’re even closer to the end of the semester – only a few days now, perhaps just a few exams or papers, between now and Christmas break.

When we are waiting for something – waiting for Christmas to arrive, waiting for the academic semester to end – it can be good to remind ourselves what we’re waiting for. Today, on the Third Sunday of Advent, the Church asks us to stop for a moment from the preparations of Advent to remember what we’re waiting for, indeed, who we’re preparing for. There is a joyful tone to today’s liturgy. We lit the rose candle in the Advent wreath and I’m wearing rose (not pink, rose!) vestments – it’s all symbolic that we are drawing closer to a brightness that awaits us. It’s not here yet, but it’s certainly coming, and coming soon.

In the Gospel today, the people ask John the Baptist how they are to behave in advance of the Savior’s coming. He gives them a variety of answers – share your clothing and your food, don’t take advantage of others, be satisfied with what you have. In other words, work for peace and for justice and be ready for the One who comes to bring you salvation.

That’s good advice, advice that we should heed now. But notice that it is advice for those who have not yet seen the Savior. St. Paul, in the second reading, also gives advice, perhaps advice much more appropriate for us who already know Jesus. Listen again to what he says: “Rejoice in the Lord always. I shall say it again: Rejoice! Your kindness shall be known to all. The Lord is near. Have no anxiety at all but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God. Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.”

Those are some of the most comforting words of the New Testament, probably written very shortly before Paul himself was executed. How can a man who was imprisoned, probably tortured, far from his own native land, waiting for his own execution, compose such powerful words? The answer of course is that he knew Jesus! He was putting his faith and hope in something, someone, greater than his own life and security – something truly wonderful to come.

St. Paul in Prison (1627), Rembrandt van Rijn

Sometimes, in our lives as Christians, we tend to let everything that’s still imperfect dominate our viewpoint. We focus on our sins and weaknesses, on what is wrong and unfair and unjust, on what causes us pain and discord and difficulty. Those things are not unimportant – but the whole point of our faith in Jesus is that they are not the whole story. You and I are called to live this Christian life primarily with a spirit of joy – something, I think, that is not so much about feelings as it is a particular mindset. No matter what our present circumstances – no matter how terrible, even if we were to be awaiting death in a prison cell, like Paul – our hearts can be focused on the knowledge that victory has been achieved. The Lord who is coming, and coming very soon, has already won the battle over sin and darkness.

Let me share with you an experience that happened to me several years ago that has stayed with me and symbolizes perhaps what I’m talking about.

After college some friends and I made a trip to Peru, and during our time there we had the chance to visit the ruins of the Incan city Machu Picchu. Allow me to set the scene for you: Early in the morning, you leave your lodging in the town in the valley below, and with dozens of other people, you board a bus that takes you up a winding road to the entrance of the park. There, in the cold and the pitch dark, you blindly stumble up a steep trail and clamber over large stones in order to finally situate yourself in the middle of the ruins, near a place called the the Temple of the Sun. And then, you wait. The ruins are high on a ridge surrounded by mountains. At first, you can’t see anything but the stars above and the shadowy rocks around you. Then, when dawn arrives, the faintest hints of light begin to brighten your surroundings. You don’t see the sun yet – it is blocked by a large mountain to the east – but soon the darkness softens to shades of gray. The mountain mist dissipates, shadows fade, and you can see the long journey that you have made to be in that spot. You are surrounded by stunning stonework and architecture, a city built on a mountain surrounded by higher mountains. You marvel with your friends at the amazing, dream-like place you find yourself in. And, finally, after great anticipation and long waiting, the sun breaks out brilliantly over the top of the mountain in the distance, and you and your friends and the whole city is flooded with intense light. 

Sunrise at Machu Picchu, July 2006

My friends, the best way to be ready for Christmas is not through a bunch of external preparations – parties, gifts, and festivities. The best way is to allow yourself to rejoice: to feel the real joy that comes from knowing that there is a Savior, that he has come and is coming again, and that when he does, the light that he brings will break forth through the darkness, dissipating the shadows and mists of night and shine upon us all. The full dawning of his sunrise has not yet come – and yet, if we look with eyes of faith, we can see that the shadows are softening around us, the darkness is fading, and perhaps we can begin to see how things really are.

Be joyful, then, today, not just with your feelings, but in your heart, with your will – for the Lord himself is near. May he find us ready to welcome him like the morning sun, filled with the peace of God which surpasses all understanding.