A belated post of my homily for the second Sunday of Advent.
A
few weeks back, Bishop Mark Hagemoen of Saskatoon was staying with us at the
rectory. He arrived fresh from a hike on Mount Harvey, with some absolutely
stunning pictures of the view he had enjoyed.
Since
the hike was nearby on the North Shore, and the views were really magnificent, I asked
him if I’d be able to manage it, if I took it slow.
The
athletic bishop paused. He took a breath. He said, kindly, “… no.”
I
had to admit that some great adventures are beyond my reach.
And
that’s how many of us feel about the heights of the spiritual life. We’re not
up for the climb; it’s for the holy folks, the religious types. But we’re not
keen on the valleys, either—when we’re low, we lose sight of God and his
goodness.
On
this second Sunday of Advent, God’s word tells us we can manage, even if we
have to take it slow. The prophet Baruch says that “God has ordered that every
high mountain and the everlasting hills be made low.” To use a modern expression,
God Almighty has levelled the playing field so that every one of us can walk
safely into the light of his glory.
By
the time of John the Baptist, the Romans had established themselves as the
greatest road builders of the ancient world. Travel between key points became
faster and easier, uniting the Empire—which is why we say “all roads lead to
Rome.”
Jesus
came to pave a sure way to the Father, a road on which to travel all the way to
heaven. But although the path is sure, we need to walk it; he warns that the
road that leads to destruction is broad and many take it.
What
could possibly lead someone to take that road, when there’s a road to life that
has been made smooth and straight for us?
The
prayers at Mass today give us a good answer.
In the opening prayer, the Collect, we pray “Almighty and merciful God,
may no earthly undertaking hinder those who set out in haste to meet your Son,”
while in the prayer after Communion we pray that God “teach us to judge wisely
the things of earth and hold firm to the things of heaven.”
In
other words, we get sidetracked by our daily concerns and distractions. The way
of the Lord is clear enough, but we take detours of our own choosing. If we
take them often enough, we lose the way.
Advent
is a time to reorient ourselves. When former President George H.W. Bush's
family announced his death last week, they used the code word “CAVU,” an expression
used by pilots that stands for “ceiling and visibility unlimited.”
Advent
is a time to seek that kind of clarity in our lives—to ascend above the
busyness and preoccupations that cloud our vision of the things of heaven.
Today’s
readings show us that lifting up our hearts is not a chore but a joy. Baruch speaks
tenderly, comfortingly. His prophecy
should clear away fear and doubt, because his words are already fulfilled by
the coming of Christ and by His saving work. It’s true, Christ will come again,
but His first coming has already leveled the hills of despair and darkness and revealed
to us the glory of the Lord.
The prophecy is fulfilled in us when we open our hearts to the tenderness and mercy of God. How do we do that? In hope-filled prayer. It’s in our prayer that the Lord comforts us, feeds us, gathers us, carry us and lead us.
My friend Vernon Robertson says that prayer begins as a duty, demands
discipline, but will eventually lead to delight.So there are three steps to
take in prayer this Advent: first, taking the duty seriously.The prophecy is fulfilled in us when we open our hearts to the tenderness and mercy of God. How do we do that? In hope-filled prayer. It’s in our prayer that the Lord comforts us, feeds us, gathers us, carry us and lead us.
If we fail to
pray at all, we’re definitely not on the road that’s been prepared for us. The
second is to stick with prayer in a disciplined way, praying even when we don't
feel like it—avoiding the detours of distraction. The third is allowing prayer
to delight us.
We need to expect more from prayer: often, though not all of the time, God will surprise us with consolation and delight. We need to take texts like this one from Isaiah into a time of prayer so that the full Advent message of hope and comfort penetrates our hearts.
We need to expect more from prayer: often, though not all of the time, God will surprise us with consolation and delight. We need to take texts like this one from Isaiah into a time of prayer so that the full Advent message of hope and comfort penetrates our hearts.
Much of the time, of course, we need to accept that even a smooth road has some bumps, and to persevere in prayer even in the middle of the pre-Christmas rush.
With even a minimum of duty and discipline, prayer in Advent can delight us. More important still, God who began a good work in us at our baptism will bring it to completion in the Kingdom Heaven.
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