December 11, 2017
Paulist Fr. Rich Andre preached this homily for the Second Sunday of Advent (Year B) on December 10, 2017 at St. Austin Parish in Austin, TX. The homily is based on the day’s readings: Isaiah 40:1-5, 9-11; Psalm 85; 2 Peter 3:8-14; and Mark 1:1-8.
Our first reading today is perhaps the happiest passage in the entire Old Testament. In Babylon, at the lowest point in Israel’s history, God proclaims through Isaiah: “Comfort, give comfort to my people…. Every valley shall be filled in, every mountain and hill shall be made low… The glory of the Lord shall be revealed… Cry out at the top of your voice… Like a shepherd he feeds his flock. ” George Frederic Handel crafted five movements and 19 minutes of THE MESSIAH from this passage alone!
December 10 is the latest that the Second Sunday of Advent can fall. This far into the secular Christmas shopping season, it’s hard for many of us to stay tuned to this beautiful promise of trust and hope. But let us try, for this next hour, to enjoy the quiet stillness, the joyful anticipation of Advent.
Today, the Diocese of Austin joins other dioceses around the world in observing the 100th anniversary of the appearance of Our Lady of Fatima in 1917. In place of the penitential rite today, we will consecrate our diocese to the Immaculate Heart of Mary. There is more information in the bulletin about what this means. Please pray along silently as I pray aloud the words of Bishop Vasquez’s consecration prayer.
Every year on this Second Sunday of Advent, we trot out our brother John the Baptist, who calls us to repentance. All of our gospels agree that John is the voice in the desert crying out, “Make straight in the wasteland a highway for our God!” In fact, our first reading this year is the very passage that our gospel writers quote. In Mark’s account, it sounds possible that John the Baptist is also conveying God’s promise of comfort and hope.
Advent is the time of awaiting God’s promises, but how can we feel comfortable or hopeful in such a time of deep divisions in our country and in our world? We can’t agree on whether Confederate monuments were erected to honor brave soldiers or to intimidate people of color. We can’t agree if the proposed tax code will lift up the valleys of poverty or further exalt the mountains of the wealthy. We can’t agree if we can welcome strangers in need to our country and still have adequately secure borders. The recent publicity around sexual harassment promises greater protections for women in the workplace, but it intersects with our partisan politics, and it draws our attention away from the vast majority of victims who live under the same roof as their abusers. For the fifteen or so of us in the parish making a pilgrimage to the Holy Land next month, we have more than a passing interest in the after effects of the US government’s decision to move the American embassy to Jerusalem.
Part of what we’re talking about here is something called social sin. We can all see the effects of something terribly wrong in our society, but it’s hard to pinpoint the actions of individual people that have led to hatred, partisanship, and systemic injustice. Yet, all of us contribute to these problems, as have millions of people in generations before us. Like in the time of John the Baptist, we are all called to repent.
God promises that “Every valley shall be filled in, every mountain and hill shall be made low.” How do my attitudes and actions contribute to the rifts that separate us from our fellow human beings?
Isaiah says that “the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together.” I can’t help but wonder: if I continue to separate myself from people who are different from me, how will any of us be able to see the glory of the LORD… together?
In my first few years of my priesthood, I had the privilege of celebrating Advent Masses in the jails of Knoxville, Tennessee. One year, I asked the guys at the Knox County Detention Facility: what would they want me to preach to other people, to help build bridges? They pointed out that God often calls people that we would prefer to condemn. St. Paul persecuted Christians, and Moses was an escapee wanted for murder. They questioned if it’s possible for us to understand the challenges they face unless we’ve gone through it ourselves. Another issued a challenge: we need to get outside of our comfort zones and know our brothers and sisters!
How can we possibly live out God’s promise of comfort, if we’re called to step outside of our comfort zones? The answer is in the Advent season itself, as proclaimed in our second reading today: we can be confident the Lord does not delay his promise. We’re not in charge. The key to finding spiritual comfort… is in giving up control of the details. We just have to trust in God’s plan and follow it. Then, the plan will come to fruition in God’s time.