November 30, 2021
Paulist Fr. Rich Andre preached this homily on 1st Sunday of Advent (Year C) on November 28, 2021, at St. Austin Catholic Parish in Austin, TX. The homily is based on the day’s readings: Jeremiah 33:14-16; Psalm 25; 1 Thessalonians 3:12 – 4:2; and Luke 21:25-28, 34-36.
Today, we begin a new year in the Church. After a year mostly with the Gospel of Mark, we switch to the Gospel of Luke. After nearly 6 months of Sundays in Ordinary Time, with one exception in August, we’re now in the season of Advent, a season of a remarkably different character.
And yet, our gospel passage today sounds quite familiar. It’s Luke’s version of what we heard in Mark two weeks ago, and Jesus also refers to last week’s reading from Daniel. But the Church invites us to hear the passage with a different intention today: rather than focusing on the dire predictions of the end of time, let us take heed of Jesus’ instructions to “stand erect and raise your heads because your redemption is at hand.”
Our newly-reconstituted Liturgy Committee has asked each of us to wear stickers this weekend that say, “Let us prepare.” Let us prepare to begin this Mass, this season, and this year by celebrating God’s great gift of mercy.
Have mercy on us, O Lord…
In the Catholic Church in the month of November, we think about the end of time. We start by celebrating the saints and our deceased loved ones, but as the month goes on, we start hearing more predictions at Sunday and daily Masses about the eschaton, the end of time.
If we’re not careful, this first Sunday of Advent can feel like more of the same. One of the most famous Gregorian chants was written more than 700 years ago for the first Sunday of Advent. It’s known by its Latin name, the Dies Irae, and many composers have incorporated the melody into compositions when trying to strike the fear of God into their listeners. Here’s part of the translation:
The day of wrath….
How great will be the quaking,
when the Judge is about to come…!
The trumpet, scattering a wondrous sound
through the sepulchres of the regions,
will summon all before the throne….
When therefore the Judge will sit,
whatever lies hidden, will appear:
nothing will remain unpunished….
You, [Who are] good, graciously grant
that I be not burned up by the everlasting fire…
Tearful [will be] that day,
on which from the glowing embers will arise
the guilty man who is to be judged.
Honestly, not only does this sound as scary as some of what we heard in the past two weeks, but also it sounds a lot like Ash Wednesday’s admonition: “Remember, you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” The subtext is clear: it’s time to clean up our act if we want to avoid eternal damnation in the eschaton!
But things have changed since medieval friars wrote the Dies Irae. In the reforms of Vatican II, the Church has said that Advent is no longer supposed to have such a penitential character. As the General Norms of the Liturgical Year, issued in 1969, explains: “Advent is… a period for devout and joyful expectation.” Or, as our friends at BustedHalo.com say, “Lent is a spring cleaning of our lives. Advent is a cozier time, like getting your home ready to welcome a special guest… Jesus, the one we’ve been waiting for.”
In Advent, we technically use the same liturgical color as before 1969, but here at St. Austin and many other churches, we’ve steered away from the penitential reddish-purple hues that we use in Lent towards a bluish-violet. I’m told that blue is a sign of hope. I don’t know about that, but as one of the few Catholic priests in the world who has studied colorimetry at the graduate level, I can tell you that there is a world of difference between purple and violet. Purple is a manufactured color – the mixing of red and blue. Violet, on the other hand, is a pure wavelength of light. 1 Violet is the last color left in the sky after the sun sets and the first color in the sky before the sun rises.
And perhaps that’s the analogy to use for the spirit of these first days of Advent. As we think about the eschaton, what is our attitude? Do we fear the upcoming darkness when the world ends… or do we joyfully anticipate an even brighter new day when the eschaton arrives? As Madeleine l’Engle wrote about the eschaton: “It is not nearly so much a going as a coming, an ending as a beginning. It is the redemption, not the destruction, of Creation…. The Coming of the Kingdom is creation coming to be what it was meant to be, the joy and glory of all creation working together with the Creator” (The Irrational Season, p. 3).
Advent is a time of quiet, joyful hope, and although it may take some work, we can find ways to adapt it to whatever we’re facing in these last weeks of 2021. Advent, with its quiet confidence amid a bustling world, has a wisdom that can inform the rest of our year and the rest of our lives.
There are people all around us who were living the spirituality of Advent even before we pulled out the wreath, hung the fabrics, or printed the stickers. One friend of mine is still living in temporary quarters while her home is repaired from the winter storms last February, and she waits with such a blessed peace. Another friend awaiting a medical diagnosis. It’s not clear what he’s facing, but it could be life-changing. Yet, in the face of not knowing, he trusts in God’s providence.
As I reflect on my friends’ attitudes, I ask myself: can I apply the Church’s Advent wisdom as well as they have? My problems are minor compared to theirs, but I, too, am living in temporary quarters and I have my own aches and pains. Maybe the best way for me to prepare… is for me to more deeply embrace the spirit of Advent.
- Quiet isn’t always necessarily about lowering the decibels in our household. Sometimes, it’s about grounding ourselves in calm amid chaos.
- Joy isn’t about going through our days with smiles plastered on our faces. It’s about remaining connected to God and to other people, rather than isolating ourselves.
- Hope isn’t about naivete. It’s trusting in what Gabriel told Mary, “Nothing will be impossible for God.”
So, as we await the sounding of the last trumpet, let us prepare, not panic. Let us stand erect and raise our heads, not cower and hide our faces. Let us wait in joyful hope, not worry in existential dread. After all, the one we’re waiting for… has been patiently waiting for us, even long before we were born!
Let us stay awake and await the new day, for our redemption is at hand!
Notes: