December 15, 2019
St. Patrick’s Cathedral
Fort Worth, Texas
Isaiah 35:1-6a, 10
Psalm 146:6-7, 8-9, 9-10
James 5:7-10
Matthew 11:2-11
What do you want for Christmas? Perhaps, you have been asked this question recently and with urgency. Yet, today in this cathedral and after listening to our readings of this Liturgy, I ask a more pressing question. What do you want for Advent? There aren’t many days of Advent left so the question is even more important for our ongoing conversion.
The Protestant minister and theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who was imprisoned by the Nazis because of his resistance to their oppression, once described Advent in this manner, “A prison cell in which one waits, hopes, and is completely dependent upon the fact that the door of freedom has to be opened from the outside is not a bad picture of Advent.” John the Baptist prophesies to that truth in our Gospel reading today by sending his disciples from the dark of his prison cell to Jesus, the Light of the World, who can open the door of his cell and every cell. Jesus responds by instructing John’s disciples to give witness to what they see in His works and report them to John. They see that those blinded by darkness now see in the light, the light of day, the light of freedom, the light of truth. They rejoice.
What do we want for Advent? Do we want an open door to our prison cell of sin and fear — the door that we cannot open ourselves but that can only be opened by God’s gift of grace? Once the prison door is opened, what shall we do with our freedom? Do we come into the light of Christ, or do we stay in the dark of prison? Do we really want an open door, or do we prefer a revolving door where we can hide in the darkness but have enough light so that our eyes made dim by complacency and mediocrity are not hurt by the light of discipleship with Christ?
Today is Gaudete Sunday. Today our Liturgy calls us to rejoice in hope. John the Baptist prophesies and is the watchman for hope. Mary, who is full of grace, is filled with hope. Hope has as its object God Himself, not simply the many other gifts that God offers, but rather the gift of God Himself. Hope requires the reliance on grace in our relationship with God as Mary’s relationship is filled with grace.
To be honest, we prefer assurance over hope. We frequently seek the assurance that God’s okay with us and that we are okay with God. We want to be assured that our lives are acceptable to God so that we can be comforted that God will assist us in opening our own doors of prison when we want to open them. Assurance offers us only a utilitarian and distant relationship with God. We don’t have to change our way of life when we think we have assurance.
Hope brings about conversion. Hope engenders in us an ongoing relationship of dependent trust upon God watered by the conversation of prayer. If we only require assurance of our salvation from God, we soon act like we don’t need God unless He is useful to us. We prefer assurance that we are okay with God so that we don’t have to bother Him and then He will leave us alone, too. The height of our expectation of God becomes mutual coexistence but not love. If this the way things fall between God and each of us, it soon becomes the way that things fall between each of us and our spouses, between each of us and our children, between each of us and our families, and between each of us and the Church. We remain in our prison cell pretending that we can open the door if we so desired.
Hope recognizes that God does want to bother with us, opens the door of our prison of sin, and invites us to step into the light of the world, the gift of His Son. Advent is the season when God leads us out of the darkness of our demand for assurance into the light of hopeful trust. What do you want for Advent?
