Second Sunday in Advent 12-9-2018
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Christmas can sneak up on us while we are
caught up in the mad whirl of shopping and parties, and then be gone
without a trace. Too often, by the time December 25th arrives we are fed
up with elves and reindeer, sick of Christmas music and tired of jaded
decorations. Today is seems every celebration is anticipated too much,
until it is worn out before it arrives. This is the way of society in
which we live today: hasty, instant, and disposable.
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Advent, which means coming, is in reality a
time of waiting. Waiting is something we are not used to doing. From the
beginning to end, the liturgy for Advent revolves around a tireless
refrain: be ready; be waiting.
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But what are you waiting for? Some are
waiting simply for the whole thing to end. Like Lent, for them, Advent
is a bore. What are you waiting for? You alone really know. But what should you be waiting for?
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The liturgy never tires of telling us you
should be waiting for the Lord, for the coming of a saving Christ. But
isn’t this a form of charades, of play acting? We make believe that
Christ has not come yet, and all the while every bell tower and TV
channel, every department store and cash register, jingles that He has
come.
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The New Testament itself assures us that the
Son of God did touch our earth in Bethlehem. That Jesus is here in our
midst because we are gathered in His name. And that in a little while He
will be sacramentally present on this table. That the Christ we offer
here in the Calvary of the mass will give Himself to us as food. That
day in and day out, He is present within our whole person because if we
love Him, He and His Father come to us and make their home within us.
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He has come. He is here. He lives within us!
So what is there to wait for? The answer I suggest is how you wait for
the Lord.
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You see, there are various ways of waiting: a
poor, lonely old man on a park bench; someone waiting at an airport; a
pregnant woman in a maternity ward. Each is waiting, but oh what a
difference. The old man on the park bench does not expect very much. He
will be happy if someone, anyone, comes along, someone to talk to, to
make the time pass until supper. He will be satisfied if he is not
mugged. His tired legs will take him from a cold bench to a cold
apartment.
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A person waiting at an airport, waiting for a
plane, is there with excitement. The plane means something. It is all
the difference between home, or being away from home. Being warmed with
the love of a family, or being stranded with strangers.
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And then we have the mother about to give
birth. There might be tension, anticipation, and excitement. Two facts
are uncommonly true here, and peculiarly pertinent to our Advent
waiting. First, he who is to come has been there all along. The problem
is the child has been a hidden presence, a bit unreal at times, not
quite believable. But then, at a certain moment the child actually
transpires, comes to light, is held in loving arms and is uniquely here.
Then there is joy and rapture, peace and calm.
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Such, I suggest, is your Advent. Not the
boredom or loneliness of a park bench. Not only the anticipation of an
airport. But rather, a bringing to light. Christ is here! Not only among
you, but within you. His life lives in you.
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Advent is a form of giving birth. Its
function is to bring a living Lord to life, in your living. Christmas
for you is not a given day, December 25th. Christmas is when the child
actually transpires, and comes to life. Christmas is when Christ becomes
real to you: His presence, His call.
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How can we tell that Christ has come? One
concrete test is suggested by Isaiah and Matthew: You can tell that the
Savior has come if the eyes of the blind are opened, and the ears of the
deaf are cleared. If the lame leap like stags, and the dead are raised
to life, and the poor have the good news preached to them.
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I am suggesting that your Savior may come to
light, may transpire, if your faith is accompanied by good works. You
need not fly to third world countries to find the oppressed and burdened
and the brokenhearted. They surround you at school, at work, where you
play, or where you pray. Bring food and drink, bring life and light,
bring love and bring good news. Bring yourself to those whose hearts or
bodies are burdened, and you will bring Christ to them. And,
paradoxically, come closer to Him yourself. Coming to life in them, He
may come more to light for you.
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Let’s all ask ourselves a question: does
your faith life reveal to anyone that Christ’s kingdom is in the making?
Does anyone see in you the one who is to come? Or must everyone who
touches you wait for another?
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