1st Sunday of Advent (C)
Readings: Jeremiah 33:14-16; Psalm 24 (25):4-5, 8-9, 10, 14; 1 Thessalonians 3:12-4:2; Luke 21:25-28, 34-36
Picture: By Tuan Anh Nguyen on Unsplash
My dear friends, is there any difference between waiting for a bus, and waiting for an ambulance?… Those of us who take the bus regularly will have noticed that something is changing in how we wait for it. In the past, commuters had to take care to look out for the bus, and to flag it down once it arrived. Otherwise the bus wouldn’t stop. But now, the tables are being turned. These days, most of the people at a bus-stop often have their eyes fixed on their phones. And it’s up to the bus captain to sound his horn to catch their attention.
How different it is when the vehicle we’re waiting for is an ambulance… Some years ago, a fellow Jesuit was found unconscious in his bedroom. He had suffered a stroke. As we waited for the ambulance to arrive, several of us had to take turns to perform chest compressions on him, even as others watched for the arrival of the paramedics. The contrast couldn’t be sharper, between the carefree routine of the bus-stop, and the purposeful attention of the emergency. A contrast not just in the external circumstances, but also in the interior dispositions of those who wait. A contrast expressed in the respective bodily postures they adopt.
It’s helpful for us to keep this contrast in mind, as we begin the beautiful season of Advent. A time when we Christians are reminded that we are a people-in-waiting. For we live in between the first and final comings of Christ. And we need to watch for the One who is coming. But what does this waiting and watching look and feel like? What are the bodily postures and interior dispositions that characterise it? These are among the questions our scriptures help us to ponder today.
In the first reading, a consoling hope-filled promise is made by the Lord God to the people of Judah, through the prophet Jeremiah. But before we consider the words of the promise, it’s important to recall the situation of the prophet. As these words are being spoken, Jeremiah is locked up in a Jerusalem jail, while the city itself is besieged by an invading Babylonian army. It’s a time of tragedy, caused by the idolatry of the people and their leaders. And it is during this emergency that God promises to send a rescue vehicle. A new leader, who will transport the people to safety, by teaching them to live just and righteous lives before God.
In the gospel too, Jesus describes the final coming of the Son of Man as more of an emergency than a routine. People will be dying of fear, and even the powers of heaven will be shaken. Which is not to say that the Lord doesn’t come in routine situations. The point is to take care how we wait. Amid the panic-inducing events of his final coming, the Lord’s disciples–which include all of us–are to stay alert. To adopt a particular bodily posture, and a specific interior disposition. We are to stand erect, and hold our heads high. We are also to watch ourselves. To guard our hearts from being weighed down by debauchery and drunkenness and the cares of life.
The psalm and second reading deepen our understanding of this posture and disposition, mentioned by Jesus in the gospel. For it’s not just her head that the psalmist lifts to the Lord, but her very soul as well. Just as St Paul prays that the Lord will confirm the hearts of his readers in holiness. Also, both the second reading and the psalm mention another bodily posture. That of walking. Paul urges his listeners to make more and more progress… in the life that God wants. In another translation, he tells them to walk and to please God. Which is also the grace that the psalmist begs for herself: Make me walk in your truth, and teach me.
To stand and to walk justly before the Lord, and to watch ourselves, so as to be ready to lift our heads, our hearts, and our souls to him, whenever he chooses to come. And to do this in an atmosphere more of emergency than of routine. This is the kind of waiting our scriptures describe. But that’s not all. For we believe that the Lord we are awaiting, has also already come. He is already present, in mystery, both in his Body, the Church, as well as in all who suffer. Which implies that we, who profess to be his disciples, are not just meant to wait for the ambulance to rescue us. We are also called to be something like paramedics reaching out to help others. As Pope Francis reminded us, not long after he became Pope: The thing the church needs most today is the ability to heal wounds and to warm the hearts of the faithful… I see the church as a field hospital after battle. It is useless to ask a seriously injured person if he has high cholesterol and about the level of his blood sugars! You have to heal his wounds…
Sisters and brothers, at a time when even those who need an ambulance may often be too distracted or traumatised to watch for its coming, how are we being called both to stay alert, as well as to reach out to assist others today?
