Our observance of Advent is indeed about watching and waiting – but not merely for the arrival of Christmas Day. We watch and wait for the Day of the Lord, the return of Jesus Christ in glory, which will usher in “a new heaven and a new earth.”
We long for this Day of the Lord and watch for it’s coming because we admit our own sinfulness and acknowledge the sorry state of this current world of ours.
This present world is so often fraught with all kinds of suffering, pain, and loss. It sometimes seems as if we are in a constant state of longing and waiting for some good thing to finally happen, or for some bad thing to finally stop.
In our first reading the prophet Isaiah gives voice to these longings and “invites us to cry out to God in complaint.” Isaiah’s mournful cry for God to “rend the heavens and come down” is echoed in our own questions and doubts: “God, where are you? Why am I going through this? Why have you allowed these terrible things to happen?”
For some, giving voice to this kind of doubt and frustration is scandalous: “Who are we to question God like that?” But if we do not turn to God when we feel burdened, oppressed and hopeless, then to whom can we turn?
Only true believers can “lament the apparent absence of God in the workings of this world.” Only the faithful can truly mourn for those who are afflicted and demand to know how long they will have to endure.
Today’s readings, and the entire season of Advent, invite us to acknowledge and lament the suffering and difficulties we often endure. That’s why Advent has a somewhat subdued and somber tone. Advent faces the harsh realities of the truth with honesty and doesn’t allow us to ignore them with a blinding naiveté.
But let’s also be very clear: neither does Advent allow us to become mired in hopelessness or despair. At the end of his lament, Isaiah turns in faithful prayer to God and says: “Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay and you are the potter – we are all the work of your hands.”
Advent reminds us that despite the truth of our suffering and longing, we are held lovingly in God’s hands. He is molding us, shaping us, fashioning awesome deeds that we could not even begin to hope for.
And so our waiting and longing is shaped by the great Advent virtue of hope – not by easy answers, or pious platitudes, but by the deep and overriding conviction that God is not at all absent from the world. He has, in fact, rent the heavens and come down – He has shown us His human face in His Son, Jesus Christ.
St. Paul says in our second reading: “in Him you were enriched in every way . . . so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift as you wait for the revelation of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
During this Advent season, as we become more and more aware of the deepest longings of our lives, we must also become more and more aware of the spiritual gifts that we have been given to aid us in our waiting.
Like the servants in today’s Gospel, we have each been given our own work to accomplish while the Master is away. When He returns, He expects to find us accomplishing this work – using the spiritual gifts we have been given.
We know that this work will not, by itself, be capable of accomplishing the things we long for most. We will not be able to build a perfect life or a perfect world with our own hands and minds.
But using our spiritual gifts as best we can reminds us of the Giver of all good gifts – and helps us see, that even in the midst of the world’s suffering and pain, there are also so many signs all around us that prove His coming kingdom.
This Advent, we remember that “we have a future worth waiting for and a God who keeps His promises:” “We wait in joyful hope for the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
But let’s also be very clear: neither does Advent allow us to become mired in hopelessness or despair. At the end of his lament, Isaiah turns in faithful prayer to God and says: “Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay and you are the potter – we are all the work of your hands.”
Advent reminds us that despite the truth of our suffering and longing, we are held lovingly in God’s hands. He is molding us, shaping us, fashioning awesome deeds that we could not even begin to hope for.
And so our waiting and longing is shaped by the great Advent virtue of hope – not by easy answers, or pious platitudes, but by the deep and overriding conviction that God is not at all absent from the world. He has, in fact, rent the heavens and come down – He has shown us His human face in His Son, Jesus Christ.
St. Paul says in our second reading: “in Him you were enriched in every way . . . so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift as you wait for the revelation of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
During this Advent season, as we become more and more aware of the deepest longings of our lives, we must also become more and more aware of the spiritual gifts that we have been given to aid us in our waiting.
Like the servants in today’s Gospel, we have each been given our own work to accomplish while the Master is away. When He returns, He expects to find us accomplishing this work – using the spiritual gifts we have been given.
We know that this work will not, by itself, be capable of accomplishing the things we long for most. We will not be able to build a perfect life or a perfect world with our own hands and minds.
But using our spiritual gifts as best we can reminds us of the Giver of all good gifts – and helps us see, that even in the midst of the world’s suffering and pain, there are also so many signs all around us that prove His coming kingdom.
This Advent, we remember that “we have a future worth waiting for and a God who keeps His promises:” “We wait in joyful hope for the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.”