Discerning the signs

This is my homily for today, the Third Sunday of Advent, Cycle A.  The day's readings are here.  

Before the homily text, a few notes:

1. The day's Gospel reading is thematically appropriate for Advent, with its focuses on John the Baptist and the inbreaking of the kingdom, but in some ways it's a surprising selection, in that it's not from Matthew's infancy narrative.  Rather, the incident happens later in Matthew's Gospel: after Jesus not only has been born, but has grown to adulthood and seemingly is well into his public ministry.  It's as though the last two weeks' Cycle A Advent Sundays book-end John the Baptist's career, with last Sunday's reading recounting the beginning, and this Sunday's reading recounting the end.    

2.  Not that I expect anyone to keep track of this, but it's been a few months since I've posted a homily here.  That's because, until today, I haven't preached since September.  In the 20+ years I've been a deacon, I've preached once per month.  But that schedule was interrupted a few months ago.  Here is what happened: until September, we had two priests assigned to our parish.  Then the associate pastor left, rather unexpectedly.  All of his celebrant slots, not only for the weekend masses but also for weekday masses, funerals, etc., have had to be filled by visiting priests.  At our parish, the rule for preaching is: if the deacon is scheduled to preach, then the deacon preaches - unless the celebrant is a visiting priest.  As a courtesy, visiting priests always are invited to preach.  For the last two months, on the weekend that deacons are expected to preach, all of my scheduled masses were with visiting priests, so I haven't preached.  (I don't think that was intentional; it was just the luck of the draw that I was with a visiting priest every time.)  

In a way, I didn't mind the break - writing a homily takes a lot of time - but I missed it.  I've found that the exercise of preparing a homily is very good for me spiritually, because of the reflection and prayer that is required.  For me, the prayer isn't so much murmuring Hail Marys (although I'm capable of doing that, especially in desperation of I can't find something to talk about), as 'listening' with an open heart as I reflect on the word of God.  

Btw, the parish certainly didn't lose anything by my not preaching for a couple of months: our visiting priests, who are a combination of retired diocesan priests and active priests from a religious order (the Viatorians), all are good homilists.  The religious order priests, in particular, seem to preach from a different "place".  It's been a blessing to our faith community to have both groups.

3.  I gave two different homilies today.  The one I'm printing here was the 'adult' homily.  At another mass today, I invited the children to come forward and sit on the sanctuary steps, and I did a sort of Q&A homily with them, drawing their thoughts on Advent, preparing for Christmas and rejoicing (as today as Gaudete Sunday).  We sang a couple of songs together, too.  The kids did a great job.  But that kind of a homily, filled with dialogue and music, doensn't really translate to posting to a blog.  

At any rate, here is the 'adult' homily for yesterday:

Today, the third Sunday of Advent, is called Gaudete Sunday – Rejoice Sunday.  You can see that we’ve lit the pink candle on our Advent wreath, and we’re wearing pink vestments today.  The church is saying to us, No matter how cold it is outside, no matter how stressed out we are about the holiday season, no matter what is going on in our lives – try to rejoice today.  

It isn’t always easy to find joy in our hearts, is it?  If the days were getting longer, and the temperature was warmer, and a major holiday wasn’t looming, maybe it would seem easier to rejoice.  But rejoicing is what the church, which has had many centuries to ponder and pray about these things, challenges us to do today.  

Of course – we could be even worse off.  We could be John the Baptist.  Poor John: when last we heard from him, just last Sunday, he was electrifying the entire city of Jerusalem, all of Judea, and the whole district around the Jordan with his proclamation that the kingdom of heaven was at hand.  Vast crowds came to hear him and be baptized by him.  His ministry was taking off.  Things were going well.

But in today Gospel reading, he’s languishing in prison, in fact soon to be executed for offending powerful people.  So perhaps we shouldn’t be surprised that, at that moment, John the Baptist is not finding it easy to find hope and joy.  On the contrary, he seems to be suffering from distress and doubt.  He sends his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the one who is to come?”  We can hear the doubt in his voice: “Wait – we thought *you* were the one.  We thought you’d be the one to bring the purifying fire to everything that is messed up in the world.  We thought you’d be the one to use your winnowing fan to separate the wheat from the chaff, the good from the bad.  That’s what I promised; when is all that going to happen?  Did we back the wrong horse?  It is possible you’re really *not* the one?”

And Jesus gives a very Jesus answer: which is to say, he doesn’t answer a direct question with a direct answer. Instead, he says: Look around! What do you see? What do you hear?  Because the answers to your question and the allaying of all your doubts, are all around you, even now.  If you seek signs of hope and joy, then you must lift your eyes, and open your ears, and look around, because the signs are everywhere.  Stop stewing and see the wonders and miracles happening.

That just might be good advice for us.  There are signs of hope and joy all around us, even in this time of cold and darkness.  But we must look for the signs.  We must lift our eyes, gaze outward and look around.  

Because the signs may not be obvious.  They may not be front and center.  TikTok influencers may not be releasing videos about them.  Our social media and video algorithms may not be feeding them to us.  DoorDash may not be bringing them to our front door.  We may need to stop and look, and listen, and contemplate, and pray to discern them.  But they are there!

I think it’s likely that God has lavishly filled our world with signs of hope.  I think he does this for a couple of reasons.  One is that that’s just God’s personality: the good things he does for us, he does abundantly.  When God loves us, he doesn’t love us just a little; he loves us a lot.

The other reason is: I think different people are likely to perceive different signs.  So God gives us many kinds of signs, knowing that each of us is likely to miss a lot of them, but maybe we’ll catch some of the ones we’re sort of wired to catch.  I know that the signs of God’s presence and goodness among us that I perceive, are not the same ones my wife Therese perceives – and vice-versa.  

For example, she’s more likely than I am to see signs of God’s loving presence in nature.  We’ve visited Niagara Falls several times.  Therese would happily spend an entire afternoon or even an entire day at the Falls, awed by the endless surge.  She would marvel at how God’s power is revealed in that mighty cascade.  She can also see God’s presence in smaller things, like a blossom on a fruit tree in springtime, offering thanks and praise to God who ordains that winter melts into spring as God creates new life and new hope, year after year.  

Whereas I look at Niagara Falls for two minutes and say, “Huh.  That sure is a lot of water.  What else should we do today?”  And if I see a blossom on a tree, I tend to reach for the allergy meds.  Please understand: I’m not saying she’s wrong and I’m right – in fact, it’s more likely to be the opposite.  It’s just that these particular signs of God’s presence and goodness are more likely to speak to her than to me.

But God has provided signs of his presence and goodness to me, too.  Yesterday, I spent nearly three hours with our Outreach ministry.  We served about 70 families.  They were so cold!  Yet they were in a good mood.  Perhaps that was because the holiday is near – although I’ve observed that the holidays don’t always foster good cheer and merriment; they bring stress and worry and complication into our lives.  But I think it’s more likely that the people whom we assist through our Outreach ministry are in a good mood on Saturdays because they know that St. Edna is a good place – a place where they can be fed the food they need, and a place filled with care and love.  To be sure, much of the credit goes to our amazing Outreach and Food Pantry ministers, who treat our Outreach clients with kindness and patience, 52 Saturdays a year.  But it isn’t just them.  It's this entire faith community and what God has enabled us to build here.  This is a good place.  This is a place where God is present, and I sincerely think that people who come to this place can sense that, even if they’re not always conscious of Him.  

Our Outreach and Food Pantry ministers may be living signs of hope to our clients who come to us for help.  And our clients surely are signs of God’s presence to those of us who serve them.  We’re signs to one another that Jesus is not only coming soon, but he’s here with us.

Lift your eyes and look about.  What do you hear?  What do you see?  Can you see the signs?  I have a prayer for Advent: that we look around and listen during this holy season.  That we remove the spiritual blinders from our eyes, and remove the earbuds from our ears, and open our closed hearts to God’s presence.  And when we sense that God is present, loving us and watching over us and saving us – then we’re ready to rejoice!