Category: Advent

I was explaining to a new Catholic recently that the reason the color purple (violet) is used during Advent is that Advent, like Lent, is considered a penitential season. During these times we are to give special attention to our sins and our need for salvation. Traditionally, Advent was a time when would take part in penitential practices such as fasting and abstinence, just as is done during Lent.

In recent times, though, Advent has become almost devoid of any real penitential practices. Neither fasting nor abstinence is required; they are not really even mentioned. There is nothing in the Missal or other liturgical sources that refers to Advent as a penitential season. While confession is encouraged and the readings of early Advent still retain a focus on repentance and the Last Judgment, the era of the forty-day fast beginning on November 12^th is long gone.

During the Middle Ages, Advent observances were every bit as strict as those of Lent. St. Martin’s Feast Day was a day of carnival (meaning “farewell to meat” (carnis + vale)). In those days, the rose vestments of Gaudete (Rejoice) Sunday were a real indication of something to celebrate: the fast was relaxed for a day. Then it was back to fasting until Christmas. Lent began with Mardi Gras (Fat Tuesday), when the last of the fat was used up before the Lenten fast would begin the next day.

The fasting and abstinence practiced in those days were far more strict than the token observances we have today. There were regional differences in the details. In many places all meat was strictly forbidden during both Advent and Lent, but some areas permitted fowl. Most regions allowed the consumption of fish. Some areas prohibited fruit and eggs. In monasteries, little more than bread was consumed. On the Fridays of Lent and Advent, some believers abstained from food for the entire day; others ate only one meal. In most places, however, the Friday practice was to refrain from eating until the evening, when a small meal without vegetables or alcohol was eaten.

Yes, those were the days of the giants, when fasting and abstinence were real sacrifices.

Today’s token fast (required only on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday) isn’t much of a burden: one full meal and two smaller meals. Is that really a fast at all? And we are only obligated to abstain from meat on the Fridays of Lent rather than the entire forty days.

What is most remarkable to me is that such fasts of old were undertaken by people who had a lot less to eat than we do today. Not only was there less food overall, but is was far more seasonal and its supply less predictable. Further, famines and food shortages were relatively common. Yet despite all this, they were able to fast twice a year for forty days at a stretch, eighty days in total. There were also “ember days” sporadically throughout the year at the change of seasons, when a daylong fast was enjoined.

Frankly, I doubt that we moderns could pull off the fast of the ancients, or even the elders of more recent centuries. Can you imagine all the belly-aching (pun intended) that would ensue if the Church called us to follow the strict norms of even 200 years ago? We would hear complaints that such demands were unrealistic and even unhealthy.

Perhaps this is a good illustration of how enslaved we are by our abundance. The more we have, the more we want; and the more we want, the more we think we can’t survive without. We are so easily owned by what we claim to own, enslaved by our abundance.

When I ponder the Catholics of 100+ years ago, they seem like giants compared to us. They had so much less that we do today, yet they seem to have been so much freer. They were able to fast. Though poor, they built grand Churches and had large families. They fit so many more people into their homes. They lived and worked in conditions few of us would be able to tolerate. Sacrifice seemed more “normal” to them. I have not read that there were any huge outcries during those times, complaints that the “mean, nasty Church” imposed fasting and abstinence during Advent and Lent. (There have always been exceptions for the very young, the elderly, the sick, and pregnant women.) Neither have I read that fasting from midnight until receiving Communion the next day was considered too onerous. Somehow they accepted these sacrifices and were able to undertake them. They had a freedom that I think many of us lack.

Imagine the joy when, for a brief time, the fast was lifted: the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, Gaudete Sunday, the Feast of the Annunciation, the Feast of St. Joseph, and Laetare Sunday. For us, Gaudete Sunday just means a pink candle, and wondering what we are rejoicing about. For Catholics of old, these were literally feast days.

I fully admit to being a modern man. I find the fasting and abstinence described above nearly “impossible.” I did give up wine this Advent, and during Lent, I swore off radio and television. But something makes me look back to the giants of old, who, though having far less than I, did such things as a matter of course.

There were giants in those days!

Outside, there is a great drama of light and darkness is unfolding before us. The light is giving way to darkness.

Here in the Northern Hemisphere the days are getting very short; and they’re going to get even shorter. In Washington D.C., where I live, it’s dark by 5:00 PM. On cloudy days, it’s almost dark by 4:00! My brothers both live farther north, one in St. Paul and the other in Seattle; it gets dark even earlier there.

There’s a humorous quote (attributed to Yogi Berra) that goes, “It’s getting late very early out there.”
For us who live in modern times, the drama is less obvious, little more than an annoyance as we merely have to switch on the lights earlier.

But think of those who lived not long before us, in a time before abundant electrical lighting. Perhaps it was possible to huddle near a candle or fire, but in the end, darkness put a real stop to most things. Neither work, nor reading, nor most forms of recreation could take place. Darkness was a significant factor.

Recently, during a widespread power outage, I was struck by just how incredibly dark it was outside at night without the streetlights and inside lights emanating from homes. Frankly, I found it hard to even venture out. Bearings were quickly lost and I stumbled over simple things like a curb and a fence post. We moderns just aren’t used to this.

Once, I toured Luray Caverns in the Shenandoah Mountains. At the bottom of the caverns, hundreds of feet down, they gathered us near the center of a large cave and shut off the lights. The darkness was overwhelming. It was almost a physical feeling. I felt a wave of slight panic sweep over me and was so relieved when the lights came back on. Is this what it is like to be blind? Light is very precious.

And so, here in a “deep and dark December,” the light continues to recede. The spiritual impact of this drama of light is brought into the Church. Our hymns turn to images of light. The darker it gets, the more candles we light on the Advent wreath. In the darkest moments of December, our Advent wreath is at its brightest. As Scripture says, The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. … The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world (John 1:5, 9). An old prayer says, Within our darkest night you kindle a fire that never dies away.

As the drama of light outside continues, the shortest, darkest days of the year approach (December 21st and 22nd). By December 23rd, the ancients noticed a slight return of the light. The morning star heralds something new, something brighter.

People, look east. The time is near
Of the crowning of the year.
Make your house fair as you are able,
Trim the hearth and set the table.
People, look east and sing today:
Love, the guest, is on the way.

And then, on December 24th, in the middle of one of the longest nights, the liturgy of Christmas begins. Christ is born, and on December 25th a new light shines. The days begin to get longer.

Yes, a great drama of light is unfolding before us. It is Advent. It is time to recognize our need for the light and just how precious is Jesus, the light of the world. Ponder in these darkest days the beauty of the light.
Consider, too, the theme of light in many of the Advent songs we sing. Here are few excerpts, mostly from old Latin Hymns:

From “Veni, Veni, Emmanuel”:

O come, thou Dayspring from on high,
And cheer us by thy drawing nigh:
Disperse the gloomy cloud of night
And death’s dark shadow put to flight
Rejoice, rejoice Emmanuel,
Shall come to thee O Israel.

From the German hymn “Wachet Auf”:

Wake, awake, for night is flying;
The watchmen on the heights are crying:
Awake, Jerusalem, at last!
Midnight hears the welcome voices
And at the thrilling cry rejoices;
Come forth, ye virgins, night is past;
The Bridegroom comes, awake;
Your lamps with gladness take;
Alleluia! And for His marriage feast prepare
For ye must go and meet Him there.

From “Conditor Alme Siderum”:

Creator of the stars of night,
Thy people’s everlasting light
Oh Christ, thou savior of us all,
We pray thee hear us when we call

From “Vox Clara Ecce Intonat”:

Hark! a thrilling voice is sounding;
“Christ is nigh,” it seems to say,
“Cast away the works of darkness,
O ye children of the day.”
Wakened by the solemn warning
Let the earthbound soul arise;
Christ, her Sun, all ill dispelling,
Shines upon the morning skies.

From the Liturgy of St. James (4th century) “Σιγησάτο παρα σὰρξ βροτεία”:

Rank on rank the host of heaven
Spreads its vanguard on the way,
As the Light of light descendeth
From the realms of endless day,
That the powers of hell may vanish
As the darkness clears away.

From “Veni, Redemptor Gentium”:

Thy cradle here shall glitter bright,
And darkness breathe a newer light,
Where endless faith shall shine serene,
And twilight never intervene

Enjoy this Advent and watch for the light; it will surely come.

For my money, the best Advent hymn ever is Veni Redemptor Gentium (Come Redeemer of the Nations), written by St. Ambrose in the 4th century. It is more widely known by the title “Come Thou Redeemer of the Earth.” Sadly, it is not often sung in Catholic parishes today. Most Catholics I’ve asked have never even heard of it.

One of the beautiful things about the ancient Latin hymns is how richly theological they are. Not content to merely describe an event, they give sweeping theological vision and delve into its more hidden mysteries.

Here we are in Advent and Jesus is coming. Get ready! Well, yes, but He’s not just coming; He’s redeeming, dying, rising, ascending, and reigning at the Father’s right hand! But how can you squeeze all of that into an Advent hymn? Well, just below you can read the text and see.

Full vision – For now, ponder the theological point that hymns like this make: no act of God can be reduced merely to the act in itself. Everything God does is part of His sweeping master plan to restore all things in Christ, to take back what the devil stole from us. Too often we see the events of our redemption in a disconnected sort of way. But it is all really one thing and the best theology connects the dots. It is not wrong for us to focus on one thing or another, but we must not forget that it is all one thing in the end.

Without this reminder, we can easily develop a kind of myopia that overemphasizes one aspect of redemption at the expense of others. In the 1970s and 1980s it was “all resurrection all the time,” but no passion or death.

Christmas, too, has its hazards. We get rather sentimental about the “baby Jesus” but miss other important aspects of his incarnation. The passion and death are present in His birth into homeless poverty, the swaddling clothes, the flight into Egypt, and so forth. The Eucharist is evident in His birth at Bethlehem (House of Bread) and His being laid in a manger (a feed box for animals). His glory as God and His ultimate triumph are manifested in the star overhead and the angels’ declaration of glory! You see, it is all tied together, and the best theology connects the dots.

With that in mind, I present this wonderful Advent hymn, so seldom sung in our Catholic parishes. It can be sung to any Long Meter (LM) tune but is usually sung to its own melody (“Puer Natus”). You can find this melody in the index of most hymnals. I provide below only the English translation, but both the Latin and the English are available in this document: Veni Redemptor Gentium. I think the poetic translation reprinted below is a minor masterpiece of English literature and hope that you’ll agree. Enjoy this sweeping theological vision of the mystery of Advent caught up into the grand and fuller vision of redemption.

Among the theological truths treated in this brief hymn are these: His title as Redeemer, His birth to a virgin, His inclusion of the Gentiles, His sinlessness, His two natures in one person, His incarnation at conception, His passion, His death, His descent into Hell, His ascension, His seat at the Father’s right hand, His divinity and equality with the Father, His healing and sanctification of our humanity so wounded by sin, His granting us freedom and eternal life, His renewing of our minds through the light of faith, and His opening of Heaven to us.

Not bad for a mere seven verses! St. Ambrose, pray for us!

Come, thou Redeemer of the earth,
Come manifest thy virgin birth:
All lands admire, all times applaud:
Such is the birth that fits our God.

Forth from his chamber goeth he,
That royal home of purity,
A giant in twofold substance one,
Rejoicing now his course to run.

The Virgin’s womb that glory gained,
Its virgin honor is still unstained.
The banners there of virtue glow;
God in his temple dwells below.

From God the Father he proceeds,
To God the Father back he speeds;
Runs out his course to death and hell,
Returns on God’s high throne to dwell. 

O Equal to thy Father, thou!
Gird on thy fleshly mantle now;
The weakness of our mortal state
With deathless might invigorate.

Thy cradle here shall glitter bright,
And darkness breathe a newer light,
Where endless faith shall shine serene,
And twilight never intervene.

All laud, eternal Son, to thee
Whose advent sets thy people free,
Whom with the Father we adore,
And Holy Ghost, for evermore.

This video below gives you an idea of what the tune for Veni Redemptor Gentium sounds like. The words in this version are slightly different from what is shown above, but the tune is perfect. Just try not to dance as it is sung!

The Gospel for today’s Mass (Monday of the Second Week of Advent) is the well-known story of the paralytic. There are many wonderful details that I could discuss (e.g., the four friends who bring him to Jesus—talk about great friends!), but I’d like to focus today on Jesus’ command: “Rise, take up your stretcher, and go home.” It is a small picture of the grace unto salvation offered to us by the Lord. Here is a man who is powerless to help or heal himself, so the Lord helps and heals him. Though “dead in his sins,” he now rises and lays hold of a whole new life.

This is a mid-Advent picture of why we need a Savior, and what He offers. Note three aspects of what Jesus says to the paralytic:

Rise – In other words, receive new life, new capacities. No longer be weighed down by weakness. Be set free. Rise to new life! When Jesus called Lazarus from the tomb, he said to the bystanders, “Untie him and let him go free.” St. Paul says of us, “You were dead in your sins … but made alive through Christ” (Col 2:13). And thus the paralyzed man, once powerless to move or take control, is now strong and free. His paralysis represents our weakness, our spiritual palsy, our inability to walk uprightly and in justice. To all this, Jesus says, “Rise!” He bids us no longer to be in bondage to sin, Satan, the world, and the flesh.

Rule – The Lord tells the paralytic man to take up his stretcher. He wants him to take authority over that on which he once depended. Whatever crutch you once leaned on, be strong enough now to carry it; don’t lean on it any longer. If you once depended on sin for happiness, take authority over it now. If you once needed alcohol to calm your nerves, take authority over it now; don’t lean on it anymore. If you once depended on gossip and detraction to feel important, take authority over it. Don’t be dependent on any sin. By being healed, have the power to carry it off like a trophy of victory. While it is true that we will always need some help in this life, no longer should we be wholly dependent on anything or anyone in this world. The Lord has authority in our life and He grants us increasing authority over our passions, desires, struggles, and gifts. He tells us to take up the authority He has rightly granted us and command our soul in justice and truth.

Return – The Lord says to him, “Go home.” In other words, make your journey back to God, back to your true home in the heart of the Father. Sin had separated us from God and driven a wedge between us. But now the veil in the Temple has been torn from top to bottom. Through Jesus, we have access to the Father. Like prodigal sons, we are now heading home. Look off in the distance! It is the Father, running to us to greet us! By offering forgiveness for our sins, Jesus has opened the gates of Heaven and restored us to a right and just relationship with His Father. If we will accept this gift and celebrate it regularly, our return is well underway; it is just over the next hill (Calvary). And just beyond is the heavenly Zion. “I rejoiced when I heard them say, ‘Let us go up to the House of the Lord!’”

The Second Sunday of Advent usually features the ministry of St. John the Baptist. He was the prophet who fulfilled the Office of Elijah, of whom it was said, See, I will send the prophet Elijah to you before that great and dreadful day of the Lord comes. He will turn the hearts of the fathers to their children, and the hearts of the children to their fathers; or else I will come and strike the land with total destruction (Mal 4:4-6).

St. John was a prophet who prepared the people of his time for the coming of Jesus by summoning them to repentance and opening them to the Kingdom of God in all its fullness.

But of course the coming of Jesus for which St. John prepared them has now been fulfilled. For us who ponder St. John’s office today, the coming of Christ for which we must be ready is His Second Coming.

Whom does “John the Baptist” represent for us? Surely it is the Church, which Christ founded to prepare people and draw them (us) from darkness into light. We experience the Church, not as an abstraction, but in our local bishop, priests, and deacons, as well as in our parents and catechists. Through all of them, the Church fulfills her mission to be a prophet that prepares us.

Furthermore, you are also called to be a prophet who prepares others for the coming of Christ as Judge. You do not work independently of the Church (at least you’d better not!); rather, the Church works through you.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church speaks of our prophetic office in the following way:

[The baptized] must profess before men the faith they have received from God through the Church and participate in the apostolic and missionary activity of the People of God (CCC, 1270).

We have an obligation to evangelize and to be prophets who prepare others for Judgment Day.

How can we do this effectively? What are the some of the essential ingredients of a prophet who prepares others? The ministry of St. John the Baptist provides four:

I. Poise – I use poise here in its older sense, referring to balance. The text says, John the Baptist appeared, preaching in the desert of Judea and saying, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!”

Note that John says two things: He first says, “Repent!” and then adds, “for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.”

This is a balance that must be gotten right. The preacher and prophet must speak frankly of sin and call people to repentance, but also speak of the grace available to conquer that sin and to point out the good news that the Kingdom of Heaven is open and available. John the Baptist was willing and able to declare the reality of sin and the necessity of repenting from it, but he was also able to declare the availability of the Kingdom, wherein one is able to find the grace to overcome sin.

Too many preachers, catechists, and even parents lack this proper balance. Some would say that in the past, sermons were all fire and brimstone; today, it’s more often the steady diet of “God is love” with little reference to the need for repentance. This is one of the reasons that our Churches have emptied over the past 40-50 years.

This is because the good news only has relevance and significance if the bad news is understood. If you don’t know the bad news, then the good news is no news. To illustrate, suppose you see a headline announcing a cure for a deadly disease. If you’ve never heard of this disease, the article will probably only be of passing interest. But if you or someone you love has the disease, you would probably be overjoyed and read the article very carefully. Because you know very personally the bad news of the disease, the good news of the cure means a great deal to you.

It is the same with the Kingdom. We have to know the bad news of sin in a very personal and profound way to fully appreciate the good news of salvation. In the Church we have been soft-pedaling the bad news, and so the good news seems irrelevant to many people; the medicine of the cure seems pointless. Why pray, receive sacraments, or read Scripture if everything is just fine? Why bother coming to Mass? Our Churches have emptied in part due to a lack of proper balance between repenting and believing that the Kingdom of God is at hand.

In order to be powerful and effective prophets, we have to speak frankly to others about the reality of sin and balance it with the joyful announcement of the Kingdom, with its grace and mercy now available. Prophecy must have the right balance.

St. John the Baptist didn’t sugarcoat things. He was explicit: we need to repent, or else. He spoke of a coming day of wrath and judgment for those who did not do so. He spoke of the axe being laid to the root of the tree, of fiery judgment and unquenchable fire. And he was not afraid to call the self-righteous “vipers,” equating their pride with that of the ancient serpent.

Too many people today are afraid to speak like this, thus they lack the balance necessary to be true preparing prophets. St. John joyfully announced the breaking in of the Kingdom of God and the coming of the Messiah, but he spoke of repentance as the door of access. Do we have this balance, or do we preach mercy without repentance?

II. Product – The text says, At that time Jerusalem, all Judea, and the whole region around the Jordan were going out to him and were being baptized by him in the Jordan River as they acknowledged their sins.

Here is the desired product of powerful prophecy: repentance unto salvation for all who believe. Preparing prophets do not seek merely to scare people; they seek to prepare them. To repent, to come to a new mind and heart by God’s grace, is to be prepared. This is the central work of the prophet who prepares: repentance unto salvation.

St. Paul wrote to the Corinthians about this aspect of prophecy and preaching. He is aware that he grieved some of them with his strong rebuke of the community (cf 1 Cor 5), but he is glad that it produced a godly sorrow, which in turn produced repentance and holiness. St. Paul also distinguishes between godly sorrow and worldly sorrow:

Even if I caused you sorrow by my letter, I do not regret it. Though I did regret it—I see that my letter hurt you, but only for a little while—yet now I am happy, not because you were made sorry, but because your sorrow led you to repentance. For you became sorrowful as God intended and so were not harmed in any way by us. Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death. See what this godly sorrow has produced in you: what earnestness, what eagerness to clear yourselves, what indignation [at sin], what alarm, what longing, what concern, what readiness to see justice done …. By all this we are encouraged (2 Cor 7:8-13).

An old priest once told me, “Never think you have preached well unless the line to the confessional is long.” Good preaching, among other things produces repentance unto salvation. It may cause some to be angry or sad, but proper prophecy will produce a godly sorrow such that anger and sadness give way to gladness. The expected product of proper preaching is repentance unto salvation.

III. Purity – The text says, When [John] saw many of the Pharisees and Sadducees coming to his baptism, he said to them, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath? Produce good fruit as evidence of your repentance. And do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father.’ For I tell you, God can raise up children to Abraham from these stones. Even now the ax lies at the root of the trees. Therefore, every tree that does not bear good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.

John the Baptist had no fear of people’s opinions. He would not compromise his message based on his audience. The credentials of the temple leaders did not impress him. The status of the Jews as the chosen people did not cause him to soften his message. John had no fear of human opinion and no need to ingratiate himself to others, especially the rich and powerful.

Because of this, his preaching was pure. He did not compromise the message out of fear or the need to flatter others. He spoke boldly, plainly, and with love, desiring the ultimate salvation of all. If that called for strong medicine, he was willing to do it.

The ancient martyrs went to their deaths proclaiming Christ, yet many of us moderns are afraid of someone raising his eyebrows at us. Fear is a great enemy of powerful prophecy, for it causes many to remain silent when they should speak. The fear of what other people might think causes many to compromise the truth, and even sin against it. We must let go of this kind of fear if our prophecy is going to have the purity necessary to reach the goal.

IV. Person – The text says, I am baptizing you with water, for repentance, but the one who is coming after me is mightier than I. I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fan is in his hand. He will clear his threshing floor and gather his wheat into his barn, but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.

John’s disciples and his audiences were fascinated by him, drawn in by his charisma. They wanted to know more about him, but instead John talked about Jesus. That was his message: “Jesus, not me.” If we are going to be powerful prophets, our message must be about Jesus, not about us and what we think. We are not out to win an argument or boost our egos; our goal is not to become famous. We are about Jesus Christ, His gospel, His message, His truth. John said of Jesus, “He must increase; I must decrease” (John 3:30). A prophet speaks for the Lord, not for himself. A prophet announces God’s agenda, not his own. A prophet is about Jesus.

Here, then, are four important points about powerful prophecy: poise, product, purity, and person.

You are a preparing prophet whom the Lord seeks. Someone was John the Baptist for you. Someone brought you to Christ. Thank God for that person. But remember that you, too, are called to be John the Baptist for others. Learn from John. Apply his principles and make disciples for Jesus Christ.

One of the goals of Advent (in many ways a penitential season) is to meditate on our need for a savior. In daily Mass and in the Liturgy of the Hours, we read lengthy passages from Isaiah and the other prophets, who speak boldly and bluntly about the people’s sin. Some of the passages are even a bit humorous. Here are a few:

1. Hear, O heavens! Listen, O earth! For the LORD has spoken: “I reared children and brought them up, but they have rebelled against me. The ox knows his master, the donkey his owner’s manger, but Israel does not know, my people do not understand.” Ah, sinful nation, a people loaded with guilt, a brood of evildoers, children given to corruption! They have forsaken the LORD; they have spurned the Holy One of Israel and turned their backs on him. Why should you be beaten anymore? Why do you persist in rebellion? Your whole head is injured, your whole heart afflicted. From the sole of your foot to the top of your head there is no soundness—only wounds and welts and open sores, not cleansed or bandaged or soothed with oil (Isaiah 1: 2-6).
2. Hear this, O House of Jacob, called by the name Israel, sprung from the stock of Judah. You swear by the name of the Lord and invoke the God of Israel, but without sincerity or justice. …. I know that you are stubborn, that you neck is like an iron sinew and you forehead is bronze (Isaiah 48:1, 4).
3. All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags; we all shrivel up like a leaf, and like the wind our sins sweep us away. No one calls on your name or strives to lay hold of you; for you have hidden your face from us and made us waste away because of our sins. Yet, O LORD, you are our Father. We are the clay; you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand. … Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down, that the mountains would tremble before you (Isaiah 64:6-8,1).

The problem is not just a collective one; each of us is personally sinful and needs a savior. If we are honest we must admit that we can be selfish, egotistical, rude, insensitive, prideful, lustful, greedy, unkind, and ungrateful. We can be dishonest, insincere, shallow, inconsistent, double-minded, and uncommitted. We can be stingy, selfish, petty, spiteful, hateful, wrathful, vengeful, and just plain mean. We struggle with laziness, indifference, worldliness, and lack of discipline. We routinely fail to give witness to Christ and to our faith. We fail to submit our will to God, to give good example, to act justly, to show mercy, and to repent. We fail to obey God, lead a holy life, stand up for justice, speak the truth, call sinners to Christ, and pray for others. Did I mention somewhere that we need a savior?

To a large extent, Advent lays out the bad news so that we appreciate the magnificence of the good news of a cure. This is to prepare us for a Christmas that is really the joyful “counterpoint” to sin. After a devoutly celebrated Advent, at Christmas we can declare with ancient Israel, Today is born our Savior, Christ the Lord! Advent sets the stage for Christmas joy by reminding us of the drama of sin that threatens to destroy us. Suddenly, Christ appears to cast out our ancient enemy! And then we can say, Today is born our Savior, Christ the Lord.

One of the great problems in the Church today is the suppression of the “bad news.” Many in the Church prefer not to talk clearly and directly about sin. If it is mentioned at all, it is usually by way of abstractions and generalities. The paradoxical result of this suppression is not a happier Church, but a lukewarm, in some ways sadder one. Largely gone are the religious festivals, the joyful processions, and the confident public expression of Catholic faith.

So, remember this: a good Advent sets the stage for a joyful Christmas. This joy is different from the sentimentality about snow, lights, and tinsel. It is a deep, grateful joy that comes from knowing we are loved and have been rescued despite our sin. Permanent joy and salvation await us if we persevere in running the race of faith. Paradoxically, it comes from being deeply aware of our sinful condition.

Make a good Advent. Listen carefully to its message: “You need a savior!” If you deny sin, you deny the Savior. If you deny the Savior and the need for salvation, then Christmas and the cross are emptied of meaning.

Will Christmas be for you a mere holiday, or will it be a holy day?

This song, “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” speaks of Israel as a captive in need of ransom, mourning in exile. But then comes this refrain: “Rejoice, Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.”

The coming of Christ at Christmas was as an infant and thus we don’t usually think of wedding imagery. Yet since the first coming of Christ has certainly already been fulfilled, we now focus more on His second coming, of which the first coming is a sacramental reminder.

Thus, in Advent, our longing and excitement are also directed to His glorious second coming. Mother Church, the New Jerusalem, our Mother, looks for her groom Jesus to come again all His glory:

I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. … I heard what sounded like the roar of a great multitude in heaven shouting, “Hallelujah! Salvation and glory and power belong to our God. Let us rejoice and be glad and give him glory! For the wedding of the Lamb has come, and his bride has made herself ready. Fine linen, bright and clean was given her to wear” (Rev 21:2-3; 19:7-8).

This longing remains until Mother Church, Christ’s beautiful bride, hears these words from Him: Surge amica mea, speciosa mea et veni! (Arise, my beloved, my beautiful one and come!) (Song of Songs 2:10). Her longing cannot be quenched until He comes again in all His radiant beauty and majesty. Until then she longs, looks, and waits.

Although some of her children have attained to this glory, she waits and longs until the number of her elect children are complete and she, in her fullness, will go to be with her spouse forever in beatific glory.

One of the great Advent hymns of the Protestant tradition, “Wake, O Wake,” picks up this bridal theme and “weds” it with Advent longing. This particular translation (from the German) is a masterpiece; it is both biblical and artistic:

Wake, O wake with tidings thrilling;
The Watchmen all the air are filling;
Arise, Jerusalem, Arise!
Midnight strikes, no more delaying;
“The hour has come,” we hear them saying;
Where are ye all ye virgins wise?

The bridegroom comes in sight
Raise high, your torches bright!
Alleluia!
The wedding song swells loud and strong;
Go forth and join the festal throng.

Zion hears the watchman shouting;
Her heart leaps up with joy undoubting;
She stands and waits with eager eyes!
She her love from heaven descending;
Adorned with truth and grace unending;
Her light burns clear her star doth rise!

Now come our precious crown;
Lord Jesus, God’s own Son;
Hosanna!
Let us prepare to follow there
Where in thy supper we may share.

Yes, there is a great wedding feast in every liturgy, and its culmination looks to the glorious second coming of Jesus. This Christmas, look to your wedding garment, which the Lord gave you at baptism to bring unstained to the great judgment seat of Christ. The Bridegroom comes! Let us go out to meet Christ the Lord (cf Matt 25:6).

Here is a performance of the great wedding song of Advent, “Wake, O Wake,” by the choir of Trinity College in Cambridge.