"Rejoice in the Lord always, again I say rejoice. For the Lord is near."

It’s a peculiarly human phenomenon to have joy in anticipation, in knowing happiness ahead of time. To illustrate what I mean: an animal can have a sense of satisfaction, a feeling of comfort, in being fed or warmed. While we would hesitate to go so far as to call that kind of contentment ‘joy’, yet we certainly know that this experience can’t be had by an animal in advance. No, its pleasure must be simultaneous when the present advantage is gained. Likewise, an angel–so it seems to me–doesn’t know this experience of rejoicing before attainment, because an angel comprehends, gets the whole picture of things, right from the start, all at once. Ruling out animals and angels leaves us humans. We have all felt this: we have all been elated by the news of some future good thing that’s going to happen, even though at that very moment, the good thing is still lacking. In such cases, some of the satisfaction that is yet to come is anticipated: a little bit of the future invading the present time. And it is that which is a distinctively human thing.

Today is known as Gaudete Sunday, or ‘Rejoice’ Sunday, if you will, on account of the opening words of the Introit text for this Mass. "Rejoice in the Lord always, again I say rejoice. For the Lord is near." The words are Saint Paul’s, from Phillippians. The applied meaning here, of course, is the proximity to Christmas day. We know it’s coming and we are joyful at the prospect. Here again is that uniquely human capability of foretaste. The darker advent purple lightens to rose color, and the liturgy has a cheery spirit.

It would be too small a thing for the Church to be stirring us to merriment in advance of Christmas. While the Church certainly knows how to celebrate feast days–even in a big way–nevertheless it is not so much about the things here and now that the Church acclaims, but what is yet to come in the life beyond. All of Advent in fact looks forward not just to Christmas day, but to the second coming of Jesus to the earth, when He will end earth’s time and bring in the time of eternal gladness. The mere thought of that, just knowing that it will be, for a certainty, already stirs in the Church this excitement. Never mind that Christians have been waiting two millennia for it. It’s a surer thing than my being present here at this moment, for Christ has said that it will certainly come.

Now, we know that this future time will not be pleasant and joyful for everybody. Our faith has informed us about that too. For some, everlasting bliss, for others "everlasting horror and disgrace". Being in mortal sin at the hour of death, or at the second coming of the Lord will mean utter misery and unending wretchedness. If that is so, why is not everyone–every Christian, at least–living the holiest of lives? The reason, of course, has much to do with this yearning for joy that I have been talking about. Everyone craves happiness. This is the ‘bait’ that lures us, not only to pursue high and great things, but also the ignoble and base things as well. "I want what I want, and I want it now" is the refrain of a spoiled child. It is also the philosophy of the sinner. Sin is, in a certain sense, a denial of hope. It is a preference for immediate advantage, pleasure, convenience, relief, or self-assertion, for holding off, restraint, suppression–waiting, in a word, for a greater thing, a better thing, a reward that is yet to come, a reward that is granted precisely for the very refusal to take sin’s offer of present benefits. Even though we know that sin is a curse and a promise of great future evil, we go ahead and consent to it. This is foolishness, madness, and, in the language of the day, ‘poor life’s management’. Clearly, we need to bolster our determination to be observant of God’s laws and fearful of the consequences of disobedience to them.

If we put our hope in sin, if we look forward to doing bad, we know all the same that we are going to be shortchanged, disappointed. Experience has taught us this. One encouraging line from Scripture says that "hope will be disappointed." Sin always disappoints. The devil promises big and delivers little. God promises all and asks for little. The only smart choice is for God and for heaven.

The Te Deum is a hymn the Church prays every Sunday. It ends with these words: In you, Lord, I have hoped. let me not be put to shame forever." That line expresses for me what is the meaning of Advent and what should be the Christian’s explanation for keeping the commandments and for putting up with the discomforts of refusing sin’s immediate appeal: "I’m waiting for a better thing; I will not be confounded forever."

There is a little phrase also in the text used for today’s Introit that is omitted by the Church for the sake of brevity, but which is significant here. Saint Paul says that we should "rejoice in the Lord always for He is near," but then he adds, "let your moderation be seen by all." Holding back now; gaining everything later.