1 Advent A, 2007 (Novus Ordo)

Today in the Church’s calendar we begin afresh with Advent, a season that commemorates the coming of God into the world. While this may be, to a certain extent, old hat to you who have been faithful Catholics, there’s always a new angle from which to contemplate this re-commencement of the liturgical year.

What was the very first advent? I ask you to travel with me in your imagination to the time that was before time; to the great abyss of nothingness; that empty void that had been awaiting the all-powerful word of God to bring creation forth out of nothing. This was surely the very first advent, even if in only in a manner of speaking. It was the time before creation, when there was only God living in Himself without manifesting and expressing Himself outside of Himself. Thinking about this sense of advent compels us to recognize how radically dependent we are upon God the Creator. We came out of nothing and would instantly revert into nothingness unless we were sustained by the will of God. This was the very first advent: the coming of God the Creator.

Then there was the coming of God the Redeemer. Here we are in more familiar territory, recalling the long advent before the coming of Christ. How many thousands of years did it take from the time God first spoke His creative word, “Let it be” until Mary spoke her own “Let it be...done to me?” Neither science nor the bible supplies an exact answer. Creation ‘groaned’ (that’s St. Paul’s word) on account of a kind of sickness that followed from original sin, until the second advent came about: and then, following it, the redemption. After the first advent of creation, there needed to be an advent of re-creation, of God coming to repair what we had damaged. It is in this sense of advent that the Church wants us put ourselves in an attitude of supplication, beseeching God to come–not just in some vague sense of coming, or a coming for no purpose–but a coming to save us. As long as we’re in this condition of being pilgrims, wayfarers, travelers, we’re in potential danger of not making it to heaven. This creates a kind of tension, an anxiety, even though it tempered by the hope that, with God’s mercy, we’ll have a chance.

Then finally, there’s the advent of God the Judge, the Rewarder and Punisher. As today’s Gospel forewarns, at the end of time our Lord will come in the glory of His majesty to reward the good and punish the wicked. It should brighten our spirits to think that one day Christ will come again and show His clout, shut the haughty mouths of all non-believers and every arrogant sinner. This sense of advent also helps us brace ourselves to face the trials and hardships of life. We should not become overly distressed over our lot because God will vindicate those who have stayed on course. It makes us glad to know that He will show everyone to their faces that all we have believed as Catholics, and the faith for which saints have labored and died, is the truth.

Vigilance is a key word in advent. I have some anxiety about the needed vigilance, anxiety not only for myself personally–which is a right attitude to have, since no one should presume that he stands justly before God. But this anxiety also concerns others. What I mean is that being Catholic doesn’t seem much to affect many people’s conduct. It’s an almost irrelevant factor in determining their opinions, their speech, their decisions. Yet we Catholics have it all: the wholeness of Christ’s truth, the Sacraments, true bishops, the Pope through genuine apostolic succession, and so on. Given these advantages, one might think that Catholics should be sterling models of faith, virtue and piety. For a variety of reasons, however–none of them excusing–many Catholics are bad Christians. Consider this. There’s probably no one here who does not have some family member or relative who’s a lapsed Catholic, a fallen, that is, non-practicing Catholic. What are we to make of that? If, as Scripture says, the just are saved only with difficulty (and we can readily believe it through our own experience of the difficulties in keeping the commandments), then what’s to happen to the disinterested and the arrogant? Anybody who loves God, and man for God’s sake, cannot be indifferent to the great peril in which many souls have placed themselves. Our faith in eternity is not some fiction devised to keep men in check, so that they might not commit crimes more egregious than they already do. Think that the salvation of man motivated the incarnation of the Son of God: to save sinners from perdition. Given the seriousness of the consequences of being irreligious and immoral, it’s shocking and saddening to realize that, by the looks of things, many people are not going to enter heaven. Surely, we can’t make judgments about particular individuals; only God is the competent Judge of all men. But that fact doesn’t prescind from the fact that there are many acts which people freely and frequently commit which are mortal sins and for which they are not rushing to confessionals begging pardon. And what are we to think about the many Catholics who don’t practice the faith? To miss Mass through one’s own fault either is or is not a mortal sin, another sin for each omission. In fact, however, the Church instructs us that such omissions are indeed mortal sins. What then is to be the expected lot of those who die in a state where they are unrepentant of the mortal sin of abstaining from Sunday Mass? Shall we hope purgatory for them? We cannot. The penalty for mortal sin is eternal punishment, which is hell. (The case of innocent ignorance is a separate consideration.) In several places of both Testaments there are sins specified which exclude a man from heaven. Jesus in many passages, this one just read being an example, warned us not to be lax but rather to be vigilant. Days are coming like the times of Noah when only a handful will survive destruction. You can perhaps see the reason for the anxiety: it’s for the salvation of souls. Despite the fact that God became man to save sinners, and that He died on the cross after most cruel torments for them to get to heaven, many simply couldn’t have a care. This is not the attitude nor state of soul that would merit the eternal life of heaven. Although we’ll never know in this life who or how many will make to heaven, according to the looks of things, there’s not much reason to suppose that the majority will make it. While we are forbidden to speculate about the state of anyone else’s soul, we can and we must insist that what’s a sin is a sin, and that if it’s mortal, it’s damning.

We are often bid to pray for the conversion of sinners. We are not like spectators at a sporting event anxiously awaiting the outcome of things. God has made it so that we are participants, not only in our own personal drama (and thus determiners of our own destiny) but also partners with Him (if we so choose to do so) in bringing about the conversion of others. By prayer, good example, a little counsel here, a little admonition there, doing some little or some great penances, we can be instruments of grace for some needy souls.

Advent reminds us of the need to secure that others, and ourselves as well, will have a good chance at eternal life. This is a great project. It is dear to the hearts of Jesus and Mary. It ought be dear to our hearts as well.