Homily for the Third Sunday of Advent
The third Sunday of Advent has traditionally been called Gaudete Sunday, or the Sunday for rejoicing. The idea of course comes from the prayers and readings of today's Mass. The entrance antiphon urges us to "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say rejoice. The Lord is near." Obviously, Christianity does have a moral content. It does challenge people to live out certain values. In fact, if it doesn't challenge us, it has lost its energy and it is of little use to us. Nevertheless, this moral side of Christianity should not be harped upon to the exclusion of everything else. There is more to Christianity than the moral dos and don’ts. There is the element of joy and thanksgiving, a fundamental disposition for anyone who believes that God became man at Christmas time. Too often, we find people who would place themselves on the highest rung of the Christian ladder spitting fire and brimstone at those whom they consider to be morally less improved than themselves. As today's readings emphasise, the coming of Jesus is the fulfillment of the dreams and longings of the Old Testament people: It is good news in a special way for the poor, the weak, the lame and the blind. Today, on this third Sunday of Advent We are actually urged to celebrate our humanity. And how often do we find ourselves apologising for our humanity? After all, God deemed humanity capable of containing and expressing his own great love for the world. That is what the feast of Christmas is all about: God's great love for us in expressed in human form and frailty.
In fact the joy and celebration of our humanity which is urged upon us at advent time will be familiar to those of you who were blessed with the experience of awaiting the birth of your own children. Expectancy and joy are the two most prominent elements in today's three readings. In today's first reading we hear: "They will come to Zion shouting for joy, everlasting joy upon their faces, joy and gladness will go with them, and sorrow and lament be ended." We try to express this expectation and waiting with the empty crib and the unlighted Christmas trees. Throughout the season of Advent, the Christian community is cast in the role of expectant parents: there is great preparation, great expectations, and a growing sense of joyful wonder.
That same sense of waiting and wonder was stirred up among the people by Jesus. This was the kingdom being realised in Christ. This was the kingdom taking shape before their eyes. In order to emphasise that, in the most compelling and convincing way, Jesus quoted Isaiah almost verbatim: 'Go back and tell John what you hear and see; the blind see again, and the lame walk, those suffering from virulent skin-diseases are cleansed, and the deaf hear. . . and the good news is proclaimed to the poor' (Mt 11:5). Jesus drew attention to his miracles as evidence of the heavenly approval implicit in his healing power and as evidence of the fulfillment of messianic prophecy in his person. 'Yes, I am the Messiah,' he was saying to his questioners. 'My actions speak for themselves'.
But these miracles to which Jesus referred are more than demonstrations of power, more than the fulfillment of prophecy. They are manifestations of love. As such they are indicators of the kind of person he is and the redemptive nature of his kingdom. Christ did not use people as guinea pigs in a public demonstration of power, as a hypnotist uses his volunteers in a theatre. The afflicted were not mere pawns in a power game. Christ was not out to impress so much as to embrace. He cured the blind and the lame because he loved them. He stretched out to them, not the strong arm of the conqueror or the diverting hand of the conjurer, but the gentle hands of the healer who was also a lover. Here indeed was the 'hand of God' outstretched caressingly.
In fact we learn from the gospel that, instead of retribution and death, love and life are the keys to the mystery of the universe. They are at the heart of the kingdom established by Christ. Love is the key because the compassion that Jesus felt for the outcasts and the sick is the compassion he feels for us now. Life is the key, because the cures effected by Christ were not mere gestures made at a moment in time. They were not isolated incidents, against a background of disease and death, which affected the fate of a few fortunate individuals. These wonders are for all of us a pledge of perfection, a guarantee of eventual restoration in glory. They provide the assurance that 'what is sown is perishable, but what is raised is imperishable' (1 Cor 15:42-43). They make us certain of the day 'when God will wipe away all tears from our eyes' (Apoc 21:4). Because the blind saw, because the lame walked, because the dead rose, Christ began to make vain the boast of disease and death that nothing in creation is eternal; the risen body will know nothing of blindness, or lameness, or mortality. The story of God's kingdom is told in the opening line: 'The blind see,' it begins, and already we know the ending.
We are in a time of active waiting. In other words, those who are disadvantaged or deprived or vulnerable in any way have a special claim upon the followers of Jesus. This generosity of God is traditionally expressed at Christmas time when his followers exchange gifts with each other. This congregation has gone to great lengths over the last three weeks to give expression to this dimension of the Christian message. Through the Giving Tree, many of you have sought to 'give you cloak to those who have none.' The giving of gifts at Christmas time has an established and rightful place in the Christian message. It is part of our personal efforts to make the world a better, happier place, a more fitting place for a vulnerable Christ child. This is the spirit of advent, the generous spirit of Christianity. This is the spirit we try to capture on this Gaudete, joyful and expectant Sunday.
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