A Spiritual Reflection for Advent: 'The Comings of Jesus'

As part of my own preparation for the season of Christmas, I am going to post on the Sundays of Advent reflections from a publication entitled "All Things Made New: Homily Reflections for Sundays and Holy Days" by Harold A. Buetow, PhD, JD. Father Buetow has in recent years published an array of superb spiritual reflections for all the days of the liturgical calendar and the special occasions in one's life.

Father Buetow is a priest of the Diocese of Brooklyn who spent thirty years on the faculty of The Catholic University of America and was Senior Staff Editor on The New Catholic Encyclopedia. He is the author of the two most important books on Catholic education -- Of Singular Benefit: The Story of U.S. Catholic Education and The Catholic School: Its Roots, Identity, and Future. His more recent spiritual reflections are published by Alba House and are available through Amazon (see widget to the right).

I was privileged to take two graduate courses from Father Buetow at Catholic University and he has been my good friend for over twenty years. I have no doubt you will find these reflections helpful and inspiring for your own spiritual journey.

FIRST SUNDAY OF ADVENT

Is 63:16f.;64:1, 3-9 -- 1 Cor 1:3-9 -- Mk 13:33-37

The Comings of Jesus
By Harold A. Buetow, PhD, JD

A critic with a sense of humor once said of a play he disliked that he saw it under adverse conditions -- with the curtain up. For many people life itself is a shapeless play without any apparent plot or direction. Many of us just slide along in life. If we gave the same amount of reflection to what we want to get out of life that we give to the question of what to do with a two-week vacation, we'd be startled at how aimless are our "busy" days. Reflection upon meaningful goals of life is made difficult by such pressures of modern living as how we're going to meet payments, the rampant secularistic outlook which suggests that this present world is all there is, the political approach which says that the materially good life is all we want.

Christian teaching goes against all that. In the Church's celebration of the mystery of Christ, during the closing Sundays of the past Church year we looked forward to the final coming of Jesus. Today, as we're beginning a new Church year, we do the same, in a marvelous mixture of end and beginning. Some, however, say that the Church's real "New Year" should be at Easter time, when the Lord makes all things new in his death and resurrection. Still others observe that there really is no "Church Year" as such, but that we simply have different liturgical seasons and celebrations. In any case, there are three cycles of readings, today we begin Cycle B, and Cycle B is the year of St. Marks' Gospel. Because of the analogy with Lent, Advent acquired a penitential character. The liturgical color is the color of penitence. But in Advent we're told to rejoice. So many would like to eliminate the penitential character of Advent. Advent should be a season when we renew our hope because of the coming of Christ.

As we reflect upon the period of waiting for Jesus' first coming at Bethlehem, as we begin to prepare for his coming now at Christmas, we also await his final coming into our lives. In other words, we celebrate his coming in history, his coming in mystery, and his coming in majesty. Knowing that he has already come as a child born of Mary gives us confidence. Amidst the overshadowing material preparations for Christmas, we begin our spiritual preparation for Christ's coming by way of the season of Advent.

Jesus' voice, through St. Mark's Gospel, stirs us to be watchful and alert (v. 33). The disciples had asked when the end of the world would come, Jesus didn't get specific about time, but his central teaching is that he will return in glory to usher in the end of the world. Because no one but the Father knows the precise time of any of the end events, it's necessary to be constantly vigilant. One thing is sure: No matter when Jesus' second coming to planet Earth, he will be coming to each of us at our death.

Jesus' one-line (v.34) parable about it tells of a traveling master who leaves his employees in charge. The moral of the story (vv. 35f.) is that we have to be on the alert not only about the end, but about our responsibility toward the present; Every moment has an eternal significance, so we should be on guard (v. 37). It's a message that's relevant to all times, but especially to our own, when some of our technological inventions remind us constantly that we live in the shadow of eternity. Troubled societies always ask questions about the end of the world. Ours is no exception. The fact always is that we're either going to go meet the Lord at death or when he appears in his glorious second coming -- whichever comes first, as the warranties say. These are fitting thoughts for Advent.

Equally fitting for the spirit of Advent are today's thoughts from Isaiah; thoughts given to his dispirited people around the end of their exile in Babylon of the need for a Redeemer for the human race's sinfulness. The passage opens and closes by addressing the Lord our father (vv. 63:16; 64:7), a reminder of the Exodus from Egypt when God had called Israel his son, his first-born (Ex 4:22). Because in this life we're all exiles, we make Isaiah's Advent prayer our own. No matter what one may see of sin in oneself and be disappointed, there's always encouragement: God rescues and saves -- but He does rescue and save. Even if you've hit bottom, there's the encouragement that there's no place to go but up.

When Isaiah saw Jerusalem hit bottom in ruins, he pleaded for God to tear the heavens open and come down (v. 19); the people of that time thought of the skies as a solid, plastic-like transparent vault, which would need breaking through for God to come to earth. At the same time Isaiah's prayer (64: 2-7), intended to be recited by all the people, confessed their guilt and admitted that God was right to have permitted the Exile as a punishment for sin. God hasn't heaped a heavy burden of sorrow upon sinners; He's simply allowed sinners to wallow in their own responsible guilt. By ourselves, we're like withered leaves carried to and fro by the winds of our guilt. (God's welcoming attitude is well expressed by the beautiful hymn, "Come back to me.")

St. Paul in today's Second Reading also provides an appropriate opening to the season of Advent. Paul was aware of the sinfulness of the Corinthians, even the Christians among them: pride, immaturity, faithlessness, and -- a very great problem -- the divisions within the community. Despite his knowledge that he was going to have to deal honestly with these problems, Paul diplomatically begins his letter warmly. He opens (v. 3) with a prayer for what have become the essential blessings of Christianity: "grace" -- what the nonreligious world might call "good health" or "good luck" -- and "peace," the Jewish "shalom," a special kind of all-embracing well-being that can come from God alone. This includes not only harmony among people, but also the forgiveness of sins and reconciliation with God: the kind of warmth we feel at Christmas.

In this opening of his letter, Paul addresses some Corinthian Christians who were boasting of their many gifts. None seemed to understand that gifts are things one doesn't deserve and can't earn. Among their gifts were the wonder-causing speaking in tongues, prophecy, proclaiming wisdom, teaching, and making public God's revelations. We can think of others that have been given to us -- music, for example, or the ability to work with one's hands, and all kinds of other talents. All of them aren't to be used for our gain, but held in trust for the honor of God.

Right up front, Paul states his own position about himself. Some Corinthians had had doubts about whether Paul was a true apostle, because other preachers were more dynamic than he. He reminds them that the very gifts they had from God were proof that his preaching had been effective (vv. 6f). Paul's reference to waiting for Jesus' full revelation (v. 7) is an excellent expression of the Advent spirit. Part and parcel of Paul's teaching is that the Lord will come in glory at the end of time. Until that time, all are to rely on God's gifts of faith, grace, and peace.

The Advent theme continues as Paul speaks of the "day of our Lord Jesus Christ." The Jewish Scriptures had often used the phrase, "The Day of the Lord." Paul and the other early Christians looked upon that day as the time when the Lord would return in his full glory; it would also be a day of judgment. Meanwhile, reminiscent of the spirit of encouragement in Isaiah, Paul reminds us that through all our problems and difficulties God is faithful, and has called us to fellowship with his Son (v. 9). That fellowship is very intimate: It means the life-giving union that exists among us faithful that arises from our union with Christ.

We can't call ourselves Christian and live our lives without a purpose. We wait for the comings of Jesus -- in everyday living, at Christmas, at our death, and at the end of the world. We're going to be held accountable for the eternal significance of every moment. All waiting involves some tension, even if it's simple waiting on a street corner for a friend. When waiting involves the very meaning of life, temptations can intrude themselves. In that respect, we're no different from the ancient Israelites who were tempted to despair before seemingly insurmountable difficulties, the Corinthians who were tempted to pride over their gifts, and Jesus' first apostles who were tempted to gloat in the power of the Second Coming.

The seventeenth-century Italian painter Salvator Rosa painted "L'Umana fragilita." It depicts a mother, an infant, and Death, who is represented by a winged skeleton. As the mother looks on passively, Death is forcing the baby to scrawl the following words on a piece of paper: "Conception is sinful, life is suffering, death inevitable." At an exhibit of that painting in the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., modern cynical non-believers stood transfixed before this barren summary of their lives.

But Christians have what Isaiah promised: a new hope, a new light. And our waiting for Jesus isn't a despair-filled tension. So we live by faith, walk in hope, and are renewed in love so that, when the last scene of the drama of our life unfolds and Jesus comes to be our judge, we shall not merely know him, but come to him as a friend.