A New HorizonFirst Advent SundayMatthew 24:37–44
41 “Two women will be grinding at the mill; one will be taken, and one will be left. 42 Therefore, stay awake! For you do not know on which day your Lord will come. 43 Be sure of this: if the master of the house had known the hour of night when the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and not let his house be broken into.”
Today in the Church a new liturgical year begins, which is a new journey of faith for the People of God. And as always, we begin with Advent. The passage of the Gospel (Mt 24:37–44) introduces us to one of the most evocative themes of Advent: the visit of the Lord to humanity. The first visit—we all know—occurred with the Incarnation, Jesus’ birth in the cave of Bethlehem; the second takes place in the present: the Lord visits us constantly, each day, walking alongside us and being a consoling presence; in the end, there will be the third, the last visit, which we proclaim each time that we recite the Creed: “He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead.” Today, the Lord speaks to us about this final visit, which will take place at the end of time, and he tells us where we will arrive on our journey.
The Word of God emphasizes the contrast between the normal unfolding of events, the everyday routine, and the unexpected coming of the Lord. Jesus says: “In [those] days before the flood, they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day that Noah entered the ark. They did not know until the flood came and carried them all away” (vv. 38–39): so says Jesus. It always strikes a chord when we think about the hours which precede a great disaster: everyone is calm, and they go about their usual business without realizing that their lives are about to be turned upside down. Of course, the Gospel does not want to scare us, but to open our horizons to another, greater dimension, one which, on the one hand puts into perspective everyday things, while at the same time making them precious, crucial. The relationship with the God-who-comes-to-visit-us gives every gesture, everything a different light, a substance, a symbolic value.
From this perspective there also comes an invitation to sobriety, to not be controlled by the things of this world, by material reality, but rather to govern them. If, by contrast, we allow ourselves to be influenced and overpowered by these things, we cannot perceive that there is something very important: our final encounter with the Lord. This is important. That encounter. And everyday matters must have this horizon, and must be directed to that horizon: this encounter with the Lord, who comes for us. In that moment, as the Gospel says, “Two men will be out in the field; one will be taken and one will be left” (v. 40). It is an invitation to be vigilant, because in not knowing when he will come, we need to be ever ready to leave.
In this season of Advent, we are called to expand the horizons of our hearts, to be amazed by the life which presents itself each day with newness. In order to do this, we must learn to not depend on our own certainties, on our own established strategies, because the Lord comes at a time that we do not imagine. He comes to bring us into a more beautiful and grand dimension.
Readings from the Fathers of the Church
Saint Augustine, Let us love and not fear him who will comeWhat then will the Christian do? He will make use of the world, but not become the world’s slave. What does that mean? In spite of having things, he will behave as if he did not have them. This is what the apostle Paul says: “The world in its present form is passing away. I should like you to be free of anxieties” (1 Cor 7:31–32).
He who has no worries is serene in waiting for the coming of the Lord. In fact, what sort of love do we have for Christ if we are afraid of his coming? And are we not ashamed of this, brothers? We love him, and we are afraid of his coming. But do we truly love him? Or is it, perhaps, that we love Christ less than our sins? Well then, let us hate sin, and love him who will come to punish sin! Whether we like it or not, He will come. If he does not come immediately, it does not mean that he will never come. He will certainly come, and when you least expect it.
If you want to find him full of mercy, be merciful yourself before he comes. If someone has slighted you, forgive him. If you have something in surplus, give it to your neighbor. Whose, in fact, are the things that you give? Are they not, perhaps, his things? If you were to give your own garment, you would be making an optional donation; but since you give the garment you got from him, you make nothing but a restitution. What in fact do you have that you have not received (cf. 1 Cor 4:7)? These, then, are the victims most pleasing to God: compassion, humility, confession, peace, charity. Let us bring these offerings to the altar and we will wait calmly for the coming of the judge, who will judge the world according to justice and the peoples according to his truth (cf. Ps 9:9).
A Big “Yes”Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin MaryLuke 1:26–38
34 “How can this be, since I have no relations with a man?” 35 And the angel said to her in reply, “The holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. Therefore the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God. 36 And behold, Elizabeth, your relative, has also conceived a son in her old age, and this is the sixth month for her who was called barren; 37 for nothing will be impossible for God.” 38 Mary said, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.
Today’s Gospel of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary presents a crucial point in the history of the relationship between man and God, leading us to the origin of good and evil. This is when God comes to live among us, becoming man like us.
And this was made possible through a great “yes”—that of the sin was the “no”; this is the “yes,” it is a great “yes”—that of Mary at the moment of the Annunciation. Because of this “yes,” Jesus began his journey along the path of humanity; he began it in Mary, spending the first months of life in his Mother’s womb. He did not appear as a man, grown and strong, but he followed the journey of a human being. He was made equal to us in every way, except for one thing, that “no.” Except for sin. For this reason, he chose Mary, the only creature without sin, immaculate. In the Gospel, with one word only, she is called “full of grace” (Lk 1:28), that is, filled with grace. It means that, in her, full of grace from the start, there is no space for sin. And when we turn to her, we too recognize this beauty: we invoke her, “full of grace,” without a shadow of evil.
Mary responds to God’s proposal by saying: “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord” (v. 38). She does not say: “Well, this time I will do God’s will; I will make myself available, then I will see . . .” No. Hers is a full, total “yes,” for her entire life, without conditions. And just as the original “no” closed the passage between man and God, so Mary’s “yes” opened the path to God among us. It is the most important “yes” in history, the humble “yes” that reverses the prideful original “no,” the faithful “yes” that heals disobedience, the willing “yes” that overturns the vanity of sin.
For each of us too, there is a history of salvation made up of yeses and nos. Sometimes, though, we are experts in the halfhearted “yes”: we are good at pretending not to understand what God wants and what our conscience suggests. We are also crafty. And so as not to say a true “no” to God, we say: “Sorry, I can’t”; “Not today, I think tomorrow.” “Tomorrow I’ll be better; tomorrow I will pray, I will do good tomorrow.” This cunning leads us away from the “yes.” It distances us from God and leads us to “no,” to the sinful “no,” to the “no” of mediocrity: the famous “yes, but . . .”; “yes, Lord, but . . .” In this way we close the door to goodness, and evil takes advantage of these omitted yeses. Each of us has a collection of them within. Think about it: we will find many omitted yeses.
Instead, every complete “yes” to God gives rise to a new story. To say “yes” to God is truly “original.” It is the origin, not the sin, that makes us old on the inside. Have you thought about this, that sin makes us old on the inside? It makes us grow old quickly! Every “yes” to God gives rise to stories of salvation for us and for others. Like Mary with her own “yes.”
Copyright © 2020 by Pope Francis. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
