2nd Sunday Advent Homily C 2024
While out to dinner with friends on the eve of Thanksgiving, a young couple was seated at the table directly behind us, telling the waitress they were celebrating their first anniversary.
(At this point, I must insert that I wasn't able to tell if it was a wedding anniversary or the commemoration of their first date, for everyone younger than me is beginning to look like they are about 17 years old.)
Throughout the meal, I couldn't help but notice how attentive the young man was to the woman who sat before him. He was always directly in my line of sight, thus I could see the ways in which he listened with rapt attention to her stories and looked at her with a gaze that made it clear he adored her. When she glanced at her phone, he never took his eyes off her. When she stuck a strand of hair behind her ear, he smiled almost beatifically.
This young man was clearly head-over-heels in love.
What sealed it for me, in fact, was this particular moment, seemingly an insignificant one but one that said everything: when she excused herself to the ladies' room, her boyfriend stood with her, offered his arm and walked her to where the restroom was located.
He certainly didn't have to. No doubt she would have found it on her own, eventually. But he knew the bathroom was in an awkwardly-located space, behind the bar. Without his guidance, she might have wandered aimlessly, seeking without direction.
When love is real, it takes us by the hand and heart and points the way forward, and the other heart accepts what is offered.
What strikes me so powerfully about all our readings this second Sunday of Advent is the focus on the ways in which God takes hold of our world in order to show us the way: the way to truth and holiness; the way to healing and mercy; the way ultimately back to Him.
Like the young man in love who led his beloved to where she needed to be, so too does our God step in lead, shepherd, protect and guide.
Don't gloss over the names that Luke uses at the beginning of the Gospel to indicate the time and place when John came forth from the hiddenness of the desert to proclaim a Savior was on the horizon. They aren't meaningless details.
Rather, they point to the fact that God became man in history. He literally became part of our story out of love on order to save us -- both the Chosen people of Israel as well as all who would come to believe in him through the Sacrifice on Calvary and his Resurrection.
Here, then, were real men -- political figures no different than our own -- who often used selfish ways to obtain what they wanted. Men who used whatever means necessary to win power, control, prestige ... you name it.
And into that very space came the voice of a nobody, speaking truth to worldly power by quoting the prophet Isaiah: clear the way; fill in the valley; make straight the paths.
This statement means very little to us, of course, but in ancient times, whenever a king was to arrive to one of his outposts, it would be both shameful and criminal for him if he was forced to travel a highway that was gutted, rocky, incomplete and meandering. (The king would not travel the Schuylkill Expressway, in other words...)
Knowing, then, that the King was coming, the townspeople would get to work, doing whatever was needed to prepare his way, not so much out of fear but because they honored him; some would go so far as to use the word "worship." Leaders like Annas and Herod expected to be treated like gods.
Isn't it fascinating to see in stark contrast to this show of preparation for earthly kings the way in which the True King has come to us, in order to take us by the heart and lead us? This King comes to us in obscurity as a baby; he lived the humble, hidden life as a Nazareth carpenter; and when his public ministry begins, it does so along the banks of the Jordan, where he who needs not be baptized is baptized so that we would know what we must do.
As he did, we must, too. Love led the way, and we must follow.
How do we do so now?
The answer lies in making straight paths to the very place God longs to be: at the very center of our lives.
By returning to the Sacrament of Confession and turning over our sinfulness and brokenness, we smooth the highway to our hearts.
By welcoming the stranger, forgiving our enemy, and carrying the Cross we've been asked/invited to embrace out of love for Christ, we begin to reflect His light, his heart to the world.
By receiving Him in Eucharist, we open ourselves to becoming the Church -- the New Jerusalem -- for which He gave His very life. And this Church becomes the very road others travel in safety and security to find Him, too.
That's why I'll cling to the image of the young man in the restaurant who took his beloved one by the hand and led her. She was his world, and he wanted to give her his everything.
She could have refused; she could have scolded: "I'll find it myself." But instead, with grace, she accepted the offer of love that stretched out his hand and she took it, allowing him to lead.
For at the end of the day, it was never really about the ladies room hidden behind the bar. It's about a love that says: "I give you my everything. Trust me and let me lead you. I forever want you to be safe and protected."
Will you -- will I -- accept the hand and heart that is being offered? Will we make the way clear for that Heart to reach us in our brokenness and sin? This is the "ask" -- and the task -- of the Second Week of Advent. Let Love in.