Homily for the Third Sunday of Advent – Year C 2012

You Better Watch Out, You Better Not Cry?

Last weekend Brenda and I took the girls out to do some Christmas shopping and we ended up at a local sporting goods store looking at boots, hats and gloves. And as we made our way up the stairs to the second floor we saw a young boy, probably five or six years old, trying to hide behind the winter coats. He had obviously had enough of Christmas cheer, and was ready to go home. And his mom looked to be at her wit’s end.

And I overheard her say those words that parents often say this time of year to their young children, “Don’t forget, Christmas is close, and Santa is watching.”

Immediately my mind jumped to the words from “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town”:

“He sees you when your sleeping, he knows when you’re awake, he knows if you’ve been bad or good so be good for goodness’ sake.”

It’s a difficult time of the year if you’re a kid. On the one hand, you have the joy of knowing that presents are coming and school is about get out. On the other hand, there’s all this pressure to behave because Santa’s watching.

It takes all the fun out of waiting.

We see that same dynamic at work in today’s liturgy.

Today is Gaudete Sunday, Rejoice Sunday.

The Church gives us this Third Sunday of Advent to remind us how close we are to celebrating the Incarnation, how close we are to Christ’s coming at Christmas.

The words of St. Paul give the day this name: “Rejoice in Lord always. I shall say it again: rejoice!”

That same sentiment is echoed in the first reading from the prophet Zephaniah: “Shout for joy, O daughter Zion!” “Sing joyfully, O Israel!”

We’re only nine days away from Christmas, and so we light a rose-colored candle, we use rose colored vestments, we hear these enthusiastic words of rejoicing and joy.

And and the other hand we have John the Baptist.

John the Baptist is like that mother reminding her son to behave. He takes all the fun out of waiting.

Why would we have such a somber gospel reading on a day that’s supposed to be so joyful?

As we remember from last week, John was the voice crying out in the wilderness to prepare a way for the Lord. He calls people to a baptism of repentance.

And so the people are coming to John the Baptist with a question, a key question: What should we do?

There are three groups of people that come by. To the crowds he says, look, if you have got two cloaks, give one to the person who doesn’t have any.

To the tax collectors he says, stop stealing from people. Just do your job and do it well.

And to the soldiers he says, Don’t bully people. Stop misusing your authority.

And he speaks with such force, with such conviction, that they begin to wonder if he is the Messiah. They begin to be expectant just as we are expectant here in the season of Advent.

And he says, No I’m not the Messiah, but you better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout, I’m telling you why–because the Messiah is coming–with his winnowing fan, with that long blade where he’s going toss the grain up in the air, and the loose chaff will blow away into the wind to be burned.

And this is our reading for Rejoice Sunday?

What is there to rejoice about in this reading?

The tax collectors certainly aren’t rejoicing. John’s telling them to stop skimming off the top. They’re going to take a cut in their pay.

It’s certainly not a positive message for the soldiers because they’re going to have to start toeing the line and their authority’s going to start to mean less and less.

And those with two coats–they’re going to have to give one of those up.

But there’s another group of people Luke is speaking to with this message.

And to these people this message gives great hope. This message gives them great cause for rejoicing.

It’s the people who have no coat who are rejoicing.

It’s the people who have been cheated out of their taxes day after day that have cause to “sing joyfully.”

It’s the people who have been pushed around by the soldiers.

It’s those innocent victims in Connecticut and their families.

Luke speaks to the poor, to the downtrodden, to those who would normally have no reason to rejoice about anything.

To them he says, the Lord is coming, the Lord is coming to rescue you. To rescue you from the brutality of those in authority, to rescue you from those who use their position to cheat you, to rescue you from poverty, to rescue you from tragic and senseless violence.

The Lord is coming.

And not only is the Lord coming, but as we draw on the words of Zephaniah, the Lord is coming because of you.

He sings because of you.

And so today we can take comfort. The Lord rejoices over us with gladness.

The Lord sings joyfully over us, whether we are the soldiers, the tax collectors, the crowd with several coats, the Lord comes for us too and calls us to share what we have, to live up to the best of our selves.

If we’re in authority in our jobs or in the home, to lead without dominating.

If we have more than others, to share what we can.

And if we are unemployed right now, if we are sick right now, if we’re hurting right now, in a broken relationship right now, mourning the loss of the innocent, the Lord is near.

For centuries, the chosen people waited in darkness. They waited as Pharaoh enslaved them, they waited as they were conquered by the Assyrians, the Babylonians, the Greeks, the Romans.

And as they waited they rejoiced. They rejoiced in the hope of a promise.

God promised to deliver them from bondage, to bring them back from exile, to save them.

And God fulfilled that promise.

That hope kept them faithful through the centuries, that gave them the courage and strength to keep going, came about.

And God fulfilled that promise. He fulfilled it by submitting to bondage himself, by going into exile here on earth, by accepting the cross of betrayal, humiliation, and death.

Our God. Our Messiah. Our savior.

We carry our own crosses through those doors, down these aisles, and we lay them across the shoulders of the only One strong enough to take them from us. Because, God knows, we are not strong enough to carry them alone.

And our Christ, our weak, broken, shattered Messiah, stops on his way to Calvary, stops and looks at us with sad eyes, bows his head, and willingly receives the burdens we can no longer bear alone.

Even on Gaudete Sunday, on Rejoice Sunday, the cross casts its shadow. But the only reason it has a shadow is that there is a great light above it, a light that is stronger, a light that has already conquered the darkness.

That is the good news today, truly great cause for rejoicing.

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