It Really Happened

Fourth Sunday of Advent
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Modern American society struggles with accepting some historical facts.  Part of this could stem from the things that began as conspiracy theories and turned out to be true.  But there exists a certain suspicion of facts that cannot be verified to a modern American’s mind.
    This same phenomenon existed at the time of Christ, not so much as when came to history but as it applied to theology.  All over the western world people had told stories about the gods and goddesses and their encounters with people.  Usually, the pagan deities were basically exaggerated versions of humans: in their power; in their strength; in their violence; in their lust.  But for some time, a skepticism had crept in especially among the well-educated that the gods didn’t exist at all.  Yes, everyone kept the festivals, but fewer and fewer actually believed in the realities behind the festivals.  Divinity especially came to be doubted when the emperors started to claim divine status for themselves even though, demonstrably enough, they were mortal.
    In the midst of this doubt, St. Luke describes the real, historical fact of God-made-man.  He starts out today’s Gospel passage: “In the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar, Pontius Pilate being governor of Judea, and Herod being tetrarch of Galilee, and Philip his brother tetrarch or Inure and the country of Trachonitis, and Lysanias tetrarch of Abilene, under the high priests Annas and Caiphas.”  Luke points out that this is no pagan myth that goes back before anyone could witness it, or where the witnesses are all dead.  He points to a particular time in a particular place where St. John the Baptist begins his mission to prepare the way for the Lord by preaching a baptism of repentance.  His thesis stands thus: Jesus is real; just as real as Caesar, Pontius Pilate, Herod, Philip, Lysanias, Annas, and Caiphas.  

Icon of St. John the Baptist

    And it matches the preaching of the Precursor of the Lord: God is real, and He is finally fulfilling His promise to come among us and save us, so get right with God, because our salvation is at hand.  John wasn’t only telling the well-known Jewish stories about how God promised to send a redeemer who would conquer sin, as Genesis foretold; or how God would raise up a prophet like Moses to whom everyone would need to listen, as Deuteronomy said; or how God would install a Davidic king who would rule for all ages, as 2 Samuel said.  John didn’t simply point back to vague prophecies that waited to be fulfilled.  He told the people that now was the time of salvation, as the long-awaited Messiah came.  
    It is good for us to hear Luke’s account, and to remind ourselves that God is not trying to hide anything from us in way of history, and that our belief in God is not some long-ago wish that bears no relation to reality.  God is real, and the Second Divine Person of the Blessed Trinity came to us to redeem us at a particular time in a particular place.  And even though we were not there, we can trust those who were.
    But Luke also benefits us because Christ will return in glory.  And I think that sometimes we can treat that return like the first-century Jews treated the prophecies about the Messiah: yes, they’re real, but they won’t happen in our time.  We profess, each week, “Et iterum venturus est cum gloria judicare vivos et mortuos;” “He will come again with glory to judge the living and the dead.”  But do we really believe it?  Do we act like it could happen any day, which it could?  Or, do we think that because it didn’t happen in the time of our parents or grandparents, it won’t happen in ours?  
    Advent comes each year to remind us that Christ will return in glory, for which we should be ready.  God reminds us not to let our hearts grow weary because the Bridegroom seems delayed, and not to act as if he’s not coming, like the foolish bridesmaids.  Rather, we are to wait in joyful hope for the coming of our Savior, as St. Paul writes to St. Titus.  
 

  It’s easy for us to get distracted.  We get distracted in Advent because we have Christmas parties to attend, presents to buy, a house to decorate, etc.  We get distracted in life because so many other things–family, a job, or the lack thereof, clothing, food and drink–all seem more real and more pressing.  But nothing is more pressing than our relationship with God.  Our hunger and thirst will pass away; we will outgrow our clothes or the fabric will break down; one day we won’t work; even our family will not always be with us on earth.  But God is eternal.  And, in the end, we will either spend eternity with Him (even if it includes some purification in Purgatory) in Heaven or eternity without Him in Hell.  And part of that calculation will connect to how we prepared for Him to return.  
    Does this mean we live perfectly?  Or that we are scrupulous about every small fault or failing?  No.  But it means we make confession a regular, even monthly or weekly, part of our life.  It means that we give our hearts and minds as best as we can during this Mass to worship God.  It means that we care for the poor, the sick, the suffering, the immigrant, the infant in the womb, the ailing senior citizen, and all those who have no one to rely on but God and His faithful.  It means that we read Scripture regularly and pray with our families.  
    In these last few days of Advent, may we recommit ourselves to making ourselves ready for the return of Christ in glory.  May today’s Gospel instill in us that Christ will, once again, change the course of history with His return, just as He did in His Incarnation some 2,000 years ago.  Who with the Father and the Holy Spirit live and reign for ever and ever.  Amen.