Homily for the 4th Sunday of Advent

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Advent is hopelessly schizophrenic. Two years ago, the 4th Sunday of Advent fell on Christmas Eve. We celebrated Advent and Christmas on the same day. This year we have 5 days left of Advent until Christmas, but what does that matter? The two seasons are completely mixed already. Christmas programs and parties, not just at work but yes even at Church, have already taken place. Anyone who has not celebrated Christmas at least in part has had to play the part of the scrooge. Adding to the craziness of this year is the fine line we are walking between spending so as to not feel guilty for stifling the economy, and saving so as not to seem out of touch with the plight of many who are suffering and who will suffer economically. Finally, Advent itself is not a season that resists schizophrenia. It is a season that caves in to Christmas, for Advent gives us nothing to do. Christmas brings a flurry of activity. Advent is about being passive. Watching. Waiting. Preparing room in our hearts. Advent is a season that always falls apart, no matter how hard we try. This, as we know, is tragic, for without Advent expectation, our Christmas celebration will be half-hearted at best.

The subtlety of Advent makes it hard to begin, and even harder to end. Our final Advent prophet is not someone who tells us what to do either. At least John the Baptist told us to repent lest we miss entirely the coming of the Lord. Mary does nothing. She is nobody. She is not a great religious figure. She is young in a society that values age. A woman in a world ruled by men. Poor because she has not child and no husband to validate her existence. There is no reason to pay attention to her. Except that God sees her. Mary fits right in to the subtlety and ambiguity of Advent. She has no big message to announce to us. She doesn't tell us to do anything. She simply allows God to do something with her.

Yet within the 'yes' of this girl we are to find the perfect way to finish Advent. It is Mary's humble simplicity that turns out to be the perfect antidote to the proud schizophrenia that the Advent/Christmas culture thrusts upon us. In the uncertainty of where we really are, Mary comes to save our Advent preparations even if we have just an hour, or just a moment, before loading the van or running to the airport or if you're a guy, hitting the store on the 23rd or 24th hoping beyond hope that Jesus will save you from your procrastination once again. Mary by her pure readiness can make us instantly ready for a joyful and fruitful celebration of Christmas, no matter how our Advent has gone. If nothing else has gone right this Advent, we have recourse to her. She is the savior of Advent who can give us the same expectation for Christmas that She had in the moments before giving birth to the Savior of the world.

In Mary we see the Advent hope that what God will choose to do with our lives is more important than what we choose to do with them. In Mary we see the Advent hope that God's decision to look upon us trumps our decision to look for Him. In Mary we see the hope that we might be humble enough to keep first things first. She teaches us how to believe that we can really be the dwelling places of God, and how this faith precedes and perfects any effort we make to love God in return or to be His presence to others. In Mary we see the hope that it is not our experience that determines what is possible. Rather, it is God's presence that can turn us back into children who count every second before Christmas with anticipation. In the same way, Mary shows us the way to the Christmas mystery that helps us to hope all things, believe all things, and endure all things in anticipation of seeing God's plan for us revealed in time. In Mary we see the hope that we are not too sophisticated and important to believe that God sees us, that He knows us, and that He is coming to live among us!