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13 Dec 2009 - Third Sunday of Advent, Cycle C

"Have no anxiety at all,” Saint Paul tells us in today’s reading. Sorry Paul, but at Christmastime, your plea falls on deaf ears. And that prayer at Mass for God to “protect us from all anxiety”—that doesn’t seem to be working either, at least not for anyone I know. It’s impossible not to feel anxious when you try to cram 20 parties, 10 shopping trips, five concerts, three festivals, two cookie bakes, and very possibly finding a place to put a partridge in a pear tree all in the space of four weeks. Not to mention trying to sort through every family relationship, childhood memory, personal hope and dream, all with the knowledge that another year is over, never to be relived. Anxiety thy name is Christmas, or so it would seem. But Paul and John say, no, Christmas thy name is joyful hope. Both sentiments convey the sense of unfulfilled wishes. But anxiety implies doubt; whereas hope implies confidence, and joyful hope carries with it a faith-filled certainty that all will be well, that our sins will be forgiven, that no one will go hungry, that our debts will be satisfied honestly, that God will gather us in and spread a banquet before us, and that no one will be mad if we forgot a present or two.

Authors Patrice J. Tuohy

joyful hope Saint Paul

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Homily stories

13 Dec 2009 - Third Sunday of Advent, Cycle C

It is a tradition that started way back with Franklin Delano Roosevelt and has continued at political conventions and gatherings ever since, even up to today. To spark the delegates and crowds a band starts playing “Happy Days Are Here Again.” It is clearly a hopeful message, a positive message. The irony is that the song was written originally to celebrate the repeal of prohibition. What an interesting metamorphisis has taken place over the years and decades. Zephaniah fills the air with his own words of hope and joy—quite a positive message for a prophet to proclaim because they are usually associated with doom and gloom. We also have the stern Saint Paul, who often used his letters to castigate and cajole his new Christian converts, tell the Philippians to rejoice because the Lord is so near. Even John the Baptizer’s words in the gospel, words of challenge and of exhortation, are called “good news” by the end of the passage. So, why all of this joyful anticipation? After all, isn’t Advent supposed to be a serious and somber time of reflection and repentance? Let’s not confuse it with Lent. We prepare for the birth of Jesus, the savior and messiah, but we also await him with great hope anticipating even more intense feelings of joy in our lives when Jesus finally comes. Our lives, the world, will never be the same again.

Authors Father Dominic Grassi

zephaniah joyful hope anticipation

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Homily stories

16 Dec 2018 - Third Sunday of Advent, Cycle C

“Have no anxiety at all,” Saint Paul tells us in today’s reading. Sorry Paul, but at Christmastime, your plea falls on deaf ears. And that prayer at Mass for God to “protect us from all anxiety”—that doesn’t seem to be working either, at least not for anyone I know. It’s impossible not to feel anxious when you try to cram 20 parties, 10 shopping trips, five concerts, three festivals, two cookie bakes, and very possibly finding a place to put a partridge in a pear tree all in the space of four weeks. Not to mention trying to sort through every family relationship, childhood memory, personal hope and dream, all with the knowledge that another year is over, never to be relived. Anxiety thy name is Christmas, or so it would seem. But Paul and John say, no, Christmas thy name is joyful hope. Both sentiments convey the sense of unfulfilled wishes. But anxiety implies doubt; whereas hope implies confidence, and joyful hope carries with it a faith-filled certainty that all will be well, that our sins will be forgiven, that no one will go hungry, that our debts will be satisfied honestly, that God will gather us in and spread a banquet before us, and that no one will be mad if we forgot a present or two.

Authors Patrice J. Tuohy

Anxiety joyful hope

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The inner word

15 Dec 2019 - Third Sunday of Advent, Cycle A

Are we waiting in joyful hope, or just watching the clock? Patience is one of those virtues that are in short supply in a society in a hurry to get what it wants. Faster Internet and quicker pizza delivery are only two symptoms of our inability to “wait a minute” for good things to happen. When have you seen the flowering of a “desert” situation? Are there deserts in your life that you would like to see bloom? How does God till the soil of your life, and what responsibility do you accept for the person you are becoming? When have you hesitated, like John the Baptist, in your certainty of Jesus? What signs have you seen that he is “the one who is to come”? Are you a hopeful person, or cautious or pessimistic? How does your ability to be hopeful influence your announcement of the Good News?

patience joyful hope

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Exploring the word

15 Dec 2019 - Third Sunday of Advent, Cycle A

German writer and professional pessimist Franz Kafka wrote in his diary that impatience was at the root of every sin since the Garden of Eden. This insight—from a man who could vividly imagine waking up one morning as a cockroach—demonstrates Kafka’s supreme sense of anxiety at the heart of the human condition. His angst-ridden and unfinished novel The Trial is a masterpiece of uneasy anticipation for the other shoe to drop as a man faces judgment for a crime that is never specified by accusers who are not revealed. This, Kafka argued, is mortal life: condemned to die from birth for no good reason and sentenced to live with this knowledge hanging over our heads all the while. Yet he names the root sin impatience and not dread, because we exist in a state of discontent with now and a desperation for later, whatever it may hold for us. All of us just want to get on with it, he insists. All of this waiting, even if we’re waiting for Godot or the guillotine, is killing us. The idea of “waiting in joyful hope,” naturally, is something that never occurred to Kafka. Advent waiting is fundamentally an affirmative experience. If we exist in a constant state of dread, we cannot have Advent. If we wait for nothing at all, it is not truly an Advent season. If we anticipate business as usual and nothing much to change, we do not have the spirit of Advent within us. To be Advent people, we have to dream big dreams and expect the impossible with the confidence of faith. Even the desert will bloom City dwellers can be forgiven for thinking that the prophetic image of a flowering desert is a metaphor for God’s miraculous ability to do the impossible. But that’s not quite the picture Isaiah has in mind. As a citizen of a nation surrounded by wasteland, Isaiah knows that the desert does bloom most every spring. This wondrous happening is not due to heroic measures of irrigation or any human effort. The desert blooms because of annual rains—the more rain there is, the more spectacular the flowering. This does not take away any of the miraculous quality of desert flowers. Why should a barren landscape come to life with colorful profusion after the rains? Tough, prickly cactus produce surprisingly delicate blossoms. Bare and leafless branches bring forth bright flowers right from the stem. Plants that are nothing more than heaps of dead matter suddenly leap into life and become mounds of blooms. The barren sand sprouts a carpet of wildflowers whose seeds have waited a year, sometimes a century, under inhospitable conditions to come to life. A blooming desert may be a predictable natural event, but that makes it no less astounding. If you want to see a desert bloom, it does not take a supernatural event. It only requires a patient biding of time. Human patience, we may suspect, is the real miracle to hope for. Farmers also wait The letter to James commends us to wait in patience, too, but this time the image is of a farmer tilling the soil. The main difference between a farm and a desert is deliberate human intervention. God makes the desert bloom; the farm depends on our efforts. But not entirely: Even on the farm, a lot depends on sun and rain and other acts of God. And maybe the most important ingredient in farming is time—the harvest can’t be achieved just any old day but only when the crop is ready. Waiting for God to act, or for our own labor to be fruitful, are similar in that both involve “possessing our souls in patience,” as Jesus once advised. Waiting is a faith-inspiring event because it requires us to take our hands off the controls for the time being. We have done our part. We have made our effort. What happens next is not ours to determine. Certain personalities have a harder time with this concept than others, and a lot of fingernails are sacrificed in the interim. “Should we look for another . . . ?” John in prison betrayed his impatience to Jesus. He had testified boldly to his belief that Jesus was God’s Lamb, indeed the expected one for whom John had prepared the nation. John had worked particularly hard in tilling the soil for the harvest he anticipated. But now he couldn’t wait any longer. To be fair, from his perspective death seemed perilously near and if he were going to see the harvest, it had better come quick. “Are you the one who is to come?” John asked Jesus. A strange question from the one who had already declared that Jesus was the one. But Jesus is not offended. In fact, he seeks to reassure John that his first impression was true. “Go and tell John what you hear and see.” Jesus has confidence that John will recognize the harvest by the fruit it bears. The blind, the lame, the lepers, the deaf, the poor, and the dead are all rejoicing at the arrival of this hour. Those who have longed for the Kingdom will now know its blessing. But as Jesus points out, the least in the Kingdom are greater than John, because they share a certainty in this season of blessing. John hesitated. Happy are those who don’t! Applying the word What do we go out to the desert to see? Advent waiting is not about tapping a foot impatiently while four Sundays go by and candles are lit one by one. “Waiting in joyful hope” is like realized eschatology: What will be, already is. What we await is given to us now. If we hope in it, it is ours. If we expect to possess it, we already do. The reverse is also true. If we fear that our hope is a mirage, if we refuse to anticipate until we have tomorrow in hand, if we cannot believe until we see, then we are indeed wasting our time. All good things come to those who wait. Without the wait, there is no harvest. Related scripture links Possessing our souls in patience: Luke 21:19 [KJV] Other harvest meanings and metaphors: Exod. 34:22; Isa. 9:2; Ps. 126:5-6; Prov. 22:8; Hos. 8:7, 10:12-13; Matt. 9:37-38, 13:36-40; John 4:35-38; 1 Cor. 9:10-11; Heb. 6:7-8; Rev. 14:14-20 The virtue of Christian hope: Rom. 5:1-5, 8:24-25, 12:12, 15:12-13; 1 Cor. 13:13; Heb. 3:12-15, 6:11-12, 11:1

Authors Alice Camille

impatience patience joyful hope advent people waiting

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Homily stories

15 Dec 2019 - Third Sunday of Advent, Cycle A

My husband and I sat across the desk from the surgeon who was to repair the hole in our 4-month-old daughter’s heart. The doctor explained in simple, unadorned speech the two-patch procedure his team would use. It was fairly new, he said, but he and his partner had performed it numerous times and had written the book on surgical techniques for this particular heart defect. When he had finished his explanation, he asked if we had any questions. We had just one. “Doc, please tell us truthfully, are you the best person to perform this surgery?” He replied, “In the Chicago area, yes.” We continued, “In the U.S.?” He responded, “One of a few.” “In the world?” “One of a handful.” Like John the Baptist’s question to Jesus, “Are you the one who is to come?” our very question implied implicit trust in the person responding. My husband and I were satisfied. Hannah’s surgery was scheduled for two weeks later. We had waited a long time for this day to come. We knew even before Hannah was born that she would require heart surgery. We tried to savor every moment we had with her those first few months. Then, as they wheeled her away, we waited in joyful hope, knowing she was in good hands—the surgeon’s and God’s. Years later, we continue to feel the joy she brings us every day.

Authors Patrice J. Tuohy

joyful hope waiting

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Homily stories

15 Dec 2024 - Third Sunday of Advent, Cycle C

"Have no anxiety at all,” Saint Paul tells us in today’s reading. Sorry Paul, but at Christmastime, your plea falls on deaf ears. And that prayer at Mass for God to “protect us from all anxiety”—that doesn’t seem to be working either, at least not for anyone I know. It’s impossible not to feel anxious when you try to cram 20 parties, 10 shopping trips, five concerts, three festivals, two cookie bakes, and very possibly finding a place to put a partridge in a pear tree all in the space of four weeks. Not to mention trying to sort through every family relationship, childhood memory, personal hope and dream, all with the knowledge that another year is over, never to be relived. Anxiety thy name is Christmas, or so it would seem. But Paul and John say, no, Christmas thy name is joyful hope. Both sentiments convey the sense of unfulfilled wishes. But anxiety implies doubt; whereas hope implies confidence, and joyful hope carries with it a faith-filled certainty that all will be well, that our sins will be forgiven, that no one will go hungry, that our debts will be satisfied honestly, that God will gather us in and spread a banquet before us, and that no one will be mad if we forgot a present or two.

Authors Patrice J. Tuohy

Saint Paul Anxiety joyful hope

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