Homily

“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.” (Phil 4:4). This Sunday’s Liturgy opens with these words of the apostle Paul, and so it is called, “Gaudete Sunday,” or “Joyful Sunday,” “Gaudete” being Latin for “rejoice.” Paul dictated these words while he was in prison in Rome – near Trastevere, according to the tradition – and perhaps he was already facing the possibility of a death sentence. And yet he urges himself and the Christians of Philippi to rejoice because, as he adds: “The Lord is near.” The reason for rejoicing is that the Lord is coming soon. Likewise, the prophet Zephaniah urges Jerusalem to rejoice: “Rejoice, O Israel and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem!” Why rejoice? Zephaniah explains: “The Lord has taken away the judgment against you, he has turned away your enemies... The Lord is in your midst, a warrior who gives victory... He will renew you in his love” (Zeph 3:14-18). The prophet is talking about the liberation of Jerusalem: the judgment has been taken away, the siege has been lifted, the enemy has been scattered, and the city can finally start breathing and living again. The Lord has saved it.
The Word of God urges people not to let themselves get caught up in their sadness or overcome by their distress. There are many reasons to do both these things as we look at the world with its numerous wars, its innumerable injustices and the dramatic crises we are living. How can we not be sad and distressed in front of all this? But the liturgy urges us to rejoice. Not because, as we often hear people say, Christians are naturally optimistic. No, the reason for our joy and the basis of our hope is the fact that Christmas is drawing nearer. We are not alone anymore, because the Lord is coming to be with us.
The liturgy interrupts the severity of the Advent season. It leaves behind the purple vestments of penitence and puts on the vestments of joy; it calls for the altar to be decorated with flowers and for the people to celebrate. The Lord is coming, he is close at hand. That is why everything in the liturgy becomes an urgent invitation for each of us to prepare ourselves to welcome the Lord who is coming. We are being encouraged to wake up from the sleep of egoism and the drunkenness of pride so we can go and meet Jesus. There are only a few days left before Christmas, and our hearts are still distracted and totally unprepared. We read in Luke’s Gospel that all the people were waiting for the Messiah. He was going to change the world, he was going to free men and women from the slavery of this world, to succour the poor and to heal the sick. That is why so many people – a crowd, the evangelist writes – from all over, from Galilee to Judea, left their cities and the places they normally lived and came to the desert to meet John the Baptist.
We, too, have left our houses, and more importantly our everyday thoughts and routines, in order to come and listen to John the Baptist in this Holy Liturgy. John is here speaking among us. His preaching has the same strength, the same ability to change people that it had in the desert by the banks of the river Jordan. We are there together with that crowd of men and women, together with the soldiers and tax collectors who had crowded around him, and with them we ask: “What should we do?” This is the question we ask today. What do we need to do to welcome the coming Lord? John responds with simplicity and clarity: whoever has two tunics should give one to whoever has none, and whoever has enough to eat should do likewise. Charity is the first response to the question about what we should do. Gratuitous love, service to the poor, availability to love all, prepare the hearts to welcome the Lord who, as the evangelist Matthew says, comes in the appearance of the poor and weak.
Turning to the tax collectors and soldiers, John urges them not to demand more than is allotted to them and not to mistreat or exhort anyone. That is to say, he asks them to be just and to respect one another. The preacher in the desert reminds us that the time of waiting for the Messiah is fulfilled in the space between charity and justice, between mercy and respect, between tenderness and compassion. Did Paul not say to the Philippians: “Let your gentleness be known to everyone”? The Lord will come, and he will descend into the heart of every man and woman, and he will baptize us with the Holy Spirit and fire. No one will be left with the things they own; no one will be left the way they were before. The Holy Spirit will widen the walls of our hearts and the fire of his love will guide us.