+ Even in monasteries, the preparation for the celebration of Christmas and the organisation and preparation of ceremonies, guests and even turkeys (!) takes up considerable time and energy in Advent. Families, too, rightly plan the necessary logistics worthily to celebrate the Lord’s Nativity: all this, whilst many in the secular world lust opportunistically after the possibility of commercial success regardless of the nature of the feast itself.    

In the midst of such activity—which can so easily become an all-consuming cacophony—our Holy Mother the Church raises the voice of St John the Baptist, who asks from prison, presumably not without anticipation and hope: “Are you He who is to come, or shall we look for another?”

“Who are you, Jesus of Nazareth?” If there is one question for each human person of every race and nation to ask it is this question of St John the Baptist. For, as the Baptist anticipated, if Jesus of Nazareth is indeed the Expected One, He is nothing less than the definitive revelation of Almighty God in history, the unique saviour of mankind, He who offers redemption from sin and death and life beyond the sufferings of this world that is eternal.

“Who are you, Jesus of Nazareth?” If we pose this question to our contemporaries we shall receive a variety of answers—or perhaps in some cases, we shall receive none at all because, seemingly, the question has no sense or context. “Why even ask the question?” some would respond, without a further thought (whilst hanging their Christmas decorations, planning their holiday or counting the Christmas takings).

When St John the Baptist asked this question he received the reply: “…the blind receive their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up, and the poor have good news preached to them.” And from this response, as one filled with the faith and expectation of Israel (of which the Advent liturgy is an eloquent testament) he knew that Jesus of Nazareth was indeed the One who had come from God to save His people, and that no other was to be expected. 

Our contemporaries are not, however, filled with the faith and expectation of Israel. Our society now prefers to speak of “winterval” and to wish each other “happy holidays” or “good feasts” rather than to use the dangerously specific word “Christmas”. Creches are banned from public buildings and spaces because they are exclusive of other religions. Formerly Christian countries and cultures rush to be seen consciously to denude themselves of any explicit vestiges of the fulfilment of the faith and expectation of Israel—whilst maintaining at all costs the opportunity to enjoying its social and material trappings.

One cannot ask “Who are you…?” of someone one has not encountered. Our post-Christian society cannot ask it of Jesus of Nazareth, for it flees from Him. Some might ask philosophically “Who is Jesus of Nazareth?”—as we know from history, an honest enquiry such as this can lead to a personal encounter with Christ and to faith, but it is rare. 

For we who have encountered Christ and who have been given the gift of faith, for we who worship Him before His altar this morning, the Baptist’s question calls us to a purification and renewal of our response to Him: to a deeper faith, to a consistent and virtuous moral life, to a radical living out of our vocation, to a more profound worship of Him in the Sacred Liturgy and in they prayer and devotional practices thar flow from it, to a greater service of my neighbour, etc.

So too, the question of St John the Baptist calls us to the urgent assistance of those who have no faith in He for whose coming Advent prepares. For whilst we are busy with our preparations, spiritual and material, we shall encounter many whose faith is lukewarm, cold or even dead, and others still for whom Jesus of Nazareth, if they know of Him at all, is most certainly not the Christ of God. Whether they be our neighbours, our work colleagues, those who provide services to our homes, members of our families or their friends—even people we encounter casually in shops and other places—our duty is in fact that of St John the Baptist: to prepare the way for the Lord, to call Christmas “Christmas,” to invite people into the heart of this feast by calling them to faith in Christ. 

“Who is Jesus of Nazareth?” Others shall know our response to this question in the coming weeks from the words we use to wish them well, to the gifts we give—most particularly to those in need; from the manner in which we decorate our homes to how we commence our Christmas meals; from our description of our Christmas holidays (beforehand and afterwards); to the humble witness we give by taking the time to make a good confession and to participating in Christmas Mass. Let us resolve this Avent consciously and evangelically thereby to witness to He who is to come so that those whose faith is cold or even non-existent may themselves come to rejoice and share in His life-giving sacrificial banquet we now celebrate. +

+ In the face of the terrible cosmic realities described in the Holy Gospel of this Mass (and indeed of that of last Sunday) we are instructed by Our Lord with words that resound throughout the season of Advent: “Levate capita vestra: quoniam appropinquat redemptio vestra.” (Lift up your heads, for your redemption is at hand.) We are not instructed to cower in fear, to hide, or to take flight, but to stand erect with our heads uplifted, confident in the coming of Our Redeemer and of the final and cosmic victory over sin, death and evil that He shall bring.

We are instructed to sing and pray the words of this morning’s Introit with that confidence that arises from the supernatural gifts of faith and hope given to us at our baptism: “Ad te levávi ánimam meam : Deus meus, in te confído, non erubéscam : neque irrídeant me inimíci mei : étenim univérsi, qui te exspéctant, non confundéntur.” (To thee, O Lord, I lift up my soul. O my God, in thee I trust, let me not be put to shame; let not my enemies exult over me. Yea, let none that wait for thee be put to shame.)
 
This beautiful and joyful season of Advent is filled with that confidence—a confidence that should pervade and purify every detail of our lives. For we, whose heads are often cast down, who often dare not look up because of the guilt of our sins, we, who feel the weight of oppression or even of persecution because of our perseverance in the faith, we whom the world may regard as quaint at best and extreme at worst, we who suffer all kinds of evil, we can, we should and we must lift up our heads for our Redeemer is at hand!
 
These are ‘nice’ and consoling words, just as Advent and Christmas are a very ‘nice’ time of year. But a mere sentiment is not sufficient: it will fade or will be submerged in the activism that engulfs so many. No; the hope brought by the approach of our Redeemer must become a reality—which grounds how I live today, tomorrow and for as many days and years I am given to live on this earth.

If I am oppressed by the guilt of my sins, my Redeemer waits for me in the Sacrament of Confession looking only for my humility and repentance in order to shower me with His healing grace. If the burdens of Christian witness in the world weigh heavily on me in my family, my place of work or elsewhere, my Redeemer wishes to strengthen and fortify me through the Sacraments of Confirmation and the Blessed Eucharist. If I am burdened by the cross of illness or old age my Redeemer comes to comfort me in the sacraments of Confession, Holy Communion and Extreme Unction with the knowledge that He has already carried my burdens Himself. If my religious, ordained or married vocation is ‘tired’ or somehow damaged, my Redeemer asks me to allow Him once again to become its centre so that the graces of the sacraments we have celebrated or of the vows we have pronounced may once again flow freely from His side.
 
Even if we live in a society that is increasingly secular and godless and ever more inimical to even the basic right to life of its weakest and most vulnerable persons—and I speak in the light of recent moves here in France and in the USA to enshrine the so-called “right” to kill the unborn child at will in civil constitutions—our Redeemer comes. Indeed, he comes to call us to clear and decisive action, to call us to witness to and to build anew a “culture of life” where the where the devastating cancer of the “culture of death” is promoted in the name of a purported liberty. (cf. John Paul II, Evangelium Vitae).
 
It is time to act. The political momentum of the promotion or imposition of the culture of death may be difficult to reverse, but on a practical level we can do much. It is now widely forgotten that in 1997 the Scottish Cardinal Thomas Winning invited any woman, regardless of her faith, who believed that she had no other choice than to abort her unborn child, to come to the Catholic Church for help during her pregnancy and beyond. This launched a major practical initiative which continues to this day. But it is an initiative we urgently need to make our own, to renew, to expand and to promote.
 
At present our little monastery has very few material resources that can be of practical help—we are not a great Archdiocese—but in so far as possible they are at the service of saving the life of any unborn child if an expectant mother asks us for help. However, we have spiritual resources aplenty, and a small voice. Both shall be employed to build up a culture of life, most particularly this Advent. We ask, and shall fast and pray, that those with both responsibility and resources in the Church, particularly our bishops, imitate the courage and practical faith of Cardinal Winning, who is directly responsible for saving many, many lives by having opened both his mouth and his cheque book to build up the culture of life.

For those babies saved—many now young adults—their Redeemer came through the determined practical courage of Cardinal Winning. Many, many more such infants, threatened by a death that is regarded as a mere disposal of ‘an inconvenience’, await their Redeemer today. We must each do what we can so that they shall live to know Him.
 
In the face of the terrible realities that we face, personally and in our world, we are instructed by Our Lord: “Levate capita vestra: quoniam appropinquat redemptio vestra.” Advent is the time lift up our heads: we must lift them up so as to welcome our Redeemer into our own hearts and souls that he may purify and heal and strengthen us. And thus strengthened, we must do everything we can to clear a path so that His Saving Word may be heard above the cacophony of evil and death that abounds.

As we partake anew of His life-giving sacrifice in this Holy Mass, let us beg the grace necessary so to do, for our Redeemer came that all might have life, and have it to the full (cf. Jn 10:10). +

+ “When you see the abomination of desolation spoken of by the prophet Daniel, standing in the holy place…flee to the mountains… For then there will be great tribulation, such as has not been from the beginning of the world until now, no, and never will be…and they will see the Son of man coming on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory; and He will send out his angels with a loud trumpet call, and they will gather His elect from the four winds, from one end of heaven to the other.”
 
These stark words of Our Lord ‘interrupt’ us and our daily occupations and pursuits, as it were, with the clear teaching that the world as we know it will come to an end—not without great tribulation—and that He, the Son of man, as the Creed puts it “shall come again in glory to judge the living and the dead.” This is a doctrine of the Catholic faith—not an optional cultural belief. This world will end. All those who have lived, and those who are still alive, shall be judged based upon that judgement our eternal destiny of heaven or hell shall be determined.
 
Like a good mother, through her Sacred Liturgy, the Church insists that we do not forget this reality. It is easy and it is right to be busy with our life and vocation and family, etc., and to become absorbed in the mission of the Church and the conversion of ourselves and of the world—these are important and good things, certainly. So too, it is very easy to become engulfed by the ephemeral details of this world—things that truly do not matter. Yet, whether our daily occupations are truly important or not, the Church insists that today we remember very clearly that all these things shall come to an end, that we shall be judged according to how we have lived our lives.
 
How are we to respond to this reality? What can we do?
 
In the first place, it is important that we understand clearly what we must not do. We must not become so obsessed by this fact that we join the ranks of those many people in history—sometimes sad, sometimes amusing, sometimes dangerous—who have become so obsessed about the end times and on insisting that the end of the world is imminent that they have become unable to live the life to which Almighty God calls them here and now. Yes, the world will end. But we “know neither the day nor the hour” when these things will come to pass (Mt 25:13). If we decide that in fact we personally do know that the world is about to end, we risk committing the sin of presumption. We risk falling into the trap of the devil who seeks to distract us from the daily good we can and must do in persevering in our God-given vocation by tempting us to adopt an apocalyptic anxiety that paralyses us.
 
Yes, certainly, the sight of a pope and cardinals and bishops venerating a statue of a South American pagan goddess in the Vatican reeks of the abomination of desolation of which both the prophet Daniel and Our Lord Himself spoke—as have many other events in history, including many unspeakable liturgical abuses in our own era. But we have no right to presume that this or that is the sign that the world is about to end.
 
Our Lord calls us to be vigilant, to watch and be alert, certainly. But He does not call us to become paranoid. Yes, our watchfulness may well raise alarm when it sees all that is about us in the world, and at times in the Church. But that alarm should not paralyse us: it should motivate us to more resolute and urgent action. If the Church and the world are in crisis, I must do more in so far as I can to remedy these crises—in the first place, by ensuring that my own heart, mind and soul are in order. For crises redouble when those who deal with them are themselves lacking in integrity.
 
Are the times in which we live alarming? Might this be the beginning of the end? If so, my first response must be to attend to the purification and conversion of my own life, and of that of those for whom I have responsibility. Then, purified and fortified with the grace of the sacraments, we shall be able to face whatever comes.
 
Our Lord does instruct us to “flee to the mountains” at the onset of the abomination of desolation. In Sacred Scripture mountains, of course, represent a place that is close to God—where one can converse with Him directly, where He reveals Himself, etc. Hence, Our Lord instructs us to flee to be closer to God in times of great trouble and anxiety in the world, and in the world of our own lives. We cannot all enter monasteries—though these times do give it a certain attraction!—but we can all take refuge in fervent daily prayer, in the frequent reception of the sacraments, and in the exercise and witness of lives of charity in our homes and places of work. If we are thus daily close to God, we need have no fear.
 
Indeed, Our Lord teaches us that in the end He will come in triumph to gather His elect. Out task is to remain amongst the elect, and to do all that we can that others too are with us on that day.

As we approach His altar this morning let us beg for the courage and strength necessary so to do, in the confident hope that when the  Son of man comes with power and great glory for us it shall be no cause for alarm, but a day of great rejoicing. +

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+ “Confide, filia, fides tua te salvum fecit.” (Take heart, daughter; your faith has saved you.)
 
These words of Our Lord, addressed to the long-suffering woman who dared not to ask for healing, but who simply sought to touch the hem of Our Lord’s cloak, are some of the most beautiful and heartening words of the Gospel. In addressing them to us through her Sacred Liturgy this morning Our Holy Mother the Church wishes to give us heart—for we too are often long-suffering: our growth in virtue may not be what it should; as frequently as weeds appear in the garden vices continue to take root in our souls; the more-than-difficult challenges that the state of the world—and of the Church—discourage or even depress us; the burdens of our particular vocation weigh us down and seem insurmountable…there seems to be no end of difficulty and suffering. Perseverance seems more like a sentence than a promise of salvation.
 
Yet, “If I only touch his garment, I shall be made well,” the Church teaches us this morning. If only we have the humility and strength somehow to reach beyond our sufferings and illnesses and to connect with the Lord of Heaven and Earth, we shall experience the reality contained in those most beautiful words: “Confide, filia, fides tua te salvum fecit.”
 
But how? The answer is given to us in the Gospel: it was the woman’s faith that saved her. It is faith in Jesus Christ as the definitive revelation of God in history and as the unique saviour of mankind that is required of us, nothing less—faith that He can heal us, faith that He wishes to heal us, that He wishes us to set us free from what the collect of this morning’s Mass describes as the weeds of sin that have grown up in us and in which we have become entangled because of our weakness.
 
How, then, can we reach out and touch the hem of Christ’s garment? How can we experience His healing and find our salvation?
 
In the first place we must make an act of faith; we must reach towards Him. Even if as much as we can do is to pray the honest and noble words of the father of the boy possessed by an unclean spirit: “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief,” (Mk 9:24) the Lord will help us. Indeed, He will turn to us and look at us and He will love us as he did the rich young man (cf. Mk 10:21) and show us the path which leads to our healing and to our salvation.
 
Secondly, we must follow Him along that path, however so unexpected its route may be, taking the next step along it each day, in faith, in the knowledge that he who perseveres unto the end shall be saved. (cf. Mt 24:13) In 1833, whilst still an Anglican, becalmed on the sea in a boat destined for Marseille, St John Henry Newman wrote the poem “Lead Kindly Light” in which he prayed: “…I do not ask to see the distant scene; one step enough for me.” One step; one step further in faith and in trust today: that is what is required of us.  (This is sound advice in a world where we are often tempted, particularly in questions of vocational discernment, to make Almighty God sign a contract detailing all we are prepared for Him to ask of us!)
 
Thirdly, in taking these steps each day we must continue to reach out and touch the Lord in search of His grace and healing, most especially in the Sacred Liturgy and the Sacraments, where He is at work in His Church today—and indeed, where He turns to us, looks at us, loves us and touches us with His healing power. His self-sacrifice for our redemption is renewed daily upon our altars for our nourishment and strength. His forgiveness attends us in the Sacrament of Penance. His healing comes to us in the anointing of extreme unction, etc. So too, we touch Him in our love and service of our neighbour, most especially in our care for those in need, receiving an abundance of grace and strength in return.
 
As the relics on the altar this morning attest, this year this Sunday includes the commemoration of All Saints of the Benedictine order. They too, great abbots, monastic bishops and popes, simple monks and novices, nuns and lay oblates, reached out again and again to touch the hem of Christ’s garment in circumstances as varied and sometimes even more distressing than our own. Their perseverance to the end, their taking of one step at a time in faith, has now been rewarded.
 
As we offer this Holy Mass in communion with these great Benedictine saints, and with all the saints, let us beg their intercession that we too shall persevere unto the end, beginning this very day by taking that next step in faith and trust along the path which the Lord calls us and ourselves hear the Lord’s words: “Take heart…your faith has saved you. +