Two for the First Sunday of Advent

Advent: A Time for Humility and Preparation | A Scriptural Reflection on the First Sunday of Advent | November 28, 2010 | Carl E. Olson

Readings:
• Isa. 2:1-5
• Psa. 122: 1-2, 3-4, 4-5, 6-7, 8-9
• Rom. 13:11-14
• Matt. 24:37-44

Many years ago, while still an Evangelical, I asked one of my Bible college professors: “What do you think the Second Coming will be like? Will it occur in our lifetime?” He was one of the few professors who apparently didn’t believe in the “Rapture”—the common Fundamentalist belief in a secret, silent “snatching up” of Christians to heaven prior to a time of tribulation and distinct from the Second Coming.

His response was simple and memorable: “All I know is that people were surprised at Christ’s first coming, and I’m certain that many will be surprised at His second coming.”

I’ve always remembered that brief but wise answer because it reflected two very Biblical qualities relating to the mystery of the coming of Jesus Christ: humility and expectation. Growing up immersed in the “left behind” theology, I was convinced the “Rapture” would take place before I was a teenager. Then before I was twenty. Then before I was twenty-five. I was taught that the Cold War was a sign that Jesus would return in the 1970s. Or in the 1980s. And then that the first Persian Gulf War indicated the Lord’s return in the 1990s.

Eventually I became frustrated with the reactionary and often arrogant attitude accompanying such thinking. In the course of journeying toward the Catholic Church, I began to better appreciate what Scripture teaches about the coming of the Son of Man, which we hear about in today’s Gospel reading. This passage from Matthew 24, along with the parallel passage of Luke 17:26-37, is where the description “left behind” comes from, drawn from Jesus’ mini parables about how one man or woman “will be taken, and one will be left.”

Many adherents of the “left behind” theology insist the one who is taken away will be raptured to heaven, while the one who is left will face the terrors of a great tribulation. Yet the context provided by Jesus—the “days of Noah”—strongly suggests the complete opposite: those who are taken away are the ones who will be judged, while those who are left will be saved. After all, Jesus states earlier that “the one who perseveres to the end will be saved” (Matt. 24:13). In the immediate first-century context, Jesus’ words point first to the coming destruction of Jerusalem (cf., Matt. 24:1-2), which makes perfect sense of His later declaration, “Truly, I say to you, this generation will not pass away till all these things take place” (Matt. 24:34).

Yet Jesus also connects the dramatic and traumatic events of A.D. 70, when the Temple in Jerusalem was completely destroyed by the Romans, to the coming of the Son of Man—that is, His second coming. Jesus’ prophetic words about them not only reveal something about the future, but declare something about who He is: the Savior, Judge, and Lord. He repeatedly emphasizes the need to be spiritually awake and expectant. Those who were carried away in the days of Noah were “corrupt and full of lawlessness” (Gen 6:11); they had no interest in God or His saving work. They were deep in spiritual slumber and sloth. One of the reoccurring themes of Matthew 24 and 25 is simply, “Be awake!” You must be prepared, says the Lord, “for at an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will come.” The same urgent message is heard in today’s Epistle reading, in which Paul exhorts the Christians at Rome “to awake from sleep” for “the day is at hand.”

Advent reminds us that the day is at hand. That day was two thousand years ago, when God broke into human history with His utterance of the Incarnate Word. That day is now, as we prepare to celebrate His birth, especially when we receive His body, blood, soul, and divinity at Holy Communion. That day is coming, like a thief, when the Son of Man will close the doors of history and throw open the gates of eternity. Let us not be shocked and surprised, but awake and prepared.

(This "Opening the Word" column originally appeared in the December 2, 2007, edition of Our Sunday Visitor newspaper.)

The Hopeful Tension of Advent Expectation | Carl E. Olson

Advent is all about coming to a particular place and time.

The word "advent" comes from a Latin word meaning "to come to," used in ancient Rome to describe the arrival of the emperor. During Advent, guided by the liturgy, we look back to when God came into the world at the Incarnation. We also look forward in time to the Parousia, the final coming of the God-man when He will judge the living and the dead, and the world as we know it will pass away. And, in between these two cosmic events, we come face-to-face with ourselves, examining our hearts and preparing them for the celebration of the great feast of Christmas (cf. CCC 524).

Recently, in preparing a talk on the Eucharist as the eschatological sacrament, I was struck by a passage from Pope John Paul II’s encyclical, Ecclesia de Eucharistia ("On the Eucharist in Its Relationship to the Church").

Describing the relationship between the Eucharist and the blessed hope of the Parousia of Jesus Christ, the Holy Father wrote, "The Eucharist is a straining towards the goal, a foretaste of the fullness of joy promised by Christ (cf. Jn. 15:11); it is in some way the anticipation of heaven, the ‘pledge of future glory’" (par. 18). He then stated, "The eschatological tension kindled by the Eucharist expresses and reinforces our communion with the Church in heaven" (par. 19).

Chances are you haven’t heard the phrase "eschatological tension" used too often, whether at the water cooler or even at Mass. But when we consider what it means to be a follower of Christ and a member of the pilgrim Church, we recognize that we do live with and in tension. That tension exists because we live in temporal history between the "already accomplished"—the Incarnation—and the "yet to be completed"—the Parousia and fullness of the Kingdom. While yet on earth, we live with the knowledge that we are meant for heaven. We understand that we are spiritual and material. We know that we are sinful and saved. We recognize that we are dying and graced with eternal life.

Advent is a wonderful time to contemplate this fact and to ask ourselves if there should be more of this tension in our lives. I have to admit that I am often a bit too comfortable with being earthly, material, and sinful. I know that I sometimes shy away from looking to heaven, of becoming more Spirit-filled, and of working out my salvation with fear and trembling (cf. Phil. 2:12).

Despite my personal interest in the "end times," I prefer to ponder the quiet mysteries of the Nativity and shy away from the future, earth-shattering wonder of the Parousia, when the quiet babe of Bethlehem will be revealed as King of Kings and Lord of Lords. But the two cannot be separated. Without the first coming, there is no second coming; without the second coming, the first remains incomplete. The swaddling clothes must give way to brilliant robes. The donkey will step aside for the thundering white horse.

Many Christians who contemplate the end of time become obsessed with bloody scenarios and violent visions. The success of the Left Behind books indicates that some readers are looking to escape the eschatological tension, hoping to flee from the clutches of earth and the mortal life. But for Catholics, escape is not a consideration; the Cross is not optional. However, the tension of living in the present is not a reason for despair, but for hope.

John Paul II wrote, "A significant consequence of the eschatological tension inherent in the Eucharist is also the fact that it spurs us on our journey through history and plants a seed of living hope in our daily commitment to the work before us. Certainly the Christian vision leads to the expectation of ‘new heavens’ and ‘a new earth’ (Rev. 21:1), but this increases, rather than lessens, our sense of responsibility for the world today." (par. 20).

The good news is that the King didn’t just come two thousand years ago; He comes to us each time we receive Holy Communion. And He comes during Advent, preparing our hearts for Christmas. "Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!"

(This column originally appeared in a slightly different form in the November 24, 2003, issue of National Catholic Register.

Related Book Excerpts and Essays:

• Come, Lord Jesus! The Meaning of Advent | Fr. Kenneth Baker, S.J. | A Homily for the First Sunday of Advent
• The Mystery Made Present To Us | Fr. Alfred Delp, S.J.
• The Art of Waiting | The Poor Clare Nuns | The Foreword to Come, Lord Jesus: Meditations on the Art of Waiting by Mother Mary Francis.
• "All of life is Advent": On the life and death of Alfred Delp, S.J. | Abtei St. Walburg
• Mary's Gift of Self Points the Way | Carl E. Olson | "The Blessed Mother and Advent", Part 1 of 4