Preached for the Third Sunday in Advent, Cycle A - Guadete Sunday, December 10/11 - 4:30p, 8a, 10a

Today's readings:  http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/12112016.cfm

I got word a couple days ago from a deacon friend of mine – he and his wife had just returned from the oncologist.  Second oncologist.  Second opinion.  The news is grim – worst fears confirmed - small cell lung cancer.  Since she already has end-stage kidney disease, chemo would be very difficult and unlikely successful.  So she’ll continue to serve in her ministry as an Episcopal deacon until she can’t, and then palliative care, finally hospice care.  Six months or so, tops.

Who among us, especially those of us in middle age, or late middle age, doesn’t know someone who’s had a similar experience?  With a loved one, or friend, co-worker, or maybe we ourselves have sat across the desk from a grim-faced physician.  I can vividly recall the doctor coming into the waiting room after my mom’s surgery – his face said everything we needed to know.

And it’s not just health.  Face it – life is hard.  Broken relationships.  Job loss.  The stress of money worries, stress that’s there when waking up, and still there trying to fall asleep.  And I could go on.

I was watching a clip from the musical Les Mis the other night – the beautiful and haunting song I dreamed a dream.  And a couple of the lines really caught my attention, as a young woman named Fantine sings:

There was a time when love was blind

And the world was a song

And the song was exciting

There was a time

And it all went wrong

Fantine goes on:

I had a dream my life would be

So different from this hell I’m living

So different now from what it seemed

Now life has killed the dream   I dreamed

Now hopefully very few of us would describe our lives as a “hell” but I’m pretty sure some probably would.  I see it in people’s faces.  In any event I’m willing to bet very few of us can’t relate to what Fantine sings – that life doesn’t turn out to be all we hoped and dreamed it would be.  Who here would really argue with the idea that life is hard.

It’s certainly hard for John, the subject of this evening’s/morning’s Gospel.  He’s been in prison, for quite some time – we’re in the eleventh chapter of Matthew’s gospel here and he was locked up in chapter 4.  And this is no prison like we think of prisons today – more likely it was a cold, dark, damp cell, little or no light, no sanitation, and he was probably in chains.

And John is giving up hope.  Life is not turning out to be what he dreamed, and the Lord is not turning out to be what he expected either.  Just last week we heard him speak of the ax being at the root of the tree, and the winnowing fan is in his hand to clear the threshing floor.  Today – doubts.  Get word to Jesus – are you the One, or is there another coming?

Against this darkness and near despair, Holy Mother Church tells us today “Gaudete!”  “Rejoice”

John, stuck in jail, or you or I burdened by life, might say – “Yeah right.  Rejoice.  Easy for you to say.  What do I have to rejoice about?”

The answer is a simple, single word.  Hope.

Rejoice, because we have hope.  We who are blessed with the gift of faith in Christ Jesus have hope.  I often wonder just how those who have no faith do it – how do they live day to day, where is their consolation standing at a loved one’s grave, where do they find peace driving home from the oncologist’s office? 

But we are blessed for we have confidence, we have His assurance, that the best is yet to come.  That into the darkness, the pain, the burdens of our lives, Christ is already with us, and Christ is coming.  That despite our pain and hardships, we have the hope of unending joy in union with the Trinity.  That is our great hope, and the source of our peace.  The peace of God that surpasses all understanding, St. Paul writes to the Philippians.

To John, despairing in prison, Jesus simply responded with the words of the prophet Isaiah – that the “blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised,
and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them.”  In other words, I am the fulfillment of the prophecy.  I am the reason to have hope.  I am the reason to be joyful.  My kingdom is here with you now.

And that is why Holy Mother Church tells us today, “rejoice!”  That because Christ is with us, and coming soon, we can joyfully, even in the storms and difficulties of our lives.  We all know people, I’m sure, who despite very great hardships, great tragedies in their lives, exude peace, exude joy.  That comes from a deep faith in Jesus Christ, a faith that gives a deep sense of hopefulness.

Sisters and brothers, you and I are called to be those people who, despite our own great hardships, great tragedies, exude peace, exude joy.  You and I are called to be witnesses to the world around us of the hope we have found in relationship with Our Blessed Lord.

I saw a beautiful  quote on facebook this week – by the British anthropologist Jane Goodall, who spent 55 years living among and studying the lives of chimpanzees in Kenya – and it was simply this:  “the mission of my life is to give people hope.”

That really struck me.  I thought to myself – isn’t that my mission, too?  Isn’t that the mission of all of us who profess faith in Jesus  Christ?  The mission of my life is to give people hope.

And how?  By sharing the only hope.  The only reason for the advent candles and bright lights and candy canes.  The gifts and the eating and drinking and making merry.  The only hope.  Jesus Christ is with us, and Jesus Christ is coming with salvation for His people.

Gaudete!  Rejoice!