Three times in today’s Gospel Jesus calls on us to stay awake. Here we are, once again, at the beginning of Advent: so once again we have a new start, and with it a new wake-up call. Advent issues us a new summons, or a new invitation : to sharpen our focus, to break out of our spiritual sloth; to direct all our attention ever anew towards Jesus. So now, once again, and as if for the first time, we consider who Jesus is, what he has done, and what he will do for us in the very near future. He is God made man, who 2,000 years ago took on our human condition, and in his sacred humanity died and rose again. He is our Saviour, our Redeemer, our Lord, our Friend, our Bridegroom; our hope, our joy, our consolation; he is our beginning and our end; he is also our ever-present support and help and inspiration, and the ever-active source of every grace and blessing. He will come again in glory - surely very soon now - to bring all his work to its conclusion; to restore the Kingdom at last; to renew the whole of Creation; to gather all his Saints together into eternal life.
In light of that, if we ask ourselves, what really matters in life? what really matters in my life? - the answer is obvious. What really matters, what supremely matters, is our relationship with God, with Jesus. It really matters that we know Jesus, and love him, and live with him and in him; that we be prepared for his imminent Second Coming; that we long for the heavenly homeland he has won for us. Compared to this, everything else in our life is relativised. That’s actually a most liberating thought. All the things we fret about: none of them ultimately matter! Well: yes of course we are rightly concerned about people we love; we can be concerned about our health; about the state of the world and of the Church; about the environment; about our personal hopes and fears and anxieties. But all these things will pass away. As for the people we love: we entrust them to God. As for the terrible evils that occur in our world, and great deeds of wickedness that are perpetrated: we entrust these to God also. Our focus has to be not on these things; not on things over which we have no control, but on Jesus: on his presence, his love, his power, his goodness.
In today’s reading from Isaiah, the prophet laments over his people’s lack of concern for their proper relationship with God. It seems they aren’t much bothered about all that. Or worse, they have actively and deliberately turned away from God. Lord, he cries, do something! Even: tear open the heavens and come down! (Is 64:1). Well: God did that, when he came down in Jesus Christ our Lord. He will do it again at the end of time. And even now, by his grace, by the working of his Holy Spirit, he stirs us up out of our lethargy; he gives us ever new opportunities to renew our life with him; he opens our minds to the reality of his presence, not only above us, and before us, but also within us.
Isaiah complains to God: We have all withered like leaves, and our sins have blown us away like the wind (Is 64:6). It’s a poignant image. Maybe it resonates with us particularly these days. Look at us! Look at the average age of Church goers these days! You probably know that last Sunday Pluscarden Kirk had its last service, then finally closed. Birnie Kirk also has closed, and St. Giles in Elgin. What a sign of the receding tide of Christianity in our land! As for our world: it seems to be hovering dangerously close to a new apocalyptic World War. Meanwhile our society devotes itself to ideological insanity, which it requires all of us to pretend to think perfectly sensible.
All the more then, these days, we need to do what our opening Psalm verse says: to raise up our eyes, our minds, our hearts, to the Lord (Ps 24:1). Don’t gaze down into the abyss: that way lies madness. No: look up! Trust in God! Stay close to Him, long for Him; foster a supernatural attitude to all the things of this world, and if they oppress you, try hard to pay them rather little attention.
I recently had the opportunity to visit St. Patrick’s Church in Edinburgh, where the venerable Margaret Sinclair is buried. You’ll know her story. She was born in Edinburgh in 1900, absolutely at the bottom of the social scale. Her father was a road sweeper, on a wage of £1 per week. Her mother was illiterate. They lived in a tenement slum. But they were fervent Catholics. Margaret worked at first in factories, for a few shillings only a week, then she entered the Poor Clares, and died of TB aged 23.
Margaret’s life became ever more focussed and centred on her daily Mass and Communion. She lived for that; found her joy and consolation in that; spent her waking hours in prayer either of preparation or thanksgiving. So Margaret was permanently cheerful. She laughed a great deal. She was always grateful for everything. Whenever she possibly could, she was always ready to offer help. Wherever she found herself, often enough in quite rough settings, she radiated an infectious goodness and wholesomeness and holiness.
So may Margaret Sinclair intercede for us, that we too may be focussed on the Lord; that we may live this Advent well, and in our turn be found ready and awake by the Lord, when he comes.