Congratulations! We’ve made it halfway through the third week of Advent! The Church tells us that this is a time of great joy, and the whole rose vs. pink debate on Sunday was only part it. But whether it’s the weary cold of the winter months, end-of-the-year exhaustion, family struggles that weigh on us no matter the jolly time of year, the prospect of the calendar flipping to a fresh page while our expectations and dreams remain seemingly unfulfilled, or simply exasperation with the state of our world, it can be more than a little difficult to truly experience that joy.
Sometimes when the Church says “Gaudete! Rejoice!” we feel it easier to release an exasperated sigh rather than a joyful noise. And she tells us not only to rejoice but to “rejoice always” (1 Thess 5:16). Instead of thinking that because this all seems foreign to us that we must be some kind of strangers to joy, what if this is precisely the situation that makes us most ready to receive true joy–the joy of the Incarnation? Consider these words of St. Bernard of Clairvaux:
“Now it is time to consider the time at which the Saviour came. He came–I believe you are not unaware of this–not at the beginning of time or at its midpoint, but at its end. This is not done inappropriately; on the contrary, Wisdom wisely arranged that help should first be brought when the need was great, though not unaware that the children of Adam are prone to ingratitude…Pondering this the Apostle said: When the fullness of time came, God sent his Son. Surely, a fullness and abundance of the things temporal had brought about a loss and forgetfulness of things eternal. Eternity came opportunely, when temporality was at its strongest. To give only one example, temporal peace was then so complete that the whole world could be registered at the decree of one single person” (Bernard of Clairvaux, Sermons for Advent and the Christmas Season, Advent: Sermon One).
Eternity came opportunely, when temporality was at its strongest.
The world was not in a state of perfection when Christ “became man and dwelt among us (Jn. 1:14). If you were to zoom in on individual souls, you would have found some of them in a similar state as the world as a whole: “whitewashed tombs, which outwardly appear beautiful, but within they are full of dead men’s bones and all uncleanness (Mt. 23:27).” I bet you’re feeling really joyful now.
But there is hope and even joy to be found in this situation! Because the Lord chose to become man in just that very world, just as he gives himself to be incarnated on our altars every day, every minute, every moment. We may find ourselves mired in a world that doesn’t care much for Jesus and maybe even that does its best to claw away at his Bride, the Church, either politically, morally, or in the name of science. But this is ultimately a state of poverty, if only we will recognize it. It is precisely this poverty that makes our world fertile ground for the love of the Lord to be planted.
Think about it: Jesus is a King. He is the God-man, the Second Person of the Trinity. He takes on human flesh and allows himself to be born in a stable and laid in a manger (a feeding trough) in order that his Eternity would shatter the temporality of the world and in order that his existence as pure Love would shake us of our stale sentiments and make our hearts living altars to this King, this Bridegroom.
In The Mystery of Joseph, Fr. Marie-Dominique Philippe reflects on St. Joseph’s encounter with his own unworthiness to protect and nurture the Son of God:
“Divine poverty always touches what is most vulnerable in us because it is the fruit of love, and love is what makes us vulnerable…He deliberately targets what is most vulnerable in us–there where we are most capable of loving–and He does so in order that we become beggars of His Heart and so that we are very close to His own poverty.”
In this season of joy, very often we come up against our own poverty more often than we experience joy, but what a gift this encounter is. We tell the Lord that it is too much, but our poverty makes us beggars of His Heart, and that intimacy with Love himself allows Jesus to tenderly whisper to us, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor. 12:9).
There is work to be done in the world, I grant you that. There is also work to be done in our own hearts. But this is the source of our joy: that Jesus looks on us in our state of poverty and sees something utterly loveable. He wants nothing but perfection for you, and he gives you himself completely and totally to accomplish it (1 Thess 5:24). There is hope that the Lord is coming, and he’s coming for you and all your burdens.