3rd Sunday in Advent, Dec. 11, 2011
Fr. Anthony Brankin
Gospel: John 1:6-8; 19-28 “Make straight the way of the Lord”
(Full sermon text) It was many years ago that I took a trip to Rome. It was kind of a working trip. I had been asked to make a large bronze statue that is called a “relief.” Now a relief is a sort of a huge sculpted wall plaque with faces and figures coming out and receding. Some of the figures come out as if they were stepping out of the wall—others are very lightly sculpted against the surface.
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Now, there are many artistic problems when you make a relief. It is two-dimensional and three-dimensional at the same time. So what I hoped to accomplish on this trip was to visit as many the churches as I could and study as closely as possible all the many “reliefs” that I knew were in those churches.
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Wandering among churches
So every day I walked the streets of Rome, wandering from one church to another. Most of the time I didn’t even know the name of the church I was visiting. I just went in looking for the artwork to see what the artist had done and how he had done it.
Now in traditional churches in Rome, you can find anywhere from 6 – 12 chapels along the walls of the church. We would also call them side altars. And in those side chapels, over the altar of sacrifice, there is always a beautiful piece of art.
Sometimes it is a painting or a sculpture. Maybe it is a relic in a beautiful glass case. Of course there are crucifixes and Madonnas with incredibly beautiful angels sitting on columns on the sides of the side altar—framing the chapels. Well, I knew that the side altar was where I would find my reliefs.
A gentle smile
But it was not too long before I began to forget about the art and began to be immersed in something else that I saw over all those altars and on all those walls. I began to notice that whether the art was a portrayal of Jesus or Mary or the Apostles or saints–whether it was a Bible scene or a miraculous story—whether the subjects were heroes of Catholicism or just plain people caught up in a religious marvel – I noticed that in almost every face–in every pair of eyes–on every mouth–there was a smile. A gentle peaceful, contented smile. Not laughter—not giggles and grins—but a glow in the face, a sparkle in the eyes and the corners of the mouth— ever-so-delicately turned up in a smile. There were the indulgent glances and suffering expressions—the hands would be this way or that way, but always—on the faces, there was the smile.
And it dawned on me–maybe not for the first time-–that there was something that these old Catholic artists knew about our faith that would give us—even in the midst of great earthly trials and suffering—unspeakable happiness and joy.
The smile in their hearts
These smiles were not just the curved lines of someone’s mouth, but the reflection of the smile within their hearts. And when you see that smile, you know that that Virgin or that saint or that angel knows about something very deep and very good—for them and for us.
I guess you could say that these smiles are what happens to us when we ponder the implications of our faith.
What does our faith mean for us? Well, we learn soon enough—that our faith in God and in Jesus means “ hope.” We have an ineffable happiness on earth precisely because we hope for heaven. It is that simple. The reason for our religion–the purpose of revelation–the goal of life–is the concrete hope of living in God’s presence and basking in God’s love.
Smile of Guadalupe
Look at the smile of the Virgin of Guadalupe. See that smile? That is what I am talking about—it is just so deep and happy and peaceful and loving that it must come out in her face—on her lips—in her smile. We could easily say that this is the message of Our Lady of Guadalupe—The true faith in the True God will give us a joy that no one can take from us.
Compare for a moment, the beautiful stories of our faith with other beautiful stories—like the ones we find in fairy tales—maybe Pinocchio or Snow White. Yes those stories always please and delight. We might even smile at the loveliness of the characters and we might even learn lessons for better living from these tales.
But if joy is defined as the peaceful inner happiness that comes from being fulfilled, would hearing about Cinderella cause us joy? I do not think so. You see, at the end of the fairy tale, we are merely finished reading. Yes, we might be able to muster a sigh and wish things in this world and in our lives were just a little bit better than they were and that we might end up with a fairy-tale ending. But we won’t—probably.
Fairy tales cannot fulfill
In the final analysis—those stories cannot cause us joy or fulfill us because they are only fairy tales and our souls and lives remain untouched by them.
In other words in a fairy tale there is nothing to hope for. What would we hope for? That we could meet Cinderella one day? That there really might be a Prince Charming living in an imaginary kingdom and we could be part of that kingdom? No, the fairy tale does not exist except as a diversion and because it does not give Hope—it cannot give us Joy.
Stories that change us
But the stories of our Faith—and the illustrations of these stories help us conclude that these joys come from something deep—something that does touch our lives and change them and fill them; and that of course is God.
Think about it—the stories of our Faith, are connected with our lives—these stories change our lives and form our lives. And why? Because they are about that which is real and is in contact with us. These stories give us joy because they give us hope.
Joy unutterable
“Hope” is the bridge between the difficulties of our lives and the happy resolution of those difficulties through God. The story of our faith tells us that there is Someone who has us in His Mind and who loves us and promises us a chance to live with Him in a place called heaven and with a joy unutterable—far away from the troubles of this life. The Gospel tells us that we should hope for that.
Hope is the confirmation in our hearts that there is more to this life than this life. And Thank God! Actually that is the meaning of the rose colored vestments on the Third Sunday of Advent. Rejoice, because now there is Hope—the hope that life is not one long cry, or that every tear we ever shed is forever. The hope that this life is not utterly futile and in the end pointless, and that all we should ever look forward to is a cleaner nursing home at the end.
No, this hope is because it causes real joy—such a deep joy that no one can take it from us. This Hope is a Person—and His name is Jesus, whose birthday we will celebrate in just a few days! No wonder we can smile.
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