THIRD SUNDAY OF ADVENT
Readings:
Key Verses (using the World English Bible):
1 Cor. 4:3b-5: “With me it is a very small thing that I should be judged by you, or by [human] judgment. Yes, I don’t judge my own self. For I know nothing against myself. Yet I am not justified by this, but he who judges me is the Lord. Therefore judge nothing before the time, until the Lord comes…”
Matt. 11:2-3: “When John heard in the prison the works of Christ, he… said to him, ‘Are you he who comes, or should we look for another?”
Reflection
It is the Third Sunday of Advent. That means we’re halfway through the season, halfway closer to Christmas.
Traditionally, this Sunday is known as “Refreshment Sunday”, because today the rules of fasting and abstinence were relaxed. If this sounds a little bit like Lent to you, specifically like the Fourth Sunday in Lent, I assure you that the parallel is most likely on purpose. The early Church found it appropriate to introduce the “Time of the Coming” to await Christ’s birth, and the “Time of the Forty [Days]” to prepare for his resurrection. To underscore the relationship and similarity between these two seasons of self-examination and penitence, their liturgical color is purple—except today, when rose may be used.
Most of us associate words like “penitence” or “abstinence” with a kind of “timed” guilt, the imposed obligation to feel sorry for the wrong we’ve done, the forced reminder that we can, and should, do better. Maybe some years, we really and sincerely feel these things. Maybe other years, it’s more like a chore, and we just go through the motions, anxious to skip ahead to the joy of Christmas or Easter. Maybe in most years, we question the need for these times of reflection. After all, what good is it to feel sorry for yourself, to berate yourself for natural human imperfection, to brood over our mistakes, when a little more “positive thinking” may be more productive?
Advent—along with Lent—can be many of these things, but Paul reminds us today of one thing it must never be. As a servant of Christ, and a “steward” of God’s mysteries, Paul tells the Church of Corinth that he is not subject to any human judgment, including—remarkably—his own: “I don’t judge my own self. For I know nothing against myself.” Really, Paul? Not judging himself is one thing, but not knowing anything against himself is another.
Paul has many things that could be brought against him. I don’t think he’s trying to cover them up here, though, because he wasn’t afraid to admit some of them to another church. To the Galatian Church, Paul confesses that he once “persecuted the assembly of God, and ravaged it” (Gal. 1:13). Luke adds in the Book of Acts, that Paul was present at the stoning of the first Christian martyr, Stephen, keeping watch over the cloaks of those killing him—and that Paul approved! Paul also confesses to the Galatians (Gal. 2:11-14) how he called out the Apostle Peter on his “hypocrisy” in front of everyone—“resisted him to his face”, as Paul puts it almost smugly—probably not the most Christian way to handle a disagreement.
We’ve all wronged someone at one time or another, and yes, we should feel sorry about that. But we’re called to never pronounce judgment on ourselves, because when we do that, we inevitably sentence ourselves to that same prison that John found himself in—a prison of doubt and fear; a prison where he forgot how one day the heavens were opened, and a voice declared that he had just met God’s beloved Son. Judgment, Paul says, belongs to that same beloved Son, not to us. Now, of course, mastering the art of forgiving ourselves does not free us of God’s judgment. But that’s precisely Paul’s point. We confess a God of mercy, whose judgment therefore will always be merciful, whereas our judgment is inclined to be merciless, especially towards ourselves. I think Paul realized this when he considered that, after all the wrongs he had done, God still called on him. No wonder he later tells the Corinthians to “be imitators of me, even as I also am of Christ” (1 Cor. 11:1). It’s not hubris—it’s sobering advice from firsthand experience.
Our liturgy can be filled with some of the most beautiful and poetic words of self-deprecation that you will ever read. But I don’t think it’s an accident that these readings were long ago selected for “Refreshment Sunday”. If, as Whitney Houston once sang, “learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all”, then not judging oneself is probably the hardest way to get to that love. But Advent reminds us that we can in fact do just that. And that is very refreshing indeed.
Prayer of the Day
O Lord Jesus Christ,
at your first coming, you sent your messenger
to prepare the way before you.
Grant that the ministers and stewards of your mysteries
may likewise make ready your way,
by turning the hearts of the disobedient
to the wisdom of the just,
so that, when you judge the world at your second coming,
we may be found an acceptable people in your sight;
you who live and reign with the Father and Holy Spirit,
one God, forever and ever.
Or,
O Lord, we pray you,
arise in your might and come.
Summon your strength,
hasten to our rescue,
and assist us with your grace,
for we are immersed in sin without escape.
Look gently upon us in your forbearance,
so that once again we can live, move, and have our being;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.
(From the Lund Missal, 1514, Advent 4;
translation by Joseph A. Soltero)
(Words: Latin “Jordanis oras praevia”, Charles Coffin, 1676-1749; translated to English by Charles Winfred Douglas, 1867-1944, after John Chandler, 1806-1876; adapted by Joseph A. Soltero 2013
Tune: ‘Winchester New’, melody from Musicalisches Hand-Buch, 1690; harmony by William Henry Monk, 1823–1889)
On Jordan’s bank, the Baptist’s cry
Announces that the Lord is nigh.
Awake and hearken, for he brings
Glad tidings of the King of kings.
Then cleansed be every soul from sin,
Make straight the way for God within,
And let each heart prepare a home
Where such a mighty guest may come.
For you are our salvation, Lord,
Our refuge and our great reward.
Without your grace, we waste away
Like flowers that wither and decay.
To heal the sick, stretch out your hand,
And bid the fallen sinner stand.
Shine forth, and let your light restore
Earth’s own true loveliness once more.
To you, eternal Son, praise be:
Your advent sets your people free,
Whom with the Father we adore,
And with the Spirit evermore.
Amen.
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