Fourth Sunday of Advent - Peace

Luke 1:39-45

Mary set out and traveled to the hill country in haste to a town of Judah, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the infant leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth, filled with the Holy Spirit, cried out in a loud voice and said,

“Blessed are you among women,

and blessed is the fruit of your womb.

And how does this happen to me,

that the mother of my Lord should come to me?

For at the moment the sound of your greeting reached my ears,

the infant in my womb leaped for joy.

Blessed are you who believed

that what was spoken to you by the Lord

would be fulfilled.”

I am always grateful for the iconic recitation of this passage in A Charlie Brown Christmas. It reminds us to join the chorus of praise that those shepherds of old heard, “Glory to God in the Highest and on earth peace among men with whom he is pleased.” (Lk 2:14). That the essential Christmas message is given from the most unlikely, and yet wisest, character of the show should not be lost on us. In his humility, clutching at his blue security blanket, Linus sees what no one else could and tells us what Christmas is all about.

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined”

Isaiah 9:2

As I write this, I anticipate that peace and joy is not the feeling our nation or world will be feeling as we roll up on the 4th Sunday of Advent, the last Sunday before Christmas. Snow is falling softly in fluttering quarter-sized flakes and the world outside has become blanketed with a few inches of white, fluffy snow. A currier and Ives portrait has been etched on the landscape outside my window. If I was to imagine what world gifted with Christmas peace, what would be imagined would be what I can see. A storybook Christmas scene, snow falling on barren cottonwoods and frosted pine trees. I love what I can see and I ache to hold on to the image and never let go. The world, however, will not allow the peace I see to linger. I am struck with the truth the peace I see is not what Christmas peace is all about anyway. Peace is not about what we can see, it is about what is in our hearts.

When Christmas comes, we will undoubtedly still be roiling from this long and arduous year, which has drawn us down into an abyss. The “results” of the election will still divide further our nation, families, communities, and parishes. The plague of COVID-19 and all the restrictions this pandemonium of fear has imposed will still be crushing to the spirit, to put it mildly. How will we find the peace we are promised? Where can we find peace when relationships are being ruptured by the debate over vaccinations?

The peace we expect to come with Christmas is elusive this year, perhaps even more so than usual as sorrow darkens our thoughts. The loss of our beloved Deacon brings sadness as we think first about all of the ways he loved and impacted us. Through the sadness, though, comes some first glimpses of peace as the promise of the incarnation reminds us death is just an illusion, and belief brings peace that leads to joy consolation. He has gone home. He is at peace. We rejoice for him but we still need to wipe the tears of today away to let peace find its way to us.

Where is peace? We are called to reject fear and to rejoice because the Prince of Peace is born again. Out of unseen places he appears. Christ has come and He remains with us through it all. The beauty of our faith is that we do not need to succumb to the anxiety our world generates. Sorrow need not be our legacy.

Rather, we can remain fixed upon that great luminary of the night sky that portends God’s victory over every evil that afflicts us. Liturgy declares in the ‘O antiphon’ for the day: “O radiant dawn, sun of justice: come and shine on those who dwell in darkness and in the shadow of death.”

This antiphon reminds me of one of my favorite scenes from the Lord of the Rings. As Samwise Gamgee and Frodo Baggins are making their way to Mount Doom, across the sickened and dark plains of Mordor, Sam sees a “white star twinkle for a while” in the dim and pale night sky. “The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end, the Shadow was only a small passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.”

Advent reminds us that we are born up by a star in the night sky. Hope is the virtue God gives to endure the trials of this life here, below the heavens, with certainty that the Prince of Peace will prevail as His light pierces the darkness. Christmas reminds us that our hope is not in vain. Christ did come, and he will come again when the time is right. In fact, the Lord is never late; he shows up precisely when he means to. This Christmas will be no different. Peace comes from the prince who teaches us Joy and life eternal will come. We believe it.