Having lived more than half my life in the city of my birth, Legazpi, that sits under the blue shadow of the
majestic Mayon volcano (which is just thirteen kilometers away from the city center), I have witnessed for myself how — seven or more years of alternating monsoon rains, typhoons and sunshine after a massive eruption — the highly compact mineral content of the soil spewed out by the volcano gradually loses its toxicity. It means therefore that, after some years of zero flora and fauna on the land surface of Mayon during its eruption and some years following it, vegetation once again flourishes; the freshness of new life fills the air once more.
This is why poor farmers and their families keep coming back to their little huts at the foot of Mount Mayon, notwithstanding the natural danger looming over their heads. Experience has taught them that it only takes resolute patience to regain the richness of the volcanic soil that most certainly produces sturdy plants and high-quality vegetables for them to sell at very affordable prices.
Such was the nature scene I had in my mind the moment I read the readings for today, the third Sunday of Advent. “See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, being patient with it,” the Letter of James tells us in the Second Reading. When we couple that kind of patience with joyful hope, only then can we sing with Isaiah (in the First Reading): “The desert and the parched land will exult; the steppe will rejoice and bloom. They will bloom with abundant flowers, and rejoice with joyful song.”
Joyful hope coupled with resolute patience is the spirit of Gaudete Sunday, our day of rejoicing in our extended wait for the coming of the Messiah. It is the same spirit that can open our minds and hearts to the God whose faithfulness endures, the same key that can open the eyes of our souls to the wonders He has been accomplishing in us as exalted in today’s psalm (146): “The Lord God… secures justice for the oppressed, gives food to the hungry; sets captives free; gives sight to the blind; raises those who are bowed down; loves the just; protects the strangers; sustains the fatherless and the widow.” Aren’t these enough reasons for us to rejoice? Anything else we need for us to be joyful?
That was the same resolute patience John the Baptist had when he proclaimed the coming of the Messiah. And when the long wait is over, with the same joyful hope he sent his disciples to Jesus to confirm the truth about Jesus’ person in today’s Gospel. But do we really think he needed confirmation at all so that he had to send someone to ask: “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?” Would not the Spirit of God inform him — Christ’s precursor — ahead of everyone else?
John the Baptist’s disciples were actually the ones in need of confirmation. So he sent them to Jesus: (1) as a sort of final act of handing them over to Jesus to be his new disciples; and (2) to allow them to see and hear for themselves who indeed Jesus is so that they may have faith in him. Now that the Messiah has finally come, John the Baptist’s role has reached its end and so he humbly turned his disciples over to the One whose way he has prepared in advance.
And what response did John’s disciples hear from Jesus? Instead of easily confirming the truth about his person, Jesus simply enumerated his addition to God’s accomplishments in today’s psalm: “the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed…the dead are raised, and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them” (Ps 146: 6-10; compare it with Mt 11:5). Best of all, Jesus exalted John the Baptist’s prophetic character instead of himself, as if to say in thankful acknowledgment: I could not have done these wonders had not John prepared the way for me. For that, I am truly blessed and grateful. May his tribe increase. Jesus made a fitting tribute to John, who did what he had to do so that Jesus could eventually shine at the appointed time.
Now there lies the Advent challenge of today’s Gospel: Are we capable of waiting with resolute patience and joyful hope for the second coming of our Lord? How open and prepared is his way into our being if he comes into our hearts today? While there is no doubt that we will allow God’s wonders (Ps 146:6-10; Mt 11:5) to work in us, the question is: can we allow the same marvels to be accomplished in the lives of others through us, in much the same way John the Baptist took it upon himself so that Jesus may shine in God’s time? Once our term has ended and knowing we have done our part the best we could, can we — like John the Baptist — humbly, peacefully, sans regret and in joyful hope hand over the reins to the next chosen one?
In union with His Holiness Pope Francis, may the Gospel of Joy — Evangelii gaudium — bring us hope this Gaudete Sunday and always.
