8 — SOON THE LORD WILL COME

Second Sunday of Advent

Presence of God. — I place myself before Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament to hear from Him the twofold invitation to trust and penance contained in today’s liturgy.

Meditation

1 — After considering the sublime program of sanctification to which we all must tend, it is very consoling to consider the magnificent texts of today’s liturgy: they are an invitation to full trust in divine help. “Soon your salvation will come; why are you consumed with anxiety?... I will save and free you, and do not fear... As a mother comforts her children, so I will comfort you, says the Lord” (BR.). The Lord does not want anxiety and discouragement. If He sets before us a sublime path of holiness, He does not leave us alone, but comes to us to be our help, our support.

In today’s Mass it is highlighted that Jesus comes not only for the people of Israel, for a few elect, but also for the Gentiles, for all. “Behold, the Lord comes to save the nations” (Introit). Let us therefore trust and rejoice according to St. Paul’s wish: “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope” (Ep.: Rom. 11, 4-13). And so that our hopes in Christ may also be encouraged by concrete facts, the Gospel (Mt. 11, 2-10) presents to us the greatness of His works: “...the blind see, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is announced to the poor.”

There is no material or moral misery that Jesus cannot heal; He asks only that we go to meet Him with a heart enlarged in faith, in full trust in His almighty merciful love.

2 — In today’s Gospel Jesus presents to us the strong and austere figure of the Baptist: “What did you go out into the desert to see? A reed shaken by the wind?... A man clothed in soft garments?”

If we want to prepare our hearts for the coming of the Lord, we must, like the Baptist, detach ourselves from earthly goods; John had left everything and withdrawn into the desert to a life of penance. His example invites us to withdraw into the interior desert of our heart, far from creatures, to await, in intense recollection, in silence and solitude—as far as the duties of our state permit—the coming of Jesus. And we must persevere in this waiting even in dryness and discouragement: “surely the Lord will appear—sings today’s Office—and will not fail; if He delays, await Him, He will come and will not tarry” (BR.).

To interior recollection let us join a greater spirit of penance, of mortification. Let us examine with what generosity we practice the penances and mortifications prescribed by our rules, or which we have personally imposed on ourselves with the approval of our confessors or superiors. And if in this field we must acknowledge that we do little, it will be good to resolve to do something more: some mortification in food, in rest, or in clothing, some burdensome work or little pleasing to nature...

If we want to taste the sweet joys of Christmas, we must know how to prepare ourselves with these dispositions that the Church invites us precisely today to ask for: “we beseech You, O Lord, that... You teach us to despise earthly things and to love heavenly things” (MR.).

Colloquy

O Word, my Savior, how can I doubt that You come to this earth to save me, to sanctify me? How can I fail to come to You with full trust and confidence, when You have spared nothing to testify to me of Your infinite merciful love? Your Incarnation, Your infant cries, Your humble and hidden life, Your apostolate, Your miracles, Your sorrowful Passion and Death, all Your Blood shed, will these then not be enough to make me believe in Your love, to open my heart to the most complete trust? “My God, I understand Your love for me well... Ah, I feel it well, that even if all the crimes that can be committed weighed upon my soul, I would not lose an atom of this confidence. With a heart broken by repentance, I would fly to throw myself into Your arms, O my Savior, because I know that You tenderly love the prodigal son, and I have heard Your words to Magdalene, to the adulterous woman, to the Samaritan woman. No, no one could frighten me, because I know how much I could rely on Your love and on Your mercy; I know that in the blink of an eye that whole heap of offenses would disappear like a drop of water thrown into a blazing furnace” (T.B.G. St. 11 and 10). With this trust, O my Jesus, I therefore want to resume my journey and begin again my poor efforts. In this Advent You invite me to greater interior recollection, to greater inward and outward silence to listen to Your voice, to prepare myself for Your coming. Deign then to silence in me the continual chatter of vain things; the discordant voices of nature, of self-love, of touchiness, the distracting chatter of fantasies, imaginations, thoughts, useless worries.

I acknowledge it, often my mind and my heart resemble a stormy sea where waves follow one another without cease with deafening noise; and yet if You will, one sign from You will be enough to restore calm, to silence everything.

But You make me understand that interior silence requires detachment from self and from creatures, requires interior and exterior mortification. Yes, for love of You I want to mortify my curiosity: curiosity of the eyes, of hearing, of thought, of imagination. I also want to silence my passions, and for this reason I resolve to mortify my body with greater generosity. O eternal Word, my Savior, draw all my faculties to You, fix in You my interior gaze, so that I may seek and listen to You alone, eternal Word of my eternal God!