To Keep Watch - Homily for the First Sunday of Advent (B, 2020)

Many years ago, when I felt I was invincible, I would drive home for the holidays from grad school. The drive was about nine hours and I’d leave after classes, which meant I’d be driving through the most boring state in the Union (which is Illinois—sorry, Illinois). So there I was, in the car, surrounded by boredom, in the dark, getting tired. 

So, I had to struggle to keep the car between the lines. I wanted to get home and not into a ditch. And so I took radical steps to make sure I got home. I’d pull my arm hair. I’d roll down the windows in the cold of winter. I’d sing-yell the Star Spangled Banner. And, if push came to shove, I’d stop at a rest area and throw cold water on my face. Anything to stay awake and make it home. 

When Jesus tells us to “watch” today, there is that same kind of flavor to his words. He says to us vigilate (not, vigilante)—vigilate, which means (from the Latin) to keep watch and to keep vigil. Specifically, vigilate has the sense of a guard on a city wall or a city tower overlooking the fields beyond the city. The guard there would “keep watch,” on the lookout. 

And, in particular, the guard would be on the watch for two things. First, and most obviously, for danger: an approaching army; a sandstorm; etc. And the guard would alert the city to this bad news so that it would arm itself against the danger. 

The guard would also be on the watch for good news: when the boys came home from battle; or the king returning from a long journey. The guard, seeing the king, would quickly and joyfully announce to the city this good news—another word for which is gospel, good news. 

So, when Jesus tells us to “watch,” it is not a passive watching as of television, but a readiness for the news—bad or good. 

What is quite interesting for us today is that Jesus tells Peter to vigilate when they are at the gates of the Garden of Gethsemane just two days prior to the famous Agony. Jesus tells Peter to vigilate there at the gates, in a way deputing Peter to be the guardsman on the watch when, later on, a lookout is needed at Gethsemane—which there will be. 

At Gethsemane, Jesus tells the Apostles to keep watch and to pray. They fall asleep. Including Peter. Jesus returns and says, “Could you not stay awake and vigilare for even an hour?” It was late at night. 

Now, Jesus had told Peter to be on guard not only throughout the night—“from evening, to midnight…”—but even to the first light: “cockcrow.” 

Cockcrow. 

That word sounds familiar. It’s at cockcrow when Peter denies Jesus three times. 

But here’s the thing: why did Jesus place Peter on the watch? On the one hand, yes: Peter was supposed to be on the lookout for when Judas, the betrayer, and the enemies arrived. Peter was supposed to alert the Apostles about the bad news. Not a fun gig, but that was his given mission. But, on the other hand, those guards of vigilate were also supposed to be on the lookout for good news. Peter was supposed to be the one who was supposed to be on watch through the night, to the first light, and then announce to all the city of Jerusalem—with great witness and great joy—that Jesus is the Messiah, the Savior, who comes with great gifts, the greatest of which is heaven itself! 

But instead of proclaiming that good news, Peter denies Jesus. So, not only did Peter fail to alert about danger, he also failed to announce about the good. It was a bad night for Peter. He had driven off the road. 

I think there is a message here for us as we begin Advent—as strange as it is to start this season with a reflection on Gethsemane. 

You see, when it comes to staying awake—to keeping the car on the road and getting home, if you will—staying awake and keeping vilgilate requires that we avoid three extremes. And they are not three extremes "out there," but "in here," in the soul. Peter fell asleep not simply because of things out there, but because he was not awake "in here."

First, we need to avoid sullen pessimism. It is very easy to become discouraged and depressed in these days and, when we are that way, it is easier to just stay in bed and sleep. The sullen pessimist who is always focusing on the bad is not on watch for the good. In fact, the pessimist is really quite bad at being an actual alert when actual danger arrives. What I mean by that is: do you know the story of the Boy Who Cried Wolf? The pessimist is the boy who is always saying, “The wolves are coming! The wolves are coming!” And when the wolves don’t come, people stop listening to the boy—such that, when the wolves actually do arrive, no one listens to the boy. Which makes him a bad watchman. 

The pessimist needs to roll down the windows of their car (that is, their soul) and let in some good. Perhaps they can take a lesson from children who eagerly await presents on Christmas Eve. Have you ever noticed children on Christmas Eve? You can’t get them to fall asleep! You have to force them because they are fighting sleep! And why? Because they believe and are excited about what will come at first light: the good news: the gifts! So, pessimists: each day this Advent, think of three things that are good. 

That’s the one extreme. The other extreme are the unbridled optimists. These are the ones who don’t just simply look on the bright side of things, but whose heads are so in the clouds that they miss the real troubles in life. There are fewer of them these days, but they are worth mentioning, because they too make bad watchmen—not only because they can easily be asleep to the real evils that attack our souls, but also because, as they have an imaginary idea of the good, when the good actually comes—in the flesh, Jesus Christ—they fail to actually see and announce it. 

The unbridled optimist, to use the analogy of the car again—the unbridled optimist needs to pull the hair on their arm and become aware of the pain that really afflicts people. Abortion is a real and grave evil. Atheistic communism and the persecution of religions is a real and grave evil. Poverty, homelessness, domestic violence, the sex-slave trade, consumerism, and the destruction of child’s creative imagination and social skills because we throw gadgets at them—these are all real evils that require our engagement. And not mere fluffy idealisms and happy thoughts. Each day, this Advent, you happy optimists need to encounter someone in need. 

That was the second extreme. The final extreme is lazy, apathetic, indifferent, self-centered consumerists and relativists—who shrug their shoulders at both the good and the bad. “Meh,” they say when Jesus is announced. “Whatever,” they mumble when faced with evil. They are already asleep. A good bit of cold water to the face would do them well.

Because they don’t even realize their peril. They think that sleeping is perfectly okay when driving a car. Like Peter, who didn't believe the bad or the good was important enough to pray and keep vigil about when Jesus asked. It is too bad that, since we are on this long, boring road in the night, we cannot see the carnage from all of the cars who have driven off the side of the road. Please, wake up. You need to keep your car between the lines—your soul safe from danger by keeping the Ten Commandments. If you don’t wake up, you may never wake up. I know this temptation. And that’s why I take it seriously. 

Because I’m announcing to you all good news and bad news. The good news that home awaits. The bad news that you could crash if we fall asleep. Therefore, vigilate! 

After all, Christmas is just a few weeks away. That’s good news for some of you. Bad news for others. And it really all depends on how awake you are. 

My prayer is that we may all be at the ready—vigilate—for when our Lord comes, so that you will have a joyful and wonderful Christmas.