The Peaceable Kingdom vs. The Brood of Vipers

Homily for the Second Sunday in Advent, Year A
It all sounds so nice, doesn’t it, this vision from Isaiah? The wolf lying down with the lamb, the leopard and the young goat, the calf and the lion together as friends – it’s just like a perfect Christmas card. Peace on earth, even among the animals. Happiness for everyone, love blossoming among enemies, justice for all – you can almost here the soft music playing in the background – and then: bang! “You brood of vipers. … Even now the ax lies at the root of the trees. … every tree that does not bear good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.” Your house is in need of a major cleaning – not just your physical house, but the house of your soul. Apparently, John the Baptist had not been reading up on Isaiah before his preaching in the desert. And for the Church to give us such harsh words in this season all about hope and joy – it seems to make no sense. But maybe John the Baptist has a point.

Maybe our spiritual homes are a bit of a wreck. Maybe there’s good reason for this crazy man from the desert to call us to account, to insist that we need to clean house, to beg that we repent. I imagine that just about all of our spiritual lives have some clutter in them. There are corners where dust, and dirt, and trash have accumulated. There are signs of neglect, where the paint is peeling, the carpet is frayed, and the drapes have faded. Windows are grimy; they barely let in the light of the sun. And today John the Baptist shows up and points out to us those things that we have been neatly overlooking for who-knows-how-long. And he expects change – not because of what he has to say, but because there is someone coming after him, someone following in his footsteps who we should care about. Jesus does not even make an appearance in today’s gospel, but we know he’s coming. What are we going to do to get ready for him?

Perhaps we need to start by spending more time with him – maybe our mass attendance has become sporadic, or our prayer life has been swept under the dresser. God has promised us a place on his holy mountain, and we would do well in this life to make sure we know where that mountain of God is. These days of Advent are a time to look at how much time we are spending with God. Or perhaps it’s our pride that needs work, or our anger, or lust, or jealousy – those things that we know are there, deep down inside, but either we’re afraid to live without them or we don’t quite know what to do. Now is the time to dust off the virtues and to practice the gifts of the Holy Spirit, things like wisdom and understanding, counsel and strength, knowledge, piety, and fear of the Lord. We have the gifts – now is the time to unwrap them, put all the pieces together, put in some batteries, and get to work.

If it sounds like hard work, well, it is – no one will deny that. It’s hard work to always choose God above ourselves. It’s hard work to root out pride – it takes practice, daily practice. We can start by spending a few minutes with God each day. In that time, we can examine the nooks and crannies of our lives to see what needs to be swept up or cleaned out – that teaches us humility. Then, for every thing we do for ourselves, we should also do something for someone else – that teaches us love and compassion. And if we have accomplished those tasks – spending time with God each day, showing God’s love to others – then we will be well on our way to be ready to welcome Christ at Christmas, instead of just the gift-bearing magi. It’s hard work, to be sure. But the reward – ah, the reward – remember that vision of Isaiah? The wolf will be the guest of the lamb, the calf and the lion will dwell together, and there will be peace, true peace, on God’s holy mountain. Now that’s something to look forward to. But we have some work to do.