1st Sunday of Advent (B) – December 3, 2023

St. Paul – Lyons, KS

Isaiah 63:16b-17, 19b; 64:2-7; Psalm 80:2-3, 15-16, 18-19; 1 Corinthians 1:3-9; Mark 13:33-37

The Battle for More Than Helm’s Deep

Well today we begin a new Church year. Advent is the beginning of the Church’s liturgical year. And I love it! I’ve told you many times: Advent is my favorite season of the Church’s year. Because Advent is it! Advent beautiful summarizes all of the Christian life. Because as Christians, we are waiting; waiting for the arrival of God himself; waiting for God to do what we cannot do. In the midst of everything that is going on in our lives, in our families, our community, the world—in the midst of it all, we are waiting. Fighting the good fight, keeping the faith, yes! But waiting for Jesus’ advent—ad venire, his coming, his arrival.

One of my favorite images of this, as I think I’ve shared before, is an image from J.R.R. Tolkien’s series The Lord of the Rings. Tolkien was a devout Catholic and very intentionally littered this story with a Catholic worldview. Tolkien was trying to help us see! (Like we talked this Fall: meta nous—to go beyond our current way of seeing, and to see things in a new way.) My favorite image (the image I love to use in Advent) is from the second book, second movie. There is a huge battle at the fortress called Helm’s Deep. And there, humankind is making a sort of “last stand” agains the forces of evil, of darkness. And there is no way they’re gonna win! They are holding on as long as possible, but they know they will die defending this fortress.

Ok. In that situation, one person has made a promise: the character Gandalf—a character who, un-coincidentally, rose from the dead earlier in the story. Gandalf promises that one day, at dawn, he will come, bringing victory. And when he does, the enemy will finally be destroyed. And (spoiler alert) that’s what happens. When he returns—victory!

So what is Tolkien describing? Tolkien is describing us, Catholics, Christians—especially in the season of Advent, yes, but each and every day of our lives. Here we are in this world, fighting our daily battles. But we can’t win; hold out for a while, yes, but can’t do it on our own. However, in the midst of this, one person has made a promise—one who, un-coincidentally, rose from the dead. And the promise is that he will return. And when he does, victory will finally be ours. That is our hope! That’s what we celebrate in particular during Advent.

And this is why (like we just heard in our gospel) the Advent cry is “watch!” or “be alert!” We are watching and waiting for his arrival. Advent isn’t just a four week countdown to Christmas. Advent is a time when we once again place ourselves in a very intentional position of “expectant waiting”—waiting for him.

Si Vis Pacem, Para Bellum

But waiting for what? What are we waiting for? What’s he supposed to bring? (It’s been 497 days since I’ve used my favorite quote from Augustine, so I think I’ve earned getting to use it again.) “Our hearts are restless,” Augustine says. That’s the experience we have—restless, lacking fulfillment, always feeling like we’re missing something, always with questions about “why” this or that happened. In other words, we’re lacking peace: peace, wholeness, that ease of heart we can’t seem to find—that’s what we’re waiting for. 

But how do we wait? What do we do? “Yeah, I want this peace. What do I do?”

There is a very old phrase, and it is very helpful to know. Si vis pacem, para bellum. That’s Latin for: If you want peace, prepare for war. If you want peace, para bellum—prepare for war. This Advent, as this new liturgical year begins, as this calendar year comes to a close and we prepare for a new year—that fundamental desire we have, the restlessness we have, the desire for fulfillment, and joy, and happiness—the desire for PEACE that we have … this doesn’t happen by magic. It doesn’t happen by making Christmas cookies and listening to Mariah Carey on blast. It doesn’t happen like that! How then? There is a battle to be fought. So para bellum, prepare for war.

The Spiritual Battle for Our Soul

But right away, please, notice! This is a battle for your soul, your heart, your “you”! This is not about “them, those guys over there”—your nemesis, or that political party, or “the culture” or whatever. The is not a battle “to take back the soul of our nation.” The battle is for me. It’s me. The battle is for me, my heart, my soul; the peace I lack.

I know military metaphors can rub us the wrong way sometimes, but it’s the number one metaphor that Scripture uses: in our spiritual life, there is a battle raging. Paul tells us to “fight the good fight” (1 Tim 6:2), to “put on the full armor of God” (Eph 6:11). In other words, the assumption is that we know that we are in a spiritual battle. And Paul tells us that. He says, this battle is “not against flesh and blood” (Eph 6:12)—so not against Joe Biden or Donald Trump or China or Russia or whatever. And the weapons, Paul says, “the weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world”—so not guns and politics and drones. This is a spiritual battle. That lack of peace, that restlessness you feel—it’s not because you don’t have enough money, or that job, or that car; it’s not because of the pain of divorce, or death, or illness, or losing a job, or the busyness; not because of China or Russia, no. It is a spiritual battle. A battle in your life.

All throughout the tradition of the Church, stemming from the life and actions and words of Jesus, through the saints, all the way to today—the tradition identifies three primary enemies that we face. St. Thomas Aquinas famously summed them up this way: the World, the Flesh, and the Devil (ST III, 41, 1, obj. 3). The three enemies that we face in this ongoing spiritual battle: the World, the Flesh, and the Devil. These are the three “fronts” the battle is waged on.

We easily leave this behind. We move past it. Why? Because it sounds old, outdated, superstitious. “The Devil”—didn’t we move passed that? Isn’t the Devil and demons just a bunch of pre-modern superstition? “The Flesh”—“How is that an enemy?” In our day and age, “the flesh” makes no sense because we value “feeling good” over “being good.” If something feels good, it is good; this is how most people operate. And “the World”—well, we just don’t even know where to start on that. And yet, these three enemies are alive and well. Our problem (and I’m convinced the reason we struggle so much, more than we need to)—our problem is that we don’t think we’re engaged in any sort of battle. “Well, I just need to be a nicer person, and go to work, and help my kids, and send out my Christmas card, and wrap my presents, open them up, and I’ll be happy.” But we know that doesn’t work! The restlessness…it’s still there.

This is the simple truth (and this is what Tolkien was trying to help us to see): as followers of Jesus Christ, we are at war, there is a battle. A battle against the Devil, the Flesh, and the World. And this is deeply personal. This is not a time to point fingers. This is a time to look at our life, my life, your life. Again, not your nemesis, or whoever you blame your problems on. You. Me. If we want joy, the fulfillment, the PEACE that we know we do—para bellum, prepare for war.

The Devil: Deceptive Ideas

In these weeks of Advent, this is what we want to dig into. The first of these is the Devil. Back at the beginning of the year, during “Rerouting…”, we talked about him. Far from being just a personification of bad things, the Devil is a very real, very active person. He is the Enemy. The enemy in our lives is not some other nation, or some other political party. The enemy is the Enemy. This is massively important! Because the Enemy’s goal for your life isn’t to convince you to do some bad things. His goal is your destruction—to lead people to ruin, to decimate love. C.S. Lewis said it best. He said, “There are two equal and opposite errors into which [we] fall about the devils. One is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe, and to feel an excessive and unhealthy interest in them.” So don’t get hyper-focused on him, but also don’t disregard him. As Peter says, “Stay sober and alert. Your opponent, the Devil, is prowling around like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour. Resist him” (1 Peter 5:8).

But how? This is the important question. How is the Devil going to come after us? What is the battleground? Is he trying to possess me, like in exorcist movies? No. The primary and ordinary battleground of the Devil with us … it’s our mind. The Devil’s primary method of attack is deception; he is “The Deceiver.” In his most extensive teaching on the devil and the demons, Jesus said, “When [the Devil] lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar, and the father of lies.” When Jesus confront the Devil in the desert, how does the Devil come after him? With lies; lies and deception.

And these lies are subtle, but they paralyzing. Sure, sometimes they’re obvious: “Hey, you should kill that guy.” But usually, they’re very subtle. They’re things we have told ourselves for years, and don’t even realize: “If anyone actually knew me, they would reject me”; “I’m fine. Everything is fine. I’ll just handle things myself”; “I can’t trust my wife. She’ll cheat on me, just like my mom cheated on my dad”; “God only loves me if I’m perfect.” They’re vows that we have made: “I will never let anyone hurt me again. So I’ll never open up to anyone again”; “I refuse to invest in relationships, because people always let you down”; “I’m done trying. It’s just a waste of time.” And it’s even the way we see the world: for example, that happiness comes through achieving certain things; or “The more money I make, the better things will be for me”; “If I achieve this in my career, then I’ll be happy”; “If I’m ever going to feel fulfilled, I have to accomplish X.”

The Lie and the Path Forward

On and on and on. This is how the Devil primary comes after us. He deceives us, convinces us of lies. And when we lives our lives based on these lies, when we place our “faith” in these lies—they lead to ruin, to the breakdown of our lives, to the decimation of love. And ultimately, the lie he is driving at: “God is not a father. At least not a good Father. And he doesn’t love you. And you can’t trust him. You could be happier without Him. You would be so much happier if you had X, and he won’t let you have it. You would be happy if X didn’t happen, and he let X happen. This guy is holding out on you.” And when we begin to believe those lies—it’s game over. The Devil’s end-game isn’t to possess you, it’s to cause you to give up on God, to lose faith, to “live your own life” and “do what makes you happy.” ‘Cuz when we do that? It’s over.

The path forward? Para bellum, prepare for war. Notice what the path forward isn’t. What isn’t working? What are we doing now that’s spreading and confirming these lies. A lot. But one: recent studies show that the average adult spends 2,800 hours a year consuming digital content—that’s over seven hours a day! Seven hours a day scrolling through Facebook and Instagram, watching videos on YouTube and Netflix. 7 hours a day. In comparison—2,800 hours a year on that—we spend 153 hours a year of Christ-centered content. In other words, 25 minutes a day. So think: if we are spending 7 hours a day filling our mind with whatever our culture is throwing our way, and only 25 minutes a day with Christ—what do you think the issue is in our mind?

The path forward is simple. Too simple, and so really hard. It’s the four S’s. Silence, Stillness, Scripture, and Sunday. We need to take a lot more time in silence: not just a lack of noise, but silence from our digital consumption, from TV, from all of it. We need stillness: to sit still, stop rushing around, this constant busyness. We need to take time with Scripture: soaking in the truths that God reveals to us, instead of the lies fed to us all day. And Sunday: we need to take Sunday seriously, as a day of rest, as a day dedicated to God, as a day away from it all. Silence, Stillness, Scripture, and Sunday.

Advent: Awaiting Truth Incarnate

Again, go back to Tolkien and the Lord of the Rings, that scene at Helm’s Deep. In the midst of the battle, the day-to-day struggle, all through the night—Hope was sustained by the confidence that the dawn would arrive, Gandalf would come. But the battle raged on. In this advent season, as we await Christ’s return (he came one, and promises to come again, so we wait)—as we wait, we don’t sit around. We acknowledge the battle—a battle against the Devil, the Flesh, and the World—and we fight it. The peace we desire, it is coming. But if we want peace, para bellum. Christ is coming. Don’t give up.