Ax and Ye Shall Receive

The Second Sunday of Advent
Today’s Readings: [Click here]

On this second Sunday of Advent, the gospel features John the Baptist. Like most prophets and gurus, John rattled a lot of cages. He challenged much of the conventional thinking and establishment of his day. You had to love John or hate him. He was one of those larger-than-life personalities who demanded that you make a choice.

People on the margins of society, of course, thought he was wonderful. He spoke of a God who loved them and offered them great hope. But as for the politicians, priests, lawyers and the rest of the “in crowd,” let’s just say that John the Baptist made them squirm. He was a troublemaker, a rabble-rouser and, as his popularity increased, even a threat to their comfortable life. He said and did things no one else would have dared. He challenged people and stirred them up. He told them that if they didn’t repent and change and produce good fruit in their lives they would be cut down and thrown into the fire. As he put it: even now the ax is laid to the root of the trees.

When I was first assigned as the assistant pastor at St. Stephen’s parish in Streator some years ago, I quickly learned that my boss loved to go out to dinner every single day, and wanted me to come along. The monsignor enjoyed nice restaurants, so most evenings, we’d go to one Chicago suburb or another just for a meal. Most weeks, we’d drive to Naperville or Joliet or Wheaton—and probably several times! I did get to see a great deal of the countryside, and I witnessed a lot of development and construction.

One week we would drive along and see large, wooded tracts of land. The next week, the heavy equipment had been moved in, and the trees were being chopped down and hauled off. Before long, other equipment leveled the ground and paved roads, while construction crews started on building houses. Within a few short months, the old forestland was just a memory, and a brand new, modern housing development stood in its place.

To use a little metaphor, obviously those fancy developments couldn’t have been built without first getting rid of some or all of the trees. In essence, that is what John the Baptist is speaking about today. He confronts us with the entanglements and the sin in our life. We all have “trees” in our lives that don’t produce good fruit or that stand in the way of our spiritual growth and progress.

These trees take many forms: harmful relationships, abusive behavior, addiction to drugs, alcohol, sex or work. Our trees might be lives overburdened with anger, bitterness or self-hatred. Our trees might be so choked with memories of the past that they can’t produce good fruit in the present. Ironically, often these trees have been our means of survival for years. They’ve become so deeply rooted in our lives that we don’t see how we or anyone else could possibly uproot them.

Today’s gospel invites us to take the ax to the roots of these old and unproductive trees in our lives. It can be scary, and it’s never easy, but it’s the only way to stimulate new growth.

Well, maybe that sounds good in principle. Who wouldn’t like to get rid of some of the “excess baggage” we carry around? But how do you go about doing that? Once again, let’s look to John the Baptist.

John lived, and did his preaching, in the desert of Judea. In the Christian tradition, the desert has always been a place to face the ultimate questions and issues of life. Those who left the cities and towns were called “ascetics,” which comes from the Greek word askesis, meaning exercise. In other words, they were athletes for the Lord. They believed that like the great prophets before them, they would hear the voice of God in the desert, and that in finding God they would also find their authentic selves.

The desert is still a place where we hear the voice of God calling us to our true selves. By stepping into the solitude and quiet of the desert, we can see more clearly the malignancies and pollution in our own life. This recognition is the first step in making changes.

Of course, it isn’t all that easy to find a suitable desert in East Central Illinois. Can we use a forest preserve or a cornfield? Yes, I suppose… but perhaps it’s good to realize that the desert can just as easily be a spiritual, rather than a physical, place. Quiet prayer time in church before the Blessed Sacrament, or even at home, can also be your desert to commune with God. Make a little time, and put yourself in the presence of the Holy Spirit and invite Jesus into your heart. Ask for his light and guidance. Ask him where to chop with that big ol’ ax.

A final word of advice: be patient with yourself when it seems as though you’ll never clear your way out of the tangle of roots and underbrush. Remember, some of the trees have been there for a very long time! The important thing is to learn to respect yourself as a child of God, to keep cutting, and to throw the dead wood into the fire of God’s consuming love.

Be filled with great hope. For he shall rescue the poor when he cries out, and the afflicted when he has no one to help him.