Homily for Advent 4 - December 18, 2022

 

Homily for Advent 4

December 18, 2022

God Is With Us

 

            Who is this King Ahaz in the first reading? We pick up a small snippet of a much bigger story. Ahaz was the King of Judah, which was the southern kingdom (at this point in Israel’s history, the kingdom was split into two – Israel in the north and Judah in the south). His land was being attacked by the Assyrian Kingdom, who had already attacked the north and decimated it. So Ahaz decided to do what any reasonable king would do – he wanted to form an alliance with Egypt, to defend his kingdom from the Assyrians.

            But Isaiah the prophet warns against it. He says, “No! Don’t you trust the Lord? He has been with you all along! He will fight for you!”

            This is where we pick up the story – Isaiah even offers Ahaz that God will do a “sign” (a miracle) to prove that God will fight for him. But Ahaz declines – not out of humility, but because he has already decided that he will disobey the Lord and doesn’t want to be dissuaded out of it! So Isaiah says, “Well, despite your hardness of heart, God will give you a sign, even if you don’t want it – the sign that a virgin will conceive and name the baby boy Emmanuel, which means God-with-us.”

            How many times have we been like King Ahaz? We think to ourselves, “Well, God might be up in Heaven, but He doesn’t have anything to do with my everyday life, so it’s up to me to figure it out and make my life what I want it to be.” When in reality, God isn’t just “up there” – He is also right here. Emmanuel: God-with-us.

            This past week we remembered one of the most tragic events in recent memory – ten years since the school shootings at Sandy Hook. During that time, a lot of people were asking that question, “Where are you, God? How could you let this happen?” I must admit, those questions crossed my mind quite a bit on December 14, 2012. I was in my first assignment at St. Mary’s in Bethel, a mere seven miles from Sandy Hook. All day long, I was watching the news and texting Fr. Luke, who was at St. Rose in Newtown. We kept asking if there was anything we could do to help, and he just told us to keep praying.

            Finally, at 10pm that night, he texted me and asked if I could gather the other priests and head down to the firehouse in Sandy Hook. We all headed down there, and joined the crowd of other clergy and police officers. The police chief decided to form teams of three people: an officer, a psychologist, and a clergy member, and each team had to drive to the home of the family of the slain and give them the official declaration of death.

            I’ll never forget the utter terror I felt as we drove to the home of Jack Pinto, one of the six-year-olds who had been killed. What can you say? How can you bring God’s presence into the worst shooting America had ever seen? When we got to the house, we heard cries of utter anguish from inside. We knocked on the door, and the parents cried out, “We know he’s dead! We know he’s dead!” Still, we had to officially deliver the news, so we let ourselves in and told them what we knew about their son.

            After that, we sat in the living room with the family. They didn’t want to talk, and we had no words. They wept, we wept. We couldn’t do anything to take away the pain, but we could walk with them through it. I realized – perhaps because it was Advent, and in ten days we would be celebrating the feast of Emmanuel – that God was there, in the pain. Why was He allowing it? I don’t know. I do know that we will know in eternity why He allowed it. But I also know that He was Emmanuel – God-with-us. In the midst of this tragedy, in the midst of the darkest day I have ever experienced, He was there, walking with us. God didn’t need to say anything – He didn’t need to do a miracle. We didn’t feel His presence, we heard no consoling words from the Lord. But our faith told us that He was there. It was a cold act of faith, to be sure. But I believe that He was present in that school, in that living room, in every single person’s life in this church today, no matter where they’re at.

            In three days we will observe the shortest day of the year. The pagan Romans had a custom of celebrating, on December 21, the festival of Sol Invictus – the feast of the Unconquered Sun. These pagans had an inkling of what we as Christians know with certainty – that in the face of what seems to be gathering darkness, there is an unconquered Son Who brings the light into the blackest night the evil of man could ever create. When faced with the enormity of sin and evil – like that night, ten years ago – it can feel like darkness is winning.

            Christmas tells us otherwise.

            Because in those dark nights, we have the light of Emmanuel.

            Remember – He promised. He is with us.