Homily for December 20, Fourth Sunday of Advent

There's an old saying I often repeat: "Be careful what you pray for, you might get it." That sounds kind of trite and silly, until we actually take seriously what we pray about. The implications of our prayer, if we are sincere, should give us pause for thought: Do I really mean what I just prayed?

An example is today's refrain of the Responsorial Psalm:

Lord, make us turn to you;
let us see your face and we shall be saved.

Think about it. If we say "Lord, make us turn to you," we are implying not only that we are not turned to God, but even that we cannot of ourselves turn to Him. God's the one who has to do that.

The second implication of that line is that we are open to God turning us around in His way, not ours. If we are busy about all kinds of other things, that process of turning might be painful because it involves letting God remove the obstacles that stand in His way. And some of those obstacles might be things we really like, maybe even depend on – and irt very well might hurt to have them moved out of the way so God can get closer.

All that, only in the first line. What about the second line?

Well, two questions arise there. Do we really want to see His face? And do we really want to be saved?

Have you ever had to face somebody who loves you deeply, but whom you have offended, perhaps by thoughtless neglect? It's difficult, isn't it. The person you've offended may very badly want you to look at them, but your inclination is to turn away in guilty embarrassment. It takes a strong person to face the One who loves us more than we love Him. A person strong enough to put aside ego. A person strong enough to look at our own unlovableness, and to let ourselves receive the gift of love we know we don't deserve and even can't deserve.

And what is salvation anyway? That's especially difficult when many of the needs that past ages looked to God for are now supplied by modern culture and technology. We can only get in touch with our real needs and the meaning of salvation when we painfully come to terms with our limits, and that God is beyond them. When our resources are exhausted, then we can acknowledge that we are not ultimately self-sufficient. That's when salvation becomes meaningful, but that's usually painful too.

All too often, when we have to face the things in our lives that God gives us to realize our dependence on Him, we are inclined to ask, "Why me?" when perhaps we should find ways of saying "Thank you."

What does this mean practically for you and for me? How we live depends a lot on how we pray. Can I put more thought into how I pray, and what I pray for. Do I pray that God will do such and so for me, that God will make everything turn out the way I want or think I need? Or do I pray that God will use me as in instrument of his will? Is the bottom line of my prayer, “thy will be done”?

It's a hard but necessary question: ultimately, is God the center of my prayer . . . or am I?


(Note: this holimyis a slightly revised and expanded vbersion of what I wrote for today's bulletin, below.)