We hear today from the Second Letter of Peter,
“The earth and everything done on it
will be found out.”
St. Augustine, picking up on the idea
of everything being revealed,
wrote that in the new heavens
and new earth that we await,
“The thoughts of our minds will lie open
to mutual observation…;
for [the Lord] will light up
what is hidden in darkness
and will reveal
the thoughts of the heart.” (Civ. Dei 22.29).
“The earth and everything done on it
will be found out.”
St. Augustine, picking up on the idea
of everything being revealed,
wrote that in the new heavens
and new earth that we await,
“The thoughts of our minds will lie open
to mutual observation…;
for [the Lord] will light up
what is hidden in darkness
and will reveal
the thoughts of the heart.” (Civ. Dei 22.29).
Now that’s a terrifying prospect.
Think of how you would feel about someone
looking at your internet search history.
Even if it contains nothing
outright illegal or immoral,
it likely contains some things
that are acutely embarrassing,
like when we searched for recent pictures
of a high school girlfriend or boyfriend,
or when we Googled some stupid question
like “who is the governor of Maryland?”
or “who would win a fight
between Batman and Superman?”
or when we searched for
some scrap of celebrity gossip,
or even Googled ourselves to find out
if the world is taking notice of us
(this apparently is known as “ego-surfing”).
And some of our searches
are not just embarrassing;
some of our searches are heartbreaking,
revealing sorrows we hold deep within:
“How do I know if my spouse is cheating?”
“What are the signs of child abuse?”
“What is the survival prognosis
for pancreatic cancer?”
“What happens after we die?”
looking at your internet search history.
Even if it contains nothing
outright illegal or immoral,
it likely contains some things
that are acutely embarrassing,
like when we searched for recent pictures
of a high school girlfriend or boyfriend,
or when we Googled some stupid question
like “who is the governor of Maryland?”
or “who would win a fight
between Batman and Superman?”
or when we searched for
some scrap of celebrity gossip,
or even Googled ourselves to find out
if the world is taking notice of us
(this apparently is known as “ego-surfing”).
And some of our searches
are not just embarrassing;
some of our searches are heartbreaking,
revealing sorrows we hold deep within:
“How do I know if my spouse is cheating?”
“What are the signs of child abuse?”
“What is the survival prognosis
for pancreatic cancer?”
“What happens after we die?”
Contrast your internet search history
with what you see on social media.
Whenever I look at Facebook or Instagram.
it seems like everyone I know
is living their best life.
They are eating in restaurants that serve
exquisitely prepared dishes;
they are visiting places
of cultural importance
or great natural beauty;
they are celebrating significant milestones
and impressive career achievements;
and their kids and grandkids
are saying the cutest things imaginable.
with what you see on social media.
Whenever I look at Facebook or Instagram.
it seems like everyone I know
is living their best life.
They are eating in restaurants that serve
exquisitely prepared dishes;
they are visiting places
of cultural importance
or great natural beauty;
they are celebrating significant milestones
and impressive career achievements;
and their kids and grandkids
are saying the cutest things imaginable.
The world of social media allows us
to curate the self that we show to the world,
to hide our thoughts and actions
so that no one knows our pettiness,
our vanity, our foolishness, our triviality
or the deep sorrow on which we put a brave face.
But, Peter tells us, everything done on earth—
to curate the self that we show to the world,
to hide our thoughts and actions
so that no one knows our pettiness,
our vanity, our foolishness, our triviality
or the deep sorrow on which we put a brave face.
But, Peter tells us, everything done on earth—
every action taken, every thought thought—
will be found out on the day of the Lord,
which comes like a thief,
dissolving the elements in fire,
dissolving the pretenses behind which we hide,
dissolving the curated self-image
that we show to the world,
and revealing the search histories of our lives
for what they are:
searches for meaning and love and fulfillment
that have often been futile and misdirected
and tragic and sorrowful.
will be found out on the day of the Lord,
which comes like a thief,
dissolving the elements in fire,
dissolving the pretenses behind which we hide,
dissolving the curated self-image
that we show to the world,
and revealing the search histories of our lives
for what they are:
searches for meaning and love and fulfillment
that have often been futile and misdirected
and tragic and sorrowful.
On the day of the Lord
everyone will know
that I’m just faking it.
I’m not living my best life;
in fact, my life is a mess,
my dinner is burnt,
my vacation was stressful,
my career feels like a dead end,
and my kids drive me crazy.
And on the day of the Lord I will know
that everyone else is also faking it,
that they’re not okay;
that their lives are no less messy than mine.
The day of the Lord promises to be
profoundly uncomfortable for everyone.
everyone will know
that I’m just faking it.
I’m not living my best life;
in fact, my life is a mess,
my dinner is burnt,
my vacation was stressful,
my career feels like a dead end,
and my kids drive me crazy.
And on the day of the Lord I will know
that everyone else is also faking it,
that they’re not okay;
that their lives are no less messy than mine.
The day of the Lord promises to be
profoundly uncomfortable for everyone.
But in the midst of our messy lives,
in the midst of our fears
about them being unveiled,
the word of God says to us today,
“Comfort, give comfort to my people…
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem.”
God is coming:
racing through the desert of our pretense,
crashing into the wasteland
of the carefully curated lives
we present to the world;
filling in the valleys and leveling the mountains
that we use to hide our messy realities
in all their vanity and foolishness,
their triviality and sorrow.
God comes not to condemn
but to comfort;
not to scold or shame us
in the midst of our fears
about them being unveiled,
the word of God says to us today,
“Comfort, give comfort to my people…
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem.”
God is coming:
racing through the desert of our pretense,
crashing into the wasteland
of the carefully curated lives
we present to the world;
filling in the valleys and leveling the mountains
that we use to hide our messy realities
in all their vanity and foolishness,
their triviality and sorrow.
God comes not to condemn
but to comfort;
not to scold or shame us
for the messiness of our lives,
but to join us in the mess,
to show to us the love for which
we have been searching,
to bear the sorrow of our sin
so that we might be saved,
to know the brokenness of our hearts
so that they might be mended.
but to join us in the mess,
to show to us the love for which
we have been searching,
to bear the sorrow of our sin
so that we might be saved,
to know the brokenness of our hearts
so that they might be mended.
Everything done on the earth shall be known
because until it is known it cannot be healed.
Shame and secrecy are evil’s greatest weapons,
because they allow evil to hide from the light
that would destroy it.
It is no accident
that the sacrament of Reconciliation
involves bringing into the light
everything that we would like to keep hidden,
laying openly before God,
present through the ministry of the priest,
the search history of our lives,
the misdirected desires and foolish choices,
the secret sorrows and unspoken regrets.
Dorothy Day said of confession,
“You do not want to make too much
of your constant imperfections and venial sins,
but you want to drag them out to the light of day
as the first step in getting rid of them” (The Long Loneliness).
because until it is known it cannot be healed.
Shame and secrecy are evil’s greatest weapons,
because they allow evil to hide from the light
that would destroy it.
It is no accident
that the sacrament of Reconciliation
involves bringing into the light
everything that we would like to keep hidden,
laying openly before God,
present through the ministry of the priest,
the search history of our lives,
the misdirected desires and foolish choices,
the secret sorrows and unspoken regrets.
Dorothy Day said of confession,
“You do not want to make too much
of your constant imperfections and venial sins,
but you want to drag them out to the light of day
as the first step in getting rid of them” (The Long Loneliness).
In Advent we celebrate
the coming of light into the world,
the light that reveals everything done on earth:
the search for love and meaning,
the search that has so often gone astray
into vanity and foolishness,
triviality and sorrow.
We celebrate the light
that comes to guide us to the truth,
the truth about ourselves,
and the truth about the God
who turns shame into glory
through the power of his mercy.
So let us pray in this Advent
that God who is merciful
would have mercy on us all.
the coming of light into the world,
the light that reveals everything done on earth:
the search for love and meaning,
the search that has so often gone astray
into vanity and foolishness,
triviality and sorrow.
We celebrate the light
that comes to guide us to the truth,
the truth about ourselves,
and the truth about the God
who turns shame into glory
through the power of his mercy.
So let us pray in this Advent
that God who is merciful
would have mercy on us all.
