1st Sunday of Advent
By Fr. Victor Feltes
At the beginning of this Advent, I would like to tell two stories of conversion. In the spring of 1521, while defending the city of Pamplona, Spain a 30-year-old soldier got his right leg fractured by a French cannonball. He would spend the next several months healing in his family’s castle. Convalescing in bed, day after day, he became extremely bored and asked for some adventure stories to read about knights and ladies. He liked those kinds of stories, but they didn’t have any of those in the house. His sister-in-law provided him a book about the life of Christ and another book of short stories about famous saints.
Sometimes he would read and reflect on what he read. Other times, he would daydream about worldly things. He would pause and consider, “What if I were to do what St. Francis or St. Dominic did?” And other times he would fantasize about being a heroic knight and wooing a certain royal lady in another land who was high above his station.
When he reflected on these worldly fantasies he felt intense pleasure; and whenever he stopped, sometimes hours later from weariness, he felt dry and depressed. Yet whenever he imagined living the rigorous sort of life the saints had lived, he not only experienced pleasure during such thoughts but felt great joy afterwards as well.
Eventually, he noticed this difference and realized how thoughts of one kind left him sad while the others filled him with joy. This was an important moment in his discernment, for he would go on to embrace God’s call to become a saint: St. Ignatius of Loyola.
Sin disappoints us, but goodness (though difficult) yields peace and satisfaction. We are attracted to our sins. Sins would not tempt us if there were no hope for pleasure, relief, or temporary gain from them. But after sinning, if our consciences are well-formed, we feel guilt and regret. What we have done or failed to do harms ourselves and others. And apart from the damages caused, sin squanders opportunities for better things. Yet God continues lovingly calling us back to repentance and conversion.
In the year 386, a 32-year-old man felt very drawn to Christianity but felt enslaved to his sins. It was as if the temptations he loved and despised were whispering, ‘Are you going to part with us? Do you really think you can live without these pleasures forever?’ But another voice had him imagine the smiling multitude of saints who had lived before him. That sweet voice seemed to say, ‘You can do what these men and women did, but none of them did it by themselves. The Lord God gave it to them. Why do you try to stand by your own strength, only to fall over and over again? Cast yourself on Christ and don’t be afraid. He won’t flinch and you won’t fall. Cast yourself on him without fear, for he will accept and heal you.’ Yet he was still torn; desiring chastity, but not yet.
His turning-point moment came sitting in a garden outside his house. With tears he asked, ‘Why do I keep delaying until tomorrow? Why not now? Why not end my uncleanness this very hour?’ Yet he still lacked the strength. Then he heard a child from the house next door, chanting over and over, “Pick it up and read it; pick it up and read it!” He opened the Bible beside him to a random page, finding Romans 13:13-14, part of today’s Second Reading:
“Let us conduct ourselves properly as in the day, not in orgies and drunkenness, not in promiscuity and licentiousness, not in rivalry and jealousy. But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the desires of the flesh.”
Upon reading those words, his heart was infused with a light of certainty and all the gloom of doubt vanished. By this God-given grace, the life of the man we now know as St. Augustine of Hippo began to change.
This Advent, I encourage you to heed Jesus’ warning to “stay awake” and “be prepared,” like the saints before us. Identify your vice and call upon Christ, come to Confession and change your habits, to begin anew in the saintly life he calls you to. Open your arms to receive this gift, his gift, for Christmas.



