Reading Francis

What are you willing to camp out for?

We’re going back to our alma mater for a big college reunion. It will be great to see the campus again – it’s been a decade since I’ve been there – and I’m sure that I’ll enjoy revisiting places that were the sites of “core memories” from that time in my life.

Although our time at Wake Forest coincided with some of the worst years in the school’s athletic program history (we were just after Muggsy Bogues left, and before Tim Duncan came), I loved being at an Atlantic Coast Conference school and the chance to see some legendary teams and coaches up close. Sometimes, we even beat them! (Usually, we did not.) Regardless of the outcome, when Dean Smith’s UNC Tarheels or Jim Valvano’s NC State Wolfpack or Mike Krzyzewski’s Duke Blue Devils came to town, it was a big deal. While students had access to free tickets, against those teams, the demand outstripped the supply, and we would have to camp out the night before tickets were made available in order to be sure we got ours. (Wake being one of the softer ACC fan bases, sometimes “camping out” meant sleeping in a lounge in the student activities building. But still.)

That was a great experience, but at this point in my life, I wouldn’t camp out for basketball tickets. I value my sleep (and my back) too much. But I love that students across the country still camp out for sporting events – even for TV shows about sporting events like College Gameday.

As we enter November, the Catholic Church winds down the liturgical year. Advent starts shortly after Thanksgiving, which marks the beginning of a new year liturgically, even if the secular calendar doesn’t flip until more than a month later. And since Advent is a time not only to await Christ’s coming at Christmas, but also Christ’s expected return at the end of time, the November readings at Mass start focusing in earnest on the “End Times”. It can be jarring, if you’re still working through leftover Halloween candy, but it can also be a logical progression from the celebration of All Saints’ Day on Nov. 1 and All Souls’ Day on Nov. 2. Celebrating and praying for those who have gone before us often brings up questions about what happens when our story ends.

The Mass Readings for this Sunday start the turn toward end-time meditations, and what jumps out at me in them is the question they call to mind: What or who are you willing to camp out for?

The first reading is from the Book of Wisdom (6:12-16), which is one of the books that Martin Luther cut from his reading list, so it doesn’t show up in Protestant Bibles. Divine Wisdom is personified in this book; Christians often connect Wisdom with the Holy Spirit. And she is worth camping out for:

Whoever watches for her at dawn shall not be disappointed,

for he shall find her sitting by his gate.

For taking thought of wisdom is the perfection of prudence,

and whoever for her sake keeps vigil

shall quickly be free from care;

because she makes her own rounds, seeking those worthy of her,

and graciously appears to them in the ways,

and meets them with all solicitude.

The Psalm (excerpts of Psalm 63) articulates a fervor for God who is worth camping out for, starting:

O God, you are my God whom I seek;

for you my flesh pines and my soul thirsts

like the earth, parched, lifeless and without water.

R. My soul is thirsting for you, O Lord my God.

And ending:

I will remember you upon my couch,

and through the night-watches I will meditate on you:

You are my help,

and in the shadow of your wings I shout for joy.

The second reading, from Paul’s first letter to the Thessalonians (4:13-18), is part of a long message of comfort to a community that was camping out, expecting Jesus’ return at any moment, and worried about their members who had died while waiting for that return. This was one of the early crises of faith for Christians, who expected Jesus’ resurrection to lead pretty directly to the end of the world; they didn’t consider that they or their friends might pass away before he came back. It’s a beautiful passage for those who worry about lost loved ones, and it speaks to the “eschatological expectation” – the camping out for Jesus’ return – that marked the early Christian communities.

The Gospel builds on the I Thessalonians reading, as the beginning of Matthew 25 tells the story of a group that camped out to wait for a bridegroom to come home. Some of them were prepared for a long wait, and some didn’t plan to stick it out that long, which turned out to be a mistake. While the message is persistence, I think it’s worth noting that they all were willing to camp out for this return, even if some of them failed to think through what that meant.

So what about us? For who or what do we have the fervor to camp out? Tickets to a game? Results of an election? Or something (and Someone) more?