Although we are edified—and even amazed—by those saints who died very young, some understandably wonder what these same saints might have become, had they lived long lives. Would they have been able to sustain their admirable virtues despite the simple spiritual “wear and tear” of a long life lived amid the inevitable trials and temptations that beset all who do not die young? As monks we are all familiar with that spiritual phenomenon we usually term “first fervor” and that often accompanies the early months, and even years, of monastic life. However, with the passage of time that zeal and enthusiasm can be felt to wane and be superseded by a distressing weariness of heart and soul that seems to rob us of all spiritual consolation and comfort.
For monks and nuns who entered monastic life at a relatively young age, sustaining ongoing conversion, despite this disconcerting lack of fervor and devotion, becomes a significant challenge—especially when this state persists, not for years, but for decades. Some, of course, don’t persevere and in abandoning the cloister, return to their former way of life. For those who remain, it becomes tempting and so much easier to give up on growing and to simply lull oneself into a spiritual sleep that represents—if not an actual falling away from vowed conversion—then at least a miserable state of spiritual stagnation, that fosters mediocrity and an unsatisfying life of compromise—what the Book of Revelation terms being neither hot nor cold, but lukewarm.
Monks are, of course, not unique in this, and so we hear Saint Paul admonishing his Roman readers to realize that it is the hour now for you to wake from sleep. And upon awaking to throw off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light. It is well to remember that Paul’s audience consisted primarily of believers and not potential converts. So, presumably, some among them were struggling to sustain their earlier enthusiastic acceptance of Christ and the saving news of the gospel. In today’s gospel Jesus offers a similar warning, describing people who were lulled into spiritual complacency and even indifference, and thus were overtaken by the flood.
And whereas Paul’s call to wake from sleep summons those who have not heeded Jesus’ warning to stay awake, the apostle does offer the means of remaining awake, once one has awakened. For, he tells us put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the desires of the flesh. With these words Paul seems to be advocating those ancient Christian ascetic practices and disciplines that assist our efforts to remain awake and engaged in ongoing conversion and our commitment to follow Christ into the kingdom. These include the self-disciplining commitment to a life of regular prayer, spiritual reading, and meditation—even (and especially) in times of spiritual aridity and desolation. It also includes those physical means of curbing our fleshly desires, namely, fasting, and the self-denial required in following a healthy diet, and remaining faithful to the discipline of regular exercise. Curbing our exposure to the empty and harmful distractions offered by modern media, and moderating any tendencies to excessive talking, so as to cultivate that inner stillness in which God’s voice is heard, are still other examples of ways in which we can heed Jesus’ call and stay awake.
So although this hope-filled season of Advent lacks some of the penitential focus of Lent, these purple vestments remind us that Advent, too, is a season calling for renewed efforts at deeper conversion and staying awake in anticipation of the Lord’s return. The ubiquitous Christmas decorations and Christmas music notwithstanding, these next three-and-a-half weeks are yet another privileged opportunity to shake off what Paul calls the works of darkness and put on the armor of light. May those saints who died while still young, and would presumably not have succumbed to sleep—had they lived to old age—intercede for us in striving to imitate their inspiring example.