The UK Covid Inquiry has given us insight into the inner workings of the British Government during the pandemic. One of its unintended consequences was the disclosure of the colourful language (to put it very mildly) used commonly by so many officials and politicians. Deep rifts, animosities and hostilities, a riven group of people who, at that time, publicly presented themselves as united in the fight against the virus. These are just the most recent examples of people caught off guard, causing them to be embarrassed when their comments have been unexpectedly exposed to the broader public and might cost them dearly. But this sort of clumsiness isn’t reserved solely for public figures. I’m pretty certain that, at some time, each of us has been caught red-handed while making unpleasant comments about someone else.
The examples I’ve just recalled came to mind while I was pondering on today’s gospel, with the phrase “stay awake” used four times and accompanied by another one: “be on your guard.” This passage is the final bit of quite a long speech of Jesus’ on the apocalyptic future. That delivery can be a bit confusing: at first glance, it’s about the doomed fate of Jerusalem, but it also seems to talk about the end of the world and the Son of Man returning in glory. Differences in interpretation aside, the main message seems to be encapsulated in this simple challenge: “be on your guard, stay awake.” As I’m not interested in any purely theoretical deliberations, I’ve been trying to apply this challenge to everyday life.
The first idea that came to my mind was self-control, keeping guard on what to say, how to say it, who to say it to, how to behave, and so on. But – honestly – this sounds dreadful: there was the danger of ending up being a control freak, inflicting on myself a neurotic attitude which would completely stifle life and deprive it of any joy. Usually, one’s true views are laid bare sooner or later in supposedly private conversations, in stressful situations, or when drunk. So, this sort of being on guard is hardly attractive, plus it is pathetically superficial in its extreme form. Surprisingly, it’s pretty common and is better known as “political correctness’. But it’s not reserved only for politicians and public figures; its watered-down version is adopted widely by the masses.
Do we then have two options to choose from? Either being “politically correct” or being rude and unpleasant? Thankfully, no. There’s another way, and I call it “revise and train, train and revise.” The first aspect – revision – is a critical confrontation of my attitudes and opinions against the gospel to find out if they comply with its core message. If something doesn’t, I train myself to change it by finding new, deeper, or more convincing reasons for that. After some years, this process happens semi-automatically as a natural way of dealing with changes in me and around me. In this way, respect for others, appreciation, thankfulness, understanding, forgiveness, the ability to listen, and many other desired attitudes have the chance to become deeply embedded, permanent and unforced aspects of a posture genuinely embraced.
Special seasons, like this Advent that has just commenced, can play a special role in the process of examining our lives, re-introducing evangelical values of love and compassion into our hearts, and re-training ourselves to make them alive in us. I have a suggestion for you: we have four coloured candles here; one more will be lit each Sunday. So, my suggestion is that every Sunday, you find one aspect in your life you’d like to change or ask your spouse/close friend which one it should be. Over the following week, try to deal with that. Even if you fail at the first attempt, don’t give up; revise your plan and try again. You will succeed eventually because, in this game, training always makes champions.
