You can picture the scene.

It's right out of a Hollywood.

Think Charlton Heston or Ben Hur

and you'll see the image congeals in your mind,

an ancient city, shrouded in dust,

silhouetted against a setting sun.

 

Somewhere within its walls,

a gnarled hand pushes against a wooden gate.

The angle widens.

An elderly servant lights a lamp

and recedes into the shadows

There, he hangs the lamp on a post

and settles himself amid socks of grain.

 

Chickens take roost, a donkey brays.
The night watch begins.

 

Thus unfolds the scene in biblical times.
Gatekeeper,

Gnarled hands,
A creaking gate.

 

But what of the "night watches" in today's world?

What parallel images come to mind?

 

Think of your circumstances.

Some of you here work for the county sheriff.

Perhaps Jesus' words call to mind a deputy on night patrol,

an officer driving alongside a chain-link fence,
checking the gate at the salvage yard
at the edge of town.

 

Or maybe His words call to mind
a nurse making her rounds.  It's the middle of the night.

The red glow of flashing numbers

reflect in the lens of her glasses,
Her expression, serious.

The sound of her steps quiet, but determined,

as she makes her way from room to room,

patient to patient.

 

Or maybe you see yourself,

The house is quiet, the kids asleep.

The glare of a computer monitor the only light

as you view your bills on line

-the credit charges, cable service, car loan, mortgage payment, utilities,

You wonder where the money all goes

and you put off going to bed.
Why?

Because you've been given your notice at work

and you've not yet told your wife

and there's no way you're going to get any sleep tonight.

 

These are the vigils we know,

the night watches we keep.

 

No matter the circumstance,

no matter what sort of night watch
you personally know

or occasionally experience,

night watches, by their nature,

involve some measure of anxiety;
some mental or spiritual "gate"
behind which you crouch

and count off the hours until daylight.

 

So, it's reasonable to assume that today's words

about being on watch,

staying awake

and keeping alert

do not set well with most of us.

 

We might as well admit it.

There's something unsettling about those times when

we face the loneliness of night...

awake while others sleep.

 

You know the nights I mean:

nights with sounds that go unnoticed during the day.

Nights when the hours drag.

Worries expand.

And inner peace eludes us like a feral cat.

 

Nevertheless, at times like these,

-when darkness closes in

and the guard posted at the entrance to the soul grows weary -

God asks us to let down the defenses

and open the gate.

 

Advent won't let us forget this central truth:
when we feel alone, we're not alone.

No, Not really. Not at all.

 

Think of Joseph in the dead of night,
adjusting the packs on the donkey,

preparing the dash to Egypt with Mary and her child.

 

Surely, he felt alone.

But he was not alone.

 

Think of Mary Magdalene, her soul as empty and dark

as the gaping entrance to an empty tomb.

 

She was alone,

Yet, not alone.

  

Think of Paul, shackled to the stone wall of a prison:

deserted by friends, heckled by guards, alone in his cell.

 

Yet, not alone.

 

Night shift on soul-work yields a bonus.

 

What sort of bonus?