Clear the Clutter, Make Room for More | A Virtual Pilgrimage Reflecting on the Incarnation - Week 1

Join Fr. Michael Rossman, SJ for this reflection on Tuesday of the 1st Week of Advent.

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Chapters

• 0:16 Speaker Bio
• 0:53 Reflection Begins

Transcript

Imagine coming home and having your mother ask you, “So what have you been up to?” only to respond, “Well, I went out to the desert and spent time with John the Baptist.” Your mother might ask, “You mean that guy who eats locusts and wild honey? That guy who dresses in camel’s hair? What has gotten into you? What happened to our child?”

After 2,000 years of depicting John the Baptist in stained glass and paintings, it's easy to have a very sanitized picture of the guy. But he wasn't exactly normal. His diet consisted of locusts and wild honey. His clothing consisted of camel’s hair. Just picture him: insect parts stuck between his teeth, honey dripping from his beard, and smelling—well—like a camel. He wasn't exactly a guy I would feel comfortable inviting to spend Christmas with my family.

And it wasn't just his appearance or dietary habits. The very first thing John the Baptist says to people in the desert is, “Repent.” Now, I don't know about you, but when I see those guys on the sidewalk with signs about hell and the need to repent, I try to get as far away as possible so I do not have to talk with them.

And yet, when we read the Gospels, people didn't run away from John. They ran to him. They left their homes, their comfort zones, and went out into the desert to see this wild-looking man. Why? Well, because something in them was unsettled. Something was restless. They knew deep down that not all was right, and they were hungry for more.

The truth is, John wasn't calling people to misery. He was preparing them for joy. When he shouted “Repent!” he wasn't just threatening them; he was inviting them to make space for something better. He was saying, “Clear the clutter. Get rid of what is blocking you,” because someone far greater is coming, and he wants to fill your life with joy.

His message is not punishment but preparation — not shame, but space-making. It’s cleaning out the garage before a guest arrives, not because you want to suffer, but because you want to make room for someone who matters.

In the middle of Advent, the Church invites us to visit John the Baptist in that desert and to learn from him. He lived simply. He wasn't worried about appearances. He didn't chase after comfort or approval. His whole life pointed to something — or someone — beyond himself. And that, I think, is where joy begins.

Joy isn't the same thing as pleasure or comfort. It's not the sugar rush of a Christmas cookie or the satisfaction of checking the last gift off your list. Joy is deeper. It's the peace that comes from knowing that God is near, and the only way to receive that joy is to make space for it.

Now, that can be hard to do in December. There is Christmas shopping and Christmas parties. There is nonstop Christmas music. And I admit, I like most of that. I love celebrating with my Jesuit community and my family. But sometimes, in the middle of all that activity, I realize that I’ve filled every square inch of my calendar and every decibel of silence with noise.

Joy doesn’t thrive in that kind of environment. It grows in space — in stillness and prayer, in the quiet desert of the heart.

In the ancient world, whenever a king was coming to visit, workers would rush ahead, fix the roads, fill the potholes, smooth the rough spots, clear the debris, so that the king could travel without obstruction. And that, in a sense, is what Advent is for. The King is coming. He’s coming to dwell with us, to bring joy, to make his home in our hearts. But he needs a clear path.

Maybe that means letting go of resentment, or setting aside some time each day just to be quiet before God. Maybe it's reaching out to that person you've been avoiding, or forgiving yourself for something you’ve been carrying for too long. When we clear those obstacles, we're not just getting rid of bad stuff. We're opening up space for joy.

The French writer Georges Bernanos said that the opposite of a Christian people is not a sinful people, but a sad people. A sad people.

John the Baptist was a rather intense guy, but everything he did was about preparing people for joy — the joy of meeting the One who is joy itself.

And so, in this middle stretch of Advent, when the nights are long, the shopping lists are endless, and maybe our hearts feel a little cluttered, John reminds us that joy is coming. But it won't come through noise or busyness. It comes through space, through readiness, through a heart that has been cleared and opened to receive Christ.

So maybe our Advent prayer could be something simple, something like: “Lord, take away whatever blocks your joy from reaching me.” Let that be our desert moment. Because when we do — when we make even a little space — we’ll discover that the joy of Christmas isn’t something we manufacture. It's something, or rather someone, who finds us. The One John prepared for. The One who is still coming into our deserts, into our distractions, and into our hearts.

May this season’s quiet joy take root in us, so that by Christmas, we won’t just sing Joy to the World — we’ll mean it.