Advent Landscaping

Isaiah certainly has away with words. In the first reading for today’s Mass, Isaiah describes mountains being leveled, valleys being filled, and rough places being made smooth. It is a complete revision to the topography of the wilderness. Even in its earth-bound description, it is cosmic in its scale. Can you imagine the earth moving equipment and explosives needed to reshape this wilderness landscape?

But then again, Isaiah is not primarily talking about landscape. He is talking about the human heart. “Prepare the way of the Lord…make straight a highway…for our God.” He is admonishing us to remove anything that keeps us from seeing God’s glory. Isaiah is announcing that when God comes, nothing, not mountains, not valleys, not rugged passes, should stand between the human heart and God’s presence. Advent is the season when we hear this call anew and is our signal to let grace reshape our inner terrain.

What might all this mean for us during Advent?

Every valley shall be filled in.” We speak of the highs and lows of life; of the hills and valleys along the way. A valley is a place where we feel spiritually or emotionally low. The place where we encounter discouragement – and often silently or alone. Perhaps it is a fear that prayers are unanswered, a sense we are failing or have failed, or a point we give up and no longer believe that change is possible. To that Isaiah proclaims: God wants to fill those valleys with hope.

Isaiah told the people of Judah and Jerusalem long ago, when the barbarians were at the walls, when the leaders had compromised faith and covenant, when hope was a dying ember that theirs was the God of Hope. The God who comforts His people lifts up the discouraged so as to remind us that He has not abandoned us, that His promises still stand, and that His coming is nearer than we think.

Every mountain and hill shall be made low.” In our age we speak of mountains of money or we hold mountains as impenetrable fortresses where we are kept safe. But in Old Testament scripture, mountains often represent pride, self-reliance, or stubbornness—anything that rises up and blocks our view of God. Here Isaiah likely has in mind “mountains of pride.” Isaiah says these mountains must come down. Not because God wants to diminish us, but because pride blocks our sight. We cannot see the glory of the Lord when our own achievements or opinions tower in the foreground.

During Advent we might ask is our “mountain of pride” blocking our view of God or serving as a barrier to His voice? What part of our life do we insist, “I know best,” even when God is nudging us in another direction? Pride is just one mountain. Advent is a time to recognize and name your particular mountain and begin the landscaping project.

The rugged land shall be made a plain.” Rugged, uneven ground makes walking difficult. It interrupts our pace and gait making it easy to stumble and fall. I suggest that these represent the patterns of sin, the habits we excuse, or the choices that keep tripping us up.

Advent is a season when God invites us to let grace smooth out what has become rough in us. The Sacrament of Reconciliation is one of God’s great tools for leveling uneven paths so that His coming is not hindered by obstacles we refuse to let go.

Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed.” Isaiah’s whole point is this: When the obstacles are removed, we see God. The glory of the Lord is not something God hides; it is something we fail to see when the terrain of our heart is cluttered or distorted. Advent reminds us God is coming. Clear the way so you can recognize Him when He arrives. Be attentive because God’s coming is not only a future event. He comes to us today in Scripture, in the Sacraments, in moments of grace, in the quiet voice of conscience. But we only perceive Him clearly when our interior landscape is open and straight and uncluttered.

Advent is not simply a countdown to Christmas. It is a spiritual landscaping project. So today, in this Eucharist, let us ask for the grace to let Him fill our valleys, lower our mountains, and smooth our rugged paths. Then we will see, not just with our eyes, but with our hearts, the glory of the Lord who comes to save us.


Image credit: Prophet Isaiah, Mosaic, Right of Lunette, South Wall of Presbytery, Basilica of San Vitale | PD-US | Pexels

“Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?”

John’s arrest by King Herod was mentioned in 4:12, yet the full story of his imprisonment will wait until 14:3–12. No doubt the Baptist had anxiously followed the career of the one whom he had recognized as the ‘mightier one’ for whose coming he had prepared (3:11–12). And yet there is the question that John the Baptist sends with his disciples to ask of Jesus. Does the question strike you as odd? Shouldn’t the one who pointed to Jesus, saying, “Behold the Lamb of God”, be a little more sure about Jesus’ identity as the promised Messiah? Join the club: theologians, Church Fathers, and modern scholars have wrestled with the same question over the centuries.

John’s hesitation might have been simply a difference between his expectations for ‘the coming one’ and what he actually heard about Jesus and his ministry. Maybe the miracles are just fanciful stories? If Jesus is the Messiah, why doesn’t he fast like an observant Jew? And he keeps company with a cast of characters normally to be avoided.

Was John experiencing a crisis of faith or uncertainty about Jesus’ identity? John’s expectations of the Messiah may have leaned toward a judgmental, apocalyptic deliverer, as seen in his preaching (Mt 3:10–12: “The axe is already at the root of the trees…”). Jesus’ ministry, by contrast, emphasized healing, mercy, and forgiveness, not immediate judgment. Imprisoned and possibly facing death, John might have wondered why the Messiah had not yet acted to bring justice or vindicate him. This view emphasizes John’s humanity, not a lack of faith per se, but confusion in light of unfulfilled messianic expectations.

Maybe John himself was not doubting, but he sent his disciples so they might be convinced of Jesus’ identity. knew his disciples needed to see for themselves. By sending them to Jesus, John directs them to the true Messiah, transferring their loyalty from himself to Christ. In this case, Jesus’ response (“Go and tell John what you hear and see..”) is a teaching moment for the disciples more than a rebuke of John. This view preserves John’s prophetic certainty and aligns with his earlier witness: “He must increase, and I must decrease” (Jn 3:3)

Prophets often posed questions to elicit revelation and John being a prophet might have deliberately posed this question to reveal Jesus’ identity more fully, using the moment as a teaching device for his followers and whoever happened to be around when Jesus answered.

To be fair, before Easter, no one fully understood the Messiah’s mission of suffering, redemption, and mercy. John’s question, then, mirrors the broader tension in Second Temple Judaism between expectations of a conquering Messiah and the reality of a suffering servant. Jesus’ answer, “Blessed is the one who takes no offense at me,” acknowledges this tension with compassion and understanding.

Another view is that John’s question stands at the threshold between Law and Gospel. Afterall, John is the last prophet of the old order and seeking confirmation that “Day of the Lord” has arrived, to use the older prophetic expression, or as we would say, has the Kingdom of God arrived? St. Augustine cleverly frames this view as the “Law asking the Gospel” whether it has come in the fullness of revelation.

The Baptist, whose proclamation introduced Matthew’s presentation of the Messiah (3:1–12), is now appropriately called as the first witness to the meaning of Jesus’ ministry. Even if in a round about manner.


Image credit: Christ Presenting the Keys to Saint Peter, c. 1636-40, by Nicholas Poussin, Public Domain