I understand what this fellow is talking about. I’ve been an Augustinian for 23 years now and a priest for almost 19 years. There were other things that I could have done with my life and would have liked doing, but I have to say, everything that has come my way—even with the trials and mishaps—has been much more than pretty good. It’s everything I imagined it would be and much more than I ever thought possible. In retrospect, all of those other possibilities and choices pale by comparison to the immense satisfaction that has come my way from being an Augustinian and a priest. Some say, however, that I’d have been much happier as a Jesuit and immensely happier as a Holy Cross Father stationed at Notre Dame…the “Villanova of the Midwest.”

Be that as it may, it’s my sincere hope that everyone experiences that same satisfaction. You know, feeling sort of like “every day is Christmas day.” Whether you’re a husband or wife, a mother or father, or a dedicated single person, I hope that you can look back at your days and experience the immense satisfaction that comes from giving your time, talent, and spiritual treasure in loving service to other people.

You know what I’m talking about. It’s something we all long and hope for. It’s the joy of getting home after a long day’s work and seeing your spouse and kids, of enjoying have dinner with them and, then, listening to their stories about all of the day’s events. It’s making chocolate chip cookies and having the milk ready when your kids come home from school to tell you all about life. How about the pride of seeing your child make the right decision when you weren’t quite sure and maybe a little more than worried about whether that would be the case? Or maybe, that spark when your spouse tells you that you’re inspirational? Then there’s the experience that comes when someone recognizes your accomplishments for what they are—a reflection of you as a person—not merely an easily replaceable someone who is merely “doing a job.” And, like the retired physician, looking back at everything and experiencing immense satisfaction because, even though there were many challenges and seeming defeats along the way, it all worked out pretty well because you dedicated yourself to serving others and their needs.

I’m no “Pollyanna,” however. For many people, this simply isn’t the case. Many people experience a void—a very deep and painful emptiness—in their lives. For these people, it’s not hopes and dreams that fill their days but despair and nightmares. The past doesn’t provide immense satisfaction but, rather, profound distress and alienation.  Each day isn’t Christmas with the Williams’ Family but Nightmare on Elm Street.

Spiritually speaking, the most crucial matter to contemplate is the pathway we’ve chosen and how well we’ve followed that path. Whether it’s as a physician or a plumber, a parent or priest, a husband or wife, or as a child, teenager, or adult single person, each and every one of us has a vocation. While the word “vocation” might conjure up images of occupations or particular lifestyles, what I am describing is the basic vocation we all share to live as one of God’s sons or daughters and to discover the immense satisfaction that is ours simply by being obedient to God’s call.

The problem, however, is that it’s much easier to lead a life full of dissatisfaction than it is to examine why we’re not experiencing the satisfaction we so desperately desire. It’s so much easier to chase after other idols and to fill the void of our dissatisfaction with them than it is to recognize why we are unhappy.

More often than not, our dissatisfaction boils down to good old-fashioned disobedience. When confronted by the choice to discover the immense satisfaction that can be ours by responding obediently to God’s call and the sacrifice it requires, we choose instead to run after and grasp everything else that promises instantaneous gratification that’s really about as shallow as a saucer.  But, we convince ourselves that it’s more meaningful than it really is.

This is bad enough when it affects our common sense but even more so when it affects our spiritual sensibilities. For example, people who seek immediate gratification by straying from their vocation are apt to resonate more with Jesus’ triumphal resurrection and less with his agony in the garden, his betrayal by his friends, and his execution on the cross...all of which made the resurrection the triumph over sin and death that it really is. People like this delude themselves that satisfaction comes without any sacrifice. For them, pain is a signal that they’re on the wrong path.

Today’s gospel tells the story of a man, Joseph, who found out that the woman he was engaged to marry was pregnant. We don’t know how he found out; what we do know is that Joseph was not the father of Mary’s child. Furthermore, we’re told that Joseph was a righteous man and, faced with his fiancée’s pregnancy, was actively contemplating breaking off the engagement. One night, an angel tells Joseph in a dream not to be afraid of taking Mary to be his wife, explaining that “it is through the Holy Spirit that this child has been conceived in her.” And, as the story concludes, Joseph awakens and “did as the angel of the Lord had commanded….”

It’s so very easy to conclude that Joseph simply did what the angel commanded. But, by skipping over the middle part of the story, we neglect the very human dimensions of what scripture has to teach us about our lives, our experiences of dissatisfaction, and the deep and troubling void we’ve chosen for our hearts. By skipping over the middle part of the story, we also fail to see how, when events challenge us, God is calling us. And, by responding obediently to God’s call rather than turning elsewhere for satisfaction, we experience the immense satisfaction that can be ours. It’s much easier, isn’t it, to skip over the middle part of the story and to think about “good old, stoic St. Joseph,” the “holier-than-thou” fellow—the statue over there—who did everything God asked of him, who never had any uncertainties or doubts and, above all, never wavered?

But, lest we forget: Joseph possessed free will. He could have just as equally chosen to frustrate God’s plan to save humanity from the power of sin and death. And, we can, too.

So, we need to consider the middle part of the story.

Joseph was certainly within his religious and legal rights to break off his engagement to Mary. He had every reason to doubt her explanation. Confronted with Mary’s story, it’s easy to imagine Joseph saying, “Sure Mary, and God can make square circles. Gosh, look up there in the sky, Mary. God can make pink elephants fly, too.” And then, turning to Mary, it’s also easy to imagine Joseph asking Mary out of his deep anguish, “Why did you do this to me?”

Perhaps, too, many of Joseph’s closest friends and relatives—if not his own parents—were counseling Joseph to dump Mary.  I wouldn’t be surprised at all if they said saying something along the lines, “She’s a tramp, Joseph. Dump her, for your own good. Whatever happens to Mary is her own fault, not yours.” Had Joseph accepted this well-intentioned but totally misguided advice, he may well have dumped Mary and eventually married another woman. He also could have chosen to expose Mary to shame and, perhaps, stood along the sidelines watching Mary being stoned to death for her infidelity.

Today’s scripture is clear—Joseph did plan to break off the engagement. But, at the same time, Joseph also wrestled with his love for Mary. In the midst of his uncertainty and doubt, as clouds of darkness dampened his bright hopes, Joseph struggled with his fear, anxiety, doubt, and worry…all of which were quite understandable, given the situation into which Joseph was thrust by events beyond his control. Exasperated and emotionally drained, Joseph fell asleep that fateful evening only to dream of an angel who told Joseph in effect to stop focusing upon himself and his feelings and to focus instead at what God was doing and to accept the pathway God was calling Joseph to take.

Now that is something real people can relate to. Whether we’re young or old, male or female, working-class, professional-class, or retirees, all of us are challenged from time to time by our fears, anxieties, doubts, and worries. Just when we get to the point that everything seems to be going along just as we had planned, something comes up and obliterates our plans. As we wrestle back and forth, sometimes we seek counsel from people we trust. Everyone tells us what we should do and it all makes great sense. But, at the same time, something from somewhere deep inside us cautions us that we’d be making a terrible mistake were we to choose that pathway. The trouble, however, is that choosing that pathway means gambling on a hunch, a dream, or a vague hope and without any guarantee whatsoever.

Sure, every one of us would like every day of our lives to be just like Christmas with the Williams’ Family. But, an authentic Christmas—where God is made flesh—is the result of a conscious choice to respond to God’s call in the midst of our hopes and our fears. Like the angel who appeared to Joseph, today’s scripture asks anyone who is wrestling with hopes and fears not “How do you feel about this? ” but “What is God asking of you? ” We all know that doing God’s is the only thing that will bring the immense satisfaction we truly desire and need. But, the choice to be obedient is always our own freely-willed choice.

The season of Advent provides the opportunity to examine the pathway that we’ve chosen in our lives, not through the lens of self-justification but, rather, through the lens of self-understanding. That is, the season of Advent affords time to consider the pathway we’ve taken from the perspective of what God has called us to become and, to the degree that we are living as God’s sons and daughters, to experience the immense satisfaction that comes from dedicating our time, talent, and our spiritual treasure for the benefit of others. And, where we aren’t experiencing the immense satisfaction that can be ours—and, after all, none of us is perfect—the season of Advent affords us time to probe into the source of our dissatisfaction so that we might turn away from sin.