Fifth Sunday of Lent (Year A)

THE UNPREACHED HOMILY 

IF IT’S NOT ALL RIGHT 

THEN IT’S NOT YET THE END OF THE STORY 

Ezekiel 37: 12-14; Romans 8: 8-11; John 11: 1-45 

Something unusual happened this month . . . well A LOT of unusual things have happened this month! But I’m not referring to what you probably think I’m referring to. Usually, at the end of the month or the very beginning of a new month, the priests and deacons receive their schedule – who is assigned to what mass on a particular Sunday. But whereas this month’s schedule listed the priests’ assignments . . . Fr. Rick would say this Mass, Fr. Dulibber that Mass, Fr. Jorge one of the others . . . the deacons weren’t assigned to any! Of course I’m still trying to figure out if this was a mistake, or if Fr. Rick was not-so-subtly trying to tell Deacon Joe and I something, or if somehow the secretaries in the rectory had prior knowledge of the coming pandemic that the rest of us didn’t have. But the really strange thing is that Deacon Joe and I were assign to one weekend – this one – to preach. Reflecting on that the other day, I kind of started wondering if maybe God’s hand is somewhere in that . . . that, despite the pandemic and despite the fact that I’m not in church right now standing at the pulpit, there’s something important that God wants me to say and something important that he wants you to hear. 

One of three things usually happens when I first read over the Scripture passages I’m scheduled to preach on. Sometimes – VERY RARELY – I’ll read the readings and I’ll run, (well actually I haven’t run since 1991 . . . so maybe rush is a better word) to my computer and the homily practically writes itself. I somehow miraculously, and with little effort or deep reflection, know exactly what I want to say and how I want to say it. But more often then not, I’ll read the Scripture, scratch my head and say, “Now what exactly am I supposed to say about this!” And I’ll spend many painful hours praying and reflecting until somehow – again perhaps miraculously – God clues me in with the message he wants me to hear, the one he wants you to hear as well. But sometimes, I’ll read the Gospel passage and it’s so rich, there’s just so much in there, I’m confronted with another altogether different dilemma: of all that God has revealed in that particular passage, what’s the one element he wants me to focus on. 

That was my struggle this weekend. There’s just SO MUCH in John’s narrative of the raising of Lazarus. There are so many elements that make this story so compelling - not the least of which is that Jesus brought a dead man back to life! 

But the story also reveals that Jesus, who loved everyone, also had some best friends. St. John points out clearly that Jesus had a special love for, and a particular relationship with, Martha and Mary and Lazarus. 

There’s also the revelation of Jesus’ humanity, captured in the shortest verse in the whole Bible, just three words: And Jesus wept. (John 11:35) 

This gospel also tells us, not once but twice, that Jesus was perturbed. This is a one-word translation of the three Greek words ἐνεβριμήσατο τῷ πνεύματι, which would be better translated: “he was deeply moved and shuddered in his spirit.” This was clearly an emotional moment in the life and ministry of Jesus. 

And yet, the element, the verse, the words in this story that caught my greatest attention are these: “he remained in the place where he was for two days.” His special friends, Martha and Mary, had sent word to him that his beloved Lazarus was dying, yet “he remained in the place where he was for two days.” And both Mary and Martha ultimately let Jesus know exactly how they felt about this delay. Both said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” 

But Jesus waited two days before setting out for Bethany and when he finally got there, Lazarus had already died. Perhaps Jesus’ delay tested the faith of Martha and Mary - at least I’m sure that his delay stretched and deepened their faith. For even after her dead brother had been buried, Martha said, “Even now, Lord, I believe God will give you what you ask for.” Not even the death and burial of her brother shook her faith in God. 

Of course, this story has a happy and miraculous ending: Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead. But we can’t forget that later, we don’t know exactly when, Lazarus died a second time and that time Jesus didn’t come to open up a tomb. Jesus gave him the gift of that life which is forever . . . eternal . . . one of indescribable joy . . . one of inexplicable peace . . . one of ultimate and profound love. 

The fact that Jesus delayed going to Bethany for two days strikes me because I’ve known that same delay in my own life and I’m sure you have known it in your life as well. How many times have we wanted, needed something good to happen; wanted, needed for Jesus to get on the road and come to our home, our family, our hearts. How many times have we wondered, have we prayed, have we cried: “JESUS, WHERE ARE YOU?” How many times have we asked, “JESUS, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?” “JESUS, GET A MOVE ON!” “JESUS, WON’T YOU PLEASE DO SOMETHING?” 

Are you, like Martha and Mary, waiting for Jesus to come? Have you been waiting two days? Two weeks? Two months? Two years? Or twenty-two years or more? Because I don’t know, I can’t tell you why he delays in coming. But I can assure you, that he knows you’re waiting . . . waiting for something good to happen . . . and that he WILL, finally, come, and that ALL shall be well . . . that all shall be well and that all manner of things shall be well . . . And that as the saying goes: “Everything will be all right in the end. If it’s not all right, it is not yet the end of the story.” 

And today, we are not in church together. You’re not in your usual pew and I’m not now standing at the ambo. You’re in your home and I’m in mine – separated . . . fearful . . . keeping safe social distancing from each other. You’re in your home and I’m in mine – having to be content watching Mass on our televisions, or our computers or our phones. You’re in your home and I’m in mine – watching FOX or CNN, listening to the so-called experts offer us conflicting predictions of when this will all end . . . when safety will once again come to our town . . . to our country . . . to our world. You’re in your home and I’m in mine – and we, like Mary and Martha cry out, “LORD, WHERE ARE YOU?” “LORD, WHY ARE YOU DELAYED?” “WHEN WILL YOU ARRIVE, LORD?” “WHEN WILL YOU BESTOW YOUR LOVING, HEALING TOUCH TO OUR LIVES AND TO OUR WORLD” “LORD, WHEN WILL THE STONE OF THE CORONAVIRUS BE ROLLED BACK AND WE WILL HEAR YOUR CALM, STRONG, REASSURING VOICE BIDDING US TO COME OUT OF OUR TOMBS, THAT ALL IS WELL?” “WHEN, LORD, WHEN? WE HAVE WAITED MORE THEN TWO DAYS . . . WE HAVE WAITED MORE THAN TWO WEEKS. WHEN, O LORD, WILL YOU ARRIVE? 

Only God can answer those questions that are in your heart and are in mine. But we have his word . . . we have his eternal promise, “I will be with you always, yes even to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20). We have the assurance from Him that God has never abandoned his people, that He is a God of power and might, that He is a God of goodness and love, that He is a God who hears AND ANSWERS his people. And maybe, like Martha and Mary, in our wait, we are being called to stretch and deepen our faith. 

So many times during the season of Lent, we hear the words of the prophet Isaiah recalled for us, words which speak of the coming Messiah as the Suffering Servant of God. So in the midst of our suffering, let us recall that Jesus knows well our sufferings, for he too suffered, and he too, on the cross, felt abandoned. But let us also be reminded of something else Isaiah said, and let it console us in these times as we wait: 

“But those who wait for the Lord shall 

renew their strength, 

they will sprout wings like eagles, 

they shall run and not be weary, 

They shall walk and not faint”. (Isaiah 40:31)

Of Paranoia, Pandamonium and Pandemics . . . THE BEST LENT EVER

OF PARANOIA, PANDAMONIUM AND PANDEMICS . . . 

THE BEST LENT EVER 

A REFLECTION 

The Third Week of Lent . . . halfway through our journey to the cross and to the tomb. And what a strange journey it has been so far – a Lent like no other we’ve ever experienced in our lifetime – one of fear and paranoia, of pandemonium and pandemics. Who could have imagined on Ash Wednesday, three weeks ago, that words like “social distancing,” “curfew,” “quarantine,” and “lockdown” would become part of our day-to-day vocabulary. Who could have imagined three weeks ago that schools would be closed, shopping malls would be shut down, shelves in supermarkets would be empty and things like toilet paper and bottled water would be hoarded? And three weeks ago, who ever would have envisioned in their worst nightmare that something as beloved to us as the celebration of the Mass, the Sacraments and cherished traditions like the Stations of the Cross would be suspended. Yes, a Lent like we’ve never known. BUT maybe, in the midst of the Lent like we’ve never known, perhaps . . . just maybe . . . perchance . . . we are being called to experience the BEST LENT EVER. Perhaps, this year, our Lord wants something more of us. Just maybe he doesn’t want the easy, well-scheduled, pre-packaged Lents of the past passively received in our hands from Father or Deacon or by Mother Church herself. Perchance this Lent we are being called to a sacrifice that costs us more, to a prayer that is more sincere and fervent, to a love that struggles and is more demanding. A DIFFERENT KIND OF LENT . . . more creative, more spiritual, more powerful, more transformational. 

The three pillars of Lent are prayer, fasting (sacrifice), and almsgiving (charity). Let’s relook at each of these in light of the situation we find ourselves in this Lent: 

Prayer 

• Reach Out and Touch: This is not a time when we should be “social distancing” ourselves from God. Rather we should be using this time as an opportunity to draw closer to our Lord, and to do the very thing we’ve been told to avoid doing to each other: to touch him . . . to place ourselves more and more into his hands and, conversely, to open our hands to receive him in our lives - to allow him to touch us, to have a union with him that is deep and intimate. 

• Boredom: Is boredom one of the consequences you’re feeling because of the inflicted or self-imposed lockdown? Can’t escape to the mall, no play dates, no school, no dance or sporting activities for the kids, no romantic meals in a favorite restaurant, no get-a-way vacations. STUCK - surrounded by the same four walls day in and day out, week after week – BORED! You know, I’ve often viewed boredom as a gift. I think sometimes God gifts us boredom as an opportunity to have a relationship with him. God knows human nature better than we do and God knows how busy we are. And so, he gives us boredom as time to fit Him into our lives. In our twenty-first century society, we’ve invented lots of ways to deal with boredom. We call it social media: Facebook, Instagram, Tik Tok, texting, etc. Bored? Just reach for your cell phone – there’s an app for that! But how about transforming boredom into sacred time instead? How about using it as the time we lift our minds, our hearts, our souls, our words to God in prayer? And rather than technology running interference with our relationship with God, maybe it can now enhance our relationship with Him. There’s lots of apps out there that we can use to help us pray the Rosary or the Divine Mercy Chaplet, to read scripture, to meditate, or even to set the mood in prayer with reflective music. May I recommend to you the Relevant Radio app and also Dr. Edward Sri’s weekly podcast, All Things Catholic (https://edwardsri.com/all-things-catholic/) and Bishop Robert Baron’s meditations on the Stations of the Cross (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pJNjtA-Awb4 )

• The Domestic Church: In the early Church, in the face of persecutions by the Roman government and Jewish leaders, house churches were places where the early Christians gathered in safety for the “breaking of the bread” (the Eucharist). After Emperor Constantine legalized Christianity with the Edict of Milan in 313 AD, Christians no longer needed to celebrate the Eucharist in the secret security of their homes and now were free to venture out in safety and erect church buildings to worship in, such as we have today. In our present situation, when the celebration of the Mass in our parish churches has been suspended, a wonderful opportunity has been presented to us - a gift: to transform our homes into house churches, sacred spaces to praise God, to listen to his Word, and to become united with our Lord through a Spiritual Communion. And so, I encourage you to worship at mass through the masses broadcast on television, radio and the internet. Many parishes, including our own, have begun to livestream the celebration of the Eucharist. The website: www.mass-online.org lists all the televised Masses that are available and allows you to simply click a link to watch them. But let’s be careful with our attitudes about these Masses . . . Let’s not just watch as if it were an entertainment. Let’s participate in the Mass by praying the responses out loud, by sitting and kneeling and standing just as we would if we attending Mass in church. And, deprived of receiving the physical Eucharist, let’s not forget to offer the prayer of Spiritual Communion: 

My Jesus, 

I believe that You 

are present in the Most Holy Sacrament. 

I love You above all things, 

and I desire to receive You into my soul. 

Since I cannot at this moment 

receive You sacramentally, 

come at least spiritually into my heart. I embrace You as if You were already there and unite myself wholly to You. Never permit me to be separated from You. 

Amen. 

Perhaps after the Mass suspension is lifted, we will return to our church with a greater appreciation and a greater love for that of which we have been deprived.

• “The Family that Prays Together Stays Together.” That was a popular saying when I was growing up, coined by Fr. Patrick Peyton, the “Rosary Priest,” the founder of the Family Rosary Crusade. Saints, popes, and the Blessed Virgin Mary herself, at Fatima, stressed both the importance and the benefits of praying the Rosary. Next to the Mass itself, the Rosary is the most powerful prayer we have. If you currently don’t, why not start praying it? What have you got to lose except maybe twenty minutes of your time? And why not pray it as a family? If you do, you will be giving your children a powerful tool, a wonderful tradition and a beautiful memory that they will cherish for the rest of their lives. 

Sacrifice 

“Offer It Up!” How many times I heard that as a kid by my mom and by the nuns who taught me in school! Offer it up! Offer up the headache, the cold, the inconveniences, the heartaches, the disappoints as a sacrifice. Uniting our sacrifices with that of Jesus’ on the cross has great spiritual benefit. Offer it up! It’s a notion that, sadly, is lost in our world today. In a world of pleasure and immediate gratification, I doubt very much our children have ever heard it, much less know what it means. Lent is a time of sacrifice, and this year it seems we’re being called upon to sacrifice a lot more than cookies, candy and chips, wine before dinner and meat on Fridays. What we are being asked to sacrifice is great: social interaction, school, social engagements, the freedom to be where we want when we want, the foods we crave but are now sold out at ShopRite. And perhaps the greatest sacrifice of the all – attendance at mass and participation in the Sacraments. We’re being called to sacrifice more than we want, more than we ever had to before. But let’s make these things more than just sacrifices; let’s make them offerings. Let’s offer them up for our health, the health of those who have contracted the virus, for the doctors and nurses who selflessly treat them, for those who are feeling more alone than ever, for the people we love, for the things that we need, for the person we said we would pray for but never did, for the Church, for our priests (and maybe even for a certain deacon you know). Let our sacrifices ascend to the throne of God like burning incense and be united with the cross of Christ and have the power to transform us and the whole world. 

“For you do not desire sacrifice or I would give it; 

a burnt offering you would not accept. 

My sacrifice, O God, is a contrite spirit; 

a contrite, humbled heart, O God, you will not scorn.” (Psalm 51: 19-19) 

Almsgiving 

“Charity Begins at Home.” With quarantines, lockdowns and curfews being put into effect, we may be temporarily prohibited from practicing the almsgiving, the acts of charity, that we had planned to: bringing Communion to the sick, visiting the elderly and homebound, serving in a soup kitchen, volunteering at Roxbury Social Services, etc. And along with quarantines, lockdowns and curfews comes forced family time, which to some may be a blessing and to others may be a curse. Being realistic, the stress that we’re all experiencing, and all that “togetherness,” may result in short fuses, hot heads, sharp tongues, icy glares and fiery stares. Through it all, let’s remember that charity begins at home. And so, this Lent, maybe our Lord is asking us to practice having generous spirits, the patience of a saint, a little more understanding, a lot more love and a heap of compassion, with a bit of empathy thrown in. Jesus said, “This is how all will know that you are my disciples, by the love you have for one another.” (John 13:35). In these difficult times, let this be true in how we treat each other, and, especially, how we treat the members of our own family. 

Finally, a warning: I have heard some people say that all that we are going through, especially being deprived of the Mass, the Eucharist and the Sacrament of Reconciliation, is the work of Satan. DON’T! Please STOP! To do so impowers Satan by giving him the credit (or the blame). It credits him with being more powerful than he is. Whereas I’m sure Satan is reveling in the fact that we are now deprived of receiving the Eucharist and going to Confession, he isn’t the cause of it. Did Satan create the corona virus? Nope, Satan doesn’t have that ability. He’s not a creator, only a destroyer. Are our bishops now evil collaborators with Satan that they now deny us access to the Mass and Sacraments? Nope, just good shepherds who care for the health of their flock, who, like a parent, have been called upon to make difficult and perhaps unpopular decisions out of love. The will of Man is temporary . . . the will of God is eternal. Let’s not let fear or disappointment blind us to the truth: God is in control; only He is the All Powerful One, not Satan. And NOTHING “neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor present things, nor future things, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8: 38-39). 

And so, yes . . . A DIFFERENT KIND OF LENT. Maybe nature itself mirrors this. On Monday, driving to work, I noticed the forsythia in bloom. Never can I remember them in bloom this early! Forsythia, for me, is always the first sign of spring. SPRING . . . from death NEW LIFE! And isn’t that what Lent and Easter are really all about?

First Sunday of Lent (Year A)

SLOW DOWN . . . DESERT AHEAD

Genesis 2: 7-9, 3: 1-7; Romans 5: 12. 17-19; Matthew 5: 12, 17-19

Today is the First Sunday of Lent. During the next six weeks we will devote special attention to the saving mysteries of our faith, especially to the supreme sacrifice that Christ Our Lord made to set us free. The next six weeks are like a musical composition. On a piece of sheet music, in the upper left-hand corner above the notes, the composer writes a word. This word tells the musician or singer what speed the music should be. If it says "presto," that means, "sing it fast." But if the composer writes the word "LENTO" it means to “slow down. Take this slowly." Our word "Lent" has the same root. It means, SLOW DOWN, and take life more slowly. 

In today’s gospel we read that after he was baptized Jesus was "led by the Spirit into the desert for forty days.” And just as Jesus went out into the desert, away from the busy-ness of the crowds and daily life, to be alone with his Father and to do battle with Satan, Jesus calls us to do the same. He invites us to take a few short weeks out of our daily routine and to slow down - to spend more "quality-time" with God in prayer and reflection; to take a personal, honest and searching inventory of our lives. What patterns of good are there? What patterns in my life -- the obvious ones and those that are more subtle -- make me less than loving and faithful in my relationship with God and others? 

So, whether it be in the private disciplines of fasting and prayer or attendance at the quiet reflective rituals of Stations of the Cross or Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament; whether it be in devoting time to some volunteer work in the community or here at church, or in making time to read some biblical, devotional, inspirational literature - Lent is the time for our own personal desert experience. We cannot all afford to buy a camel and head off for the desert. But we can all create a desert space in our overcrowded lives. We can set aside a place and time to be alone daily with God, a time to distance ourselves from the many noises and voices that bombard our lives every day, a time to hear God’s word, a time to rediscover who we are before God, a time to say yes to God and no to Satan as Jesus did. 

And so, let's slow down a little for the next several weeks. Jesus spent forty days in the desert. The same length of time is offered to us to step back from the noise and clamoring and despair of civilization and life, and focus instead on God, to choose what is right and good and just and loving. If we take the time to look honestly at our lives, and to take note of our blessings and our shortcomings, with God's help we will be better for that effort. We will be better able to remember and celebrate at the end of our forty-day desert experience the great things the Father has done for us through the death and resurrection of his Son. 

And so . . . Welcome to Lent! Welcome to the desert!

Ash Wednesday

CTRL + ALT + DELETE 

Joel 2: 12-18; 2 Corinthians 5: 20-6:2; Matthew 6: 1-6, 16-18 

Well, here we are on the first day of Lent. Lent always seems to sneak up on us and catch us by surprise, doesn’t it? No matter if Ash Wednesday is early or late, we always seem to have the same reaction: “Oh my goodness! I can’t believe it’s Lent already!” While Christmas is something that we eagerly anticipate, I can’t ever remember hearing anyone saying: “Oh man, I can’t wait for Lent! Prayer, fasting, abstinence, sacrifice, mortification of the body! YES!!!” 

The word lent comes from the Latin word lento, which means “slow down.” And maybe that word fits most, or at least some of us this morning. We’ve slowed down, perhaps even come to a standstill. Physically, because of the cold, less sunlight, our lives have become more sedentary, less active. We don’t want to go out and face the cold so we stay in. And all the activities that we normally enjoy - outdoor sports like golf, tennis, soccer, baseball, and even some of the work that we enjoy, like gardening, go on a temporary hiatus until the warmth of the spring and summer sudden tell us it’s safe to come out of our winter hibernation. Even our social lives take a hit, as we prefer a quiet night by the fireplace than the cold trek through the frozen tundra to visit relatives and friends. 

And unfortunately, our spiritual lives can also slow down or come to a standstill as well, not just in winter but in any season of our lives. The fervor that coincided with the reception of a Sacrament, a retreat experience, a moving homily or a prayer answered can quickly be cooled off by the problems and tragedies that confront us, or simply (and most often) through lack of effort – we simply become too busy, too tired, too overwhelmed, too distracted, too bored to do what’s necessary to maintain our spiritual lives (or more importantly, for it to grow deeper). And so, our spiritual lives slow down, get stuck. 

I know what to do when my computer slows down, freezes or gets stuck. It needs to reboot. And I know I can do that by hitting three keys on my computer simultaneously: CTRL + ALT + DELETE. And maybe Lent is the time for us to do the same thing - not with our computers but with our lives. 

What do I mean? During Lent, we’re asked to CONTROL . . . to control ourselves, to control our appetites, to control our habits, to control the things we over-indulge in, to control those things that we like and which give us some degree of pleasure. And so, Lent is a time of SACRIFICE, of giving up . . . as a Church, giving up meat on Fridays . . . but as individuals, giving up those things that might cost us a little bit – not money, but pleasure: the cookies, the candy, the chips, the soda, Facebook or Instagram, online gaming, the alcohol, the cigarettes, the drugs, the gossip, the foul language, the porno. By its nature, a sacrifice is not meant to be easy; it hurts a little bit. Why sacrifice? Well we only need to look at the cross for the answer to that one. Jesus sacrificed his life for us. It wasn’t easy. It hurt a lot. And anything that we sacrifice, and any pain or inconvenience associated with it, is far less than the supreme sacrifice Jesus made FOR US on the cross. 

Lent is also the time when we should hit the ALT key in our lives . . . to ALTERNATE, to shake things up, to change what we normally do, to live life a little bit differently. And so during Lent we’re invited to add something to our daily routine, something that will put demands on us – something that demands our time and something that demands our effort. Maybe it means spending more time with your family . . . or . . . more time with God. Maybe it means daily prayer if that’s not your routine . . . or more time in prayer if it is . . . maybe praying the Rosary every day and reciting the Sorrowful Mysteries, since all of them focus on the suffering and death of our Lord. Maybe it means coming to Mass every Sunday if you don’t . . . or coming to daily Mass if you already do. Maybe it means attending the Stations of the Cross every Friday during Lent. Maybe it means finding the copy of the Bible that’s somewhere in your house, dusting it off, and reading a little bit of it every day so that you complete one book over the course of the forty days of Lent. (Maybe the Gospel of Matthew; one that’s proclaimed on the Sunday’s of our current liturgical year). Or maybe it means performing one not so random, but deliberate and well thought out, act of kindness every day. 

And so, during Lent we’re called to DELETE . . . to repent, to recognize and get rid of our sinful ways. Perhaps to focus on our most serious sin, or the one we find ourselves most frequently committing, and working on it, conquering it, allowing it to no longer have a hold on us . . . deleting it from our minds, our hearts, our words, our actions, our souls, our lives. And the perfect way for us to DELETE is to go to Confession . . . to not only be forgiven by God but reconciled to God . . . to have our status as his sons and daughters restored – fully, totally, nothing held back, no lingering feelings of ill will on the part of God. 

So here we are, on the threshold of the season of Lent. During this season we’re challenged to CTRL + ALT + DELETE – three keys when pressed simultaneously on our computers allows it to reboot, to get unstuck, to perform better - the way that it’s meant to. Same thing for us. During these forty days, sacrificing, devoting ourselves more to our spiritual lives, and repenting are the three keys which, when pressed simultaneously will reboot our lives, give us a fresh start, and allow us to be the people God created us to be. 

CTRL + ALT + DELETE . . . Sounds like enough to keep us busy this Lent. Sounds like enough to keep us busy for a lifetime!

Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A)

PERFECT? WHO ME??? 

Leviticus 19: 1-2; 17-18; 1 Corinthians 3: 16-23; Matthew 5: 38-34 

“If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other; love your enemies, pray for those who persecute you.” I wonder what our response is when we hear these words of Jesus. I wonder whether any of us actually takes these words seriously. I wonder whether we even think that these words apply to us; that we should or actually can follow these words. I wonder. 

You see, in the world in which we live, the rules of life are clear and well defined. And these words don’t seem to bear any relationship to this world's rules of life. Our world, we’re told, is a dog eat dog world. This world is about the survival of the fittest. This is a world in which might is right. These are the rules we understand and practice in our world. 

So when we hear these words of Jesus, we typically react in disbelief and shock: “Love my enemies, turn my cheek, pray for those who persecute me? Who me? That isn’t for me. I’m nobody’s idiot! God can't really expect this of me - after all, I’m only human!" 

Sadly, even though we know that these are Jesus’ instructions to his followers, and even though we as Catholic Christians claim to be followers of Jesus, very few of us actually pay any attention to these commands of his. Very few of us take these commands seriously. But I can’t believe that Jesus was joking when he preached this form of behavior to his earliest followers. 

And as if loving your enemy, praying for those who persecute you and turning the other cheek isn’t hard enough, Jesus adds one more seemingly impossible expectation: “Be PERFECT just as your heavenly Father is PERFECT” – not just perfect before God, perfect with God, perfect towards God, as were expressions we find in the Old Testament, but perfect as God. And although God is perfect in all ways, when Jesus commands us to “Be PERFECT just as your heavenly Father is PERFECT,” he is referring to God’s goodness, his holiness. 

I believe that in our heart of hearts, each of us has a desire to be good: to be a good person and to do good things. And, of course - that's good! But in the gospel passage that we just heard, Jesus calls us to something greater than goodness, he calls us to holiness. I’m not sure that even those among us who most want to be good have also a desire to be holy. How many of us would feel comfortable being identified, known, as a holy person? 

Often, holiness is something we admire in other people (Jesus, Mother Teresa, or our grandmother who goes to Mass and prays the Rosary every day) but holiness isn’t something we strive for ourselves. And insofar as we think of it as something too pious, spiritually over the top, even odd or quirky, holiness might even be something we don’t want. 

But the holiness that Jesus calls us to isn’t something odd or quirky, quaint or pious. It’s not something weak or submissive. To the contrary, it’s challenging, demanding and strong. Holiness here calls us to provide no room in our hearts for hatred. Most of us don’t have hate-filled hearts but many of us keep in our otherwise “good” hearts a little corner reserved for our less-than-loving thoughts and feelings: for this one or that one; for that group or this; for that political party or that church authority; for that person in my past; for my ex-; for my co-worker; for my neighbor . . . Even a good heart should make no room for such feelings - no more than a farmer would keep a corner of his field for growing weeds: the weeds drain the goodness from the soil and eventually spread, laying waste to the field and its crop. 

• A holy heart makes no room for weeds but rather keeps vigil lest ill-will, grudges, resentments and revenge take root there and yield a harvest of hate.
• A holy heart seeks, always, what is good and wastes no time planning for retaliation (an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth). 
• A holy heart does not oppose evil with evil - no matter how satisfying that may be - but rather stands tall in the face of evil, willing to bear and suffer the consequences of fidelity even when they take their toll on ease and comfort. 
• While a good heart gives to someone in need, a holy heart gives until the giver has a share in the want of the one whose needs are being served. 
• A holy heart gives until it makes a difference for the giver as well as for the one who receives.

In other words: being good isn’t good enough for Christians, for followers of Jesus - we are called to something more. People of holiness have a greater, deeper, stronger love to offer: they love those who do not or cannot or will not love in return; they love even their enemies; and to those who make their daily lives miserable, they open their hearts in prayer. In the gospel here Jesus calls us to love - as God loves: not sparingly, not grudgingly - but fully, deeply, robustly; not with strings attached and looking for something in return, but freely, selflessly and generously; not with hidden pockets of anger and resentment but with peace, mercy and forgiveness. God loves each of us with a heart of holiness and calls us to love one another, even our enemies, with the same heart. It was someone with more than just a good heart who gave his life for us on the Cross: the heart of Jesus is, indeed, the holiest of all hearts whose life, whose body and blood, we share at this altar. 

“Be PERFECT just as your heavenly Father is PERFECT.” To say that the words of our Gospel are challenging is an understatement. They should shake us to our bones because it’s a call to complete transformation. We are to live our lives differently because we live our lives in Jesus Christ. 

They say "practice makes perfect."  So, I’d like to suggest a way for us to practice. It’s called LENT and it starts this Wednesday. Lent is the time to practice those things that the Church recommends to us to help make us holy: prayer, fasting, sacrifice, acts of charity, and availing ourselves to the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Need some practical help on how to do that? Here are a few suggestions: 

• Give up cynicism . . . or jealousy . . . or backstabbing. Give up gossip. Give up regrets for choices you never made or paths your never took. 
• Give up fighting God’s will for you. Mean what you say when you pray “Thy will be done.” 
• Give up whatever fear or anxiety is keeping you from going to confession, and just go. Give up being too busy to pray or being too worried to hope.
• Give up looking at other people's worst points. Instead, concentrate on their BEST points for a change. 
• Give up speaking unkindly. Instead, let your speech be generous and understanding. 
• Give up your worries and anxieties! Instead, trust God with them. 
• Give up television, the internet or your cell phone one evening a week! Instead, visit someone who is lonely or isolated by illness or age, read the Bible or pray the Rosary. 
• Give up buying anything but essentials for yourself! Instead, give the money to a worthwhile cause. God calls us to be cheerful givers, not consumers. 

I can’t promise that if you practice all those things that, at the end of forty days, you’re going to be perfect. For our God - who always was, always will be and always remains the same - perfection is his eternal, natural state of being. It’s not ours. For us, perfection requires transformation. And if we truly desire to be PERFECT, just as our heavenly Father is PERFECT, we’ve got to start sometime. Why not this Lent?

Valentine's Day

BE MY VALENTINE

I'm probably dating myself, but today I'm remembering the simpliciety, innocence and beauty of the Valentine's Days of my youth. When I was a student at St. Raphael School in East Meadow, NY, as Valentine's Day approached, I would ask my mom to buy me a box of Mickey Mouse Valentine cards - enough for every student in the class. No one was left out. In those days, your heart was bursting with so much love and you just wanted everyone to feel it - girl, boy, the girl you had a crush on, the kid who the day before had made fun of you, the best student, the worst student, the class clown, your best friend, your mortal enemy, the social butterfly, the one who you weren't really sure what their voice sounded like because they were so painfully shy. Why we (and I) ever stopped that, I'll never know. Maybe life became too busy to take the time to write out so many cards. Maybe we became too self-conscious to let people know how much they really mean to us. Maybe we became too cool, too politically correct to say "I love you." Maybe we became too vulnerable and afraid that our "I love you" wouldn't be returned. This year, I want to get back something that sadly was lost in the much too hyped state that we call "maturity." I want each of you to know just how special you are to me . . . just how much you mean to me . . . just how much your presense in my life has made a difference in mine. So today, please accept this Valentine from me. Yes, today, I want to say I LOVE YOU to each and every one of you. HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY.

"A bell is no bell till you ring it.

A song is no song till you sing it.

And love in your heart wasn't put there to stay.

Love isn't love till you give it away."

The Third Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year A)

THE ROAD LESS TRAVELLED BY 

Isaiah 8: 23-9:3; 1 Corinthian 1: 10-13, 17; Matthew 4: 12-23 

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, 

And sorry I could not travel both 

And be one traveler, long I stood 

And looked down one as far as I could 

To where it bent in the undergrowth; 

Then took the other, as just as fair, 

And having perhaps the better claim, 

Because it was grassy and wanted wear . . . 

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— 

I took the one less traveled by, 

And that has made all the difference. 

I’m sure that most of you recognize those lines as coming from the poem “The Road Not Taken” by the great American poet Robert Frost. It speaks of making decisions, of not going with the flow, of choosing that which perhaps isn’t the popular choice – but the right choice. 

I thought of Frost’s words this past week as I prepared my homily. When I first read over this morning’s Gospel passage, I have to admit to you that I moaned. “Oh no! Not this one again! Jesus calling the Apostles to come follow him? How many times have I preached on THAT ONE?” But then, as I reread it, I was drawn to one sentence, a mere nine words. I imagine ninety-nine and nine tenths of all the homilies preached this weekend will focus on the other eleven verses of the passage – the one’s that deal with the call of the Apostles. But this morning, I’ve chosen the “road less traveled,” - the nine words with which Jesus chose to initiate his public ministry. 

Today we hear the opening sentence of Jesus’ public ministry, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” The first word is easy enough for us to understand: “repent” . . . change your mind . . . acquire a new heart . . . make a choice. It’s a demand that we’ll spend an entire liturgical season addressing . . . the season that we will begin in thirty-one days . . . the season of Lent. But the rest of the sentence is the confusing part . . . “the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” To tell you the truth, I don’t know if I ever heard a homily on the “kingdom of heaven.” Oh sure, I’ve heard and given many homilies on parables Jesus taught that had something to do with the kingdom, perhaps an aspect of it. But never an actual homily on the kingdom itself. So, this morning, I go the road less travelled and I invite you to walk along with me and see where we end up. 

So, what exactly is the kingdom of heaven? It’s the sovereign rule of God in which his perfect will is done on earth as it is presently done in heaven. The kingdom of heaven is what God wants the world to look like. It’s anywhere that LOVE triumphs, where GRACE abounds, where JUSTICE is done, where PEACE is experienced, where the WELL-BEING of all of humanity is seen and the DIGNITY of every man, woman and child is being respected and achieved. Anywhere that those things are happening, through the efforts and prayers of many people, we see the Kingdom of Heaven. Here and there and now and then we see the new creation. 

Jesus announced, “it is at hand.” It here or at least it’s within our grasp! The Kingdom of heaven isn’t just a destination, it’s a present reality. It’s a state of consciousness that’s open to infinite good and sees light. It’s living now what matters forever . . . In other words, living on earth what is happening in heaven. But whereas the kingdom of heaven is here, it’s not here in its totality. Our challenge is to make the kingdom of heaven more a reality in ourselves and to the rest of the world. The Kingdom is no longer limited to waiting for God to act. God has already acted and is waiting for us to react, to collaborate, and to cooperate, to get with the program. Whenever you give your will to God, and accept whatever comes, the Kingdom comes to you. 

Scripture is the LIVING word of God. This means that what Jesus proclaimed 2,000 years ago is just as relevant, just as true, just as applicable today as it was then. And so, when Jesus announced that the kingdom of heaven was at hand, it wasn’t just for the people of Israel who walked the same dusty roads and breathed the same Middle Eastern air as he did. In a real sense, Jesus is the embodiment of the kingdom of heaven because where the king is, there is his kingdom. And Jesus is both faithful ruler and righteous citizen of the kingdom. So, when Jesus proclaims that the “kingdom of heaven is at hand” he is saying, “I am here. I rule. And my kingdom is at hand. Then and now.” 

And so, when we live up to our name and are CHRISTian, we embrace Jesus’ values . . . 

• When we are poor in spirit and empty ourselves of all that really doesn’t matter and recognize our basic dependency on God . . . He is here. He rules. And the kingdom of heaven is at hand. 
• When we mourn and wear compassion like a garment and lose ourselves in another’s sorrow . . . He is here. He rules. And the kingdom of heaven is at hand. 
• When we are meek and realize that we are a gift from God, and as such, are content with both our greatness and our smallness, and true to who we really are . . . He is here. He rules. And the kingdom of heaven is at hand. 
• When we hunger and thirst for righteousness and maintain a steady diet goodness, positive attitudes and service that makes us spiritually fit . . . He is here. He rules. And the kingdom of heaven is at hand. 
• When we’re merciful and remember how much we’ve been forgiven and extend that forgiveness to others . . . He is here. He rules. And the kingdom of heaven is at hand. 
• When our hearts are pure and simple and free and we become seekers of truth and honesty . . . He is here. He rules. And the kingdom of heaven is at hand. 
• When we’re peacemakers and build bridges that unite, rather than walls that divide . . . He is here. He rules. And the kingdom of heaven is at hand. 
• And when we’re persecuted for the sake of righteousness and live our faith out loud, no matter what the cost or pain . . . He is here. He rules. And the kingdom of heaven is at hand. 

The problem is the kingdom of heaven is countercultural. It butts head with the kingdom of man. The values of the kingdom of heaven are opposite the values of the world. In the kingdom of heaven, the way up is down; to lay hold, you must let go; to be filled you must be empty. In the Kingdom of heaven, everything is reversed. The least are the greatest, outcasts are welcomed, adults become like little children, enemies love one another, and leaders are servants of others. 

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— 

I took the one less traveled by, 

And that has made all the difference. 

You know, maybe that poem has less to do about what topic I chose to preach on this morning and more to do with the choice that is set before each one of us - two roads: one is the path that leads to the riches of the kingdom of man. The other, the path to life in the kingdom of God. Which one are you on?  It just might make all the difference. 

Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God

20/20 in 2020

New Year’s Resolutions 
From the Guy Who Never Makes New Year’s Resolutions 

News Year’s Day 2020 . . . the beginning of a new year . . . the threshold of a new decade. I’ve never been one for making New Year’s Resolutions – for three reasons: first, I never keep them. Oh, I’ve tried. But by the next week I’ve gone off the diet, found the comfort of my easy chair more welcoming than the gym, decided watching television is a lot easier on the eyes than reading, and given into the busyness of my schedule at the expense of praying more. Second, being Catholic, resolutions for change and growth are something that we do (or should be doing) constantly. Every time I hear an inspiring homily or go to the Sacrament of Reconciliation I’m presented with an opportunity to turn over a new leaf, to change, to alter the pattern of my life, to be transformed, to become more the person God has created me to be. Third, I’m just not creative enough to think of something to do that’s unique, different, and challenging . . . and certainly not creative enough to think of unique, different, and challenging ways to accomplish them. 

But for some reason, this year, I’ve come up with a list . . . a “To Do” list, or perhaps, more accurately, a “To Be” list. Actually, it’s not a list . . . just one resolution: To have 20/20 in 2020. But oh the implication and application! 

• To have 20/20 vision and be more aware of the presence of God AROUND ME. I will remember that I am always in the holy presence of God. That there are no (or at least very few) coincidences. That I have a Father in Heaven who loves me and truly desires to bless me.
• To have 20/20 vision and be more aware of the presence of God WITHIN ME. I will recognize the good that’s in me, my strengths and virtues, and be less consumed with my faults, shortcomings, weaknesses and mistakes. “I am larger, better than I thought. I did not know I held so much goodness” (Walt Whitman). I will become more a person of humility, mercy and good cheer.
• To have 20/20 vision and be more aware of the presence of God IN OTHERS. I will appreciate the gift that is other people and will see and celebrate the good that is within them – man, woman, child, saint or sinner.
• To have 20/20 vision and focus more on the positive rather than the negative. I will refuse to allow the negativity of others, disappointments in my life, nor the presence of evil in the world influence my attitudes, disposition and decisions. God is in charge! He is a God of goodness!! And his will WILL BE DONE!!! 
• To have 20/20 vision and appreciate what is good and beautiful in the world. I will take more notice of beauty, both in nature and in human nature. I will wake up and smell the roses in the world around me and the sweet aroma of holiness in those people around me. 
• To have 20/20 vision and have sufficient personal insight and wisdom to not be swayed by the opinions of others. There are too many self-proclaimed “experts” in society. I will appreciate the sincere intelligence, common sense, life-experience, and advice of others. But, in the end, it is my life, my conscience, and my soul that I am answerable to God for. And I claim full responsibly. 
• To have 20/20 vision and notice the opportunities to do good, to smile, to offer a compliment, to say a kind word, to affirm. I have it with my power to make someone’s day. And I will take full advantage of the 366 opportunities I have this year to do that. 
• To have 20/20 vision and be more aware of the needs of others and respond to them. “The greatest in the kingdom is the one who serves” . . . “Just so, the Son of Man did not come BE served but TO serve.” “I have given you and example to follow, so that what I have done for you, you must also do.” IT’S ALL ABOUT SERVICE! 
• To have 20/20 vision and stay away from situations, people and activities that have the potential to cause harm to my health (mental, physical, psychological, emotional, spiritual), my reputation, my soul. I will live the words I pray every day: “Lead us not into temptation” . . . “and I will avoid the near occasion of sin. Amen.” 
• To have 20/20 vision and be aware of the opportunities that come across my path daily to lead others to God - by what I do, by what I say, or simply by who I am. That is my vocation as a deacon. It is my vocation simply as a Christian. 

Well, there it is – my resolutions for 2020. But, as I reread them, maybe they are really the resolutions I make for the rest of my life. (Whew! I’m off the hook next New Year’s Day!)

The Feast of the Holy Family: Jesus, Mary & Joseph (Year A)

YOU’RE NOT GOD. 

THIS AIN’T HEAVEN. 

DON’T ACT LIKE A JERK. 

Sirach 3: 2-6; 12-14; Colossians 3: 12-21; Matthew 2: 13-15, 19-23 

We all know that THE Holy Family consisted of Jesus, Mary and Joseph. But what about our own families, yours and mine, the ones we grew up in . . . the ones we’re members of now: Is your family a holy family? 

Before you jump to a quick answer to that question, let’s take a moment to consider what makes a family holy. And to do that, we have to reach some agreement on what we mean by “holy.” 

Many people believe that “holy” means “perfect.” Well, God is holy and God IS perfect but outside the Trinity of Father, Son and Holy Spirit, perfection is pretty hard to find. But I don’t need to be perfect to be holy. To be holy is to strive faithfully to be and to become more and more the person God made me to be. It’s not all that complicated. Spiritual writer Fr. James Martin put it this way: "Just remember three things: You're not God. This ain't heaven. Don't act like a jerk!" That’s holiness! In other words: God’s in charge. Life is hard. Love one another even when it hurts. 

Actually, to be HOLY is to recognize honestly that I’m NOT perfect. A big part of being holy is being honest about the times when I’m un-holy, when I need to ask for God’s forgiveness and help to keep me from making the same mistake again. And if I fall, if I fail again, then I need to depend more and more on God’s mercy and strength to help me be more faithfully the person God made me to be, to help the sinner I am to be a little more – holy. 

It’s a waste of time to judge my holiness by comparing it with someone else’s. But people do this all the time. God isn’t going to judge me by how I measure up to St. Therese of Lisieux or St. Francis of Assisi. I’ll only be judged on how faithfully I became the person He created me to be. Saint Theresa might be a great model for me, but I’m not called to be her – I’m called to be me, and you’re called to be you – as God made you. 

In the Second Reading today, St. Paul writes to the Colossians and calls them “holy and beloved” but still sees the need to remind them to put on: compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience; to bear with one another and to forgive the grievances they have against one another; to put on love and to let Christ’s peace rule their hearts. This is the advice he gives to those he thinks are HOLY! In other words, he’s saying: Remember this: You're not God. This ain't heaven. Don't act like jerks! Be holy. Strive to be the persons God made you to be. And when you fail, and you will, ask for mercy and try again. 

Families are called to be holy, too, since families are made up of human beings. A family is called to strive faithfully to be a community of persons who love and care for one another. 

While it’s true that Jesus in his divine nature knows all about love because He is Love, we cannot simply whitewash the fact that because Jesus was also 100% human (remember, He’s true God and true man), He had to learn about human love from somewhere and someone. That somewhere was during the silent time in his home in Nazareth, hidden away from the public eye. And those someone(s) were Mary and Joseph – one sinless, and one a sinner with incredible virtue. 

It was in the home of Joseph and Mary that Jesus learned the meaning of love. From the moment of his divine conception, he was received as a gift. Jesus would grow up seeing how Joseph treated Mary, how he interacted with others, how committed he was to taking care of his family. Jesus watched Mary, the most-pure of all women, the one that had been selected from all eternity, interact with her husband. Through their love, He witnessed how their marriage and family life quietly impacted the lives of those around him. 

Although our family may not be like the Holy Family, God calls every family to be a holy family - to strive, faithfully, to grow together in and through its own circumstances, with all the gifts and graces, all the beauty and the brokenness, the generosity and the greed, the sacrifice and the selfishness, the hopes and the hurts that mark every family. He doesn’t judge a family by its brokenness but rather by how a family seeks to heal and reconcile with one another in the brokenness. And when they do this, they too become a holy family. 

When it comes to our own personal holiness or a family’s holiness, we might be tempted to think that “one size should fit all.” I hope our own experience of ourselves, of others, of other families might show us what I’m sure God knows, that every family has its own size and fit when it comes to holiness. THE Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph certainly didn’t fit the customary pattern: a virgin mother, a foster father, a 12-year-old son who runs away, convinced that he must preach God’s word in the temple in Jerusalem. And THEY are the HOLIEST of all holy families! Each of these three strove, faithfully, to be what God's love asked of them. 

Not because we're all that holy, but because we seek to walk the holy path to God, the Lord invites us, our church family, to his table this morning. And we come here, as a parish, with all the gifts and graces, the beauty and brokenness, the generosity and greed, the sacrifice and selfishness, the hopes and the hurts that mark every family. And as HIS holy family, our Lord calls us to look past faults, to forgive, to see the good in each other, to appreciate each other’s talents and gifts, to not judge each other by the standard set by those who previously stood at this pulpit or who sat in those pews, but to strive to be the holy parish family He calls us to be.

May the sacrament we receive here renew our desire in the New Year ahead to walk that path that leads each of us, our families and all of us who make up the St. Therese Parish Family to the holiness of God.

A Christmas Message of Hope 

The following was composed by Richard N. Hughes, a former executive at WPIX Channel 11 in New York and was broadcast every year prior to the Yule Log from 1974 to 1989. It’s message is just as beautiful, meaningful and relevant today as was then . . . perhaps even more so. 

Christmas is many things. It is a time for giving ... a time for receiving ... a time for putting away, for a little while, the cares and worries of the world, and rejoicing in the promise which is embodied in the birth of Jesus of Nazareth. 

While this day is most sacred and the promise most meaningful to the Christian world, there is a message in it for all mankind. It is a message which the world never quite remembers but has never quite forgotten. 

For the message of Christmas is the message of God's Love. And God's Love involves hope and promise for an improving future. 

If you were to compare our times with the time when Jesus was born, you would find great similarity. Like our time, it was a period of great unrest. It was a time when many prophets spoke with many tongues. It was a time when the problems seemed overwhelming. 

But into that time, Hope was born, in the person of the Child who was to become, for a great part of the world, the embodiment of the salvation of the humankind. 

There is important meaning for Christian and non-Christian in His brief lifetime, because this Man taught that love is the one sure source of healing for the human condition. He taught the Fatherhood of God and the Brotherhood of man. He taught that this earthly life is not the end for the human spirit. He taught that each man is accountable for his actions, but most of all, He taught the doctrine of Hope. Hope for the future in the promise that the result of goodness is Godliness. And, more than any other person in history, Jesus taught us to respect the Godliness in ourselves, and to give it expression by doing God's work in the world. 

The gifts which we give this Christmas Season, as symbols of God's great gift to the world, will pass and be forgotten. But the gift of Hope, as embodied in the Christ, will live eternally. 

For Hope is the life which springs eternal in mankind. 

At this Christmas Season, we wish you the best of the season ... and the best is the sure knowledge that there is cause to hope, if we will but accept the responsibility for bridging the gaps and healing the wounds in our society, and if, whatever our religious beliefs, we will, in Jesus' words, "Be of good cheer"

Footprints in the Snow

FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW

A Christmas Parable

An oversized hand pushed back the panel of a lace window curtain and two eyes peered out from inside. The eyes bore the marks of age. Wrinkles were their bookends. But there was something else about those eyes. They were childlike, eyes that were beacons of innocence, goodness, awe and wonder. 

“A white Christmas!” he exclaimed in a tone that conveyed both giddiness and resignation. “I guess I won’t be making it to Midnight Mass this year; I doubt anyone will,” he said to no one but himself. It would be the first Midnight Mass he would miss since the years when “visions of sugarplums danced in his head.” But it had been snowing since early morning and it would be a fool’s mission to be out on the roads that night. 

He fell into the comfort of his armchair, a chair that knew every curve of his body and he surveyed the room. It was a large living room in a large house which now possessed more memories than contents. And those memories all came rushing forth out of their usual hiding places that Christmas Eve. He smiled as his eyes became heavy and his head nodded as his memories became more real to him than the stark reality of being all alone. 

His brief sleep was startled, however, by the sound of tires spinning nowhere on the street outside his house. And sure enough, as his hand once again pulled back the curtain of the living room window, he made out, between the falling snowflakes, the image of a man kneeling almost in prayer beneath the street light as his hands dug into the cold snow to dig his car out of the snowdrift it had skidded into. 

“Damn Fool!” he mumbled as he let go of the curtain and moved as quickly as a man his age could toward his front door. “Hey! Hey you! You’re stuck! Come here! You’re never gonna to be able to dig yourself out until a plow comes and God knows when that will be. You might as well come in and wait.” And so, the man abandoned his car, and the snow, and the cold, and accepted the invitation. 

“Look at you! Not even a coat on! You’re going to catch your death of cold! Take your shoes off and let them the dry out a bit,” he said as he opened the door for his unexpected guest to enter. “The name’s Sam.” “Oh. Heard by God,” his guest smiled in response as he kicked off one shoe. “What? What’s that?” Sam squinted back. “Your name. Samuel. It means Heard by God.” “Oh . . . didn’t know that. Well if God’s heard me, all he’s heard lately is a lot of cussing and complaining,” Sam chuckled. “I’m Manny,” said his guest as he kicked off the second shoe. ‘Well, pleased to meet you Manny. Come on into the living room.” 

“Let me turn off the radio,” which had been playing Christmas carols nonstop all day. “No, please!” Manny protested. “I like it. I could listen to Christmas carols the whole year through.” “Well I bet you’re hungry and could use a nice hot cup of coffee. And I just made something that I think you’re gonna like – tomato soup cake – an old family recipe, treasured and passed down from generation to generation. . . from the back label of a Campbell’s Tomato Soup can,” chuckled Sam. “Sit here and let the fire warm you. I’ll be right back.” 

But when he emerged from the kitchen several minutes later, rather than sitting and warming himself, he found Manny standing at the mantle of the fireplace examining the photographs that were carefully arranged there. “That’s my family,” Sam offered. “This is my wife Kathleen, the prettiest and sweetest thing ever to come across the sea from Ireland. That one there is my daughter Sophia. And this . . . this is my son, Micah. Sophia lives in California now. She’s very successful. A lawyer! So, there’s really not much time for visits. And Micah . . . Micah was killed in the war. And picking up the picture of his wife and holding it to his chest as if to hug her, he said, “Kathleen was never the same after that. The doctors say she died of a heart attack. I say she died of a broken heart.” 

And as if not to give into the melancholy of the moment, he directed Manny’s attention to another picture on the mantle. “And this one . . . this is my favorite! It’s of Kathleen and Micah and Sophia out in the front yard after the blizzard of ’74. Just look at the smiles on their faces. And look at the tracks they left, the snow angels and footprints in the snow! You know, all winter long I would look out and would see those footprints with such happiness, because even though my children or my wife might have been in school or shopping, the footprints were the telltale signs that they had been there. Those footprints, although vacant, to me were still filled with life and love and laughter. That’s why I cherish this picture. Because, although those footprints have been covered over with many seasons’ worth of grass and leaves and more snow, in this picture those footprints are preserved and frozen for all time.” 

“You know, Sam, not everyone who visits us leaves footprints in the snow.” “What? What’s that,” asked the uncomprehending Sam? “Angels leave no footprints. And neither does God. Yet without a doubt, they visit us, walk with us, stay with us. Some are unconvinced or despair when they don’t see the footprints. They believe God has abandoned them or worse – that he doesn’t exist at all. But the pure of heart don’t need to see footprints to know that God has been around, that God has visited them, that God is present and loves them.” Sam’s eyes widened, he scratched his head and then finally nodded at the truth of which Manny spoke, a truth Sam never thought about before but now understood. 

They spoke of many things that night. Of family and faith . . . of memories and hopes . . . of life and love. The hours past as if only minutes. Suddenly a pause came in their conversation and Sam glanced at his small Christmas tree which stood where grander trees stood tall in years past. “Oh! I have something for you! A Christmas present,” Sam exclaimed! “Every year I buy myself a present and wrap it, put it under the tree and open it on Christmas morning, trying to convince myself that I don’t know what’s inside. I want you to have it. Here . . .” Sam handed the crudely wrapped box to Manny who opened it and smiled. It was a grey cardigan sweater. “Sam, I can’t,” protested Manny. “Ah I’ve got a dozen of them. Try it on,” instructed Sam. And Manny obliged. “Well, it’s a little big but you’ll grown into it,” Sam said with a wink and a smile. “But take it off now so you feel the good of it outside later.” 

And just as Manny did, the sound of steel gliding across asphalt interrupted the beauty of the Christmas music on the radio and a stark reality suddenly hit Sam. “The plow,” he said without expression. He knew his Christmas guest would be leaving. 

“Yeah I guess I better go out and clear the snow off my car and hit the road,” responded Manny with a tone of somber reluctance. “Let me walk you to the door . . . Now don’t forget your shoes,” Sam joked and was amazed when he saw that they had left no puddle on the floor. Sam then gathered the courage to ask the question which had puzzled him with greater intensity all night long. “Say, do I know you. Have we ever met before? Your face seems awfully familiar to me.” “Maybe we’ve met before,” said Manny. “Or maybe I just have one of those faces that looks like everyone else,” he said. And Sam continued to stare intently, hoping to recall a time or a place of a previous encounter. “Well . . . Merry Christmas, Manny.” “Merry Christmas Sam.” And as his hand reached for the door knob, he looked back and looked deeply into Sam’s eyes. “Sam, today salvation has come to this house. You are not far from the kingdom of God.” And with that, he turned, opened the door, and was gone. 

And as the door closed, Sam returned to the living room to the comfort of his armchair and tried to make sense of Manny’s words and of that whole Christmas Eve night. Suddenly his eyes caught sight of the sweater that Manny had left draped on the arm of the chair where he had been sitting. “Hey! Wait a minute! You forgot! You forgot your sweater! Sam raced to the door and, as he opened it, his radio suddenly began to blare at an almost deafening volume with the most beautiful sounding choir he had ever heard: 

Hark! the herald angels sing, 

"Glory to the new-born King! 

Peace on earth, and mercy mild, 

God and sinners reconciled. 

And above the sound of the choir was Manny’s voice, seemingly coming from both nowhere and everywhere: 

“For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me.” 

Sam squinted his eyes to see past the falling snow. But beneath the street lamp, he saw no plow. He saw no car. He saw no Manny. And then, suddenly, Sam gasped. Tears brimmed from those eyes which sometimes beamed with childlike innocence. And the cascading tears warmed his frozen cheeks as he looked down at the pathway to his door. For he realized . . . there were no footprints in the snow. 

Two thousand years ago, a babe was born in a manger, wrapped in swaddling clothes, serenaded by angels, visited by shepherds and wisemen. He grew, and walked the dusty roads of Galilee and Judea, walked up a hill called Calvary, and walked out of a tomb that held his body for three days. And today, he walks whatever road life takes us. He is Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. He is Immanuel “GOD WITH US.” Blessed are the pure of heart who need no footprints in the snow to know that God has been in their midst. 

First Sunday of Advent (Year A)

Waiting for the One Who is Already Here

Isaiah 2: 1-5; Romans 13: 11-14; Matthew 24:36-44

Today is the First Sunday of Advent and “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas!” On Thursday, people excused themselves from their Thanksgiving tables to hit the malls to be among the first to take advantage of the “Black Friday” sales. Were you there? Sirius Satellite Radio has been playing Christmas music nonstop since November 1st. Have you been listening? The Hallmark Channel has been running their marathon of Christmas movies since . . . well, did they ever stop? Have you started watching? And some people have already decorated the outside of their houses with lights and put up their tree. Have you? Yes, “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas!”

After the leaves have all fallen and the world has become more desolate and cold; after life has taken on a dreary cast and we, too, feel somewhat dreary after struggling through another year - suddenly there is this season that is full of hope for a new beginning, for new life. A promise that life can be different, that there are new possibilities for life and for living. A whole new world comes into being at Christmas - a magical world full of flying reindeer, elves, snowmen and Santa Claus. A world full of new possibilities; a place where it seems like the impossible could almost happen. Because two thousand years ago, the impossible DID happen: God took on human flesh in the person of a tiny baby born in a stable in the city of Bethlehem. 

And Advent, the season we begin today, is the signpost, pointing the way to Bethlehem. This is a time of preparation and anticipation. Shopping, candy ribbons, Advent calendars, the lighting of the Advent wreath - all help us to prepare; all point us toward Christmas. But we need to be sure that the incidentals don't crowd him out. The shopping, the baking, the carols - all of those things can be great ways of celebrating the miracle - but they're just the window-dressing on the season. If they become the focus, we will get to the end of the season and wonder what happened? What happened to the Child of Christmas? 

That’s why our Advent readings open with this warning: "Watch! Be ready!” The signs of his coming are already all around us. Not in the tinsel and glitter and merrymaking. Not in the lovely carols or beautifully decorated houses. But Jesus tells us that it will be as in the days of Noah. He says when things are "business as usual," where some are partying and having a good time in the midst of those who are poor, hungry, desperate - when you see that happen - then you know the kingdom is near. When you see cruelty, disruption, discord, hatred and strife. When the world seems out of control - then you can be sure it’s time for Emmanuel, “God with us.” It's time for his kingdom to come. It's time for the promise to be given birth. 

And it’s not just to the tragedies and upheaval of the world that he comes. But in the times and in places when we feel alone, disconnected from the world, alienated from others (and maybe even from ourselves). In times of personal loss, moments of disappointment, occasions of failure, loneliness and personal need. It’s here and it’s then that Christ comes . . . Emmanuel . . . God-with-US. It’s then that, if we’ve been watching; it’s there that, if we’ve been waiting; it’s now that, if we have prepared, that Christmas becomes, not just a day, but a person. 

The promise of Christmas comes when it’s most needed. And the irony of Advent is that we watch, we wait and we prepare for the One who is already here. That’s why every moment of life is a moment of hope and possibility. Any moment he may come to us, if we’re open like Mary and Joseph and the shepherds, to receiving him. The kingdom is waiting to break into your world. The signs of it are everywhere. Watch! Wait! Be ready! Not just when the carols are playing. Not just when you feel Christmasy. But also, and especially, when the world seems dark to you and you feel far from God's kingdom of love, peace, joy and justice. 

The “holiday season” all around us, the “commercial season” tapping our bank accounts, the “social season” of decorations, gifts and parties – none of these are particularly beneficial in helping us welcome Jesus into our hearts. But the “Advent season” is: 

• For this is the season to find some quiet time to sit with our Lord in prayer and share with him the joys and the worries, the triumphs and the hurts, the successes and the disappoints in our hearts right now. 
• This is the season, not for buying, consuming and filling up on everything - but rather – for emptying ourselves out to make room for Jesus to come into our hearts and make himself at home there. 
• This is the season to focus, not so much on things whose shelf-life is so short, but on those realities that can and do last forever. 
• This is the season to appreciate that the greatest Christmas gift ever given or received is God’s gift of love to us in his Son, Jesus: in his gospel, in his death and resurrection, and in the Sacrament of his presence at the altar. 

Yes, “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.” Jesus is coming. To a world that often is ignorant of him the rest of the year, he will be born anew in minds and in hearts on Christmas, if only for a single day. And yes, he will come on the clouds of angels at the end of the world to take us home, as he foretold in today’s gospel. But he is already present now as well, and his kingdom is near to you. Every day is an Advent because Emmanuel – “God with us” desires to once again be born – in YOU. Every day is an Advent for you to wait for him. Every day is an Advent for you to search for him. May your hearts be open and prepared to receive him this season of Advent.

Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle C)

FINDING THE GOOD IN THE GOOD NEWS 

Malachi 3:19-20a; 2 Thessalonians 3:7-12; Luke 21:5-19 

Good News! Glad Tidings! That’s what the word gospel literally means. And Matthew, Mark, Luke and John certainly provide us a lot of that. Good News! “God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” Good News! “Come to me all you who are weary and heavy burdened, and I will give you rest." Good News! Our God is like a Good Shepherd who searches for us when we’re lost or have strayed from him. And, like a lamb, he lovingly places us on his shoulders and carries us back to green pastures and to the safety of his love. Good News! Jesus said, “No one has greater love than this, than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” And that’s exactly the love he showed for us on the cross. Good News! 

But where is the “good” in the Good News that we heard proclaimed in our gospel tonight? Stones thrown down; votive offerings overturned; nation rising up against nation; earthquakes, famine and plagues . . . I’m sure that’s not the message you came to church tonight expecting to hear. Good News? No . . . words like chaotic, frightening and depressing seem more like it. But just maybe there’s more to tonight’s gospel than what there seems to be on face value (as there usually is). 

Tonight’s gospel begins with the disciples marveling at the glory of the Temple in Jerusalem. The Temple they looked at was one of the wonders of the world. It was made of carved blocks of greenish white marble, 67.5 feet long, 7.5 feet high and 9 feet thick. It was an impressive structure whose Eastern side was completely gold plated and precious gems were imbedded in the interior walls. It took over 40 years to build and its magnificence was hardly without equal. It was truly the house of God! No one could imagine anything damaging this building. It spoke of a strong God and a strong people. 

But forty years later, what Jesus warned would happen actually came to pass. In 70 A.D. not only the temple, but the whole city of Jerusalem was destroyed by the Roman army. 

And nine years after that, Mount Vesuvius erupted in Italy, and the whole city of Pompeii was destroyed. The eruption created dreadful signs in the sky with huge clouds of dust and noxious fumes. Fiery ash dropped from heaven on the people below. Within days of the eruption there was widespread pestilence and famine. 

And as if all of this wasn’t bad enough, the time of Christian persecution had now begun. People were under great threat merely for being Christians. They were arrested, tortured and put to death because of their unwavering faith in Jesus. 

And so, for the people of that time, they now walked among the rubble of a world and of a life that had once given them joy, and security, and a sense of identity. The world had changed and their lives would never be the same again. 

What about us? We may not like it – we may resist it, but the reality is, things do change. Sometimes changes are welcome. But there are days when change brings loss or the fear of loss. There are days when our life is forever changed, the world is different, and nothing is like it used to be. 

You and I know those days. We could each tell stories about those days. They’re stories about the death of a loved one; they’re stories of a dire health diagnosis; they’re stories about our parent’s divorce; they’re stories of the day you didn’t make the team; they’re the stories about the day you realized the person you trusted wasn’t the person you thought they were; they’re stories about the day a relationship ended. 

In the language of our tonight’s Gospel, the things we look to for stability can be referred to as our “temples”. Sometimes our temples are people, places, values, beliefs, or institutions. And, in that sense, temples are the things that we think give structure and order to our lives, give meaning and identity, provide security. At least we think they do, until they don’t anymore. And where does that leave us? What do we do when our temple falls, when our world crumbles and it seems there’s nothing for us to hold on to, and the only thing around us is the rubble of the life we loved and felt secure in? 

To just these situations in our lives, Jesus has four things to say, four gems embedded in this gospel as were those precious stones in the walls of the temple. 

He says: 

Don’t be deceived… 

Don’t be afraid… 

I’ll give you a wisdom…. 

By your perseverance you will secure your lives… 

In whatever confusion or conflict, whatever depression or disaster we find ourselves, Jesus says, “Don’t be deceived! Many will come promising what only I can give. And you’ll be tempted to think I’ve abandoned you, forgotten you. You’ll wonder what you did to deserve such suffering. But don’t be deceived. I am never the source of your suffering. I come to you only with healing and strength and mercy; I come to be with you, to take your hand, and to lead you through the darkest of your days.” 

And to us in our fears, Jesus says, “Don’t be terrified! Don’t be afraid! There’s nothing you can’t face if you stand with me, and I’ll stand by you in everything that comes your way. I’ll be your courage when you are frightened. I’ll be your strength when yours is exhausted. I’ll be your guide when you’re lost, your guard when you’re alone.” 

And in our confusion Jesus tells us, “I’ll give you wisdom . . . I’ll help you understand. When you are conflicted, I’ll give you my counsel. When you don’t know what to do, I’ll lead you to the truth. When nothing makes sense, when everything’s too complex, come to me and in the simplicity of my heart’s love and mercy and peace, find a place to rest.” 

And in our hopelessness, Jesus says, “By your perseverance, you will secure your lives . . . You’re never alone, I’m always at your side. When you’ve run out of hope for tomorrow, trust in me for today. When the future seems impossible, trust that it’s in my hands. Hold fast my hand in yours and, together, we’ll walk on, one day at a time, one hour at a time. Stay with me and I will stay with you: by your perseverance, you will secure your life.” 

And isn’t THAT the good in the Good News tonight . . . that God is always with us – in the changes and chaos of life; in the pain, loss, and disappointment; in the destruction of our temples. Stone by stone He rebuilds our life. Stone by stone God restores the beauty of our life and world. Stone by stone a new temple arises from the rubble. 

So whatever burdens you came to Mass with tonight, now is the time to lay them down at the foot of the Cross and at the table of the Lord, where he gives us, in the sacrifice, in the sacrament of the Eucharist the building blocks for a new temple - the companionship, the courage, the wisdom and the hope to live, one day at a time, in his mercy, in his peace and in his love 

And that REALLY is GOOD NEWS!