Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year C)

PARDON & PEACE

Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year C)

2 Samuel 12:7-10, 13; Galatians 2:16, 19-21; Luke 7:36-8:3

Today’s gospel passage from St Luke contains a story that is one of the world’s most touching and infinitely tender. It is the story of Jesus’ forgiveness of a “bad” woman. A Pharisee named Simon had invited Jesus to dinner. Why, we don’t know. Likely as not, it was simply because Simon had heard of Jesus, thought it might be interesting to have a celebrity in his house, and asked him to come, and Jesus accepted the invitation.

A sinful woman in the city heard of the dinner and invited herself. Her crashing the party was easy, in view of the custom that when a rabbi was at a meal as a guest, anyone was free to come and listen to him. What could she have looked like? Well, they say that an artist can look at a beautiful girl and see the woman she will become. A better artist can look at an old woman and see the beautiful girl she used to be. A great artist can look at an old woman, portray her exactly as she is and force the viewer to see the beautiful girl she used to be, proving that the lovely young girl is still alive, imprisoned inside the old woman’s ruined body. In today’s gospel, Jesus demonstrates he was that kind of artist, a great one.

The woman was attracted to come either because she had had some contact with Jesus in his wanderings, or simply because she liked what she had heard of him. In writing of her, Luke is very delicate. He mentions neither her name nor what her sins were. Most people, however, suspect that this woman’s sins were of the sort that we are embarrassed to admit in confession, but love to read in the “tell all” autobiographies of media stars. She had going against her not only the prohibition against close female contact with men outside the home; she had the added handicap of being known as a sinner. So, although she had been brave enough to come, she stood behind Jesus at his feet as he reclined at table, where he couldn’t see her right away.

Like other Jewish woman, she wore around her neck an expensive vial of perfume. She intended to anoint his feet with it. As she stooped to do so, she was so overcome with emotion that she unexpectedly burst into tears. She hadn’t foreseen this outburst, and she spontaneously loosened her hair and wipe and kissed his feet repeatedly, and then anointed his feet.

Simon the Pharisee said under his breath, “If this man were a prophet, he would know who and what sort of woman this is who is touching him, that she is a sinner.” The fact is that Jesus did know what sort of woman this was — a woman who was both repentant and grateful—a woman whose need for forgiveness drove her to her knees and brought her to her senses. He knew and was pleased to receive her goodness. He accepted her. In response to Simon’s unspoken thoughts, Jesus presents a parable about two men who owed money, one a great deal and the other less. The creditor wrote off both debts. When Jesus asked Simon which of them will love the creditor more, one can almost feel the insolent coldness in Simon’s answer: “The one, I suppose, whose larger debt was forgiven”.

Jesus then turned to Simon the Pharisee and somewhat rebuked him. He told him when he entered his house, he did not offer him a kiss of greeting. water for his feet, nor did he anoint his head. Jesus’ words about expected courtesy beautifully portrayed the Oriental etiquette of the time. When a guest entered a house, he could expect the host to show certain marks of respect. The host was to place his hands on his guest’s shoulder and wish him shalom, the most-prized gift of peace. Another duty of hospitality was to cleanse and comfort the guest’s feet with cool water after the dust of the dirt roads had penetrated his sandals. And the host could be expected to place a few drops of attar of roses on the guest’s head. But Simon offers none of the customary hospitality to Jesus. 

The woman made up for it. She worships at the feet of Jesus. Her worship was simple, contrite, sincere . . . without words . . . but with tears and perfume instead. She understood that being present with Jesus calls for an extravagant response. She had been transformed, and she knew that the only appropriate response was to throw herself at the feet of the Lord. Jesus looked into her heart, and knew that she was truly repentant. And the friend of sinners then said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace”. 

We never even know her name . . . this woman with the unbound hair who made such a scene at Simon’s house. But she is our model and our guide. Her actions show us what our response should be to the incredible gift we have been given. The forgiveness she experienced is also offered to us through the Sacrament of Reconciliation. This involves a radical reorientation of our whole life and a conversion to God with our whole heart. We need to throw ourselves at the feet of Jesus, wash our sins with the tears of our responsibility, and beg forgiveness. We too must put away our pride and set aside our fear. And then. after our heartfelt, sincere, faith-filled, undistracted, contrite, humble, worship at the feet of our Lord, we too will be dismissed to “Go in peace.”

Graduation Homily for the Class of 2016

REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE

A Graduation Homily for the Class of 2016

St. Therese School, Succasunna, NJ

June 8th, 2016

Sirach 51: 13-19; Philippians 1: 3-11; John 17:11b, 17-24b 

Let me begin my homily by first expressing my congratulations to our graduates, St. Therese’s Class of 2016. Congratulations, as well, to your parents, to Mrs. Gargin, and the rest of of the faculty, to Mrs. Hirschfeld, all who got you to this point in your life! Each of you has labored hard, each in your own way, to reach this milestone in your lives which we now seek to commemorate in a fitting way in this liturgy.

He lives in you

He lives in me

He watches over

Everything we see

Into the water

Into the truth

In your reflection

He lives in you

Graduates, do you remember those words. You should. You heard them four weeks ago during your class trip to see the Broadway production of THE LION KING. The words are sung immediately after Rafiki tells Simba:

"I know your father.”

"My father is dead," answers Simba.

"Nope! He's alive. I'll show him to you." The baboon then leads Simba to a pool of clear water. "Look down there."

“That's not my father. That's just my reflection,” Simba says. 

Rifiki bids him, “No. Look harder.”

And when Simba looks harder, he sees not his own face staring back at him, but the reflection of Mufasa, his father.

“You see, he lives in you!" says Rafiki.

Simba then hears a familiar voice call his name. He looks up. His father's image appears among the stars.

“You have forgotten who you are . . . Look inside yourself . . . You are more than what you have become" says the apparition . . . "You must take your place in the circle of life. Remember who you are!" 

The Gospel that I chose for your graduation mass this morning is from the Last Super Discourses in John’s Gospel. It’s part of Jesus’ farewell address to his Apostles . . . the last things he wanted to tell them . . . the things he wanted them to remember . . . the things he never wanted them to forget. And, in a sense, like Rafiki, Jesus bids them to look at their reflection, to look beyond appearances to see truth. And in his prayer to his Father, he reveals that truth to them: that as his Father is one with him, he is one with them. “YOU IN ME. I IN THEM.”

Graduates, when you look at your reflection, who do you see? All too often we see just ourselves, our physical features, our natural abilities. Sometimes the mirror we look into is like a carnival mirror and what’s reflected back is a false and distorted image of who we are, one that magnifies our inadequacies and our deficiencies. But Jesus tells us that when we look at into the mirror, we, like his Apostles, should see HIM. 

• “You in Me. I in Them.” - This is Jesus’ message of good news for us today. 
• “You in Me. I in Them.” - You are the reflection of God’s love, his mercy, his goodness, his faithfulness, his purity, his selflessness, his generosity, his kindness, his gentleness. 
• “You in Me. I in Them.” - You are the beloved child of God, blessed and called to be the person that you already are in the mind of the One who created you.
• “You in Me. I in Them.” - You are made in the image of God. You were made to be God’s sons and daughters, and when you act from that identity, you act in accord with who you were made to be.
• “You in Me. I in Them.” - You are a child of God and that relationship is primary, secure, unbreakable, and eternal.

What is it for Jesus to be IN us? We can get some idea of it from a popular phrase we use today. We speak of people really "getting into" something, “into” a job, “into” a sport, “into” trouble. To get into something is to make it your own, to intertwine your deepest self with it. With the Father being “in” Jesus and Jesus being “in” us, Jesus promises us that kind of closeness with God. Think of it - God "getting into" you! We're not just talking about a vague influence. We're not speaking about some hazy inspirational strength that one would gain from the memory of Christ and his example on earth. It’s far deeper, far closer, far more mysterious, far more intimate than that.

God is alive in each one of us but sometimes we can be so worried about what the world thinks that we forget that God made us beautiful, in his image, just the way we are meant to be. Sometimes we let the world define us, we let it tell us who we are, who we should be, what we need to have to be happy, and what we need to do to be a success. Sometimes, amid the stresses and busyness of life we forget who we are and therefore we don’t realize what we can be. It’s very hard to be yourself when you have forgotten who you are, and like Simba, sometimes we need to be reminded. Just as Simba was encouraged to take another look to see his father in him, you need to take another look and see the greater one in you - Christ! With Christ living in you, with his ability on your ability, with his wisdom and guidance, you have everything you need to fulfill the plans he has for you. God will be glorified not by what you bring to the table but by what he can do through you.

Most graduation speeches encourage graduates to follow their dreams, their desires, their passions; to go out and make the world the place they want it to be. But today, I challenge you instead to something different – to follow Jesus. Make the world the place he has designed it to be. Follow his dreams, desires, and Passion for you. Make the world a place where Jesus is present and welcomed. Follow Jesus in all things and in all ways and you might just discover a world that can be pretty great, a world that reaches beyond the dreams and desires of what you want, a world that is more than just efficient, creative, technologically advanced, and highly educated. You might just find the world that God and everybody wants - a world filled with Love, Justice, Mercy and Peace.

Isa, Tyler, Dana, Katie, Lucas, Brian, Madison, Albert, Patryk, Sebastian, Michael, Matt, Michael, Skyler, Will, Madeline, Robert, Natalia, and Ethan, you have heard me say that you are my favorite class, and indeed you are. You have heard me say that I love you, and indeed I do. I see your potential . . . I see hope . . . I can see what I see because I KNOW who you are: God’s beloved sons and daughters. Never forget your inherent dignity, your greatness. I see all the things with which God has blessed your life: your personality, your intelligence, your talents, your goodness, your compassion, your faith, your values. Never forget your responsibility to now take all of that to Morris Catholic, Pope John, Seton Hall Prep, and Roxbury, Mount Olive, Morris Hills, and Lenape Valley High Schools. And through your love and compassion, your mercy and generosity, your hope and sincerity, demonstrate WHO you are and WHOSE you are. You never have to feel afraid. Never have to feel lonely. Never have to feel like you go it alone. Never have to feel that you’re not good enough. Never have to feel that you can’t get past your mistakes and failures. For the One who created you, loves you, inspires you and empowers you is within you. He’s as close to you as your mind, your heart, and your soul. Your life as a student of St. Therese’s School is ending, but your lives in Christ continue. Today we send you into the world. May you bless it with your goodness, respect it with your kindness, serve it with your heart, and care for it with your compassion. 

He lives in you

He lives in me

He watches over

Everything we see

Into the water

Into the truth

In your reflection

He lives in you

Class of 2016, REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE!

Pentecost Sunday (Cycle ABC)

Empowered & Sent

Acts 2:1-11; Romans 8:8-17; John 20:19-23 

On July 4, 1776, the members of the Continental Congress meeting in Philadelphia signed the Declaration of Independence. With this action, the American Revolution was launched and a new nation was born. It’s ironic that on that very day George III, King of England, made this entry in his diary: "Nothing of any importance happened today." 

On the day of Pentecost, in the year A.D. 33, 120 followers of a man named Jesus were gathered together in Jerusalem. Suddenly the Spirit of God filled each one of them and marked them with tongues of fire. On that day the Church was born. But no historian of the time saw anything significant in that event. Perhaps they, and maybe even some of us, might echo what the King said on the day the Declaration of Independence was signed, "nothing of any importance happened today." But in actuality, what we celebrate today is so critical for the life of the church, for your life and mine.

Those 120 disciples gathered in that room in Jerusalem were just a handful of rather ordinary men and women, a few fishermen, a couple of housewives, a former tax collector, a few farmers and some servant girls. Yet through these ordinary people God built a Church which has lasted now for over 2,000 years. In less than 300 years, that small, insignificant Jewish sect became the official religion of the entire Roman Empire and today the Church of Jesus Christ circles the globe and numbers some one billion members. 

What was it that was going through their minds as they gathered in the house? It had been only ten days since Jesus had ascended to his Father, but when you're waiting for something, ten days is a long time. All of a sudden, a strong wind hits, shaking the house to its base, and moving into their hearts to the depths. No longer fearful of the enemies of Jesus, no longer timid about how to speak or what to say, no longer concerned about what others might think of them, the disciples go forth with a power not of their own making, and do what fifty days ago seemed like nothing more than a dashed dream. They announce that God has indeed visited His people, and now remains with us through the action of the Holy Spirit. They announce that death no longer reigns supreme, and sin has no power to shackle people in slavery. They go forth to transform every human heart and mind. They go forth to invite everyone, Jew or Gentile, to drink of the one Spirit so that all may be one family in Christ.

What happened to those 120 followers in the year 33 A.D.? Those 120 followers received the Holy Spirit, the “Paraclette,” the “Counselor”, the “Advocate” - the same presence that was moving over the face of the earth when God created the world, the same presence that took the form of a baby born in a manager in Bethlehem, the same spirit of God that walked the earth for 33 years, teaching, healing, proclaiming the love of God for all people.

And today, it is that same spirit that is with us. It is God's spirit alive and well on this earth, working through his people. It is the one who calls, gathers, enlightens, sanctifies and empowers the Church to bring his love into the brokenness of the world. Today we are gathered in one place, as diverse a group as the disciples in that upper room, bringing with us our own challenges, fears and joys. And the same Spirit still acts in that same dramatic and profound way as he did on that first Pentecost morning. 

The Holy Spirit still breathes upon us. The Holy Spirit is here revamping and rearranging our lives, just as Jesus promised, inspiring us to do what we cannot do on our own—taking risks we thought we didn’t have the courage to take; speaking up when we couldn't find the right words to say; stepping forward to minister and help convinced our gifts were inadequate and our capabilities insufficient; reaching out to help when it would be so much easier just to take care of our own problems; trusting that if we turn it over to the Holy Spirit that we’ll get what we need and what we’re asking for.

Sometime today, because of Pentecost, because of the flame that has settled over each of us, every person in this room will be called upon to exercise divine power. Every one of us will be called upon, in our own way, to bring the power of the Holy Spirit to bear upon the task of building and nurturing the people of God. When that happens, it may not be very dramatic. Almost surely it will not be. It may not seem at all miraculous, but most surely it will be. It will be God's work, and if we do not do it, it will be God's work left undone.

We may be given the chance to calm someone’s fears. We may be given the chance to clear up someone’s doubt or misunderstanding. We may be given the insight that someone around us is in trouble, needs an ear. We may be given the chance to reassure someone in whatever his or her own role in life may be. We may be given the chance to laugh, to help make someone else’s experience of life more pleasant, more enjoyable. 

A thousand and one opportunities will be given today, and tomorrow, every day, to further the growth of God’s people, in their search of faith, of truth, of peace, of beauty, of joy. Those are the marks of the Holy Spirit. Those are the signs of His power. 

Today, on the rush of the wind of the Holy Spirit, we Christians are energized and empowered as we reach the climax of our special celebration of Christ’s resurrection. It’s Pentecost, the day God gives us the wind of the Spirit in our sails and also the fire of the Spirit in our hearts—the fire of divine presence—to proclaim and serve the Risen Christ! For on Pentecost, amidst wind and tumbling tongues of fire, the Church, as the people of Christ, was born and continues regularly to be reborn! Through Baptism and Confirmation, the Spirit lives in your LIFE, the Spirit lives in your WORK, in your MISSION. You have GIFTS -- In fact, you ARE gifts! -- Your very LIFE is God's gift! Even when you do not know what to do with your life. (And even when nobody else knows what to do with YOU!) You are God's gift. You have CALLINGS, REASONS FOR BEING, for being just EXACTLY the person you are! You have a DIFFERENCE to make -- a CONTRIBUTION to add to the good of the whole. We have been chosen by God, filled by Him with a holy fire, and sealed with a sacred mission. We are a creature of great power and dignity! 

Come, Holy Spirit, Creator blest,

And in our hearts take up Thy rest;

Come with Thy grace and heav'nly aid,

To fill the hearts which Thou hast made;

To fill the hearts which Thou hast made.

The Fourth Sunday of Easter (Cycle C)

THE VOICE OF THE SHEPHERD

Acts 13:14, 43-52; Rev 7:9,14b-17; John 10:27-30 

There is a story told of an old man and his grandson who were walking down a business street in a downtown district. As they walked along, the grandfather suddenly stopped, turned his head slightly, and tweaked his ear. After a moment he said to his grandson, “Follow me.”

They slowly moved from where they were standing to a small planter box next to a sidewalk café. The planter was filled with various seasonal plants, but as the old man gently pushed back the flowers, behind them revealed a small bird’s nest filled with baby chicks; their chirping almost indistinguishable from the din of lunchtime dinners and people on the sidewalk.

No one seemed to pay any attention to the old man, his grandson or the little nest, but the grandson was amazed. After watching for a few minutes and then moving away the little boy looked up at his grandfather. “Grandpa, how did you hear the birds? There is so much noise, so much happening, how could you hear?”

Without saying a word the old man took several coins from his pocket and tossed them on the ground. With the tinkling of the coins on the sidewalk it seemed everything came to a stop. People turned around. Diners stopped eating to look their way. Several almost seemed to want to reach down and pick up the dropped coins. Then as quickly as it had happened – everything went back to the way it was. That’s when the old man spoke, “It’s all in what you are listening for, my child, it’s all in what you are listening for.”

Sometimes I think we are much like the crowd walking down the street. We fail to hear the most important things in life. We’ve filled our lives with so much noise that it’s difficult to hear anything anymore. And when we do hear, we often mistake what we are hearing for what we want to hear instead of what we should be hearing.

On this Fourth Sunday of Easter, we encounter the Good Shepherd, a noble shepherd who knows his flock intimately. In all three liturgical cycles, the Fourth Sunday of Easter presents a passage from John’s Gospel about the Good Shepherd. Today’s gospel reading from John is the shortest passage from scripture that the Church gives for our reflection at mass in our three year cycle of readings. Yet, although only three verses long, it probably is the most consoling and the most reassuring words in all of Sacred Scripture. We hear Jesus speak words that tell us that he is a Good Shepherd who cares for his flock. Sheep survive, largely because of the care of their shepherd. The shepherd calls them away from danger, and towards safety and health. The shepherd seeks out pastures that can feed and nourish them. The shepherd keeps an eye out for predators, and calls the sheep into areas where they can rest in safety. In the midst of a howling wind, or the chaos of a marketplace, the sheep recognize and instinctively follow the voice of their own shepherd, and they survive — even thrive — because they follow that voice. 

Jesus speaks to us of the Shepherd's voice today. It is a voice of promise. It is a voice that promises stubborn protection and care. It is the voice the flock hears and knows and follows. It is the voice which is especially precious in times of tragedy or struggle and pain. And it is one we sometimes have to work hard to hear when other voices especially seem to drown it out. And yet even when those other voices overwhelm, yes even when we don't pause to listen, it is always there, inviting and comforting and urging us on. 

The other voices that compete with God’s, are voices that are pleasing to the ear. They tell us what we want to hear. They don’t challenge, they seduce. They promise us pleasure, power, possessions, position and prestige. And they promise it NOW. Often it’s not so much that they try to drown out the voice of God, they do something more subtle and conniving: they try to convince us that their voice IS the voice of God. Whose are those voices? Satan’s and our own. 

It is of course very important to be able to tell the difference. It’s important for us to understand what the voice of God sounds like: 

• God speaks deep within my spirit and speaks to what is lasting. - The voices not from God speak to my mind and to my desires and to what is temporary. 
• God’s voice is gentle and persuasive, patient, free from pressure – Voices not from God are loud and clamoring, always demanding an immediate response.
• God’s voice produces peace and a sense that everything is under control. It is the voice of hope. - Ungodly voices speak of despair, hopelessness and loss. 
• God’s voice is always clear and distinctive, giving us clear direction in which to go. - Our own voice and that of Satan perplex, causes confusion and loss of direction.
• God tends to speak when I am seeking and listening for him. – Voices not of God break into our thoughts uninvited. 
• God’s voice calls us to that which is good, pure, loving, selfless, forgiving, simple and humble. - Ungodly voices call us to compromise, to harbor grudges, to look out only for Number One. 

But here’s the greatest test to discern if the voice you hear is the voice of God: First and foremost, Does it agree with the Bible? God never says anything that contradicts Scripture. God has spoken to us through the Bible--this is His word. He would never say anything that would contradict what He has already said in the Bible. And second, is it consistent with the teachings of the Church? Jesus told us that he will not leave us orphans; that he will send his Spirit to be with his Church and that this paraclete, this helper, is the Spirit of Wisdom and the Spirit of Truth. 

Whose voice are you listening to? The voice of God is the word of wisdom in our human folly, the word of meaning in our human vanity, the word of reason in our human confusion, the word of ongoing promise in our human frailty. Do you hear it . . . or something else? As the old man told his grandson, “It’s all in what you are listening for, my child, it’s all in what you are listening for.”

Palm Sunday (Cycle C)

TWO CROWDS – ONE VOICE

Isaiah 5:4-7; Philippians 2:6-11; Luke 22:14-23:56 

One of the more remarkable aspects of the gospel we just heard is the WAY in which we heard it. This week is the only time that the gospel is proclaimed by someone besides a priest or deacon – every individual in this church takes part. It’s a great privilege. And it – literally — gives us a role in Christ’s passion. We are the CROWD. 

Palm Sunday is a tale of two crowds. One waves palm branches at the city gates and shouts “Hosannas” in welcome and homage to their prophet, their warrior, their hero. The other shakes their fists in Pilate’s courtyard and shouts, “Crucify him!” in condemnation of the one accused of being a criminal, a blasphemer, a traitor. Two crowds – one voice: OURS. We are the CROWD and how easily we turn. How quickly we pivot from faithful to faithless … from belief to doubt … from being disciples, to being betrayers. 

But we are also part of a third crowd, and that crowd is the Church, a Church who, as we journey forward this Holy Week, looks upon the cross and sees neither a criminal nor a warrior. What we do see is the self-offering love of God who eschews hatred and revenge, who knows only mercy and faithfulness, and whose only desire is to be with us in all of life. We are a Church who longs for next Sunday, when we will shout a new cry, “ALLELUIA! HE IS RISEN!” not to a prophet, warrior or hero, nor to a criminal, blasphemer or traitor. But to the one who is Savior and Lord.

Second Sunday of Lent (Cycle C)

WHEN THE ORDINARY BECOMES THE EXTRAORDINARY

Genesis 15: 5-12, 17-18; Philippians 3: 17-4:1; Luke 9:28B-36 

It was an ordinary day, an ordinary Saturday in November of 1967. It began in the normal ordinary Saturday way with hard seeded rolls, jelly donuts and crumb buns for breakfast. That ordinary Saturday was also my father’s 50th birthday. And amidst the ordinary table conversation and birthday wishes, I suddenly sat speechless and wide-eyed when my father began to cry. It was the first time in the eleven years of my life that I had ever seen my father cry. He even surprised himself, for he was not one to give in to emotion. Through the tears, his voice choked, “I don’t know why I’m crying!” I wouldn’t see my father cry again for another forty-one years, until the day my mother died. But after that, I saw him cry frequently. I remember that Saturday over forty-eight years ago, because on that day, the ordinary became extraordinary, as the strong, wise, ever-placid, seemingly dauntless, deeply loved, deservingly respected hero of mine, became even more worthy of my love and admiration and hero-worship For on that day, before my eyes, my father revealed the sensitive, emotional, sentimental man that he, up till then, kept hidden. On that day, amidst the ordinary, the extraordinary was revealed.

That memory came to mind this week as I reflected on today’s Gospel. For it had been an ordinary day two thousand years ago when Jesus took a stroll up a mountain with Peter, James and John. An ordinary occurrence – so ordinary that Scripture doesn’t even reveal what mountain it was. An ordinary day in the life of three apostles, retreating up a mountain to pray with Jesus before a busy day of ministry . . . of anxious crowds, of preaching, of healing. But on that day, the ordinary became the extraordinary for during that trek up the mountain, Jesus becomes transfigured. His appearance becomes glorified. Blinding light emanates from him. Moses and the prophet Elijah, two of the greatest figures from the Hebrew Scriptures, are there in his presence. And a voice announces, “This is my Beloved Son. Listen to him!” Yes, on that ordinary day, before the eyes of Peter, James and John, the rabbi, the healer, the prophet revealed that there was so much more to him than what met the eye. Eight days earlier he had revealed to them that he was the messiah. But today he demonstrates that he is not just messiah, but infinitely more . . . the Son of God. Amidst the ordinary, the extraordinary was revealed.

And that’s the way life is. Sometimes in the midst of the ordinary, the everyday, the common, the usual, the routine, the monotonous - the extraordinary is revealed. Christ is transfigured . . . BEFORE OUR VERY EYES . . . Do we notice it? Are we even looking for it? Sadly, we often miss it. The God-moments in our lives become lost amidst a flurry of activity, the din of noise, the responsibilities and obligations we have, the priorities we set. 

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we had a permanent awareness of God with us in our lives? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we woke up every morning and there was an angel sitting on the edge of the bed and we could see the Holy Spirit and hear God speak to us in a clear, audible voice? That really would make being a Christian much easier. But life isn’t like that, is it?

The reality is that, as the Bible tells us, we walk by faith not by sight. Moments of absolute clarity about the presence of God with us are few and far between. If you’ve been fortunate enough to experience that profound awareness of the presence of God in your life here at church, or on a retreat, or even in nature, you know that the moment fades just as quickly as it arose and all we’re left with is a warm afterglow and a beautiful memory of that special experience of God. And it leaves us longing for more. 

That’s how Peter, James and John felt. They wanted to stay atop the mountain in order to prolong the extraordinary experience that had given them peace and joy and spiritual clarity. They wanted to pitch their tents, to bottle up the spiritual high to preserve it forever. 

But while the moment of Transfiguration was an incredible moment of blessing, Jesus didn’t want his disciples to rest there. Because the reality of Christian discipleship is that we’re called not to bottle the incredible moments of deep intimacy with God. We can’t live, at least in this life, on the mountaintop of spiritual highs. Instead, we are to find God in the ordinary and in the everyday moments of life: in the commute to work, on the bus ride to school, in the run of the mill routine of life, with all its joys and sorrow, excitement and boredom. And if the ordinary is where we live, then we need to learn to find God there.

Author and professor, Fr. Michael Downy has said, “Human life—all of it—is the precinct of epiphany: of God’s showing, of God’s constant speaking and breathing. God shows up. We should not be surprised. We should expect him.” But how do we do that? Here’s five suggestions:

1. SLOW DOWN. We’re now in the season of Lent. The word LENT is derived from the Latin word lento, which means “slow down.” We need to slow down, to simplify our lives, to clear our schedules, and to turn down the noise. If your life is too cluttered, too busy, too noisy, your world is too stuck in the ordinary to ever notice the extraordinary.

2. CHANGE YOUR SENSE OF CONSCIOUSNESS: When I taught at Paramus Catholic, I was introduced to how the De LaSalle Christian Brothers begin prayer. Before they prayed at the beginning of class they would take a few seconds to pause and reflect after saying, “Let us remember that we are in the holy presence of God.” I was told that originally, that wasn’t just done before prayer, but that their daily routine would be interrupted several times a day to reflect on that awesome reality: We are in the holy presence of God! ALWAYS! We need to change our sense of consciousness to constantly remind ourselves of that.

3. STOP TALKING AND START LISTENING: Remember what God the Father said in response to Peter’s offer to build the three tents: “This is my Beloved Son, LISTEN TO HIM!” We need to listen, to be attentive to God’s voice: in Scripture, in the teachings of the Church, when he speaks through other people, and especially when he speaks to us in prayer. Prayer should never be a monologue. It’s meant to be a dialogue. Plain and simple - relationship can’t happen if the only voice your listening to is your own. 

4. PUT YOURSELF IN THE RIGHT PLACES WITH THE RIGHT PEOPLE: God doesn’t tolerate evil. He can’t – he’s pure goodness. If we want to become more aware of God’s presence in the ordinary, we have to avoid the places where he isn’t. We need to avoid those harmful places, whether they be physical or cyber, as well as those toxic people that are near occasions of sin. 

5. HOUSECLEAN YOUR LIFE – YOUR MIND, YOUR HEART AND YOUR SOUL: In the Beatitudes, Jesus said, “Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God.” We need purify ourselves and get rid of the cobwebs, dust, dirt, fog and smog that obstruct God’s presence in our lives. And the best way to begin that is to go to the Sacrament of Reconciliation. 

In a half hour or so, you’ll all be leaving church to return home, to go shopping, to go visiting, to engage in some weekend plans you’ve made, or simply to rest up for the grueling week ahead. But as you go, remember that you do not leave God’s presence behind. Remember that amidst the ordinary is the extraordinary. Go and find it, so that no matter where life takes you, you, like Peter, can say, “Lord, it’s good for us to be here.”

Ash Wednesday

PLEASE BE PATIENT . . .

GOD ISN'T FINISHED WITH ME YET

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

When I was in high school, I had a Latin teacher by the name of Dr. Leitner. He was steely-eyed, strict, condescending, and arrogant. I spent most of high school being terrified of him. But all that changed one day, when he came into class wearing a big button on his lapel. Forty-two years later, I don’t remember much of what he taught us about, except how to conjugate a few Latin verbs. But I do remember that button. It said: “Please be patient. God isn’t finished with me yet.”

Whether we realize it or not, today we proclaim that same message. We won’t do it with a button on a lapel…but with ashes on our brow. Receiving these ashes serves a number of purposes. First, it proclaims to the world that we are Catholic Christians. It tells others that we are preparing for Easter, embarking on this 40-day journey of fasting and prayer and almsgiving. And, significantly, it announces that the light of Christ burning within us is not as bright as it should be—it has been darkened by dust. We need to bring forth the light, to be ready for the great feast of Easter. But most of all, the ashes we wear announce to the world this plain fact: we’re sinners. They tell all who see us that we are beginning 40 days of prayer, and repentance, and sacrifice — that we are Catholic Christians seeking somehow to reconcile ourselves with God.

One of the things I love about our faith is that our God is a God of second chances, fresh starts, and new beginnings. In the Bible we read these epic tales of the incredible ways that God transformed people and their lives: Moses, Noah, Jonah, Jeremiah, David, Joseph, Mary, Peter, James, Matthew, Zacchaeus, Paul, Lydia, Mary Magdalene, the woman at the well, and so many others whose names we don’t know. Why not you and me? Why not now?

What’s happening in your life right now? What’s not working in your life? What great question are you grappling with in your heart? Do you need a fresh start too? Welcome to Lent! 

These ashes say that we’re works in progress. They say: please be patient. God isn’t finished with me yet. He isn’t finished with any of us. That’s the great wonder and consolation of Lent.

I’ve been reading a lot on Facebook today about people giving something up for Lent. Several have said their Facebook “goodbyes,” because they’ll be giving up Facebook itself. Thousands (millions?) will be giving up chocolate, French fries, coffee, swearing, late-night snacks, food during the day, or some such thing.

But if you truly want to give up something, don’t just settle for chocolate or hamburgers or cheesecake – though right about now, I think, we’d all like to lose that weight we gained over Christmas. Go further. Go deeper. Try giving up something really hard, something that costs, not money, but something of yourself.

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. Give up always forgetting that the most famous prayer in the world doesn’t include the phrase “MY will be done,” but “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. 

Because in giving up one of these things we acknowledge that God isn’t finished with us yet and that we’re open to cooperating with him towards becoming the finished product, the masterpiece, he calls us to be. 

And so . . . 

Here we are on this Ash Wednesday, such as we are . . . 

Imperfect.

Confessing.

Repentant.

Hopeful.

Listening.

Here we are, such as we are. . . 

Willing to be melted

And molded.

Wanting a newly created 

Pure heart.

Here we are, such as we are . . . 

Branded with a mark . . . 

Christ’s unmistakable mark . . .
The sign of His cross.

Our prayer, our hope, our deepest yearning is that He leads us . . . 

That He walks with us these 40 days . . . 

That He walks with us always.

And as we embark on that journey, and begin this 40 day adventure, remember one more thing. Be patient. With yourselves. And with everyone else. Because God isn’t finished with any of us yet.

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle C)

TODAY!

Nehemiah 8:2-4A, 5-6, 8-10; 1 Corinthians 12:12-30; Luke 1:1-4; 4:14-21

There’s a story about a certain man, very late in years, who was a devout Christian. More than anything, he longed for the Lord to come again. He wanted so much to be reunited with his wife Katherine who had died the year before. She had been the love of his life for 60-something years. He was also anxious to move beyond all the aches and pains of his own old age, and to be young and strong again. And he wanted the world to be made right. Each day when he sat alone at the kitchen table, dipping bread into his soup for lunch, he would pray the Lord’s Prayer and linger over the part that says, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” Then, he would take his prayer journal and write in flowing letters, “Perhaps tomorrow!”

The man’s son, who loved him very much and came by the house to visit his dad every afternoon after work, would sometimes leaf through the pages of his dad’s journal. There, before his eyes, was the story of his father’s life – page after page of the day’s experiences contained in a stack of journals covering many years. Stories about his marriage…the birth of children…career experiences…his life as a Christian. And at the end of every day’s entry was written, in flowing letters, “Perhaps tomorrow!”

One afternoon in the late autumn, the son came by his father’s house and immediately knew something was different. There was a kind of empty silence unlike anything he had ever heard before. And then he saw his dad, lying silently on the old sofa. He had died as he took his afternoon nap.

Well, the son took care of all the things you need to take care of in times like these – made all the phone calls, retrieved all the necessary paperwork, talked quietly with the people from the funeral home who came to get the body.

And then he was left alone in the old house, full of his parents’ humble treasures – the figurines, and furniture and fine things gathered over a lifetime…and, the journal on the kitchen table. The son sat down, sweeping away the few crumbs of bread left from the last noontime meal his father had eaten. He opened the journal, page after page completed with his father’s handwritten hope: “Perhaps tomorrow!” The son smiled. And then he turned to the last page. It was dated that very day. Surprisingly, there was only one word written there, penned in his father’s beautiful handwritten scroll. It simply said, “TODAY!”

One day, in the town of Nazareth, a group of people just like you and me went to the synagogue. Like us – and like the old man in the story – they were looking for the coming of God’s kingdom. – the day their lives, their nation, and their world would be made right – the day they’d be rescued from their frail humanity, set free from all the oppressive powers of the world, and gathered under the protective and life-giving presence of God Himself. These citizens of Nazareth gathered every Sabbath to pray and to hear read the promise of God to bring them a new day of Jubilee. And they would leave the synagogue afterwards renewed in hope and thinking, “Perhaps tomorrow!”

But then, one Sabbath something amazing happened. A man named Jesus returned home to Nazareth where he had been raised, and he joined the crowd in the synagogue. As was the custom, he was invited to read the lectionary for the day, which happened to be a portion of Isaiah 61 that refers to this great Day of Jubilee:

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners, and recovery of sight for the blind, to set free the oppressed, and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

It was a passage the people had heard many times over. It was one of their favorites because it spoke of the day the Lord’s Messiah would come and inaugurate God’s kingdom on earth. Oh, what a day it will be! Perhaps tomorrow!

And then Jesus rolled up the scroll and gave it to the attendant. Then he sat down to teach. And this is what Jesus said: “TODAY!” . . . TODAY! Not tomorrow, out there in the future. Not yesterday, back there in the past. But TODAY! “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing!”

“Today” is the first word of Jesus’ public teaching. He neither reminisces about the past nor forecasts the future. He comes to his people in the very circumstances of their lives. It’s not about what happened yesterday or what might happen tomorrow. It’s about today. It’s not about nostalgia for the past, nor a fantasy of the future. It’s not centered in memory or anticipation: next year I’ll do this; in the old days we did that, someday God will set things right. “TODAY this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing,” Today he brings good news to the poor. Today he proclaims release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind. Today he lets the oppressed go free. Today he proclaims the year of the Lord’s favor. TODAY!

But TODAY is a dangerous place when you live your life with one foot in the past and one foot in the future because today insists that you lay aside both the comfort of your memories and the hope of your dreams to embrace fully the moment of now. And so the people reject both the messenger and the message. Their one foot is firmly planted in the past: They know this man Jesus! They saw him grow up! They visited his carpenter show! He - the Messiah? The Chosen One? The Anointed One? The Holy One of Israel? Impossible! And their other foot . . . that’s dug deeply into the sands of the future. Because if it is today, that puts responsibility and accountability on them. And they weren’t ready to accept either. 

What about us? Are we like those neighbors of Nazareth? With one foot in the past and one in the future, do we straddle and completely miss the present. Do we become captive to what was, fearful of what might be, and blind to what is? Are we stuck in the past and blind to the power of God in the here and now, oblivious to the God-moments in our lives? Do we obsess on the future and chalk up to coincidence or pure luck the miracles that are happening all around us? 

The bible is the LIVING Word of God, which means that it is never out of date; its lessons are still applicable; and the words Jesus speaks, he speaks not just to an individual or a community of antiquity, he speaks to us and to the situations of our lives. Poverty might be about money or material needs such as food, clothing, or housing. It might also be poverty of love, hope, or meaning. Regardless, our world is empty. The captive might be a prisoner. It might also be an addicted person, a cancer patient, or one overcome by anger and resentment. Regardless, our world is small and closing in. Blindness can be physical. But it can also be emotional or spiritual. Regardless, our world is dark. Oppression happens in hundreds of ways from physical or emotional violence, to racism, to fear, to profound sorrow. Regardless, our world is not safe.

In the midst of these circumstances, when life gets really difficult, it’s easy and tempting to run away, to get stuck in the past, or fixate on the future. Yet, Jesus comes to us today, here, now. He’s not lost in our past or hidden in an unknown future. The only place we can meet Jesus is today, in this present moment, in whatever the circumstances of our life might be.

But here’s the irony. We too often miss today fretting over yesterday and worrying about tomorrow. And yet the presence of Christ today somehow heals our past and prepares us for the future. Good news, release, sight, freedom, the Lord’s favor. All these are made real and present today, in the current context and circumstances of our lives.

This morning's Gospel is fulfilled in our hearing . . . TODAY!

Solemnity of the Holy Family (Cycle C)

CHRISTMAS GIFTS

Sirach 3: 2-6, 12-14; Colossians 3: 12-21; Luke 2: 41-52 

“What do you want for Christmas?” 

If you asked that question to a child this past month, you probably got an earful, an extensive wish list of the latest toys, technology and fashion that’s been marketed to them on television. Everything from this year’s Hess Truck to anything and everything Star Wars. And so, Santa’s job (or the job for “Santa’s Helpers”) was an easy one because they let us know in exact detail what they wanted . . . the things that, along with sugar plums, danced in their heads. 

But it’s harder to buy for others on our Christmas shopping list. As we get older, our wish list gets shorter and when asked, “What do you want for Christmas?” the response is: “Nothing.” “There’s nothing I need or want.” “What could I want? I have everything.” And so for those people, usually older folk - grandparents, parents, husbands and wives - choosing the perfect gift is a challenge. It takes thought and creativity. Because, despite their answer, something in us still wants to not only give them something, but give them the perfect something . . . the something that will express our love for them and make them happy. 

Did you ever leave someone off your Christmas shopping list? Someone that you forgot to buy for? When that happens, often times we resort to re-gifting. We give them something that we were given. Sometimes it’s something that we’re all too happy to get rid of: the thing we already have twelve of, the ugly Christmas sweater, the thing we didn’t want, didn’t ask for, never will use, wouldn’t be caught dead wearing. Sometimes it’s something we reluctantly give away, something cherished, something we give joyfully and unselfishly, knowing it’s something that someone else needs or wants, something that will look better on them, something that will bring them happiness. 

If you think about it, there IS probably someone who didn’t make it onto your list this year. And there’s a good chance that he never has. Two days ago we celebrated a midnight clear, a child's cry, a blazing star hanging over a stable, and wise men coming from afar with birthday gifts. We haven't forgotten that night down the centuries. We celebrate it with stars on Christmas trees, with the sound of bells, with song and with gifts. But especially with gifts. Gifts for young. Gifts for old. Gifts for family. Gifts for friends. Gift for bosses. Gifts for school teacher, mailman, and hair dresser. Gifts given out of love. Gifts given out of appreciation. Gifts given out of obligation. Gifts for all . . . except the one whose birth we celebrate. 

Maybe he’s never made it onto our shopping list, because he’s difficult to buy for. He’s like the family member who tells us he doesn’t need anything . . . he has everything. After all, what can you give the SON OF GOD??? What can you give the one who needs nothing and if he did, could create it for himself? I’ve thought about that question a lot, and I’ve come up with one thing that God cannot give himself. And that’s LOVE. Because the very nature of love is that it’s dynamic, creative and never focused inward but always extended outward - towards someone or something else. Love, when it’s true love, is the total gift of self, and you can’t give yourself to yourself but only to someone else. The very last lyric that Oscar Hammerstein wrote says it beautifully: “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.” 

If you think about it, love was the first Christmas gift, the gift of Mary and Joseph. Unconditional love. The type of love that causes a fourteen year old girl to say yes to God, despite confusion, unanswered questions, feelings of inadequacy, and the possibility of the loss of her reputation and maybe even her life. The kind of love that transforms a faith-filled virgin into a faithful mother: unconditional love. 

It’s the type of love that causes a carpenter to give up his own dreams and plans in favor of God’s will . . . to accept a pregnant girl as his bride . . . to raise someone else’s child as his own. It’s the kind of love that transforms a righteous dreamer into a father of the heart. Unconditional love. 

Before angels gave their gift of song, before kings presented their gold, frankincense and myrrh, before shepherds knelt and offered their praise; there in the solitude of the stable, the Virgin and the Carpenter offered the first gift, the greatest gift: the gift of their love. Unconditional love. 

It’s the type of love that Jesus had, a lesson he learned well as a member of that Holy Family - the type of love that led him from the manger to the cross. The type of love he said we should have when he said, “Love one another as I have loved you.” 

Our gift of love to Jesus is one that’s re-gifted, because it’s the very gift that he has given us. He doesn’t care what the wrapping and ribbon look like, because much like a father whose son or daughter gives him the handmade art class project, despite its imperfections, when it’s given, it’s worth more to him than all the diamonds at Tiffany’s. 

So if you made your list, checked it twice, but left off he whose birth we celebrate, don’t worry. Belated gifts are accepted and cherished. And just as Christmas gifts come in different varieties, sizes and colors, so too does the gift of unconditional love to babe of Bethlehem, the man of Golgatha. It might be wrapped in the honesty and integrity with which you conduct business in a competitive, cutthroat, backstabbing workplace; the faithfulness to your marriage vows amidst the temptations and allures of our sexually promiscuous society; the total dedication to your children in our materialistic culture that places greater value on productivity than on parenting, quantity of work time over quality of family time; The ribbons and bows of your gift of unconditional love might be the gentleness and fairness with which you treat both neighbor and stranger, or embracing Gospel values over Hollywood values, or time set aside for prayer and worship amidst a life of schedules and obligations. 

Our gift for the one born on a starlit night so long ago can’t be found in Santa’s workshop, in a department store, or online. It needs to be found in the same place Mary and Joseph found it – in the heart. And make no mistake about it: unconditional love doesn’t come cheap. It costs. As a matter of fact, it costs everything. But it is the only gift worthy of the Son of God. 

Happy Birthday, Jesus! . . . Sorry if I’m late.

The Second Sunday of Advent (Cycle C)

DO YOUR HEAR WHAT I HEAR?

Baruch 5:1-9; 2 Philemon 4: 1-6, 8-11; Luke 3: 1-6 

Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy,

“Do you hear what I hear?

Ringing through the sky, shepherd boy,

Do you hear what I hear?

A song, a song, high above the trees

With a voice as big as the sea

With a voice as big as the sea

A voice cries out in the wilderness, “Prepare the way of the Lord! Make straight his paths.” Do you hear what I hear?

The Roman authorities didn’t. They were too interested in keeping the “Peace of Rome” by force than to take seriously the challenge to prepare for the “Prince of Peace” who would come to establish his kingdom on love. 

Herod didn’t. He was an unpopular, cruel and power-hungry king. He was too busy trying to work deals with the competing factions.

The Pharisees and teachers of the Law didn’t. They knew the Bible backwards, but unfortunately didn’t know it “forwards.” In theory they were looking for the Messiah to come sometime in the future. But in reality they didn’t want anyone to disturb their control on the highly structured, all-encompassing rules that dictated how they lived their lives, and which they expected everyone else to live by, as well.

The ordinary people . . . they didn’t either – most of them. They were poor and life was hard. They had to pay close to sixty percent of their wages to pay the Temple tax, as well as the tax imposed by Rome. Life was a struggle. They were simply too busy to realize that the very ancient prophesies that they knew by heart and longed to become a reality for their nation, had been fulfilled in their midst. 

Do YOU hear what I hear? 

In today’s gospel, we hear a voice imploring us to get ready. It’s a familiar voice, one that we hear every year at this time. But it’s a voice that often gets drowned out by other voices: a voice chuckling “Ho, Ho, Ho;” a voice crooning dreams of a White Christmas, or a voice reminding us on TV or radio that there are only 18 shopping left days ‘til Christmas.

For nearly 2000 years later, the voice of the Baptist has echoed out from the wilderness: “Prepare the way of the Lord! Make straight his paths.” It’s a voice that must be heard before we can hear about angel’s songs and humble shepherds’ surprise, and “Silent Night, Holy Night.” His voice is the voice of a herald who challenges us to get ready. For preparing for Christmas cannot simply be a matter of making sure the Christmas lights work, or of putting up the Christmas tree, or of making enough gingerbread cookies for company. All of those things are fine, but the real preparation for Christmas takes place not on the outside, but on the inside, through radical self-examination, and yes, even though making changes in our life. John the Baptist cries out to us from the wilderness to look at our lives and re-examine our priorities; to ask ourselves we're investing our time, our energy, our money; to get rid of whatever is hindering us from having deeper faith, or from loving and being loved, or from living in the ways of justice and peace.” 

John the Baptist's call to preparation through benevolence to the poor, honesty and integrity in business, and contentment with one’s lot in life is just as real today as it was when he first proclaimed it in the wilderness. Now all of that may not be the kind of Good News we want to hear. But it is the Good News that will enable God’s love to be born among us in Jesus Christ in a way that is truly transformational, that changes us and our world. John reminds us that each of us needs to repent – to turn around and go in another direction, the direction of Bethlehem and the birth of God’s love in Christ Jesus. 

So here we are on December 6th beginning the second week of Advent. How are you doing with your Christmas preparations? This past week one of the women who works in the rectory told me that she’s almost finished her Christmas shopping . . . FOR NEXT YEAR!!! I’m not that prepared, and I imagine most of you aren’t either. But along with the shopping and decorating and card writing and baking, how are your spiritual preparations for Christmas coming? Let’s not make our spiritual preparations be like New Year’s Resolutions – things that are well intended . . . things that we really want to do . . . things we promise ourselves that we’re going to do, but in the end, time slips past us and the busyness of life gets the better of us, and our good intentions get shifted to our “to do” list for next year. 

So, if you need a little help, here are six suggestions to help spiritually get ready for Christmas this year:

1. Give God one very special gift – just from you to Him. Let this gift be something personal, that no one else need know about, and let it be something that “costs,” not your money, but you personally, a sacrifice. Perhaps your gift to God will be to forgive someone you’ve needed to forgive for a longtime. Or maybe your gift will be to commit yourself to spending time with God daily in prayer, maybe praying the rosary and focusing on the Joyful Mysteries, since most of them are connected with the birth of our Lord.

2. Set aside a special time to read Scripture. Perhaps this would be a good year to read the Book of the Prophet Isaiah, and recall some of the ancient prophesies that were fulfilled by Jesus. Or, read the Gospel of Matthew or Luke. I recommend either of them because they contain what we call the “Infancy Narratives,” the accounts of Jesus’ conception and birth. 

3. Set up a Nativity scene in your home. Set it up in a prominent place, and don’t let it be just another Christmas decoration, but something you visit every day, which you allow to help you transcend time and space and bring you back 2,000 years to Bethlehem.

4. Send Christmas cards that convey a spiritual message. This is an easy way to share your faith at Christmastime. If you've already bought the snowman cards -- no problem! Just write a Bible verse and include a personal message with each card.

5. Plan a project of good will this Christmas. The idea of giving the gift of service to someone in need demonstrates Christ-like love and service. It could be volunteering in a soup kitchen, caroling at a nursing home, baking cookies for an elderly neighbor, or running an errand for a friend. Oh, and don’t forget, charity really does begin at home, so maybe look around to those who live under the same roof as you and the special needs that they might have. 

6. Go to the Sacrament of Reconciliation. There's no better way to prepare yourself spiritually for the coming of our Lord at Christmas than to go to confession. Do some spiritual housekeeping in your heart, mind, and soul, to prepare a place worthy of Jesus being born anew this Christmas. 

Today we celebrate the Second Sunday of Advent. Christmas is two weeks and five days from today. And today a voice cries out from the wilderness, “Prepare the way of the Lord!” Do you hear what I hear?

First Sunday of Advent (Cycle C)

Wait . . . Want . . . Watch . . . Wonder

Jeremiah 33:14-16; 1 Thessalonians 3:12-4:2; Luke 21:25-28, 34-36 

At the time of the economic crash there were seven children, five girls and two boys—Joseph was the oldest and Theresa was the youngest. The family lived in a small house in Brooklyn that had no central heating and the refrigerator was an icebox on the back porch that had to be padlocked at night so that the other poor wouldn’t steal their food while they slept. There was no work available anywhere. Josephine, the widowed mother, cashed in her husband’s small insurance policy and sold the few pieces of gold jewelry she owned just to buy groceries. Whatever clothes they had had been outgrown by someone else and shoes were often the wrong size. The gas and electric bills weren’t paid and they were forced to use a kerosene lantern to see by night.

On the coldest nights of winter, they all slept in the kitchen around the stove, the only source of heat. Out of sheer desperation they sought public relief. And before welfare could be collected, an agent visited their home and opened all the cupboards and bureau drawers to determine if they were destitute . . . and they were. Christmas that year was homemade – old toys and dolls refurbished and doll clothes sewn from scraps. 

They waited and waited for the worst to be over. It wasn’t the end of the world, it just seemed like it.

Sometimes life feels like the world is shattering and collapsing and there are people who long for the end of the world . . . the world as they know it. Many of us have experienced this kind of world and understand what our final end might be like - when hope is all but exhausted and we look around and see that everything still seems normal, but the world has stopped for us. When the small shadow appears on an x-ray after years of remission; when we’re on the verge of losing our home because the bank says, “time’s up;” when we wait for the phone call or email in the midst of company layoffs; when we wait in anguish for the sound of the car pulling in the driveway when our seventeen-year-old son is hours late getting home.

Not all waiting is unnerving and fearful. Sometimes we wait in joyful hope and expectation—for a pregnancy to end and labor to begin; for the grandparents to arrive on their annual Thanksgiving visit; for Christmas morning after weeks of eagerness and excitement. But wait we must—it seems so unavoidable in this life. And none of us waits very well. Whether it’s standing in line at the bank or waiting for winter to end and spring to begin, waiting has a way of taking hold of us and demanding all our attention—it tests our patience and can sometimes feel like solitary confinement. We do anything to avoid it and fill our lives with great amounts of activity so that we don’t have to think about it. We hurry through life, and we fret and worry if we’re doing enough, and . . . all the while . . . we’re waiting. 

Today begins our Advent waiting—a four-week-long marathon of sprinting breathlessly to the Christmas finish line. Even as we do so, the days grow shorter, the darkness grows longer, and nighttime takes over—there is a sense of losing what precious little time we have. And into our stressful and anxiety-filled lives, Jesus issues a stern warning in the most disturbing language, striking fear in our hearts—“on earth nations will be in dismay . . . People will die of fright in anticipation of what is coming . . . Be vigilant at all times and pray that you have the strength . . .” Few of us take these words seriously. Maybe those who first heard them, who were enduring terrible suffering and wanted to know when the world was coming to an end, but even they grew weary of waiting and wondered if these things would ever come to pass. The truth is we all wait for Christ to return; we all believe that God keeps his promises . . . just not in our lifetime.

So maybe today’s gospel isn’t about earthquakes, Category 5 hurricanes, raging wild fires, unrelenting rain and floods, and the world coming to an end. Maybe it’s not about looking up at the heavens for Christ coming in a cloud, but about redemption and promises kept. Maybe it’s not about what Christ will do and when he’ll do it, but about what we should be doing right here and now. And maybe it’s not about being alert and keeping our eyes open for what will happen in the future but about finally seeing what’s already right in front of us. 

Advent is a time to wait, to want, to watch, and to wonder. It’s a time to wait to celebrate Christ’s coming at Christmas and his coming more fully into our lives. It’s a time to want, to want to use this precious time to prepare, to make these four weeks different from the other 48 0f the year. It’s a time to watch, to be more attuned to Christ’s coming in the people and events of our everyday lives. And it’s a time to wonder, to be in awe of such profound love and goodness and mercy that God sent his own Son to redeem us and to give us an example of how life should be lived. 

Advent is a gift, a precious gift of time to straighten out what’ not yet right; to overcome that one struggle, that one area of darkness—to heal what we’ve broken, to forgive, to be less addicted, to be more chaste, to be more generous, to bring Christ back into our lives as if this Advent were our very last Advent. It’s a time to interrupt our Christmas marathon and look into our lives no matter how shattered or wonderful they may be, to find Christ with us. Christ who once came. Christ who comes to us in the broken places where we know we can’t make it on our own. Christ who comes to us in those moments when we look beyond our own needs, to see the needs of others. 

Time passes for all of us, no matter how quickly or how slowly that may be happening. We wait for him who keeps his promises and we dare not be caught by surprise.

The Solemnity of All Saints

Saints Among Us

Revelation 7:2-4, 9-14; 1 John 3:1-3; Matthew 5:1-12a 

He was born in 1985 and his smile was contagious from the moment he first gave one. A typical kid, with typical interests. He loved professional sports and was a diehard Yankees, Giants and Bulls fan. In elementary school he joined the basketball team and played trumpet in the school band. And it was in fourth grade, when he became an altar server, that his love for God, his love for the church, and his dedication to a life of service began to grow. When he was fifteen years old, he needed a kidney transplant. He never complained, never felt sorry for himself, and used that experience to come to a deeper appreciation for life. He was an average student, but what wasn’t average about him was his goodness, his gentleness, his faith, his love of God, and his commitment to serve God’s people. In his senior year of high school, he became a Eucharistic Minister and spent a week that summer serving the Navajo Nation in Arizona. But during his second year in college, his body began to fail him and he spent five months in various hospitals. The will of God proved stronger than the prayers of his family and friends, and God brought him home to Himself. He had discerned that God was calling him to be a priest. And perhaps we can question the wisdom of God: why would God take such an inspirational and faith-filled individual at a time when the Church needs priests? But if a priest is one who dedicates his life to God through service and sacrifice, in reality, although he never was ordained, he already was a priest. His name is Patrick Nilsen. He was my student, and today is his feast day.

She was born in Brooklyn, NY in 1925, the youngest of seven children. Her father passed away when she was five and there were days when there was little on the family dinner table, and years that they couldn’t even afford a Christmas tree, much less Christmas presents. She attended her parish elementary school and would love to sneak into the church during lunchtime to light a candle and say a prayer in front of the statues of the Sacred Heart, the Blessed Mother, St. Joseph, and her patron saint, St. Therese. In her life, she never accomplished anything that the world would consider great, except to those who see greatness in being a loving and devoted wife to her husband of 51 years, a dedicated mother to her three sons, and a dear friend to all. She attended mass everyday, volunteered to feed the hungry every Thanksgiving, and was a member of a sewing group in her parish that provided clothing for the poor. She was someone who mastered her patron saint’s spiritual philosophy, known as “the little way” to sanctity, by doing the mundane things of everyday life and infusing them with tremendous love. When she was diagnosed with cancer in 1997, she lost her hair, she lost weight, and ultimately lost her life, but she never lost her faith. During her illness, she never admitted to being in the tremendous pain that wracked her body, but only spoke of it as “discomfort,” and refused pain medication that would cause her to be “out of it,” and chose instead to take only Extra-strength Tylenol so she could appreciate the time that she had left with her family. As her life was an example in Christian living, her death became an example in Christian death. And as she lay in her hospital bed a few days before she died, as she finished praying with her family, her face beamed with the most beautiful and serene smile as she announced to her family (while she stared at seemingly nothing at the foot of her bed), “He looks so beautiful.” Her name is Theresa Olsen, my mother, and today is her feast day.

Today, we celebrate the Feast of All Saints. And today is not about those who have been officially canonized. They already have their own particular feast days on the Church calendar. "All Saints" speaks of those who were not famous, but those nonetheless whose lives and deeds and love have endured beyond their death . . . my mother, your father, his brother, her husband, their child; our grandparents, our relatives, our friends . . . all those who have died and are now in the eternal embrace of God in heaven.

What is a saint? Saints are normal people, normal everyday people, who differ from most others in this world, not necessarily because of the degree of their moral perfection, but because of their faith. A saint is someone whose life is dedicated to the love of God and the doing of God's will in their lives. A saint is someone who inspires in us the desire to know and to follow Christ. And so, the feast of All Saints is an opportunity for us to offer a hymn to the ordinary people of the world who are extraordinary in their holiness, their love, their compassion, their dedication, and in their prayerfulness.

What makes a saint? Extravagance: excessive love, flagrant mercy, radical affection, exorbitant charity, immoderate faith, intemperate hope - none of which is an achievement, a badge to be earned or a trophy to be sought, but are secondary by-products of the one thing that truly makes a saint: their love for God.

Saints are those who hear the self-absorbed, success-orientated values that mainstream society has to offer and rejects them; values that shout out to us that: “Happy are those with strong personal ambition - they will get everything they ever dreamed of possessing!” And, “Happy are those who fulfill the expectations of the present age - the world is at their feet!”

We can choose to accept our society’s blessing. If we do, I’m sure we will be gifted with what the world knows and understands as blessings. But if we do accept that definition, we also reject our Lord’s voice. For in the world’s blessing there’s very little room for the poor in spirit, the mourning, the merciful, the meek, the righteous, the pure, the peacemakers or the persecuted. 

Or we can reject the modern view of blessing and stand in the company of God’s saints. God’s saints are those who know their identity and security are found only in God. God’s saints are those who give only God their total devotion. God’s saints are those who morn because other members of God’s family suffer. God’s saints are those who renounce the violent ways of the world causing that suffering. God’s saints are those who actively strive to do God’s will, and in their merciful actions reflect God’s mercy, and bring God’s peace. God’s saints are those whose actions, and whose very selves, may be rejected by the world, but they rejoice because they know they do their Lord’s work and follow their Lord’s path.

Today we are invited to walk the path of the saints, the way of the Beatitudes. The way is narrow and hard. We need faith and courage to walk it. Today we look to the example of the saints and call upon their prayers to encourage us and strengthen us. We’re told that St Augustine found it hard to live the Beatitudes, but when he read the lives of the saints he said, "What these ordinary women and men have done, why not me?"

Why not us?