Why are you here?

Solemnity of the Nativity of Our Lord

            Why did you come here this morning?  Why interrupt the family celebrations, the excitement of opening presents?  Why brave the elements?  Maybe you don't have power.  There are many other answers, too, perhaps as many as there are people in this church.  And there is only one answer: because God wants you here.

            God wants you here like He wanted the shepherds to visit that cave where Jesus was born.  Somewhere in your hearts He sent His angel to proclaim to you the “good news of great joy”, that, “today in the city of David a savior has been born for you who is Christ and Lord.”   And we ourselves joined in the angelic song, “Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace to people of good will.” 

            God wants you to be here because He has a gift for you, and a gift He wants from you.  The gift He gives to you is Himself.  The gift He wants from you is yourself.  His gift can only be received if your gift is given.  God’s very life, which we call grace, is offered to you this night.  It is like a bottle of wine waiting to be poured into the glass of your soul.  But in order for the wine to be poured, you first has to offer Him your glass, because God will not force His gift upon you. 

            It’s strange, isn’t it?  That our God, who created all the exists: the heavens, the earth, and all that dwells in them—the  angels, the animals, the waters, the mountains, the stars, the galaxies—God who created all this and who has unlimited power, will not overwhelm us with this power, but waits for our yes to His invitation.  It’s strange that, when our God decided to take on human flesh, He did not come as a Roman Emperor from the West, or as a Persian priest from the East, but as a baby.  But that is exactly what happened.

            We probably all want God’s gift.  Who would not want to receive the very life of God?  Who would not want to love of God, the peace of God, the joy of God to flow through our very souls?  We all want God’s gift.  But we are more hesitant to give God His gift from us.  We all want God’s life, but we shrink back at giving God our life.  We hesitate at the idea that we would turn over to God our time, even our focused time of around an hour each Sunday.  We falter at the idea that God would be in control of our life and direct our actions and words.  We pause when we consider that God might take us somewhere we don’t want to go.

            Fear.  It can be paralyzing.  Fear can stop us from doing what we truly want to do.  We all have fear at giving our gift to God, the gift of our entire life.  I still have areas of my heart that do no belong to Jesus fully.  Why?  Because I am afraid that I will miss that part of my life if I give it away.  I do not trust that God will truly be enough for me.  Yes, much of my life belongs to the Lord, but there are still parts that I hold back.  Maybe you haven’t visited your Catholic home, the church, for a while.  Maybe it took all your courage just to come here today.  First and foremost: welcome home!  We love you and we have missed you.  Maybe you come every week, but the practice of your faith ends as you walk out these doors.  We love you, too, and encourage you to share your faith with others.  We all have parts of our lives that are not fully given over to Jesus.  Some of us have held back more than others.  But no matter how much we have reserved from God, we are all called to band together, to be courageous together, and to support each other in giving our entire lives to God.  We lose nothing when we give ourselves away.  In fact, in Divine Irony, we only lose our life when we fail to give it away.

           

What we celebrate today is the scandalous fact that God, whom the heavens and earth cannot contain, took flesh and was born of the Virgin Mary.  Why?  So that our fear could be melted by one who was like us in all things but sin; so that we could have the audacity to give ourselves entirely over to the Lord; so that the yoke of sin that burdens us, the pole of guilt on our shoulders, the rod of slavery to sin of our taskmaster could be smashed and we could be set free; so that the grace of God, the life of God, could train us “to reject godless ways and worldly desires and to live temperately, justly, and devoutly in this age, as we await the blessed hope, the appearance of the glory of our great God and savior Jesus Christ,” as St. Paul says in his letter to St. Titus; so that we could live in the light of Christ, which shines in the darkness of ignorance, falsehood, and lies, and the darkness does not overcome it, as St. John says in the Prologue of his Gospel; so that we could receive from the fullness of God, “grace in place of grace,” again as St. John says in his Gospel. 

            Today God wants you here.  He wants to give you the gift of Himself.  But He will not force His gift on you.  You and I must be open to that gift by giving God our entire life: nothing more, nothing less.  If we are open to it, God will change us to be more like Him, which will give us true happiness.  And if we are like God, then this world, wrapped in the double darkness of sin and ignorance, will also be changed into a light of holiness and truth, the world in which we all want to live.

How Blest We Are!!

Fourth Sunday of Advent

            When I was young (maybe younger is the better word here), I know that I did not understand how blessed I was.  I grew up in a middle class home with a loving family.  We never wanted for anything that we needed.  And yet, as I saw my friends in middle school and high school, all I could focus on was what I didn’t have, which made me blind to what I did have.  We never had video games.  The best we got was Oregon Trail (the old one, mind you) and Sim City.  My dad didn’t like to buy fruit snacks, both because they were not very healthy (that was probably more of my mom’s influence), and because they were expensive (that was certainly my dad’s doing).  We never went on a Spring Break trip to tropical locales like many of my friends did.  In fact, my first Spring Break trip was from St. Paul to Chicago as a freshman in college (not quite the exotic vacation you dream of in cold weather).  But, as I grew older, I have come to realize how blessed I truly was.

            As Catholics we can sometimes forget how blessed we with our faith.  When we grow up in a Catholic culture in our homes, it can be easy to take for granted the great gift we have in the opportunities to grow in our knowledge and love of Jesus.  It can be easy to forget that for two millennia or so, God’s chosen People were waiting for someone to undo the ancient curse that our first parents, Adam and Eve, brought upon the entire human race through original sin.

            God had promised to send a redeemer, but there was a lot of waiting involved.  Right after the Fall, God promised one who would strike at the head of the serpent.  Moses promised a great prophet, to whom the Jews must listen.  Our first reading, which is quoted by St. Matthew in our Gospel passage, gives us one of the Messianic promises of Isaiah, that “the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall name him Emmanuel,” which means God-with-us.  St. Paul reminds the Romans and us in the second reading, that the Good News that God has saved His people from their sins was “promised previously through his prophets in the holy Scriptures.”  Even our preface, the prayer I chant before the Holy, Holy, Holy reminds us of this fact, as it says, “For all the oracles of the prophets foretold him.” 

And at the time of Jesus, there was great longing for the Messiah: partly because the Jews wanted to be freed from their Roman oppressors, but also because it had been hundreds of years since the last prophet.  Can you imagine the anticipation of the Blessed Mother, knowing that the unseen child in her womb was truly the Son of God?  Every mother is excited to see her baby for the first time at its birth, but Mary’s excitement must have been even greater since this baby was not just her baby, but was also God-with-us.  Or think of John the Baptist.  In the womb he leapt for joy in the presence of Jesus at the Visitation of the Blessed Mother to her cousin Elizabeth.  But imagine his waiting, too, at the Jordan River, knowing that his whole mission was to point out the Messiah.  Our preface takes up their excitement, too, as it says, “the Virgin Mother longed for him with love beyond all telling, John the Baptist sang of his coming and proclaimed him when he came.”  Jesus Himself will say to his disciples: “Blessed are your eyes for what they see.  For many kings and prophets longed to see what you see and did not see it, and to hear what you hear and did not hear it.”  And again He says, “Abraham longed to see my day.” 

And we get to see and receive that Jesus.  We have been blessed in receiving that gift of faith in Jesus, knowing that He is the long-awaited Messiah!  We don’t have to wonder if God will ever make good on the promises He made from Adam and Eve, to Moses, and to the prophets.  We know that God has fulfilled His word in the Word-made-flesh, Jesus.  Do we realize how blessed we are?  Do we think about this in these last three days before Christmas?  Or are our hearts focused on what we don’t have: on the gifts we hope to get, the material things that we cannot afford?  Yes, we have been waiting for almost two millennia for Jesus to return as He promised, but we don’t have to wonder if there ever will be a Messiah or not.  God has given us the Messiah, and since those first apostles, we have passed on that the God who created heaven and earth and all that is in them deigned, lowered Himself, to be seen, heard, and touched.  As the preface will say again, “already we rejoice at the mystery of the Nativity.”  We wait to celebrate what has already happened and so we can be joyful.

We can also be joyful because the same Jesus comes to us in this Mass, as He does at every Mass, in His Word spoken to us through the Scriptures; and in the Eucharist, the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of the same Jesus who was conceived by the Holy Spirit in the womb of the Blessed Mother, and who first showed us the Face of God as He was born in Bethlehem.  How blest are our eyes that see God and our ears that hear His Word!  In these last days of Advent, don’t get caught up in the rush to finish all the preparations, but take time in prayer to thank God for the many blessings that we have in our faith, especially for the gift of Jesus, the prophesied and long-awaited Messiah who makes Himself present for us each day, and especially each time we get to come to Mass.

Keeping up the Intensity

Third Sunday of Advent

            I’ve been mentioning at each set of Masses that I have in this new liturgical year that I want to shift my focus a little bit in the homilies I preach.  Last year I tried to focus on the gift of faith and spreading the Gospel.  That certainly will still come up in my homilies, as it is a perennial aspect of our faith.  But this year I want to focus more on the prayers of the Mass and help us understand how they connect to our readings, our faith, and especially the Christian life beyond these walls.

            In our Advent preface, the prayer that precedes the Holy, Holy, Holy, and which has been prayed for these past two weeks, we ask God that, “we who watch for that day may inherit the great promise in which now we dare to hope.”  As Christians, we are meant to be ready, watching and waiting for Jesus to return.  We should live our lives in such a way that should Jesus come back at the end of this Mass, we would be ready to welcome Him, and not afraid of what our judgment would be.  We shouldn’t need a few days to clean up our act and prepare for judgment, but should be ever ready for Christ to judge us.  But we can struggle with this.  After 1,980 years of waiting, perhaps we second-guess ourselves about Jesus really coming back.  Maybe we don’t live life always ready for Jesus to return.  Maybe our faith starts to falter, and we question a life as a faithful disciple, ever obedient to the commands of the Lord.

            We’re not alone.  St. John the Baptist did the same thing as he was sitting in prison.  He had pointed out the Lamb of God, and prepared people by repentance to follow Jesus.  He had even seen the Spirit descend upon Jesus in the Jordan, and had heard the voice of the Father say, “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.”  And now there he was, sitting in prison, and nothing seemed different.  “Maybe it was a mistake,” he thought, “maybe I got the wrong guy.”  And so he sends messengers to ask Jesus if He truly is the Messiah.  The Kingdom hadn’t been ushered in the way John wanted, and so he doubted.

            The early Christians also questioned.  Many of them expected Jesus to come back within their lifetime.  They would pray each Sunday, “Maranatha!  Come, Lord!”  And yet, after all those years of praying, He still had not returned.  That is why St. James tells them in the second reading, “Be patient, brothers and sisters, until the coming of the Lord…Make your hearts firm…Take as an example of hardship and patience…the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord.”  In the midst of suffering (and there were plenty then), St. James encourages them to stay the course and not back out because Jesus has not returned on their timetable.

            Maybe we’re not as concerned with Jesus’ second coming as the first century Christians; maybe we don’t expect the Messianic reign in the same way that St. John the Baptist did.  But it’s easy to question our faith when our lives are not going the way we want them to, and we feel like Jesus is not living up to His promises.  Maybe our prayer is dry, and it feels like just going through the motions.  Maybe there is great suffering in our life due to illness, a broken relationship with a friend or family member, or maybe we are doubting that we will really be rewarded for being a follower of Jesus. 

            Jesus responds to John that the signs of the Kingdom are different than what was expected: “‘the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them.’”  That may not have been what was hoped for, but Jesus is instituting His Kingdom in His way.  Jesus responds to us, too, “‘blessed is the one who takes no offense at me.’”  In other words, blessed are those who allow me to work in the lives in the way Jesus wants, not necessarily the way we want.  Maybe the dryness in prayer is actually a vehicle to desire God all the more.  Maybe the illness is a reminder that life is short, and a call to repentance and to join in the sufferings of Christ to alleviate past sins.  Maybe a broken relationship is an opportunity for us to acknowledge how our personality and temperament can sometimes drive people away.  Maybe the doubt is an opportunity to go deeper in trust of Jesus. 

            It can be difficult when we’re waiting to keep up the same intensity throughout a long period of time.  It can be difficult when Jesus does not work on the timetable that we want.  But each Advent we are reminded that Jesus will return again, and that we need to make sure that we are ready to welcome Him back.  I hope we never grow tired of saying with our hearts and voices, “Maranatha!  Come, Lord!”

Exams and Heaven

Second Sunday of Advent

            Now for a little note: in this new liturgical year, I want to shift my focus a little bit in the homilies I preach.  Last year I tried to focus on the gift of faith and spreading the Gospel.  That certainly will still come up in my homilies, as it is a perennial aspect of our faith.  But this year I want to focus more on the prayers that I say in your name during the Mass as a way of encouraging us to participate more fully in the Divine Mysteries in which we partake, and challenging us to take that participation outside the doors of this church.

Final exams week: I remember it well.  I remember the stress, the anxiety, hoping to keep a good grade, or maybe to bump the grade up a bit with a final good grade.  Plus, getting ready, maybe, to move back home for a little while.  And, there’s still Christmas presents and cards to buy.  No big deal, right?  But, imagine this added aspect: when Bishop Boyea was academic dean at Sacred Heart Major Seminary in Detroit, during exam week he would walk up and down the hallways singing, “It’s the Most Wonderful time of the Year.”  Honestly, I’m surprised there wasn’t a freak “accident” at least once.

            Our first reading sets a picturesque view of the coming of the Messiah:

the spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him…not by appearance shall he judge, nor by hearsay shall he decide, but he shall judge the poor with justice, and decide aright for the land’s afflicted.  Justice shall be the band around his waist, and faithfulness a belt upon his hips.  Then the wolf shall be a guest of the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; the calf and the young lion shall browse together, with a little child to guide them.  The cow and the bear shall be neighbors…There shall be no harm or ruin on all my holy mountain.

Maybe to this we might add: the professor will stop giving exams, and class participation shall be 100% of the grade.  Surely there are no final exams in paradise!!

            The prayer that opened our Mass, the Collect (so called because the priest collects all our silent prayers and merges them into a prayer that he says on all the people’s behalf) said: “Almighty and merciful God, may no earthly undertaking hinder those who set out in haste to meet your Son, but may our learning of heavenly wisdom gain us admittance to his company.”  God doesn’t want us to be distracted right now by any earthly undertaking, including exams.  So, everybody take a deep breath, and whatever it is that has got you wound up tighter than a watch, let it go.  Because, while most things we do are important—in school, in work, with family—nothing is more important than our time right here, right now with the Lord. 

           

Our Gospel passage introduces us for the first time on a Sunday this Advent to St. John the Baptist.  And he sounds quite different than the first reading.  Whereas the first reading seems all nice, warm, and cozy, St. John the Baptist seems more like an angry preacher.  He calling people broods of vipers, telling them the axe is at the foot of the tree to chop it down, and calling everyone to repent.  And yet he is the messenger that Isaiah, the same Isaiah as our first reading, prophesied as “A voice of one crying out in the desert, Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths.”  That seems a bit odd.

            But what John is pointing out is that we are all sinners: each and every one of us.  I am a sinner.  You are all sinners.  That sounds harsh!  That sounds downright mean to our yuppy culture (to use a Duck Dynasty term).  But it’s true, and in order for us to prepare for Jesus’ coming, we have to recognize our sins.  We have to turn away from them.  Because otherwise, if we do not recognize that we are sinners, then we don’t need a savior.  If you are not lost, then you don’t need saving.  And if you don’t need saving, then Jesus is not for you, because He came to seek and to save what was lost.

            Our prayers try to remind us that we need a redeemer, too.  Our Prayer over the Offerings says: “Be pleased, O Lord, with our humble prayers and offerings, and, since we have no merits to plead our cause, come, we pray, to our rescue with the protection of your mercy.”  What we’re giving God is the best we have, hopefully, but even that isn’t so great.  We don’t have anything that we have done that could put us back into right relationship with God.  Because we owe God everything, nothing that we could ever pay back would work at paying down the principle of the debt we incurred by sin.  When we recognize that, then Jesus becomes all the more important, because we recognize we can’t do it on our own.  We cannot heal ourselves, but need to be healed by the mercy of God. 

            And God gives us His mercy when we ask for it.  He gives it to us under sacramental signs.  He gives us mercy for all our sins when we come to Him in the Sacrament of Penance (and we’ll have our communal Penance Liturgy next Sunday), and He gives us mercy for our venial or small sins when we celebrate His Death, Resurrection, and Ascension under the sacramental signs of bread and wine which are also truly the Body and Blood of Jesus.  Our Prayer after Communion reaffirms this: “Replenished by the food of spiritual nourishment, we humbly beseech you, O Lord, that, through our partaking in this mystery, you may teach us to judge wisely the things of earth and hold firm to the things of heaven.”  When we worthily receive the Eucharist, we are spiritually fed, and as we partake in the Paschal Mystery, that Death, Resurrection, and Ascension that won for us eternal life, we understand better and are given strength to live out better our call to be disciples of Jesus who try to make our life like His as much as we can.

            Yes, Advent is a crazy time of year as we prepare for Christmas because of exams, parties, family coming over, work, buying gifts.  But in the midst of the craziness, don’t let it consume you.  Don’t let these earthly undertakings get in the way of what Advent truly prepares for: the celebration of the birth of Christ, the second coming of Christ, and the ways that Christ comes to our hearts each day.

Running to Meet Christ

First Sunday of Advent

           

Well, here we are again.  We are at the dawn of a new liturgical year, a new year of grace.  In our faith we have certainly had a big year: Pope Benedict XVI declared this past year a Year of Faith, which has just ended; Bishop Boyea declared this past year a Year of Prayer, which will end on 9 December at the Cathedral with Mass at 6 p.m.; Pope Benedict XVI resigned from being pope, the first time this had happened in centuries; the Holy Spirit, through the College of Cardinals, elected Pope Francis to be the new Vicar of Christ.  In our own families there have probably been momentous events: new life with the birth of a child or grandchild; the hope of eternal life with the death of a loved one; graduations, retirements, etc.  Whatever has happened, it has been quite a year!

            In this new liturgical year, I want to shift my focus a little bit in the homilies I preach.  Last year I tried to focus on the gift of faith and spreading the Gospel.  That certainly will still come up in my homilies, as it is a perennial aspect of our faith.  But this year I want to focus more on the prayers that I say in your name during the Mass as a way of encouraging us to participate more fully in the Divine Mysteries in which we partake, and challenging us to take that participation outside the doors of this church.

            We are probably now used to the new translations.  Some of us may not like them; that’s fair.  I personally love them, because I see in them the beauty which is contained in the mother tongue of our church: Latin.  The form of the prayer is much more deprecatory, that is, it does not treat God as an equal, but addresses Him as the Almighty, and takes the position of one who is a servant of God.  They are filled with Biblical language, and are sometimes taken from the words of our earliest saints.  For the most part, they are not long, but are very Roman in style: nobly simple. 

            Our Collect, what some refer to as the Opening Prayer, states: “Grant your faithful, we pray, almighty God, the resolve to run forth to meet your Christ with righteous deeds at his coming, so that, gathered at his right hand, they may be worthy to possess the heavenly Kingdom.”  As Advent is a time focused on preparing for Christ in His three comings—long ago as an infant at Bethlehem, at the end of time when the Kingdom of God is established in its fullness, and in our hearts each day—this Collect, this collection of all our private prayers, already points us to the coming Kingdom of Christ.  It asks for the strength of will, the resolve, to run forth with righteous deeds at His coming.  Now, I’m not a runner, like my parents and my sisters.  I’m a sprinter, so I don’t like to run for long periods of time.  And, to be honest, I don’t really sprint that much anymore, either.  But when I do run, when I try to get somewhere fast, it is often to catch up to somebody to give them something or to get their attention. 

There is a certainly excitement in running, especially to meet someone.  One need only think of movies where two people are running to meet each other, often with joyous, longing music in the background.  But our prayer asks us for the strength to run to meet Christ, not with our legs, but with our “righteous deeds,” our actions that help to build the Kingdom of God here on earth. 

            This idea of running is in contrast to what we hear in our Prayer after Communion: “May these mysteries, O Lord, in which we have participated, profit us, we pray, for even now, as we walk amid passing things, you teach us by them to love the things of heaven and hold fast to what endures.”  While our good deeds are meant to help us to run to meet Christ at His coming, we walk amid passing things, the things of earth.  Our prayer reminds us that the things of this earth, as good as they are, pass away, and should not give us the same excitement as the things of heaven and preparing for Jesus’ second coming.  As the first reading states, we should stream towards the mountain of the Lord, to the temple of God on Mount Zion.  As Christians, our real temple is the heavenly Jerusalem, the heavenly temple, where God reigns with the Lamb-that-was-Slain at His right hand.  We should be rejoicing to go to the House of the Lord, as our Psalm mentioned, the House that lasts forever, that is not built with human hands, but was built by God.

            And we should be prepared to rejoice at Jesus’ coming, because we do not know the day nor the hour.  For those who have their hearts set on the things of the world, that day will catch them off guard, as our Gospel said.  Just like those before the flood who “were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day that Noah entered the ark,” and who perished, if we remain focused too much on the things of this earth, and not concerned enough with our eternal salvation, then Jesus’ coming will not give us cause to run towards him, but might cause us to slink away from him, backing up ever so slowly so as to avoid notice. 

            How do we prepare ourselves, then?  How do we focus on what is to come and want to run out to meet Jesus?  Our Prayer over the Offerings gives us a clue: “Accept, we pray, O Lord, these offerings we make, gathered from among your gifts to us, and may what you grant us to celebrate devoutly here below gain for us the prize of eternal redemption.”  When we take the things of the earth—our time that we spend here, our money that we donate, our attention, the bread and wine—and give them back to God, we show that we are first and foremost concerned with Him.  And then, as God takes our gifts that we have and offers us the most precious gift, the Body and Blood of His Son, that what we celebrate here below in sacramental signs, prepares us for receiving the prize of eternal redemption, the prize of being in heaven with God in perfect happiness. 

            As we walk amid the concerns of this earth, may we love the things of heaven, hold fast to what truly lasts, and be ready to run and meet Jesus Christ as we celebrate His birth at Christmas, as we prepare for His Second Coming in Glory, and as He comes to us each day to enter our hearts and make His home there.

Building a Kingdom of Justice

Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

            One of the great things about being Catholic, is that we have form prayers to say.  If you’re at a meal and you’re asked to pray, you can fall back on “Bless us, O Lord…”  If you can’t find the words because of joy or sorrow, you can always seem to get out, “Hail Mary, full of grace…”  Or maybe you’re trying to find the perfect prayer, so you use the one the Jesus taught us: “Our Father…”  The blessing is that when we can’t find our own words, we can use words that others have given us over the centuries.  But the difficulty is that sometimes when we say a prayer so often, we miss the words that are in the prayer, because it is so easy to rattle off the memorized formula.

            In the Our Father, for example, we pray, “thy kingdom come.”  If we go to Mass every Sunday and Holyday like we should, we pray that prayer at least 57 times a year.  My guess is we’ve said it many, many more times than that.  And yet, each time we say it, we are affirming that we want God’s kingdom to come.  Not the kingdom of the world.  Not even my own kingdom.  But God’s kingdom. 

            Today we celebrate Christ the King of the Universe.  Not just king of a part of the world.  Not just the king of one faith.  He is the King of the Universe, of all things, whether His kingship is acknowledged or not.  Whether we like it or not, Jesus’ kingdom will come.  Whether we mean it or not, Jesus’ kingdom will come.  But, our judgment will be much easier if our will is already approaching the will of our king, and if the words we speak in the Our Father do not merely come from our vocal chords, but from our heart. 

            In the end, there are only really two kingdoms: the Kingdom of God and the Kingdom of the Evil One.  Dichotomies don’t usually hold true.  Life is rarely as simple as either A or B.  And yet, at the end of time, there will be those for Christ, or those against Him; those in Heaven or those in Hell.  Our life work, the sign that we are faithful citizens of the Kingdom of God, is that our will is lined up with, and really subjected to, the will of God.  The more we insist on our own will over and against God, the less we are true subjects of the King of Kings, at least beyond in name only.

            Jesus never forces us to be a part of His kingdom.  And His reign often doesn’t look very enticing.  In our Gospel, Jesus is reigning from the cross.  He is being sneered at and mocked.  This isn’t the way we’re used to seeing kings.  Yet the good thief, whom tradition names St. Dismas, recognizes Jesus and says, “‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’”  And Jesus, the good King, offers salvation to St. Dismas that very day.  Jesus’ kingdom sometimes doesn’t look so appealing.  It is sometimes hidden in external failure.  It is clothed in meekness.  And it is never forced.  If we want to build our own kingdom that is against God, Jesus will let us, because He allows us to use the gift of free will that He gave us, so that His Kingdom is not forced on us, but welcomed with love.

To check ourselves, to examine the conscience, we can ask ourselves whether or not we want Jesus’ kingdom to come.  We can ask ourselves if the words of the Our Father ring true in our hearts, or are just empty words.  And we can see the beginning of that in how we respond to the teaching of the Mystical Body of Christ, the Church.  In particular, the parish council and Fr. Jerry are asking all of us to focus on the Church’s teaching (therefore, Jesus’ teaching) on social justice. 

That term is pretty loaded.  I don’t think I would shock anyone to say that this location in our one parish tends to be associated, accurately or inaccurately, with a particular political party.  And the other location in our one parish tends to be associated, again, accurately or inaccurately, with another political party.  Social justice tends to be associated more frequently with one political party.  But, as far as our faith goes, there is neither Democrat, nor Republican, Libertarian or Socialist.  Christ calls all of us to practice social justice. 

The Compendium to the Catechism of the Catholic Church states, “Society ensures social justice when it respects the dignity and the rights of the person as the proper end of society itself.  Furthermore, society pursues social justice, which is linked to the common good and to the exercise of authority, when it provides the conditions that allow associations and individuals to obtain what is there due.”  In practice: how do I assist the poor?  How do I ensure that I do not value capital over the human person?  How do I show solidarity with those who have less than me?  How do I promote the dignity of work and encourage others to use their gifts for the benefit of the city, State, and country?  How do I defend the innocent, especially the baby in the womb and the elderly?  How do I defend the family as the building block of human society, and promote a culture that ensures that children have the best environment in which to develop: a loving father and mother?  How do I vote so as to promote the Gospel?  How do I work for peace?

In our parish we have people who work hard for social justice, on both sides of Burcham.  We have business leaders who leave extremely generous tips to waitresses who didn’t think they would be able to provide Christmas gifts for their children.  Our Food Bank at St. John feeds many people.  The Giving Trees, organized by the St. Vincent de Paul Societies, and that will soon be up, provide necessities and niceties for families in need.  Our school children have had the opportunity to work in soup kitchens.  Our right to life group marches in DC as a witness to our legislators to defend life in our laws.  There are so many other ways.  St. John Church & Student Center does not have a monopoly on social justice.  St. Thomas Aquinas does not have a monopoly on social justice.  We each do things well, and we each need to be challenged in the areas in which we can grow.  As one parish family, united in one Kingdom of Christ, we need to work together to work for social justice: not as one side of the faith, or the work of a political party, but as members of the Kingdom of God who are called to do our best to make this City of Man look more and more like the City of God.

Will we cooperate with the grace of God, without which we cannot build the City of God, that city that only Christ can truly complete?  Will we be members of Christ’s Kingdom?  Or will we rather build our kingdom?  May our hearts and our actions reflect the words we say today: thy kingdom come.