Non Nisi Te: None but You, Lord

Solemnity of St. Thomas Aquinas

            St. Thomas Aquinas is known for a great many things.  On the lighter side, it is commonly held that St. Thomas was a very large man.  In fact, he was called the Dumb Ox in school, due to his large size and (ironically) seemingly slow-working intellect.  Stories are also told that at the table at which St. Thomas would usually sit for meals, a crescent had to be cut away so that he could sit close enough to the table to take his food.  On a more serious side, St. Thomas is known for his great writing: Summa Theologica, Summa contra Gentiles, Corpus Christi texts for Mass, the hymns: Tantum Ergo, Pange Lingua, Adoro Te, Devote, and so many more.  His intellectual understanding of the faith is, in my humble estimation, unrivaled by any person before or after him.

            And yet, there have been many smart people who are not saints.  And St. Thomas’ size, no matter whether the stories are true or false, did not create his holiness.  No, there was something else in St. Thomas’ life that was greater even than his love of knowledge.  And that trait is best described by a true story of St. Thomas.

            When St. Thomas was in Naples, celebrating Mass, the crucifix on the altar spoke to him, saying, “You have written well of me, Thomas.  What reward will you have?”  To this grand question from the Lord, St. Thomas answered, “None other than You, Lord.”  Those words in Latin, Non nisi Te, appear on the crest of our great parish school.

            None other than You, Lord.  What profound words from a man who had systematically progressed through the major and minor questions of the faith with stunning accuracy, such that, centuries later, Pope Leo XIII advised that all seminarians be required to study St. Thomas Aquinas (no other saint received such a recommendation, not even St. Augustine), and declared St. Thomas the patron of Catholic universities, schools, and students.  St. Thomas could have answered that he wanted more knowledge to complete his great Summa Theologica.  He could have answered that wanted to be assured of salvation for him and his family.  He could have asked for the flourishing of the order to which St. Thomas dedicated his life, the Order of Preachers or Dominicans.  But he simply said, “None other than You, Lord.”

            What a great question to ask ourselves: if Jesus spoke from this crucifix here in this church, or, indeed, from any crucifix, and asked me what I wanted, what would be my answer?  Would I ask for wisdom, money, power, friends, health, peace, an end to poverty, or assured salvation?  If so, we would not have answered as well as St. Thomas, and would not receive the fullness of the gift that God wants to bestow on us.  Sure, wisdom is good so we can choose to do good and avoid evil.  Money is a fine means of providing for our family, for the Church, and for helping to end poverty.  Power can be used to advance the respect for human dignity and justice.  Peace is the gift of the children of God in the beatitudes.  And who doesn’t want to be in heaven with God forever?  And yet, we should be asking God for the conversion to desire nothing but God alone, because He, as St. Thomas taught, is the greatest good, the good to be desired above all other goods.

            In desiring and receiving the Lord, we find that all those other things which are good and helpful, especially to our salvation, are provided for us anyways.  This is what our Lord means when He said, “seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given you besides.”  If we desire the Lord, and we open our hearts to receive Him, then nothing which is truly good will be denied us.

            In this Mass, we have the opportunity to deepen our love for our Lord, and to receive Him, especially through His Word and through His Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity, present in the Most Holy Sacrament of the Eucharist.  How blest are our ears that they hear God’s Word, our minds that they are taught with heavenly wisdom, and our tongues that the receive the Lord of all creation under the appearance of bread and wine!

            So great was St. Thomas’ love of the Eucharist that, besides penning the texts for the Corpus Christi Mass, texts which we still use today, and writing eloquently about the Sacrament of Sacraments, when Thomas was dying and received the Eucharist for the last time in Viaticum, he said:

I firmly believe and know as certain that Jesus Christ, True God and True Man, Son of God and Son of the Virgin Mary, is in this Sacrament…I receive Thee, the price of my redemption, for Whose love I have watched, studied, and laboured.  Thee have I preached; Thee have I taught. 

 Knowing that he wanted nothing but the Lord, in his last hours of life, he affirmed that the Eucharist was precisely the great desire of his life, more than knowledge or any other gift.

            St. Thomas provides us with the example of what it means to prefer nothing above God.  It’s a tall order, but something which we are all called to do: whether priest or deacon, religious or consecrated person, married or single, adult or child.  Are we there yet?  Maybe some of you are.  I’m certainly still working on it.  But we know it’s possible because St. Thomas has shown us the way, a way that he did not create, but a way which he pointed out to us in showing us Jesus who is the Way.  As St. Thomas said, “God alone satisfies.”  Help us, O Lord, to purify our desires so that we can say with St. Thomas that we desire “none but You, Lord.”  Non nisi Te.  St Thomas Aquinas: pray for us!

"Little Baby Jesus" ~Ricky Bobby

Epiphany of the Lord

            Just a few weeks ago the trailer for “The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey” was released.  As a big “Lord of the Rings” fan, both the books and the movies, I was pretty excited.  It looks to be a good movie telling the first half of the tale of Bilbo Baggins’ adventure.  Still, there’s always a little awkwardness that can come when, if you’ve read the books, you picture characters looking a certain way, and then on the screen the actors with all their makeup look different than you pictured.

            Today, as we celebrate the Epiphany of the Lord, we celebrate Jesus showing Himself forth to the nations, the Gentiles, the non-Jews, represented in the three magi who came from the east.  The very word epiphany could be translated as “showing forth.”  And, in fact, the Solemnity of the Epiphany has, historically, celebrated the three manifestations of Jesus: to the magi, at His baptism, and at the wedding of Cana, where Jesus, in three different ways at different times, made Himself known to others. 

            But, sticking with the Gospel passage we have today, I wonder if the magi saw what they expected.  They told King Herod that they were traveling to see the “newborn king of the Jews.”  So when they showed up at the home of Joseph and Mary, and saw a little boy, living in humble circumstances, I wonder if they were taken aback.  As they were offering their precious gifts: gold for a king, frankincense for a deity, and myrrh for a rich burial, I wonder what they thought of this little boy.

            We, of course, have ways that we like to think of Jesus.  Maybe we’re like Ricky Bobby from “Talladega Nights,” and we like to think of our Lord as “little baby Jesus.”  Or maybe when we picture Jesus we think of a king in royal robes and a crown.  Perhaps we think of Jesus as a poor, itinerant preacher, a radical of His own day.  Or maybe we see Jesus as a strong carpenter.  Or when we think of Jesus, maybe we always see Him on the cross.  In whatever way we like to think of Jesus, it is still the case that Jesus continues to surprise us by his presence.

            For some, Jesus surprises them by being present today in his brothers and sisters: in the poor begging on the corner; in our family members, especially the ones that we want to avoid; in the terminally ill; in the elderly; in those with a same-sex attraction, or in broken marriages.  And yet, Jesus still makes Himself present in these people, who have inherent goodness because they are human persons, created in the image and likeness of God, who, no matter what good or bad choices they have made, still deserve our love and can still manifest Christ, even if it’s harder to see at times.  In these manifestations, Jesus continues to make Himself known, and we still are called to care for Him who lays hidden beneath those human frailties. 

The life of St. Martin of Tours, whom the Church celebrates on November 11^th, bares this out in a very clear way.  St. Martin was a soldier, and he was riding his horse in the cold winter.  Along the road was a poor man who barely had any clothes on and was freezing.  Martin cut his cloak in two with his sword, and gave half to that poor man so that he could warm, even if just a little.  That night, St. Martin had a vision of Jesus wearing that cloak, and realized what Jesus meant when, in Matthew 25, He said, “What you did for the least of my brothers and sisters you did for me.”

In our own times, there are a number of people, maybe right here in our own parish, who struggle to see Jesus manifest Himself through His Mystical Body, the Church.  And certainly, some members of the Church don’t always make it easy to see Christ in the Church.  We certainly are a corpus permixtum, as St. Augustine of Hippo calls us, a group made up of both sinners and saints.  And yet, in a mysterious way, the Church is the mystical and immaculate Body of Christ, without sin, and communicating the fruits of Christ’s own redeeming life to those who cling to it.  As Timothy Cardinal Dolan has said on many occasions, “Christ and his Church are one.”  You cannot have one without the other, period.  Or, to quote the Catechism, which quotes St. Cyprian of Carthage, “No one can have God as Father who does not have the Church as Mother.”

How often do we hear the phrase, again, sometimes from Catholics, “I’m spiritual, but not religious”?  Or, “I have a great relationship with Jesus, but I don’t want to mess it up by getting other people involved.”  When Jesus manifests Himself, even today, He does so always with His Mystical Body, the Church, and never apart from her.  To quote the great Vatican II theologian, Henri de Lubac, “For what would I ever know of him, without her?” 

Does this mean that everyone who represents the Church is always perfect and always right?  Certainly not.  Does this mean that we should never struggle with some of the teachings of the Church on matters of faith and morals?  Some people do struggle with what the Church teaches, seeking to understand what the Church has defined as belonging to the deposit of faith.  But, when it comes to matters of faith and morals, we can know that when the Church acts, it is Jesus acting through her, whether it’s on the Church’s teaching on abortion, contraception, the preferential option for the poor, marriage, who Christ is, who the Church is, and down the line.  We may not have been expecting to see Christ in that way, but just because we do not expect Christ to be shown forth in that way does not mean it is not Christ.  Maybe instead of wanting the Church to change to fit our desires, we need to change our desires to fit with the Church.

Jesus continues to manifest Himself to us, as He did to the magi 2,000 years ago.  As He likely shocked the magi then, sometimes He may shock us in His manifestation.  The question for us is whether, like the magi, we will choose to lay down what is precious for us: our time, our treasure, and our assent of the will in faith.  I would suggest that, for many of us, money and an independent will are the two things which are most precious to us.  Will we lay them down at the feet of Jesus Christ as He manifests Himself to us in the marginalized and in His Mystical Body, the Church?

The Blessing!

Solemnity of Mary, the Holy Mother of God

            Well, here we stand, at the beginning of a New Year, the Year of our Lord 2012.  On New Year’s Eve people around the world stayed up late to be awake at the moment we changed from 2011 to 2012, made New Year’s resolutions, perhaps kissed loved ones, and hoped that this new year will have fewer sorrows and more joys.  In essence, they were asking God to pour out His blessings upon them and their loved ones.

            The theme of blessing is unmistakable in today’s readings.  Our first reading begins with the Lord telling Moses to tell Aaron, the newly ordained priests of the covenant of Sinai, how to bless the Lord’s people: “‘The LORD bless you and keep you!  The LORD let his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you!  The LORD look upon you kindly and give you peace!’”  And God promises that when the priests do this, the Lord will truly bless them.  And in our responsorial psalm we hear the invocation of God’s blessing.  Even our second reading, though it does not contain the word “blessing,” talks about the true blessing of how “God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to ransom those under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons.”  St. Paul talks to us about our blessing of being made sons and daughters in the Son of God.

            But what is a blessing?  We use the word all the time, but do we understand it?  The word itself comes from two Latin words, bene and dicere, meaning to speak well.  When we bless people, we certainly speak well of them.  Still, when we talk about God’s blessing, we are talking about God whose Word is effective.  A blessing is not just a wish for good things, but when it comes from the Lord, it is an effective way of communicating God Himself through certain words.  Of course, blessings are not magic.  We must be open to the blessing to be able to receive the goodness that it is meant to convey.  But as long as we are open to the blessing, God’s grace is conferred upon us for our benefit.

            I would suggest that for the New Year, as we seek God’s blessing, God’s goodness, that we take this celebration as our starting point.  Today we celebrate Mary, the Holy Mother of God.  We celebrate the human woman, the highest honor of our human family, who said yes to God in all things, and so merited to be the Mother of our Redeemer, Jesus Christ.  And because Jesus is fully God, we rightfully call her the Mother of God, not just the mother of Jesus, as some heretics would do in the fourth century.

            Since Jesus Christ is the greatest blessing, as St. Paul reminds us in our second reading, because by His death and resurrection He has made us heirs to eternal life, and as the true High Priest has truly communicated God’s fullest blessings to us in having the courage to cry out, “Abba, Father!”, we should look to Mary to receive the fullness of these blessings, because it is only through Mary’s yes to God that we were able to receive the greatest blessing: Jesus our Savior.

            Now, do not confuse me.  I am not elevating Mary over Jesus, as if there is a quaternity rather than a Trinity.  We only believe in One God in Three Persons, and Mary is not a part of that Blessed Trinity.  But, we receive the grace of Divine Love in its fullest expression through Mary, and so it is through her that we receive Christ, even in our daily lives.  This is what that pious phrase, “To Jesus, through Mary,” means.  It means that, while we have access to the Father in Christ, we have access to Christ through Mary, His Mother, who is always leading us back to Jesus, and reminding us as she did at the Wedding at Cana, “Do Whatever He Tells You,” the very words we have in our Cana Chapel (here) at St. Thomas.  While our Gospel today spoke of Mary keeping all the mysteries that happened at Jesus’ birth, and reflecting on them in her heart, she does not keep our prayers to herself, but presents them to her Lord and her Son in faithful trust.  And what Son can refuse the prayers of so loving a mother?  Surely the author of the commandment “Honor your father and mother” would not refuse the request of His Mother, especially since her will is now united in heaven with the will of God.

Our Lady of Perpetual Help

            Catholics, for centuries, have turned toward the Mother of God, and since that day that Jesus gave Mary to us as our mother as He told His beloved apostle John, “‘Behold your mother,’” we have not ceased to turn to Blessed Mary, ever-Virgin to plead our cause and to present our prayers to her Son.  We need only think of the rosary, the Angelus, the first Saturdays, the brown scapular, and devotions to Our Lady of Perpetual Help, La Virgen de Guadalupe, Our Lady of Sorrows, the Immaculate Heart of Mary, and so many others.  Sadly, many of these faded after Vatican II.  But as Pope Bl. John Paul II reminded us so frequently, that was not the Council’s intent.  With the words of his papal motto: Totus tuus—Totally yours, our late pontiff reminded us of the love we should have for Mary.

            In this New Year, let us be bold in asking God for His blessings.  Let us approach Him as we would a loving Father.  And how many times, when wanting something from our earthly fathers, have we, wisely, asked our earthly mothers to intercede for us so that we may obtain the good things we need and want?  May we make our requests for blessings through the intercession of our Blessed Mother each day, by uniting our lives to Christ through her.  May her name be on our lips as we rise each morning, and in thanksgiving for her assistance as we fall asleep each night.  For me it is as simple as the pious prayer, Mater mea, fiducia mea: my Mother, my confidence at the beginning of the day, and a hymn to Mary, usually the Salve Regina, as I go to bed.  Or we can make our own the Morning Offering, as I do when I put on my scapular: O my God, in union with the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I offer thee the Precious Blood of Jesus from all the altars throughout the world.  O my Jesus, I desire today to gain every indulgence and merit I can, and offer them, together with myself, to Mary Immaculate, that she may best apply them in the interests of thy Most Sacred Heart.   O Precious Blood of Jesus, save us!  Holy Mary, mother of God, mother of the Church, and our mother: pray for us!

God Sees His Son

Nativity of the Lord, Mass during the Day

            Have you ever noticed how everyone seems to soften in the presence of a baby?  It makes sense that mothers are very soft and tender in the presence of a child because of their motherly instincts.  But it even happens with the gruffest, toughest men.  In the presence of a baby even the sternest face can be softened by a smile, and the epitome of a man’s man starts talking gibberish, trying to communicate with the child and get it to smile back.

            Today we rejoice in the fact that, in the fullness of time, right when God wanted it, when all the conditions were as God knew in His Divine Wisdom they needed to be, the invisible God who could not be seen, the Word through whom all things were made, and without whom nothing came to be, became visible in the flesh.  God was made known to the world as a baby.  While we have grown used to this fact over 2,000 years of Christian activity, this was unthinkable, truly awesome, and even somewhat scandalous to Jews and Gentiles alike.

            In the past, as we heard in the second reading, “God spoke in partial and various ways to our ancestors through the prophets.”  From the very beginning, when God created Adam and Eve in His own likeness and walked among them in the Garden of Eden, God had wanted to be close to the crown of His creation.  He wanted to be with us in all things.  And even when, through Adam, sin entered the world, He continued to reveal Himself partially to the Chosen People: to Abram, telling him to leave Ur of Chaldea and go to the land of Canaan, where he would become Abraham, the father of many nations, and in the form of three visitors to announce the conception of Isaac, the son of the promise; to Moses in the Burning Bush and on Mount Sinai; to all the Chosen People in the form of a pillar of cloud and fire, leading them through the desert; through the prophets, those chosen by God to speak for Him to a people who constantly preferred to wander away from God, rather than be close, especially Isaiah, Jeremiah, Elijah, Ezekiel, and others. 

But this was always a partial revelation of God.  In Bethlehem, when Jesus was born, we had the chance to see that God had fulfilled the prophecies that a Virgin would bear a Son and would name Him Emmanuel, God-with-us.  In the Nativity of Jesus according to the flesh a marvelous exchange took place, what the Church Fathers called admirabile commercium.  In this great exchange, God took our sinful nature to Himself, though He was free from sin, and united it fully to His divinity, so that we could live forever in heaven united to the Son.  In the words of St. Athanasius: God became man so that man could become God.

This is what St. John is speaking of when, in the Gospel passage we heard today, he writes, “But to those who did accept him he gave power to become children of God, to those who believe in his name, who were born not by natural generation nor by human choice nor by a man’s decision by of God.”  In Baptism we were made members of the Mystical Body of Christ, and our nature was joined to Christ, just as Christ joined His nature to ours at the Annunciation, which we celebrated 9 months ago. 

The Gospel, the Good News that this truly is should astound us!  Because if we have been baptized and united to the Mystical Body of Christ, then when God looks down on us, he no longer sees a child born of natural generation, but His only-begotten, beloved Son, just as when Mary and Joseph looked down at the Christ child, they did not just see a baby, but the eternal God in flesh.  In baptism, where we are born again by water and the Spirit, we become a son or a daughter in Christ the Son. 

This participation in the Sonship of Christ is no small thing!  “To which of the angels did God ever say: You are my son; this day I have begotten you?  Or again: I will be a father to him, and he shall be a son to me?”  Because Jesus joined our nature to His, humbling Himself to take on all that it means to be human: hunger, thirst, pain, temptation, we have a higher dignity than the angels of God.  You are a higher creation than an angel, because Christ was not an angel, nor did He become one of them.  He chose to join our nature to His, and so we join in the dignity of Christ who is “as far superior to the angels as the name he has inherited is more excellent than theirs.”

Do not cheapen, then, the great gift you have been given this Christmas, the gift of knowing that we can be united to Christ.  Do not count as worthless the great gift of being a part of His Body, the Church, with all the great gifts and duties that come along with membership in the People God has claimed for His own.  As Pope St. Leo the Great wrote in his Christmas sermon:

Acknowledge, O Christian, the dignity that is yours!  Being made a partaker in the divine nature, do not by an unworthy manner of living fall back into your former abjectness of life.  Be mindful of Whose Head, and of Whose Body, you are a member.  Remember, that wrested from the powers of darkness, you are now translated into the Light and the Kingdom of God.  By the sacrament of baptism you have become the temple of the Holy Spirit.  Do not, by evil deeds, drive out from you such a One dwelling with you, and submit yourself again to the bondage of the devil.  Because your price was the Blood of Christ; because in strictness He shall judge you Who in mercy has redeemed you, Who with the Father and the Holy Spirit, lives and reigns, world without end.  Amen.

Silent Night

Nativity of the Lord, Mass at Midnight

            I’ve mentioned before my deep love of the book The Lord by Romano Guardini, and it is the third chapter in book 1 that I reference tonight.  Guardini, writing in 1937, mentions in that chapter that in the Mass (what we would now call the Extraordinary Form), the words of the Book of Wisdom help to guide the feast: “‘For while all things were in quiet silence and the night was in the midst of her course, thy almighty word leapt down from heaven from thy royal throne…’”  He continues, “The passage, brimming with the mystery of the Incarnation, is wonderfully expressive of the infinite stillness that hovered over Christ’s birth.  For the greatest things are accomplished in silence—not the clamor and display of superficial eventfulness, but in the deep clarity of inner vision; in the almost imperceptible start of decision, in the quiet overcoming and hidden sacrifice…The silent forces are the strong forces.”

            We are here, in the midst of the silence of this sacred night, recalling an event that took place almost 2,000 years ago in the silence of the night in Bethlehem, which forever changed human history, whether you believe in Jesus or not.  As Christians we date time from this moment: everything which came before is BC—Before Christ.  Everything which took place afterwards is in AD—Anno Domini, the Year of the Lord.  Even those who wish to separate our dating of time from Christian belief, who use the term BCE (Before the Common Era) and CE (the Common Era), still point to the time when Jesus was born in the manger, in the silence of the night.

            The greatest things happen in silence.  The silent forces are the strong forces.  These words are no less true today than 75 years ago when Guardini wrote them.  The greatest things do happen in silence.  In silence the world was forever changed, not by some king, but by the King of kings; not by one who came to be served, but one who came to serve and give His life as a ransom for many; not by a strong, handsome adult, with thousands of Facebook friends, but by a child: a weak, helpless child, laying in a manger, surrounded by His Blessed Mother, His foster-father, and the animals of the stable. 

            But, as Isaiah prophesied, “upon his shoulder dominion rests.  They name him Wonder-Counselor, God-Hero, Father-Forever, Prince of Peace.”  Do not let his lowly birth fool you.  Do not scoff at his humility.  For the child that the shepherds came to adore: the child who was helpless in His mother’s arms, is the Almighty God who created the heavens and the earth.  That little child caused a bush to burn without being consumed, split the Red Sea in two so that the Chosen People, His people, could escape from the Egyptian army.  This child is weak, but He is no weakling.  He is mild, but He smashes the yoke of slavery that burdened us and tramples underfoot the evil serpent, Satan, crushing his head.

            That power, that glory, did not come with human activity: the decorating, the hurrying about, the shopping, the partying, but was announced only by angelic hosts to the shepherds in the fields, who heard them say, “‘I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will be for all the people.  For today, in the city of David a savior has been born for you who is Christ and Lord.’”

            So why come here now?  Why come to this church in East Lansing?  Why come each Sunday back to the Mass which, even given our new translations, does not really change that much?  Why come in the midst of this dark, cold night to hear familiar carols being sung?  We can do that at home, listening to the radio!

            We come, in the dark, silence of this night, and each and every Sunday because He who was born in Bethlehem, the city of David, the “house of bread,” as the name Bethlehem means in Hebrew, because Jesus Christ is born again for us in this Mass: not as a child, but under the appearance of bread and win.  His most holy Body and Blood adorn not a manger, but this altar.  He is surrounded on earth not by His Blessed Mother and foster father, but by His mothers and brothers and sisters, those who do the will of His heavenly Father, as He tells us in Sacred Scripture.  This holy night, this night divine, in the silence, broken only by the words of the priest saying those same words that Jesus spoke—“Take this, all of you, and eat of it;” “Take this, all of you, and drink from it”—Jesus Christ is made present to us today and at every Mass sacramentally just as He was made manifest to the shepherds 2,000 years ago in the stable in Bethlehem.  We get the greatest gift of Christmas, the gift of being able to receive the same Jesus into us that the angels proclaimed in the heavens. 

            “Beloved: The grace of God has appeared, saving all and training 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, who gave himself for us to deliver us from all lawlessness and to cleanse for himself a people as his own, eager to do what is good.” 

            “‘For while all things were in quiet silence and the night was in the midst of her course, thy almighty word leapt down from heaven from thy royal throne…’”  In the silence of this night Jesus Christ unites His Divine nature to our human nature, not just in the remembrance of His Nativity, but in the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar.  O come, let us adore Him: Christ the Lord.

A Christmas Carol-Scripture Style

Third Sunday of Advent

            Each year around this time, there are certain Christmas specials that air year after year: TBS always seems to have “A Christmas Story” with the kid who wants a bb gun for Christmas, but whose parent’s won’t let him get it, because he’ll shoot his eye out; CBS always seems to show all the classics: “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” “Frosty the Snowman,” and “Charlie Brown Christmas.”  ABC Family has the 25 days of Christmas, so they’re running just about every show ever made about Christmas.  And I’ve seen a few channels showing “A Christmas Carol.”  Whether it’s the 1984 version with George C. Scott or the 2009 version with Jim Carrey’s voice, or the Disney version, or the Muppet version, “A Christmas Carol” has certainly stood the test of time.  Almost any person from a certain age onward can tell you about the three spirits that visit Ebenezer Scrooge to try to get him to change.

            We hear a lot about, not about the spirit of Christmas past, present, or to come, but the Holy Spirit in our first and second readings today.  In the first reading, Isaiah prophesies the Messiah as one filled with the spirit because he is anointed by the Lord “to bring glad tidings to the poor, to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to captives, and release to the prisoners, to announce a year of favor from the LORD and a day of vindication by our God.”  The time of the Messiah was one where the Spirit of God, or ruach elohim, would be very active, especially in the Messiah.  But it would also be active in all of the People of God, as Joel prophesies.  Joel writes, “Then afterward I will pour out my spirit upon all mankind…in those days I will pour out my spirit.”  This is what St. Peter references on Pentecost, as the Spirit descends, as the proof that Jesus is the Messiah.  St. Paul even says in the second reading: “Do not quench the Spirit.”

            We also see the Spirit at work in the Gospel through St. John the Baptist.  Of course, with St. John’s fire and passion, the Jews, priests, and Levites confuse John for the Messiah.  But John responds that he is the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy, the same one we heard last week, “‘the voice of one crying out in the desert, “make straight the way of the Lord.”’”  But John the Baptist is part of the sign that the fullness of time, the manifestation of the Messiah, is upon them.

            We ourselves live in this fullness of time, the time of the Kingdom of God, fully present in the Person of Jesus Christ, but not fully present yet on earth until He returns in glory to judge the living and the dead.  We ourselves have received of that same spirit, the Spirit of the Lord prophesied by Isaiah and Joel.  We ourselves have the same Spirit, granted, perhaps in a different way, as St. John the Baptist so that we can prepare the way and point out the Messiah, Jesus, as he comes among us.

            We first received that gift of the Spirit at our baptism.  We received another outpouring of the Spirit at our confirmation.  And we can receive the Spirit daily; we don’t just have to wait until Pentecost to pray for a greater outpouring and recognition of the gifts of the Spirit.

            How can we tell if we’re using the gifts of the Spirit?  How can we tell if we are actualizing the potential that God has given us?  Isaiah gives us a pretty good list.  Are we bringing glad tidings to the poor: do we assist the poor with our words of blessing, rather than calling them lazy?  Do we, when we can, share our material resources with the poor, even those who might be standing with the sign at the corner of the street?  There are many who use the excuse, “Well, he’s just going to get drunk with that money.”  If that’s a serious concern, go buy a sandwich or something, and drive back to give it to him or her.  On the other hand, at the final judgment, I don’t think God will blame you for giving money to a man who was poor, even if he does use it for alcohol. 

            Are we healing the brokenhearted?  Do our words build others up, or do they tear others down?  This is something that is very easy to fall into, but so important.  I’m sure we’ve all had a time when we’ve benefited from a kind word said just at the right moment.  You never know when that moment is going to be, so if we’re building each other up, not giving false compliments but truly trying to help others with our words, then we can be that blessing to others.  St. James says in his letter, “If anyone thinks he is religious and does not bridle his tongue…his religion is vain.”

            Are we freeing the prisoners?  No, this does not mean we start attempting jailbreaks.  But we probably each know at least one person, in addition to ourselves, who are held captive by a particular sin or addiction.  Are we helping them to find freedom by helping them end the things which lead them to sin or which enable them in their addictions?  God wants us to be free in Him, not enslaved to sin.  Are we on the side of slavery or freedom?

            God has anointed us and given us the Spirit, the robe of salvation, the mantle of justice.  The Spirit is our diadem that adorns us bridegrooms, or the jewels that adorn the brides.  With that Spirit, if we use it, we can proclaim the Messiah, just like St. John the Baptist.  We are called to be the ones crying out in the desert of sin: make straight the way of the Lord.

The Comfort of the Truth

Second Sunday of Advent

            “Comfort, give comfort to my people, says your God.”  When I heard the word comfort, and try to think of what comforts me, I think of a cold, snowy evening, sitting by the fireplace, the living room lit only by a few flickering flames from candles, drinking my family recipe of hot spiced cider, and watching a favorite television show or movie.  For others it might be a hot tub, or a warm beach, or even just a pint of Häagen Dazs.  Or maybe you’ve got your own sense of what comforts you that is radically different from the examples I just listed. 

            It’s beautiful to hear the words of Isaiah the prophet, telling us that God wants to bring us comfort.  “Speak tenderly,” he says, “and proclaim to her that her service is at an end; her guilt is expiated…Go up on a high mountain…cry out at the top of your voice…Here is your God!  […] Like a shepherd he feeds his flock; in his arms he gathers the lambs, carrying them in his bosom, and leading the ewes with care.”  Who doesn’t want to know that the Lord is going to speak tenderly to us, to proclaim that our service is at an end, and that our guilt is no more?  Who doesn’t want the Lord to come as a shepherd, feeding his flock, gathering us in his arms and carrying us close to his chest?

            So what do we do with the middle part of the first reading and our Gospel?  We heard twice, “A voice cries out: In the desert prepare the way of the LORD!  Make straight in the wasteland a highway for our God!”  We have traditionally associated that proclamation with St. John the Baptist who, as St. Mark wrote in today’s Gospel passage, “appeared in the desert proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.”  If any of you have seen the movie “Jesus of Nazareth” by Franco Zeffirelli, you can picture how enthused John the Baptist was about his message.  In the movie, John the Baptist is screaming at the top of his lungs: Repent!  And he’s only wearing a camel’s hair tunic and a leather belt around his waist, eating locusts and honey.  In fact, he screams so much that Herod has him arrested for preaching against his so-called marriage to his brother’s wife.  This is not the warm, pastoral scene that Isaiah has at the end of our first reading.  And it certainly doesn’t seem like the comfort that Isaiah prophesies at the beginning of our first reading.  So why is the figure of John the Baptist, the one crying out in the wilderness: Prepare the Way of the Lord, sandwiched between those two soft images?

            What John preaches is the truth.  As St. Augustine says in one of His sermons, Jesus is the word, and John is the voice.  Jesus is what is being proclaimed, and John is the one proclaiming it.  John is preaching repentance, which is the beginning of the comfort that God wants to give.  “But change is hard!  Change isn’t comfortable!”  Change can be difficult.  We’re seeing that as we slowly get used to our new translations, saying “And with your spirit” instead of “And also with you.”  But what is most comfortable is the truth.  The truth is precisely what gives comfort.  It may not always seem like it does, but if Jesus is the Truth, as he says (I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life), then when we receive the truth, we receive Jesus, who is the shepherd, drawing us close to his bosom, and leading us with care, from lies to truth, from darkness to light, from slavery to sin to freedom in God’s commandments. 

            It is true, sometimes the truth hurts, and we don’t usually associate that hurt with comfort.  But that painful truth is like knowing the reality that our infected wound has to be drained.  It is going to be painful at first, probably very painful, but it will actually be comforting to know that the infection is being treated, and the wound will heal properly. 

            So when John is preaching repentance, turning away from sins and being faithful to God, he is bringing the comfort of God.  Because it is only when we recognize that we need to turn back to the Lord, when we recognize the truth, that we can actually start going in the right direction with the help of God, rather than wandering off by ourselves away from the kingdom God has prepared for us, where the fullness of comfort is present. 

            We all need that message that John the Baptist preaches.  We need to hear, time and time again, “Repent!  For the Kingdom of God is at hand!”  We need the truth.  Otherwise we get stuck with the mentality: my sins aren’t that bad!  It’s not like I murdered someone!  It was just a little gossip; I just cheated a little bit; it’s just a little pornography every now and then; I’ll give back the money I took at my next paycheck.  If our mentality, no matter what sins we struggle with, is, “I’m really ok; I’m not that bad,” then we will not receive the comfort that God wants to give us, the comfort of living how God has created us: for Him in love, and with Him eternally in heaven.  If we do not repent, through the sacrament of Reconciliation, then God won’t be able to say to us, “your service is at an end, your guilt is expiated,” because we will have closed ourselves off to the mercy and love that God wants to communicate to us.  Next Sunday, on 11 December, we’ll once again host a Communal Celebration of the Sacrament of Reconciliation with Individual Confessions, with priests from around the Eastern part of Lansing offering you the sacramental grace and peace that comes from hearing the words and knowing the reality: your sins are forgiven; go in peace.  That’s the comfort the Lord wants to give you.  That’s the tenderness that waits for our response.  How will you answer?  Where will you find comfort?

"Wake, O Wake and Sleep No Longer"

First Sunday of Advent

            A week ago today I went on a KAIROS retreat with some of the students from Lansing Catholic as an adult leader, as well as to take some retreat time for myself.  It’s a great retreat, focusing on the love of God, and from my time spent with the students, I know it was very beneficial to them.  I was a little nervous, however, that, in leading the retreat I wouldn’t get time to get spiritually refreshed myself.  How wrong I was!!

            We all need times to refresh, to charge our batteries, to start over anew.  Today marks the beginning of the Advent season, the time of preparation for the coming of Christ.  Besides beginning with the new translations, we are also beginning a new liturgical year, a new year of grace.  While I doubt that anyone stayed up late last night, waiting for midnight and the new liturgical year to come, and we certainly didn’t have a ball of lights at the top of the bell tower, we should be excited about this new liturgical year, because it is another chance for all of us to refocus ourselves on knowing that we are loved by God and loving God in return.  It is a chance for us to make a new liturgical year resolution to grow closer to God, through His Son, Jesus Christ, in the power of the Holy Spirit. 

            This is our chance to recognize that, over the past year, we have wandered away from God, and not been as loving and faithful to Him as we should have been.  In our first reading, Isaiah asks why this should be so.  He writes, “You, LORD, are our father, our redeemer you are named forever.  Why do you let us wander, O LORD, from your ways, and harden our hearts so that we fear you not?”  Maybe we have asked this question ourselves after sinning.  Maybe we have wondered why God lets us turn away from Him.  The answer is simple, and yet profound: because God loves us.

            It might seem strange and counterintuitive to think that the reason God allows us to turn away from Him is because He loves us.  But, what is love if it is not free?  We don’t love because we are forced to.  We love because we make a choice to, even when that choice is very difficult.  Real love includes the possibility that the other will not return that love back, with all the pain and heartache that can bring.  But, because there is always the option of not having that love returned, when that love is returned, it makes the recipient even more grateful that the beloved chose to return that love to the lover.  God, as our ultimate lover, allows us the freedom, something only humans have, to say yes or no to Him, to return that love, or hold it back.

            It is that love which increases the anticipation of waiting for the beloved to return.  Now, it’s pretty easy to tell that we’re waiting to celebrate Christmas during this Advent season.  We are preparing our hearts, allowing them to expand with more love, so that we might recall Christ’s birth with even more joy than last year.  You can’t help but notice this, as the Mall fills with holly and ivy, statues of Santa Claus, and nativity scenes.  We are waiting to celebrate Christ’s first coming. 

But we are also waiting for Christ to return again at the end of time, to create a new heaven and a new earth, so that Christ’s victory over sin and death might be manifest, not just in our souls, but in the whole created order, including the natural and supernatural.  That is why, during these first few weeks of Advent, we will hear readings about Christ returning in glory.  That is why we hear today, “‘Be watchful!  Be alert!  You do not know when the time will come.’”  It is not because the Church wants to scare you into doing what’s right.  The end of the world should not be scary for us, unless we are not returning the love that the Father has given us through our words and actions.  The time of Christ’s return in glory should be a time that we anticipate, as much as a child anticipates the celebration of Christmas.  It should excite us because that is the time when Christ, the first love of our hearts, will return to unite His faithful to Himself to be one with Him forever.  The words of a beautiful Advent hymn, “Wake, O Wake, And Sleep No Longer” help us to understand this, as the Church is personified in Zion: “Zion hears the sound of singing; Her heart is thrilled with sudden longing: She stirs, and wakes, and stands prepared.  Christ her friend, and lord, and lover, Her star and sun and strong redeemer—At last his mighty voice is heard.”  Are our hearts filled with sudden longing for Jesus?  Do our ears long to hear His voice?

Advent is the time to start anew in this new liturgical year; to reaffirm our love for Christ.  Will this be just another Advent like so many before, where we are just concerned with getting ready for the parties and the family coming over and buying all the right presents, or will we use this season to renew our love for Christ, and take time for Him as we celebrate with friends, co-workers, and family?  Will our greatest desire be for the newest toys, the newest things, or will it be for Jesus, our friend, and lord, and lover?  “‘May he not come suddenly and find you sleeping.’”  “Wake, O wake, and sleep no longer, For he who calls you is no stranger: Awake, God’s own Jerusalem.”

¡Que viva Cristo Rey!

Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ the King

            American’s seem to have a love/hate relationship with monarchies.  The very founding of our country was based upon the fact that we wanted a republican democracy, where, instead of the King of England, we would elect representatives to enact laws, representatives that we could then vote out of office.  We love our rugged independence, so much so that, in order to prevent even coming close to a monarchy, we only allow our elected presidents to serve two terms.

            On the other hand, the common idea of the “Golden Age” of American, despite all it’s trials and tribulations, was the time of Camelot (a monarchial reference) when we had John F. Kennedy as president, and Jackie as First Lady, whom many considered, and some still consider, America’s royalty.  And how many people stayed up to watch the Royal Wedding of Prince William and Catherine Middleton, Duchess of Cambridge last May?  There’s something about royalty that draws us in.

            And so, as we celebrate the Solemnity of our Lord Jesus Christ the King we probably have mixed feelings.  On the one hand, I think we’re still enamored with the idea of a king in royal robes with a stately court.  Some of us love the idea of having a king for whom we can offer our lives.  It’s a very personal way of service.  On the other hand, some of us don’t like to think of Jesus as a king, however benevolent.  We would much rather have democracy, and choice of the people.  Monarchies seem, to these people, to be contrary to the very dignity of the human person.

            The history of this feast probably only further solidifies each camp’s position.  Pope Pius XI created this celebration in his Encyclical Quam primas in 1925, in response to growing trends of nationalism and secularism, reminding Catholics that, while they are legitimately part of a nation, there is a high authority, the King of kings, to whom we owe all our loyalty and fealty.  To be honest, then, there’s bad news for both those who love monarchy, and those who hate it.

            The bad news for those who hate monarchy is that Jesus is a King.  He’s a benevolent King, but He is the King of kings.  We cannot elect Him out of office if we don’t like His policies.  We cannot veto His teachings when they make us uncomfortable or when we dislike them.  We have the choice of accepting His rule over our entire lives: marriage, sexuality, work, charity, liturgy, justice, etc., or rejecting it.  Of course, as our Creator, our King knows what is best for us and what will make us truly happy, so following the decrees of the King is really in our best interest, because our King is not moved by greed, the desire for power or popularity, or any ill will, but rules by love, which is always faithful to the truth.  At the end of our lives, when we are judged, we will be part of a kingdom.  We will either be subjects of Christ the King in Purgatory or Heaven, or we will be subjects of Satan in Hell.  Those are the two options, without middle ground.  So part of us may have to get used to the idea of being in a monarchy.

            For those who love monarchy, the bad news is that our King is not a king like others.  He is indeed seated on a throne, as the Book of Revelation tells us, but, as our readings tell us today, He is a Shepherd-King.  He does not rule with a scepter, but with the shepherd’s staff.  His crown is the crown of thorns, the marks still being born on his body of his love.  All of our readings this year focus on Christ as the Shepherd, and this needs to instruct our understanding of Christ as King.

            In the first reading, the Lord speaks through Ezekiel the prophet saying, “I myself will look after and tend my sheep…I will rescue them from every place where they were scattered when it was cloudy and dark.  I myself will pasture my sheep; I myself will give them rest.”  Our King will seek out the lost sheep, will bring them back, and will heal the sick sheep.  I’m told by sheep farmers that sheep cannot be chased by a shepherd.  They will simply run away, farther from the safety that the shepherd provides.  But sheep can and want to be led.  If the shepherd approaches slowly and leads the flock, they will follow.  The Good Shepherd, as Jesus tells us in the Gospel according to John, lays down his life for His sheep.  Our King, our Shepherd-King, so loves us, his sheep, that when the wolves of sin and death and evil come to attack us, He does battle with them to protect us.  And, having protected us, he gives us rest in green pastures, refreshes our souls, and sets a feast before us so that we only receive goodness and kindness, and dwell in the Lord’s house, the Kingdom of our Shepherd-King.

            But, our shepherd cares for sheep, not goats.  So we have to examine our conscience to see in which group we fall.  Because at the end of time, as we hear in the Gospel, our Shepherd-King will separate the sheep from the goats.  The sheep, those who ministered to Jesus in the least of His brothers and sisters, will go on to eternal reward.  The goats, those who neglected Jesus in the least of His brothers and sisters, will go on to eternal punishment. 

            Whether we like it or not, Jesus is King of the Universe, and all things fall under His rule.  But, our King is not a despot or a tyrant.  He is a Shepherd, who wants to protect us and care for us, leading us to good pasture, if only we will follow Him.  And how we follow Him is made known by the way we live out our faith.  May our lives and our words echo those of the Mexican martyrs who chose to be executed by firing squad rather than deny the authority of Christ over all parts of their lives: ¡Que viva Cristo Rey!  Long live Christ the King!

More Precious than Money

Thirty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

            I could see the gears moving in your heads, gentlemen, as the first reading was read.  I could see the checklist being created for your wife or your girlfriend, as the case may be: “value beyond pearls; unfailing prize; brings good, not evil; works with loving hands; reaches out her hands to the poor; fears the Lord.”  And then we heard in the Psalm, “your wife shall be like a fruitful vine.” 

            If we were listening closely to the other readings, we heard that they are more about the end of the world.  St. Paul warning the Thessalonians not to grow complacent but to remain as “children of the light” the midst of a “corrupt and depraved generation.”  We heard Jesus talking about His return and judging people based upon their talents and how they have used them.  We may be wondering what the first reading has to do with the second and third, if it does at all!

            When we hear the parable of the talents, we probably think about those gifts that God has given us and how we can use them well.  A talent was worth about $1,000, no small sum!  We might thing about our intellectual abilities, our athletic abilities, our friendliness, our cheerful disposition, our ability to work well with others, etc., etc. and how valuable they are and how we should use them for God’s greater glory and for the benefit of our brothers and sisters.  But people, too, are great gifts that God gives to us to help us be holy and to give glory to God.  People, too, are worth so much, much more than even $1,000.  Now, we shouldn’t trade people like the man did in the parable.  But we should recognize how much God, the Master of our lives, has given us in the people He has placed in our lives.  Whether it’s a wife, or a husband, a family member, a neighbor or a friend, a coach, a teacher, or anyone else, those people have helped us to become who we are.

            How many times have we relied upon someone for their generosity, a shoulder to cry on, a hug to comfort, wise words to instruct us?  How many times have we thought to ourselves, “thank God so-and-so was here, or else I don’t think I could have made it through this trial!”?  God entrusts to us people, as he entrusted talents to his servants, some of whom depend on us, others are the ones upon whom we depend.  But they are precious, and when Jesus returns to judge us, He will certainly judge based upon who we have utilized the great gift of caring, wise, and loving people.  As part of our examination of conscience, we can ask ourselves: Do I appreciate my children?  Do I show it?  Do I appreciate my parents, if they are still living?  Do I care for them?  Do I take advice from trusted friends, even when it means a painful change in my life?  Do I learn from those who try to teach me?  Do I thank the people I find invaluable in my life?

            Because so many of the things that we receive are disposable, it can be hard to not let a disposable culture seep into the way we treat people.  There’s always a new technological advance, so we just move on to the newest phone, tablet, computer, TV, appliance, or other material thing.  When it fails to serve us well, we get rid of it.  Sadly, our country tends to treat people the same way.  If a child will be too much of a burden to carry in the womb for 9 months, or if it doesn’t serve the lifestyle that we want, we throw it away.  If seniors are constantly sick and are seemingly contributing nothing to society, we throw them away.

            Rather than looking upon them as burdens, we need to recognize that these are talents that God entrusts to us.  These are the precious items that God wants us to develop and with which we are to grow in relationship.  St. John of the Cross says that at the end of our lives we will be judged on our loves.  Real love is always directed towards a person, and so our judgment will be based upon our treatment of others. 

A week from Thursday we as a nation celebrate Thanksgiving.  And while the word “thanks” is in the name of the day itself, it can be very easy to get caught up with cooking, eating, watching the Lions, eating, doing dishes and cleaning up, eating.  We should remember to give thanks, at our Thanksgiving Day Mass at 9 at St. Thomas, and/or at home with family and friends.  Otherwise we are like the useless servant who didn’t utilize the great wealth the Master had bestowed upon him in giving him that talent, but buried in the field. 

God has blessed our parish and city with so much!  We have a great community of faith; an amazing parish school; wonderful parishioners from infants in the womb to our oldest members; a great university with great men’s and women’s athletics; and so many other ways that are known to you and God alone.  What will be our response to the talents, especially the people, that God has placed in our lives.  Will we bury our talents?  If we do, then at the judgment we will hear, “‘You wicked, lazy servant!  Throw this useless servant into the darkness outside, where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth.’”  But, if we are grateful for the people in our lives, and capitalize on the blessings that they are to us in so many ways, then, as children of the light, we will hear, “‘Well done, my good and faithful servant.  Come, share your Master’s joy.’”