No Sour-Faced Saints

Second Sunday after Epiphany
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  One of the things I often preach and sometimes counsel in the confessional is how helpful ascetical practices can be.  Though forgotten by most, the Church asks us to observe all Fridays, except when it is a solemnity, the highest level of feast day, as days of penance.  This traditionally has meant abstinence from meat, but can be observed in other ways.  I have tried to encourage, and observe myself, the Ember Days: four times of the year when do extra days of abstinence and fasting.  Fasting and abstinence from meat help to remind our bodies that they don’t always get what they want, even when what they want is good, and fasting and abstinence can be especially helpful in living a chaste life, though it isn’t a silver bullet.  As the Lord said in the Gospels, we fast while the bridegroom is away, waiting for his return.  We also fast for one hour before we receive Holy Communion, as a way to prepare our bodies, minds, and hearts to receive our Lord in the Most Blessed Sacrament of the Eucharist.
    Catholics are often known for their penances, and it can be a good witness to the world that even the best things in life pass away; only God and what is rooted in Him is eternal.  Yet, our Lord, though He did fast, did not always restrict Himself.  In today’s Gospel, in particular, we hear about the Savior attending a wedding.  And not only did He attend a wedding, when they had the sad misfortune of running out of wine (a very sad misfortune, indeed!), He created more.  And the wine wasn’t just common, likely similar to that which they had been drinking, but was excellent, choice wine, as attested to by the chief steward.  

Hillaire Belloc

    I’m not saying Christ was a party animal, but He knew how to rejoice.  He inspired St. Paul to write to the Romans, “rejoice in hope…Rejoice with those who rejoice.”  Living the Catholic life does not mean that we have to be sad and downcast all the time.  St. Teresa of Avila said something to the effect of, “God save us from sour-faced saints.”  There is a rightful place for rejoicing in the Catholic life.  The Catholic historian, Hillaire Belloc wrote, “Wherever the Catholic sun doth shine, / There’s always laughter and good red wine. / At least I’ve always found it so. / Benedicamus Domino!”  
    In this time before we enter into Lent, it’s good to take advantage of the joy of the Epiphany, which overflows from 6 January and continues to guide us in these weeks before Septuagesimatide.  On Sundays and Feast Days, especially if it’s a patron saint of ours, we should rejoice and have a more joyful mood and food, because the Lord has risen from the dead (Sundays) and we have brothers and sisters who are already in heaven and who not only give us an example, but intercede for us before the throne of grace to help us get there, too.
    As Catholics, we can sometimes flirt with the heresy of Manichaeism.  This heresy, which the Dominicans have fought so hard to combat, teaches that the material world is evil, while the spiritual world is good.  The Dominicans combatted this ever-present heresy by living an ascetical life, to show that one should not abuse the things of the world, but they also used the things of the world well and rejoiced in what God had created because He created the world good.  They preached against the excess of, for example, drunkenness, but also preached against the opposite excess of teetotaling.  Wine, the psalms say, gives warmth to the heart and joy to the face, and can be used to help us have a good laugh and enjoy the lighter side of life.

    Sometimes we need Heath Ledger’s Joker character from Batman to ask us: Why so serious?  Are there horrible things in our world?  Yes.  Does sin run rampant?  Yes.  Do tragedies strike us and our friends and cause legitimate sorrow?  Yes.  But there is also good in the world.  There are also people who choose virtue over vice.  God blesses us and our friends with so many good things each day, if we are attentive.  And God has overcome sin and death and opened for us the path to eternal salvation.  And if there’s any reason to rejoice, it certainly is that!  The war has been won!  Yes, little skirmishes still have to be fought, but Christ is victorious!  
    Even on the slopes of Mount Doom, Samwise reminds Frodo about the joys of home to temper the last, difficult steps of the journey to destroy the ring.  Joys, even simple joys, give us strength to continue the fight and recharge our batteries.  If all we ever do is muddle through, we’re missing out on the good things the Lord wants us to experience: the hug of a loved one or friend; the texture and flavor of a juicy steak or a nice strip of bacon; the sweet, silky mouthfeel of a fine bourbon; the smell and warmth of a fire, whether in the fireplace or outside on a cool, summer night.  Are there times where we need to give up those joys?  Yes.  But to everything there is a season, and a time for everything under the heavens, including joy.
    So, while we must do penance and cooperate in Christ’s own suffering, do not forget to embrace joy and the good things that God gives us in this life.  “Rejoice with those who rejoice.”  Drink from the good wine that the Lord has made for us, Jesus Christ, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit, live and reign for ever and ever.  Amen.  

A Polyvalent Prophecy

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

    In one scene in the “Star Wars” prequel movie “Revenge of the Sith” (Episode III, for those keeping track), there is an interaction between Obi Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu, and Yoda, all Jedi masters as they talk about Anakin’s assignment to spy on Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, due to a concern about how much power he is holding for himself.  Master Windu doesn’t trust Anakin (which turns out to be a good intuition, as Anakin, turned Darth Vader, will kill Master Windu).  Obi Wan asks, “With all due respect, Master, is he not the chosen one?  Is he not to destroy the Sith and bring balance to the force?”  Mace responds, “So the prophecy says.”  Yoda then chimes in, “A prophecy that misread could have been.”  Of course, for Star Wars fans, we know that Anakin’s son, Luke, will turn his father back to the light, and Darth Vader will kill Emperor Palpatine and bring balance to the force.
    We hear the prophecy of Isaiah today in our first reading, and we likely immediately direct that prophecy to Jesus.  And that is a fair reading.  Jesus is the servant who reveals the glory of God, who brings back Israel to her God, and is the light to the nations, as Simeon will say almost verbatim at the Presentation of the Lord, “A light to reveal you to the nations and the glory of your people Israel.”
    But while this prophecy is not misread, when prophecies talk about Christ, they can also refer to us.  And this makes sense, since through Holy Baptism God unites us to Christ and makes us members of Christ’s Mystical Body, the Church.  With the power of the Holy Spirit, given to us in Baptism and poured out afresh into us through Confirmation, God calls us to show His glory, and gather all His lost children back to Him.  God makes us a light to the nations to proclaim His salvation, a light that we should not hide under a bushel basket, but let shine so that others may come to know Christ and His salvation.

An icon of St. John the Baptist

    We do this by living like St. John the Baptist.  Yes, God called the Precursor to point out the Lamb of God on the banks of the River Jordan, and to call people to repentance because the Kingdom of God is at hand.  But that is our call, too.  God calls us to prepare the way for the Lord.  God calls us to point out Jesus, the Lamb of God, wherever we see Him.  As disciples of the Lord, we should recognize the way that He works, both from our knowledge of Scripture and the teachings of the Church, but also through our own experiences of how God has worked in and through us.  For someone who is not Catholic or maybe not even Christian, our understanding of Christ and how He works can help others believe in Him.  
    But God does not only call us to be like St. John the Baptist.  He calls us to be like St. Paul the Apostle, called by Christ Jesus by the will of God.  God may not call us to travel around as much as St. Paul, or even to write letters like St. Paul (though sometimes God can call us to communicate what God is saying through writing), but through Confirmation we have all been called to be an apostle.  An apostle in the ancient Greek world was like an emissary or ambassador, one who spoke for a person with authority, from the combination of the Greek words 𝛼𝜋𝜊, meaning off or forth, and 𝜎𝜏𝜀𝜆𝜆𝜀𝜄𝜈, meaning to send.  We should see ourselves as emissaries of the grace and peace of God, bringing it to those we meet by what we say and by what we do.  
    Too often, I think we can fall into the trap of thinking that all those holy things happened a long time ago.  St. John the Baptist was just a particular guy for his particular time.  St. Paul was just a particular guy for his particular time.  Or even that Jesus was so unique that no one can be like Him.  True, God does call people for particular times, and Jesus, as the Son of God, uniquely fulfills God’s prophecies about how He would save His people.  But God has made us for these times.  And God calls us to continue to complete the work of Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit.  The world is not yet how it should be.  The Kingdom of God has not finished installing in our world.  Can we do it ourselves?  No.  But with the foundation of the power of the Holy Spirit, and armed with the Gospel of Christ and the teachings Christ has made clear through His Mystical Body, the Church, we can cooperate in the work of salvation and bring Christ to full stature, as St. Paul says.
    It is as St. Teresa of Avila says:
 

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.
 

Will we continue the mission of Christ?  Will we, also, fulfill the prophecies of old so that the glory of God can be revealed and His salvation can reach the ends of the earth?

All that Baptism Entails

Feast of the Baptism of the Lord
    I’m not the biggest fan of cheese.  Yes, I’ll eat pizza, but it usually has to have some meat toppings on it.  The same goes for lasagna: I’ll eat it, but if it’s meat lasagna it’s much more enjoyable.  Some of my dislike for cheese is taste, but my body also doesn’t agree with it.  So if I go out to eat, I usually have to check if there is cheese, for example, on a salad, or in a particular dish where it can be removed.
    While picking and choosing at a meal does not mean a big deal usually (after all, Burger King ran with the slogan “Have it your way”), when it comes to the sacrament of baptism, the same does not hold true.  Baptism does come as a customizable sacrament.  One cannot pick and choose which parts of baptism one wants, and which parts one would rather not come with the meal.

    Perhaps not as much at this parish, but always a perennial danger, is picking which parts of baptism we want, and ignoring the others.  As a reminder, baptism washes away original sin, opens for us the path to salvation, makes us an adopted child of God, and make us a member of the Church.  Everyone takes seriously the first two effect of baptism.  In my fifteen years of being a priest, parents know that their child has original sin, which is not a personal sin but a state of being opposed to God.  As St. Paul says, before baptism we were enemies of God (see Romans 5:10).  That is what we mean by original sin.  Another effect is that baptism also opens the possibility of salvation, by granting us, for the first time, sanctifying grace: the grace that makes us holy, which allows us to stand in the presence of God who is Holiness Himself.  Before baptism we lack sanctifying grace.  While God can choose to grant sanctifying grace to whomever He wishes and however He wises, the only way we know that God gives us the grace that makes heaven possible is baptism.  Again, parents want their child to go to heaven, and realize that we never know what can happen, so they make baptism a priority.
    But part and parcel with the washing away of original sin and the opening of the possibility of heaven is becoming an adopted child of God and a member of the Church.  These two effects connect with each other because, when one becomes an adopted child of God, one becomes a part of the Mystical Body of Christ which is the Church.  To belong to Christ means to belong to the society He formed which helps us live out the call to continue in sanctifying grace.  Even those who receive baptism outside the Catholic Church (as long as their baptism is administered validly) are connected to the Catholic Church and only need to be received into full communion, rather than baptized.  
    Receiving adoption from God entails trying to live a Godly life.  St. Paul also says, “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.”  That is the goal, or should be, of every Catholic.  Our actions should be the actions that Christ would take were He in our circumstances.  They way I work, the way I rest and recreate, the way I live in a family, the friends I choose, what I eat and drink: all should be what Christ would do in my circumstances.  St. Paul talks about putting to death the old man (sinful man), and setting our minds on what is above (the new man, Christ) so that heaven is the natural consequence that follows the way we lived our lives.
    The last effect, becoming a member of the Church, also entails certain rights and responsibilities.  We have the right to the other sacraments, as long as we are well-disposed to receive them.  We have the right to expect the Church to help us form children in the faith (though as an assistant, not as a surrogate parent).  We have the right to make our needs known to the pastors of the Church–from me, your local pastor, to the bishop, and even to the pope, should it be necessary.  But every right carries with it a responsibility–the duty to support the Church financially according to our means; the duty to attend Mass each Sunday and holyday unless sick, caring for the sick, or work necessitates our absence; the duty to grow in our understanding of the faith according to our God-given intellectual gifts.  This last part is what parents usually ask to exclude from the sacramental meal, or at least to set it on the side so they can add it if they want it, and only in the amounts they want.
    But baptism is all or nothing.  Either we choose all the effects of baptism, and all that those effects entail for the person and, in the case of infants, for his or her parents, or we should not choose it at all.  A parent’s eternal salvation does not depend on his or her child remaining Catholic after adulthood, but is impacted by how much the parent raises the child in the faith while the child is still under the parent’s guidance.  Skipping Mass on a Sunday or holyday for no good reason not only harms the parent (skipping Mass is a mortal sin), but compounds when a person also has the responsibility of getting a young person to Mass on those days who cannot go on his or her own.  
    And the judgement of my soul connects to how I make sure that you understand what baptism means and how it affects you.  I do this through baptism formation classes before you have your firstborn, and occasional homilies like this where I remind you just how weighty a choice it is to have your child baptized.  Baptism is so beautiful, and I was honored to celebrate 32 baptisms last calendar year, but it is also my hope that each of those whom I baptized continue to practice the faith to the best of his or her ability.  

    Baptism is not a customizable sacrament.  We cannot ask the Divine Chef not to include certain parts that we don’t like, or set them to the side.  Baptism means new life and sanctification, and is the ordinary requirement for salvation.  But it also means making the life of Christ our own and living up to what it means to be a part of the one Church Jesus Christ founded.  May our celebration of the Baptism of the Lord today remind all of us just how important and weighty baptism is, so that we live up to the call that each of receives in baptism: to turn away from sin; to make choices that lead us to heaven; to live as a child of God; and to live as that child of God in the Catholic Church.

When I Call on God's Name

Holy Name of Jesus

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Recently, Vince Gill, the country music star, was honored with the Country Music Association Willie Nelson Lifetime Achievement Award at the 59th Annual CMA Awards.  Vince is known for his beautiful tenor voice, and numerous hits, including “Go Rest High On That Mountain.”
    But he also has another hit song entitled, “When I Call Your Name,” where the refrain sings: “Oh, the lonely sound of my voice calling / Is driving me insane. / And just like rain, the tears keep falling / But nobody answers when I call your name.”  As we celebrate the Holy Name of Jesus, it struck me that we have a God who, when we call upon His Name, listens and responds.  It’s almost the antithesis of Vince Gill’s sad, country song.
    Indeed, the phrase “nobody answers” reminded me of the story of Elijah in 1 Kings, chapter 18, where Elijah, on Mount Carmel, had challenged the prophets of Baal, the pagan god, to consume the sacrifice they had created without lighting the fire.  The prophets of Baal called out from morning to noon.  They hopped around the altar, and even slashed themselves and caused their own blood to flow.  But the sacred author notes, pithily, “but there was no sound, no one answering, no one listening.”  
    God listens to us every time we call upon Him, especially when we call out with the Holy Name of His Son, Jesus Christ.  Our Lord promised in the Upper Room on the night of the Last Supper: “‘Whatever you ask in my name, I will do, so that the Father may be glorified in me.’”  God responds to His Name, like a loving parent responds when a child calls out.  We should not take this privilege lightly, and use God’s Holy Name in vain, but neither should we never call upon the Holy Name of God and miss out on opportunities where He wants to shower us with His love, grace, and gifts.
    Does this mean that when I go to Meijer, and buy a PowerBall ticket, as long as I pray in God’s Name for the numbers that I will win the jackpot?  Certainly not, not even if you plan to share a large chunk of money with St. Matthew parish (which you should, if you win the lottery, by the way).  God’s Name is not a magic word that forces God to do whatever we wish.  God always answers our prayers, but as another country song sings, “Sometimes the answer is no.”  
    Still, it can be tough when we have faith, when we call upon the name of the Lord, and we don’t get what we want.  It can feel like the lyrics, “nobody answers when I call your name.”  So what is going on?  Is our Lord not living up to His Word from the Last Supper discourse?
    If we are children of our loving Father, then we should only will what God wills.  The Savior spoke these words to the Apostles, His closest friends.  And while at that point, they weren’t all set on doing God’s will, and they would also struggle at times (St. Peter is a prime example of this), after they were filled with the Holy Spirit, they became more attentive to doing God’s will rather than their own.
    It is childish, not childlike to cry when God does not give us what we want every time we want it.  God calls us to childlike trust in Him, but not to childish temper tantrums if we do not get our way.  Ours should be the attitude of Job: “‘The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord!’”  When we put on that mindset, we can better accept and understand when God does not give us exactly what we want, even when what we want is something good, like the life of a child, or the cure of a parent, or even basic financial stability.  
    But we also need to accept that sometimes God answers our prayers when we call on His Name, but we are not ready to hear His affirmative answer.  There is the parable about the drowning man who was on his roof, due to a flood.  A rowboat comes by to pick him up, but the man says, “No, I’ve prayed to God; He will save me.”  A few minutes later a motorboat comes by to pick him up, but the man says, “No, I’ve prayed to God; He will save me.”  A few minutes later a helicopter comes and lowers a rope, and the troopers shout down that they can take the man to safety, but he says, “No, I’ve prayed to God; He will save me.”  The helicopter leaves, and the man drowns.  When the man appears before God, the man complains, “I had faith in you, and prayed to you for safety, but you let me drown!”  God replies, “I sent you a rowboat, a motorboat, and a helicopter.  What more could I have done?”  If we don’t have a familiarity with the way God works, we can miss out on how God answers our prayers.
    The Holy Name of Jesus is not only the name by which we are saved, it is the name that demonstrates the love of God.  When we call on the Holy Name with faith, we can be assured that God will listen to us, and that He will answer us, even if the answer is not always the one we want, in the way we want, or in the time we want.  
    Life can sometimes seem like a sad country song, where the house is empty, our loved ones have left us, and nobody answers when we call their name.  But for us, as disciples of Christ, “Our help is the name of the Lord, who made heaven and earth”: the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

Drawn to Christ and Changed

Epiphany of the Lord

    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen].  I remember my first time I traveled to Rome, when I was a seminarian in the fall of 2004.  My classmates and I had flown from St. Paul, Minnesota, and arrived in Rome in the morning.  We took a train to Termini (the main train station), and then took the Metro to a stop near the convent we had to stay at because our rooms were not ready yet at the study abroad house.  The convent was just on the other side of Bernini’s colonnade at the Basilica of St. Peter.  I remember walking up the Via della Conciliazione and being amazed at the magnitude and beauty of St. Peter’s.  I thought the US Congress building was large; St. Peter’s is so much larger!  And then I walked inside, and though so exhausted from jet lag that I would soon start falling asleep while standing during the Gospel at Mass inside St. Peter, its beauty forever changed me in recognizing just what man could do to honor God and the saints.
    In many ways the Solemnity of the Epiphany also follows a similar pattern, at least with the wise men.  They are drawn to a far-off land, perhaps a land they had never seen before.  But when they actually encounter the goal of their journey, the young King of the Jews, they are not the same.  The Gospel relates that an angel warned them not to return to their country by the same way because of King Herod, but encountering Christ also made them go back not just on a different road, but changed.  
    Hopefully this rings true for us as well.  Christ always draws us closer to Himself.  Whether we are baptized as an infant and grow up in the Catholic faith, or whether we joined the Church as an adult, Christ draws us to Himself.  He drew the Magi by a star, because that is how they would come.  When Christ calls us, He does it through means that, more often than not, appeal to our natural predispositions.  Maybe we’re hurting and we recognize in Christ a source of healing.  Maybe we’re looking for meaning and we recognize in Christ a way of life that will satisfy us.  Maybe we’re reaching out for something greater to whom we can pledge our life, and we recognize in Christ the God who is worthy of all our loyalty and dedication.  Whatever way it is, Christ calls us to Himself.  And He often does it through means that we can accept.
    But this draw also continues throughout our life.  Accepting Christ means a great deal, but it’s not a once-and-done encounter.  Each day, each week, each month, each year Christ wants to draw us closer.  Until we get to heaven, we can always grow closer to Christ.  And the closer we get, the easier and harder it is.  Easier, because we have a solid foundation and at least can intellectually know that God will truly satisfy every need in our life.  Harder, because we sometimes have to walk away from things that also delight us, however less, and sometimes it is hard to let go.  But no matter how much we accept, or how much we delay and hedge our bets, Christ always calls us closer to Himself.
    When we have encountered Christ, whether for the first time or for the myriad of times after that, the encounter should change us.  Change is easier to note when it comes to monumental moments in our life, like when we were baptized or confirmed.  Whether we felt it or not, the power of the sacrament changed us from a pagan to a Christian (baptism), or from a mere follower to a soldier of Christ and proclaimer of the Gospel (confirmation).  Ontologically, which means at the level our being, God changed us.
    But we don’t always experience that change in our day-to-day life.  Even when it comes to the Most Blessed Sacrament of the Eucharist, which we receive at Mass, we don’t always recognize the change it has in us.  That can either be because it’s hard to notice little changes day by day, or because of lack of fruitfulness, which means that, while the Eucharist wants to change us, we’re putting up some sort of block because of our sins or our will that does not allow the change that God wants to affect in us.  God never forces His grace on us, so if we don’t want to accept the change that He wants in us, it will not happen.  
    But we can also experience God through means other than the sacraments, like daily prayer, reading Scripture, serving the poor, etc.  And sometimes we notice the change, but sometimes we don’t.  Sometimes we notice the change after months of our sacramental or devotional practices, like a virtue exhibited when earlier we would have given in to vice.  Patience is not a virtue at which I always excel.  I have noticed some growth though, and can appreciate it when I notice that earlier I would have chewed someone’s head off for some stupid thing, but now I’m more understanding.  I’m still growing, and wouldn’t call myself a paragon of patience, but I have noticed growth that has happened since I started working on being more patient.  

    Like the Magi, God draws us closer to Himself, not just once, but each day.  Like the Magi, God doesn’t want us to return to the same sinful habits and patterns, or even simply the same way of life that we lived before drawing closer to Him.  God leads us down a different road, even when it’s within the same vocation.  Follow Christ, the Morning Star each day, and allow your encounter with Him to change you, so that the glory of the Lord can shine upon you[: the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen].

Silence and Stillness

Sunday with the Octave of the Nativity
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  “When peaceful stillness encompassed everything and the night in its swift course was half spent, Your all-powerful word from heaven’s royal throne leapt into the doomed land.”  This is the translation of our Introit today, and it’s one of my favorite verses connected with our liturgical celebration of the Nativity of our Lord.  Which is funny, because it comes from the Book of Wisdom in the Old Testament.  And it forms part of a pericope about the Chosen People, while they were still enslaved in Egypt.  In the New American Bible, the title of this particular passage is: “Fifth Example: Death of the Egyptian Firstborn; the Israelites Are Spared.”  That may seem very fitting as we also commemorate the Holy Innocents today, but this Introit is not for the Holy Innocents, but for the Sunday within the Octave.
    But, the Church reads these two particular verses, numbers fourteen and fifteen, in light of the Nativity, when the All-Powerful Word, Jesus Christ, came to us from heaven in the middle of the night, into the land of sinners doomed to eternal death.  Like so many passages from the Old Testament, we didn’t come to know the true meaning, even though we could understand these verses in light of the plagues of Egypt, which is how the human author, no doubt, intended it, while the Divine Author intended so much more.

    Msgr. Romano Guardini, a magnificent Catholic teacher and author from the mid-twentieth century, has a beautiful Christmas meditation precisely on this passage.  And he makes the point that the great works of God happen in silence and stillness.  We can point to the creation of the universe, which happened without anyone else other than God there.  We can point to the Nativity of the Lord, which happened in a backwater part of the Roman Empire without any great human celebration.  We can point to the Resurrection of Christ, which happened without any human witnesses, except the guards at the tomb.  The great works of God happen in silence.  We can even point to the creative cooperation in human conception.  While the act which brings about children might not be so silent in terms of the spousal union, the moment the sperm fertilizes the egg happens in silence, without the parents knowing for some weeks after.  
    So if we wish to see the great things of God, we need to cultivate periods of silence in our lives.  Now, I’m saying this to a group of families who, each in their own way, have taken seriously God’s call to be fruitful and multiply.  Whether you have one child or ten children, you probably dream about silence for any amount of time, rather than the din of one or more children crying, screaming, or just making noise seemingly for noise’s sake.  Some of you parents may be thinking: “yeah, right, Father, I don’t get silence in my life; I have kids.”  
    But the silence in which the great things of God happens cannot simply equate with the lack of noise.  I love that we have so many children at Mass, and applaud you parents for bringing them to Mass, even when it’s very difficult and even when you spend half or more of Mass trying to keep them quiet, or keep them from crawling away, or taking them to the bathroom, etc.  Do I notice the noise?  I’m not deaf.  But it’s a great blessing.  St. Pius X, which closed in 2024 while I was pastor, had no noise because it had practically no kids.  If you don’t hear cryin’ your parish is dyin’.  
    But the noise generally doesn’t distract me.  As I’m celebrating Mass, I may hear it, but I can still stay focused on what’s happening and how I’m leading the worship of God by His Church.  And I don’t mean the way a husband says he’s listening to his wife while he’s watching a football game (because, generally speaking, he’s not really listening to you at that point).  I can create an atmosphere of silence even with the noise of children, bells, crashing kneelers, etc., by focusing on God.  And I think that’s not impossible for parents, either, though it does take practice.

    But even if you don’t feel you can find silence there, I know that there exists moments of silence that you can take advantage of each day.  The question is do we protect that time for God and prayer, even if it’s only the five minutes between a child starting to sleep and a child waking?  Or do we decide that doom scrolling, or finding every funny cat video on YouTube, or catching up on Facebook, or seeing what political parties are up to seems better to us than a quick five minutes of prayer?  As a parent, your vocation does not consist in praying like a monk or nun in a cloistered monastery or convent.  But God does want you to take even the few minutes you have throughout the day, or at the end of the day, after the kids are asleep, for Him, rather than simply looking to social media, the Internet, or the television to numb your minds.  It doesn’t mean we can’t find a funny cat video at all, or that we can never watch our favorite episode of “The Office,” but do we capitalize on the time that we have and utilize it for growing in our relationship with God?
    When God appeared to Elijah, He didn’t come in an earthquake, a fire, or a storm.  He came in a whisper.  God so often works in silence, an reveals Himself in stillness.  If we distract ourselves with noise (and I’m not talking about kids), we won’t attend to what God wants to say to us our wants us to do.  Take time for silence, as you can according to your vocation and circumstances, as often as you can.  Because in that silence and stillness, the All-Powerful Word will leap down from His royal throne in heaven and enter your heart, Jesus Christ, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit is God, for ever and ever.  Amen.  

Two Ingredients for a Holy Family

Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph
    Not long before Christmas, I continued a tradition from my Belgian side of the family to make Christmas cookies called lukken.  You start with a pound of melted butter (a great start to any recipe), then add 6 eggs, 2 1/2 cups of sugar, 2 1/4 cups of brown sugar, 8 cups of flour, and a shot of whiskey.  The dough sits overnight, and then is rolled into small balls, and the placed in a heated press, where they make thin cookies.  If you have ever enjoyed stroopwafel, lukken is basically the hard cookie without the caramel.
    To make the cookies I have to have the right ingredients.  But what are the ingredients that go into the recipe for a holy family?  Probably we think of basic human necessities: food, drink, clothing, a house, a job to provide for the family.  But there are two other ingredients that take a group of people, who could have their basic needs provided for, and make them a family, and those ingredients are love and obedience.
    Sadly, in my work as a Michigan State Police chaplain, I encounter families who have, in varying amounts, the basic human necessities, but lack the ingredient of love.  Children are treated as nuisances, or sometimes as ways to get more money from the State or federal government.  The parents, or often times a single parent, is more concerned about him or herself than about any other person.  Love changes a number of people living together into a family, even if sometimes that family is not related by blood, but related by adoption.

    Love helped make the family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph into a holy family.  And that love started with God.  Mary and Joseph both loved God, and so they were able to welcome God’s plan into their life, though it was quite different than a normal family’s life.  Mary conceived, while a virgin, by the power of the Holy Spirit, and Joseph and Mary never had marital relations with each other.  But they both accepted those realities as the will of God, and because they loved God, they were able to accept the incredible and unexpected.  And that love for God increased as they cared for and raised the Second Divine Person of the Blessed Trinity, Jesus Christ.  In feeding, clothing, cleaning, and protecting the Lord, Mary and Joseph loved God, even when that was difficult.  They loved each other, too, with a love strong enough to endure difficulties and struggles.  
    If we wish to have holy families, we have to have love: love for God, first and foremost; and love for each other.  When we connect to the love of God, the love of other family members, even when difficult, becomes more likely.  When we connect to the love of God we can endure things that, on our own, we could not.  And having the love of God first purifies our other loves so that they don’t become disordered.  A person can love a spouse too much (so that it bankrupts the family because a spouse wants certain material goods) or can love a child too much (like skipping Mass because a child has games on Sunday).  Of course, those are disordered loves that are not really love, but still, “love” can be the excuse for going beyond what God desires.  Love of the other is important, but should always be directed towards our highest goal: heaven.  If our decisions don’t help a person get to heaven, then we can’t really say we love that person.
    The second ingredient to a holy family is obedience.  Like love, obedience is first owed to God, then to other members of the family, with a certain hierarchy.  St. Joseph had to obey God when the angel told Joseph to flee to Egypt.  For a good Jew, Egypt was not the place to go.  Egypt was the place of slavery, and while there was a sizable Jewish community in Egypt, there were also many pagan gods and practices.  But St. Joseph obeyed God and kept Mary and Jesus safe from King Herod’s murderous decree.  We should always do our best, whether you’re the father, mother, or child, to obey God and follow His will.
    But there is also a certain obedience to each other.  The second reading seems to make the husbands the only ones who receive obedience.  But when we truly love one another, there is a way in which we obey each other, not just the husband or father, though there is a certain privilege of honor among fathers.  All the loving couples I know, if the wife said that something needed to happen, the husband would make sure it got done.  The husband obeys his wife, in that way, because of his love for her.  And parents, more often than not, obey their children, at least when they’re babies and crying because they’re hungry, or need to be cleaned, or simply want to be held.  Or I think about the many families who sacrifice great amounts of time and money to send their children to a Catholic school.  The child may not demand obedience in this way, but the parents obey what can be best for their child as far as their education.  And children should definitely obey their parents, as long as their parents are not asking them to sin.  But in the family, there is a certain obedience each member has to the others, which helps them be holy.
    The family is not meant to be only a group of people who live in the same place, or who share the same genetic material.  Those are often included in families, but do not complete the recipe for a holy family.  To be holy family means not only providing for basic necessities, but also pursuing love and obedience–first of God and then of each other–in order to be truly complete.  May the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph help each of us to grow in love and obedience, as we strive to be the families God has called us to be. 

No Man is a Failure who has God as his Friend

Nativity of the Lord–Second Mass

   In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  While there are many classic Christmas movies, one of the great is “It’s A Wonderful Life,” starring Jimmy Stewart.  But, truth be told, it’s not the most joyful Christmas movie ever.  In the second half of the movie, after we’ve been introduced to George Bailey by an angel named Clarence, we see Bailey, a good man, go from failure to failure, as his absent-minded uncle loses a significant deposit that kept his bank in business, and then he foolishly decides that everyone would be better off if he hadn’t existed.
    How many of us here have been in George Bailey’s shoes?  Maybe not wanting to jump into a freezing river off a bridge, but wondering if our life has made a difference, or if anyone would really notice if we didn’t exist.  Maybe we feel like they would be better if we didn’t.
    Clarence, George’s angel, grants, if even for small while, George’s wish and shows George just what an effect he had on others: from his family, to those who benefited from his reasonable loans, to local citizens.  Spoiler alert: George realizes just the impact he has had on others’ lives.  He recognizes that when one gives of himself, when one treats others as human beings and not as means to gain power or money, one becomes rich, no matter how much or how little one has.  George recognizes that, despite what seems like earthly failures, he is, as his brother Harry calls him, “the richest man in town.”  Or, as his angel, Clarence, writes in the front cover of his Bible, “No man is a failure who has friends.”
    How poor we humans were, even the Chosen People of God.  We found ourselves trapped in cycles of sin.  The greatest king God had provided for His people, King David, was long dead, and his descendants no loner occupied a throne.  Even the voice of prophets had fallen silent.  A foreign, pagan power controlled the Holy City and daily oppressed the ones whom God had promised never to abandon.  We walked in darkness.  We were poor.

    And yet, “the kindness and generous love of our God…appeared.”  At the moment we had lost hope; when despair had almost taken us, God sent us an Angel of Salvation, the Angel that the canon references when it says, “command that these gifts be borne by the hands of your holy Angel to your altar on high in the sight of your divine majesty,” Jesus Christ, the fullest messenger (𝛼𝛾𝛾𝜀𝜆𝜊𝜍 in Greek) that God ever sent.
    And God revealed to us that we were not poor, as long as we enjoyed friendship with Him.  As long as we remained close to God, we had everything, because “everything belongs to you…and you to Christ, and Christ to God,” as St. Paul says in his first epistle to the Corinthians.  
    But it was not only the Chosen People who felt the sting of their poverty.  Even we, who have been washed clean from original sin and made the adopted children of God in Christ through Holy Baptism can feel like George Bailey.  We can feel like we don’t add anything to society, or even our friends or family.  Life gives us lemons, and we make sour faces.  
    The Good News is that God found us worth saving, though we had no worth in ourselves.  The Good News of the Incarnation is the grand love story of God for His People, who, though they walked in darkness, God did not abandon, but illuminated.  God doesn’t have to show us what life would be like without us; He shows us that we are worth humbling Himself and taking on our frail humanity in order to prove His love for us.  Our debt consists of much more than $8,000 that Uncle Billy lost and Mr. Potter took.  But like the village that rallied around George Bailey, God gives us what we need so that our debt does not mean that we are lost to eternal bondage to sin and death.  And unlike the fellow citizens of Bedford Falls, we didn’t do anything for God.  He owed us nothing.  And yet He still gave, up to and including the Precious Blood of His Beloved Son.  If the donation of money from George Bailey’s neighbors signified their support for the banker who had carried them through the Great Depression, financed their homes and businesses, and saved them from foolish decisions, how much more does the Incarnation and Paschal Mystery show us just how much God supports us and loves us.  
    And this gift from God, the reason for Christmas, truly changed the world.  Without Christ we don’t truly understand human dignity and individual liberties.  Without Christ we mark time altogether differently.  Without Christ we don’t have universities, hospitals, magnificent cathedrals, the scientific method, so many things that we take for granted.  But, above all, without Christ we don’t have salvation, and the kingdom of heaven remains locked to us, which would be the saddest fact of all.  
    But God gives Himself to us, to prove just how much we mean to Him.  Though we are poor, like the shepherds in Bethlehem, God calls us to Himself by the voices of other messengers, other angels, to let us know the good news that our lives have value beyond what we could ever imagine, no matter how good or how bad our lives seem to go.  
    One of the reasons that “It’s A Wonderful Life” continues to be a Christmas classic is because it tells a timeless truth on the silver screen: even when we are at our worst; even when life seems to crash down all around us; even when things seem the darkest; God loves us and values us and is willing to pay any price to save us and help us walk in the light.  If I may be so bold, I would slightly change Clarence the angel’s words to George Bailey, as words that we should always keep at the front of our minds, not only at Christmas, but every day: “No man is a failure who has God as his friend”: the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Buddy and Jesus

Nativity of the Lord–At the Vigil Mass/At Night

    One of the newer Christmas movies that has become a staple of most people’s Christmas movie watching is “Elf” starring Will Ferrell.  It’s hard to believe, but it came out in 2003!  For those who are not fans of Will Ferrell and didn’t watch the movie, “Elf” follows Buddy the Elf, a human child who was raised by elves at the North Pole, even though he is much larger than they, and Buddy’s quest to find his real dad, who works for a publisher in New York City.  Buddy goes from the innocence of working with the elves for Santa to the Big Apple and all that New York City entails.  One of the many classic lines from the movie is said by a narwhal who looks like the animals from the 1964 Christmas movie, “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,”: “Bye Buddy, hope you find your dad!”  
    In many ways, Christmas is the opposite theme of “Elf.”  Instead of humanity, represented by Buddy, searching out his dad, the true meaning of Christmas is that our heavenly Father, through the Incarnation of His Beloved Son, sought us out.  God did not abandon us, like Buddy’s father, Walter, did.  Instead, we ran away from God by sinning.  Adam and Eve rejected God in their pride and by their disobedience, and created a chasm between us and God that only God could close.  Throughout the centuries God our Father sought us out in love, and showed us ways that we could approach him and reject sin.  But time and time again we returned to sin because it felt better, or because, in our own pride, we didn’t want anyone else telling us what to do.  God gave us the Law to teach us, and the prophets to clarify how God had created the world and how to live justly.  But we disobeyed the law, and ignored or even killed the prophets so that we didn’t have to hear the voice of God.  But God did not leave us to the death that comes from sin.

    God came to us in a way that would disarm our pride: through a tiny baby.  Jesus took flesh in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and was born for us [tomorrow,] Christmas Day, as the beginning of the way that God the Father would reconcile us to Himself.  Buddy the Elf, though naïve, did not always endear himself to Walter.  Christ, born in the humblest of conditions from the humblest of parents, was not naïve, but truly innocent, and, especially in His infancy, we couldn’t help but love Him.  Throughout the rest of His life, He would show us just how much the Father loves us, even to the point of shedding His Precious Blood on the cross to remove the chasm between God and us and open for us eternal salvation in heaven.  There is no greater love that God could have shown than humbling Himself to take on our human nature, and then, though innocent, laying down freely his life for us so that we didn’t have to endure eternal death in Hell.
    But while the Incarnation, God-made-man, is the greatest Christmas gift of all, we still have to accept that gift.  And like the Central Park Rangers who try to stop Santa, there are those who don’t want to see us accept the gift of eternal salvation, within and without us.  Outside of us, there are fallen angels who do not want to see us reunited with God.  They send us temptations and try to get us to fall into the same trap Adam and Eve fell in as they rejected God’s rules because they wanted to do it their own way, and disobey God.  Inside of us, even after we’re baptized, we still have concupiscence, that drive to disobey God.  We would rather be our own boss, our own god, even, than serve the true God.  Whether from within or without, when we tell lies, even small, white lies; when we skip Mass out of laziness or lack of interest; when we fail to pray every day; when we allow our desires to take control of us; when we use others as means to an end, no matter how good our intentions, we show God that we do not want Him as our Father.  We show God through our actions that we don’t want to receive the best Christmas gift ever: the gift of eternal life.  And God, because He loves, us, respects our free will; He will never force His salvation on us.
    But, as a loving Father, He will also never stop searching for us, seeking to draw us to Himself.  And even if we do claim God as our Father and avoid rejecting Him through mortal sin, He works each day to draw us closer and closer to Him, through Christ, in the power of the Holy Spirit, so that we can receive all the good things He desires for His children.  
    So today let us recommit ourselves to our heavenly Father.  We don’t have to travel from the North Pole to New York City to find Him.  He is right here, in this church, offering His love for us.  Accept that love that so wanted you that He humbled Himself and truly became for us a little baby.  And show that acceptance by the choices you make each day, the love you give back to God through obedience and love to Him, which is the only gift He desires from you.  O come, let us adore Him. 

It Really Happened

Fourth Sunday of Advent
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Modern American society struggles with accepting some historical facts.  Part of this could stem from the things that began as conspiracy theories and turned out to be true.  But there exists a certain suspicion of facts that cannot be verified to a modern American’s mind.
    This same phenomenon existed at the time of Christ, not so much as when came to history but as it applied to theology.  All over the western world people had told stories about the gods and goddesses and their encounters with people.  Usually, the pagan deities were basically exaggerated versions of humans: in their power; in their strength; in their violence; in their lust.  But for some time, a skepticism had crept in especially among the well-educated that the gods didn’t exist at all.  Yes, everyone kept the festivals, but fewer and fewer actually believed in the realities behind the festivals.  Divinity especially came to be doubted when the emperors started to claim divine status for themselves even though, demonstrably enough, they were mortal.
    In the midst of this doubt, St. Luke describes the real, historical fact of God-made-man.  He starts out today’s Gospel passage: “In the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar, Pontius Pilate being governor of Judea, and Herod being tetrarch of Galilee, and Philip his brother tetrarch or Inure and the country of Trachonitis, and Lysanias tetrarch of Abilene, under the high priests Annas and Caiphas.”  Luke points out that this is no pagan myth that goes back before anyone could witness it, or where the witnesses are all dead.  He points to a particular time in a particular place where St. John the Baptist begins his mission to prepare the way for the Lord by preaching a baptism of repentance.  His thesis stands thus: Jesus is real; just as real as Caesar, Pontius Pilate, Herod, Philip, Lysanias, Annas, and Caiphas.  

Icon of St. John the Baptist

    And it matches the preaching of the Precursor of the Lord: God is real, and He is finally fulfilling His promise to come among us and save us, so get right with God, because our salvation is at hand.  John wasn’t only telling the well-known Jewish stories about how God promised to send a redeemer who would conquer sin, as Genesis foretold; or how God would raise up a prophet like Moses to whom everyone would need to listen, as Deuteronomy said; or how God would install a Davidic king who would rule for all ages, as 2 Samuel said.  John didn’t simply point back to vague prophecies that waited to be fulfilled.  He told the people that now was the time of salvation, as the long-awaited Messiah came.  
    It is good for us to hear Luke’s account, and to remind ourselves that God is not trying to hide anything from us in way of history, and that our belief in God is not some long-ago wish that bears no relation to reality.  God is real, and the Second Divine Person of the Blessed Trinity came to us to redeem us at a particular time in a particular place.  And even though we were not there, we can trust those who were.
    But Luke also benefits us because Christ will return in glory.  And I think that sometimes we can treat that return like the first-century Jews treated the prophecies about the Messiah: yes, they’re real, but they won’t happen in our time.  We profess, each week, “Et iterum venturus est cum gloria judicare vivos et mortuos;” “He will come again with glory to judge the living and the dead.”  But do we really believe it?  Do we act like it could happen any day, which it could?  Or, do we think that because it didn’t happen in the time of our parents or grandparents, it won’t happen in ours?  
    Advent comes each year to remind us that Christ will return in glory, for which we should be ready.  God reminds us not to let our hearts grow weary because the Bridegroom seems delayed, and not to act as if he’s not coming, like the foolish bridesmaids.  Rather, we are to wait in joyful hope for the coming of our Savior, as St. Paul writes to St. Titus.  
 

  It’s easy for us to get distracted.  We get distracted in Advent because we have Christmas parties to attend, presents to buy, a house to decorate, etc.  We get distracted in life because so many other things–family, a job, or the lack thereof, clothing, food and drink–all seem more real and more pressing.  But nothing is more pressing than our relationship with God.  Our hunger and thirst will pass away; we will outgrow our clothes or the fabric will break down; one day we won’t work; even our family will not always be with us on earth.  But God is eternal.  And, in the end, we will either spend eternity with Him (even if it includes some purification in Purgatory) in Heaven or eternity without Him in Hell.  And part of that calculation will connect to how we prepared for Him to return.  
    Does this mean we live perfectly?  Or that we are scrupulous about every small fault or failing?  No.  But it means we make confession a regular, even monthly or weekly, part of our life.  It means that we give our hearts and minds as best as we can during this Mass to worship God.  It means that we care for the poor, the sick, the suffering, the immigrant, the infant in the womb, the ailing senior citizen, and all those who have no one to rely on but God and His faithful.  It means that we read Scripture regularly and pray with our families.  
    In these last few days of Advent, may we recommit ourselves to making ourselves ready for the return of Christ in glory.  May today’s Gospel instill in us that Christ will, once again, change the course of history with His return, just as He did in His Incarnation some 2,000 years ago.  Who with the Father and the Holy Spirit live and reign for ever and ever.  Amen.