Not Christmas Yet

First Sunday of Advent

Here we are: the first Sunday of Advent.  We lit at the beginning of Mass the Advent wreath with its first candle.  But every store around us is decorated with Christmas decorations.  So what is the Church doing?  We’re not decorated for Christmas yet.  There weren’t even any readings about “little baby Jesus” (to quote the movie “Talladega Nights”).  

One of my struggles as a new pastor here, is that I don’t know what the other priests have preached on, so maybe some of what I say today will be a review; don’t fall asleep.  But Advent comes from the Latin word adveniens which simply means “coming.”  Advent is our time of preparation.  But we are not simply preparing for Christmas.  We are first and foremost preparing for the second coming, or the second Advent of Christ.  That’s why a lot of our readings still have an “end times” theme.  Isaiah prophesies the day when all of God’s people will approach the mountain of the Lord, which any Jew would have recognized as Jerusalem (it’s like saying “the capital” in Michigan; we don’t have to say Lansing).  St. Paul talks about now being the time to wake up from our drowsiness, now is the time to convert from our sinfulness, because Jesus is coming.  And Jesus in our Gospel talks about being prepared for the end, when He will return, and not to be caught off-guard.

In fact, the first Gospel that we have that talks about the time immediately before Jesus was born, will come on the fourth Sunday of Advent.  Until then, we’ll continue to hear about preparing for the Jesus to return, or preparing for Jesus in general (like when John the Baptist will preach about Jesus).  We will speak about Jesus’ first coming, His first Advent, especially one week before Christmas, but until then our Masses and readings focus on Jesus’ second coming at the end of time.

But our church building does have a primary sign of waiting for Jesus: our Advent wreath.  The evergreens of the wreath remind us that Jesus offers us new life that never dies.  Now, to be fair, trees that drop their leaves don’t die during the winter; but they sure look like they do!  Any deciduous tree looks like it’s barren.  But the evergreens stay green all year round, like the popular song “O Christmas Tree” says.  We also have four candles on our Advent wreath, and we light one for each week of Advent that we are in.  In one sense, we might say a light is a light, and it doesn’t make a difference between electric light and candle light.  But candles play a prominent role in our Church.  We have candles around the altar, where the Eucharistic sacrifice occurs, and around the ambo, where the Word of God is proclaimed.  Each Easter Vigil we begin by lighting the Paschal or Easter Candle, which reminds us that Christ is the Light of the World.  Candles provide a different kind of light, as anyone can tell you who has lost power and relied on candlelight, or for anyone who has tried to host or go to a romantic dinner: candlelight provides a different atmosphere than just electric lights.  And candles also have a scent to them (not just Yankee Candle Company).  Candlelight is also alive, in a metaphorical sense.  The flames seem to dance on the wick, and almost takes on a life of its own.  In any case, our Advent wreath helps us remember Jesus Christ, the life and light of the world, who will come again.  And as we get closer to celebrating Jesus’ first Advent in Bethlehem, we will have more candlelight from more of the candles being lit.

So our challenge over the next four weeks of Advent is to be ready and not to rush.  In very few circumstances are people truly ready when they rush.  Whether it’s a kid stuffing all his clothes and toys in the closet so that no one sees them at the Christmas party; rushing to cook the special meals we have during the holidays; rushing to get everywhere we need to be.  Rushing to something is not generally connected with truly being ready.  In the midst of our hustle and bustle of this short season, I encourage all of us to take time to prepare for Jesus first and second Advent, by making time and space for Jesus’ third Advent, His coming into our hearts.  Take some extra time for silence and prayer.  Maybe spend time with Jesus in Adoration on 16 December; maybe come to Mass 5 minutes earlier to pray before the introduction begins; maybe turn off the radio in the car for the drive or part of the drive into work; maybe even turning off the cell phone for a little.  In whatever way you choose, be ready for Jesus to come, “for at an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will come.”

The King of Glory

Solemnity of our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

I think it would be safe to say that the secretary at my last parish was borderline obsessed with British royalty.  I did her wedding not long after I arrived at St. Joseph in Adrian, and one of her hymns was the same one that was used at the royal wedding.  She would often try to find less expensive versions of dresses that Katherine wears, and when the value of the British pound dropped after Brexit, she and her husband started to make plans to visit.

But America’s love of royalty is not limited to her.  For six years millions of Americans watched “Downton Abbey,” about a British noble family and their servants.  The final season finale drew 9.6 million viewers, so clearly there are a good number of people who like royalty and nobility.  And America even “created” it’s own royal family in John and Jackie Kennedy.  But what do we love about it?  Is it the fancy clothes?  Is the crowns and swords and ceremonial uniforms?  Is it the tradition?  Is it the power?

Today we celebrate the Solemnity of our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe.  Even just after our presidential election, we are celebrating a King.  We heard in our first reading a little about the best example of a Jewish king, King David.  King David was the model for all kings who followed, even though David himself wasn’t a perfect king (remember that story about Bathsheba, and how got her pregnant, even though she was someone else’s wife, and then eventually killed her husband to cover up the adultery?).  In fact, when the Archangel Gabriel appears to Mary to tell her that she will be the Mother of God, Gabriel says, “‘He will be great and will be called Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give him the throne of David his father, and he will rule over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.’”  

But in the rest of the Gospels, Jesus shies away from this heritage, of being a king in the line of David.  In John 6, the people want to make Jesus king after he feeds them miraculously.  But Jesus hides away, and does not let them.  The closest Jesus comes to accepting the fulfillment of the Davidic prophecy of a great king is on Palm Sunday, when Jesus receives the praise from the people that we heard in our Alleluia verse: “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!  Blessed is the kingdom of our father David that is to come!”

So why is Jesus so hesitant to be cast as a king in the line of David during His earthly ministry?  If He is a king, why not accept the recognition by the people that He is a king?

Jesus is a king unlike any other, and He does not accept earthly kingship from His own people because their idea of kingship was different than God’s.  Jesus was not concerned with the fancy clothes, the crowns and swords and ceremonial uniforms.  And He was certainly not concerned with power, though all power in heaven and earth belonged to Him.  Our Gospel today shows us what the kingship of Jesus is like: a suffering kingship, that does not seek power, but empties itself out for the good of His people.  Jesus on earth does not rule from a throne of gold, but from the throne of the cross.  In Orthodox churches, their large crucifixes do not have INRI above them like ours (INRI is an abbreviation for Iesus Nazarenus Rex Iudaeorum, which is Latin for Jesus the Nazarene, King of the Jews).  Instead, the inscription reads: The King of Glory, to remind them how Christ was glorified, and how we are to be glorified: through the cross.

Can we accept Jesus as our king on the cross?  Sometimes Protestants accuse us of wanting to crucify Jesus again and again because we give such a prominent place to Jesus on the cross, what we commonly call a crucifix, in our churches.  But that is our constant reminder of how Jesus reigns: on the cross.  As our preface before the Eucharistic prayer says, Jesus’ kingdom is “an eternal and universal kingdom, a kingdom of truth and life, a kingdom of holiness and grace, and kingdom of justice, love and peace.”  

Jesus has all power, and yet He, the Lord of Lords, does not lord His power over us.  He invites us to accept His reign, but He does not force it upon us.  There will come a day, at the end of time, when His kingdom will be the only kingdom.  There will be no more lies and death, no more sin and sorrow, no more injustice, hatred, and war.  And at that time, we will be recognized as a part of that kingdom based on how we accepted that kingdom while here on earth.  Instead of being a part of a kingdom because of where we are born, we become a part of Christ’s kingdom by the rebirth of baptism, and we remain a part of that kingdom by being faithful in word and deed throughout the rest of our life.  May we be obsessed, in the best sense of the word, not with British royalty, but with being subjects of our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe.

The End is Near

Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time

Four years ago, there were people, no small amount, who did not think that we would be here, because the Mayans stopped updating their calendar and didn’t have a date past 21 December 2012.  By this time in 1999, the world was freaking out (that’s a scientific term).  Computers weren’t supposed to be able to handle the year 2000, and it was supposed to create a worldwide disaster, which could signal at least a return to the dark ages for Western civilization, or maybe even the end of the world.  In 1831, William Miller and 100,000 of his closest friends, were convinced Jesus was going to return in 1843, until that didn’t happen, and the date was revised for a year later, which also, obviously, didn’t happen.  In 1524, a respected German mathematician and astrologer predicted there would be a world-covering flood, because all of the planets were aligning under the zodiac sign Pisces; it did rain lightly on the predicted day of the flood.  In 476, as the barbarians crushed what was left of the Western Roman Empire, the same empire that had legalized and then endorsed Christianity, it was thought that the world was coming to an end.  And though I hesitate to mention it, there are a number of people in our country who feel like the world is going to end because of our recent elections.

But here we are.  Now, as Catholics, we know that Jesus will return and usher in the end of the world.  We profess that every solemnity in our creed.  But I’m not here to give you a date for that return.  We don’t know when it will happen.  But it will happen.  The signs that Jesus describes in our Gospel today–wars, insurrections, false prophets and messiahs, earthquakes, famines, and plagues–all of these have happened over and over again.  Still, we are still here, for now.

When many preachers talk about the end times, they make it quite scary.  And Jesus does talk about how it will be trying times.  But as Catholics, we should not be afraid of the end.  Nor should we put our faith in magnificent buildings or large numbers.  One of the great joys of my life has been to study in Rome for 5 months.  I was able to see amazing churches, especially the Basilica of St. Peter, the Basilica of St. John Lateran, the Basilica of St. Paul Outside the Walls, and the Basilica of Santa Maria sopra Minerva.  It would create such an ache in my heart if I found out that any of those churches, or any others, were destroyed by nature or by humans.  But my faith is not in buildings.  We survived and thrived as a church for about 300 years without a Basilica of St. Peter, and the current basilica is only from the 17th century (in Roman terms, in a city founded in 753 BC, it’s just a baby basilica).

Our faith cannot be in the passing world.  So many of the things in this world we assume will always be here; we cannot imagine life without them.  But they are passing things; only Jesus is eternal.  Each day that we live, we are getting closer and closer to the second coming of Jesus, the end of this world, and the beginning of the new heaven and new earth.  In that sense, we can say the end is near.  It’s certainly closer to happening now than it was 1000 years ago.  

Does this freak us out (again, a very scientific term)?  The end of the things that we take for granted as always being a part of our life should only cause us to be alarmed if our life is not anchored in Jesus, who will outlast all the passing reality.  The end of the world should only make us worry if we do not live as Jesus taught us, because God tells us through Malachi in our first reading that evildoers will be stubble, burnt in a field.  When we think of evildoers we often think of people like Hitler and Stalin.  But to be a doer of evil simply means that we act contrary to God’s will in a grave way as expressed through Scripture or through the Church.  So if we steal from our company; if we make false gods for ourselves out of our possessions; if we condone or support racism; if our first allegiance is not to our God but to our own wills or to any other organization; if we call good evil, and call evil good; then we should be worried.  Then Jesus’ return will not be a happy day for us.  “But for you who fear [God’s] name, there will arise the sun of justice with its healing rays.”

For almost two full millennia, during her liturgies in most churches, all of the people, including the priest, faced a unified direction for the Eucharistic prayer, not so that the priest didn’t have to look at the people, but so that the entire church could be focused on Jesus, the Sun rising from the East, the sun of justice.  The posture of the people was such that they knew that they had to be focused on Jesus, waiting for His return, rather than turning in on itself.  Turning towards Jesus meant turning away from all those things that distracted them from Him.  Even today in most Catholic cemeteries, including New Calvary, all the bodies who are buried in the ground are facing east.  I’m not saying I’m going to start celebrating Mass ad orientem, but we are invited in today’s readings to turn away from sin, turn away from our fallen selves, turn away from all the passing things that we consider so permanent, so that we can turn to Jesus, who “is the same yesterday, today, and forever,” and whose kingdom will have no end.

Maybe the homily seems a little dour today.  Maybe it feels a little fire and brimstone-ish.  Brothers and sisters, the good news today is that, while we still have breath, we can turn towards the Lord Jesus, the sun of justice who will rise from the east, and ask forgiveness.  We don’t know when the world will end, but if we live each day as if it could end any moment, then we will be ready for Christ to return in glory, and that time of the end will be a day of rejoicing.  

Chocolate, Puppies, and Belinda Carlisle

Thirty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time

What is heaven like?  People have many different ideas.  Some people believe heaven is an unending chocolate fountain of goodness, but the chocolate has no calories.  Some people think heaven is a world full of puppies, except you never have to clean up after them and they obey your every command.  Some people consider heaven to be a tropical island with bottomless piña coladas and cuba libres.  In 1987, Belinda Carlisle told us heaven is a place on earth.

In all of these situations, heaven is simply a better version of earth.  The Sadducees in our Gospel today also took that approach.  They felt that heaven was merely a continuation of earth.  So, they plan to trick Jesus, by showing how problematic even believing in heaven truly is.  They set a trap where a woman in heaven would have seven different husbands, and try to see how Jesus would squirm out of this problem.  But rather than granting their premise that heaven is merely a continuation of earth, maybe with a little less pain, Jesus tells them that they have missed the point entirely.  Heaven is not a better continuation of earth, but is radically different.  In heaven there is no marriage or giving in marriage, because marriage is for earth.  Marriage, at least between two baptized Christians, is a visible symbol of the invisible reality of Christ for His Church, which not only reminds us of Jesus, but communicates His grace.  In heaven, we don’t need physical realities that communicate God’s grace to us, because we have the direct vision of God.  

Heaven is the place where God’s reign comes in its fulness, as compared to what we have today.  We hear about that in our first reading.  This passage tells us of when Jewish brothers and their mother were remaining faithful to God’s law, even though the government, run by pagan Greeks, tried to get them to abandon God’s law.  The brothers knew that God would accept their sacrifice, and would right the wrongs that had been inflicted upon them by giving them new life.  

Heaven is not just earth 2.0.  Heaven is not just earth without any more elections, without any more war, without suffering and pain.  Heaven is as different from our current way of life as our life is different from an ant’s.  The Book of Revelation reminds us that heaven is the place where there are no more wrongs to be righted, and where we see God face to face.  Heaven is the place where there are no more tears or suffering or sorrow, for the old order has passed away.  Heaven is perfect happiness, not to our fallen human nature, but to our human nature perfected by Christ.  And to get there, we have to cooperate with God’s perfection of our nature in this life.  If we work against God’s will by our actions in this life, then we won’t be going to heaven in the life to come.  

The Book of Revelation also describes heaven as an eternal liturgy, an eternal Mass.  Now, before you think to yourself: ‘Heaven is like a never-ending Mass?  I don’t wanna go there!’, there won’t be boring homilies in heaven.  We won’t have to wait for bread and wine to be transubstantiated into the Eucharist in heaven, because we won’t need a sacrament of Jesus’ Body and Blood; Jesus’ Body and Blood will be present for us immediately. 

But if you have ever read the Book of Revelation, and not just the snippets about weird animals and the number 666, then you will recognize that it describes what goes on as worship of God, which is what we do at Mass.  The elders (in Greek, 𝛑𝛒𝛆𝛔𝛃𝛖𝛕𝛆𝛒𝛐𝛓, from which we get the word presbyter or priest) are around the throne of the Lamb, Jesus, throwing down their crowns (I don’t get any crowns) as they worship God.  They are also surrounded by the four living creatures, the Ox, Man, Lion, and Eagle, representing the four evangelists or Gospels, with the Cherubim singing “‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God.’”  The scroll with the Word of God is digested (like we’re supposed to do in the homily), and the elders and the angels and all those who are in heaven sing hymns to the Lord, praising God for what He has done.  And all of this is done over the place where the martyrs are, which is why, since the earliest days of Christianity, altars have been built over the site of martyrdom, or relics have been placed in altars.  If you want to read a good book on this, Scott Hahn’s book “The Lamb’s Supper,” is a great read.  

The Mass is supposed to give us a foretaste of what heaven is like.  It’s not meant to be the same as every day life.  It’s not supposed to be earthly.  It is patterned upon the worship of God in Scripture, and as the Church has developed the Mass throughout the centuries to emphasize what we believe.  While using earthly things, everything about our Mass is supposed to transport our senses, minds, and hearts to the heavenly Jerusalem through the symbols that make that reality present, and the signs that remind us of that reality.  

Heaven is not a mere continuation of our earthly existence.  It’s not earth without mosquitos.  Heaven is not a place on earth, with all due respect to Belinda Carlisle.  Heaven is the place of perfect fulfillment, where we will be who God created us to be.  May we all receive the many graces God gives us, especially through the Mass and confession, so that we will be found worthy of dwelling with God in that place of perfect light, happiness, and peace.