Staying Connected

Fifth Sunday of Easter

    As a child, we had one telephone in the kitchen, and a cordless telephone in my parents’ room.  The kitchen phone hung on the wall, and had the super-long cord, which was great because you could take it into the living room, but then you also, every so often, had to dangle it from the second story railing so that it could untangle.  This will come as a shock to some of the younger people here, but when people called you, you didn’t know who was calling until they identified themselves.  And if you were on the phone, no one else could call you, unless you had a second line (which we didn’t). 
    Back then, the best way to connect with people, of any age, was to actually see them, whether at school, or at the mall, or by going over to their house.  You would meet up and talk with each other, in person, and learn what was going on in their life.  As a kid, you might play together outside, or explore woods around the house, or just eat a snack together.  You might even spend the night, like times at grandpa and grandma’s house, which usually meant amazing food and maybe even a fishing trip or watching grandpa work on something in the shed.
    With the assistance of today’s technology, we can, as we say, connect with each other in ways we couldn’t before.  We can send pictures of ourselves (appropriately) to others, or maybe post a picture of what we’re eating for dinner.  We can send someone a quick text to check in, unless it’s very serious, and then we might actually call someone (but, again, only if it’s serious).  If it’s really sentimental you might FaceTime, or maybe even do a Zoom meeting to see what the other person is doing.
    And yet, with all that technology, with all our capabilities to “stay in touch” with each other, young people are more disconnected today than before, with many who are very active on social media saying that they feel lonely, though they have the opportunity to see what others are doing 24/7.  So as much as we think we’re connected to everyone, perhaps we’re not as connected as we think.
    Jesus tells us today in the Gospel that if we want to have life, we have to be connected to Him.  This doesn’t mean that Jesus is our Facebook friend (a person we just keep in a list of contacts that reminds us of his birthdays and shows us pictures of Him); or that we ‘gram with Jesus (take pictures of holy stuff and stuff we think he would like); or that we follow His short sayings on X (formerly known as Twitter).  In order to be connected to Him we have to develop a real relationship with Him, which means spending time with Him and getting to know Him personally, not just through a platform.  There are no shortcuts to having a relationship with Jesus, and it doesn’t come through social media.  We cannot substitute time anything else for time with Jesus.
    Of course, this means that we have to make sure and create time for Jesus, because our lives are filled with so many things.  We have responsibilities at home and responsibilities at work.  We wake up, get ready for school or work, get to school or work, spend the day learning or working, come home to do homework or make dinner, maybe clean up a little or spend time with family, and then we go to bed.  So the days are full.  But if we value something, or in this case, someone, we make time.  All of those activities are important, but Jesus is even more important than those.  So can we carve out some time for prayer, for speaking and listening to Jesus, in each day? 
    It may mean getting up 10 to 15 minutes earlier, so that we can read over the Scripture for the day or pray a rosary or chaplet of Divine Mercy.  I have a friend who has had a fifty-minute commute to work for the past few years.  He developed a new routine of praying a Rosary or Chaplet of Divine Mercy while driving, and then listening to the readings for the day in a podcast. 
    It may mean giving up some time on the television or on a game or show on a tablet to do some devotional reading or learn about a saint.  Or it can mean trying to pray together as a family for some minutes before the kids go to bed.  This can be as simple as asking each child to say one thing for which they are thankful, or seeing if they have something or someone they want to pray for.  Or maybe reading a Bible story together as a family.  But making sure that there is time for Jesus in our daily family life.
    Lastly, St. John reminds us in the second reading that staying connected with Jesus also means filling His commandments.  Whether it’s going to Mass every Sunday and Holyday, or being honest, or keeping God’s Name holy, or not missing the precious gift of human sexuality, or praying for those who do us wrong, or any of the other commandments that Christ, whether through Scripture or through the Church, has given us, if we wish to remain in Christ, to stay with Him, we follow His will, rather than just our own.  Both prayer and fidelity to what God has revealed to us connect us to Christ, and allow His life to flow through us. 
    Despite all of our technological advances in communication, we are often more disconnected than ever before, because the things we think connect us only do so in a fleeting way, and not in the deep ways that our human natures truly crave.  Make time for Christ; prioritize Him in your daily life.  If you do so, you will remain with Christ, not only on this earth, but in the new heavens and earth that will come.

The Greatest Event that No One Saw

The Easter Vigil in the Holy Night
    Phew!!  That’s a lot of the Word of God!  We started at Genesis 1, and maybe you feel like we went through the whole thing to the Book of Revelation (we didn’t of course, we only hit some highlights throughout the Old Testament, and then a profound reading from St. Paul’s letter to the Romans, and then the Resurrection account from St. Matthew).  Why have all these readings?  That’s the point of a vigil, to watch and wait for something.  In this case, we were waiting for the news of the Resurrection, for those first alleluias to ring out since we began our Lenten fast, to announce the joy of the Risen Christ!  And as we heard those seven Old Testament readings, and the one Epistle, the anticipation was growing in us, to get to the good news of Jesus rising from the dead!
    As we look around, though, there’s no one here.  No offense to our musicians, our reader, and Deacon Dave, but this is a small crowd to celebrate the Resurrection, made necessary, of course, because of COVID-19, or, as some are calling it, the ‘Rona.  Maybe that bursts our bubble a bit, and tries to steal our joy from this holy night, this holiest of nights. 
    We’re used to at least more people.  Maybe not a full church, but still, more than I can count on one hand!  We’re used to the anticipation of lighting the Easter fire at the beginning, processing into the church in darkness, and then our individual candles, lit from the Paschal Candle, slowly lighting up the church.  We’re used to the sprays of holy water falling from heaven, like rain from above (and depending on how much is on the branch, sometimes more like a monsoon from above).  We’re used to the overwhelming smell of the Easter lilies, with the aroma of incense mixing in.  And yet, for those of you watching, none of that is present yet. 
    This may seem like a horrible way to celebrate Easter, but it was the way the first Easter was celebrated.  We heard in our Gospel tonight how the holy women went to the tomb on Sunday morning.  The stone is rolled back, and Jesus is not there!  Where did He go?  The angel announces that Jesus has been raised, and He is going to Galilee. 
    So Jesus rose from the dead without anyone knowing it.  No one saw the greatest work of God in all of salvation history.  There were no witnesses.  There was no music that we know of (perhaps the angels were singing, but no one heard or reported it).  There was no fire that anyone saw, no lights, no procession.  In the silence of that first Holy Saturday night, Jesus rose from the dead, and changed human history forever. 
    I think we often expect big world events to be noticed.  Certainly someone will tweet about it, or post the story on Facebook, or snap or gram it!  If it’s important, then the whole world will notice because it will be a bigger than life event.  But when Life Himself conquered sin and death, and escorted the souls of the just from their waiting to heaven, the powers of the world gave no notice; they didn’t even know such a thing was happening.  Even Jesus’ own disciples, even the ones who stood by His cross, had no idea what was happening.
    What’s in the news every day?  The ‘Rona.  How many have it, how many died, how many recovered, if a vaccine is closer, if antibodies hold the secret, how many jobs have been lost, what the government is doing, are people really staying home, how much money can my business get, how much money do I get, etc., etc.  There are good stories, too, about people celebrating the heroic work of doctors, nurses, hospital staff, first responders.  There are the heart-warming stories about people going on Zoom or Skype or FaceTime to visit with elderly relatives, sick or healthy, or singing outside windows, or celebrating birthdays with parades of cars.  Those are good stories, and it’s good that they are noticed.
    But in your life, all this dying, if united to Jesus, will also cause a rising, a rising that the world will likely never notice.  The patience you’re growing in from spending all day with your spouse and/or your kids.  The re-prioritizing of what is truly important, based not on money, but on true happiness.  The appreciation of friends that you cannot currently see, but who are important, nonetheless.  What virtues might the Lord be cultivating in your life right now, because you are open to His grace, yearning to be in His presence, desiring to receive Him in the Eucharist like you never have before.  All of this is big news, and yet the world, and let’s be honest, almost everyone else, probably doesn’t notice.
    But that’s ok.  Because God won, whether anyone took notice or not.  And eventually, everyone will know, as all will be revealed on the Last Day, when what Jesus won for His disciples will be manifest in its fullness in the resurrection of all the bodies of the dead, and the new heavens and new earth.  But until then, we wait.  We read the Word of God, we sing His praises, we worship His goodness and ask Him to raise us to new life.  And we do so knowing that He who raised Jesus from the dead, will raise us with him to life everlasting.  Amen.

The place where Jesus rose from the dead in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre

 

Waiting in the Tomb

Fifth Sunday of Lent
    The summer after my first year in college seminary, I worked at St. Thomas Aquinas in East Lansing as a custodian.  And on a sunny, hot day on 2 July, I was working with my supervisor–a gruff older man named Grady–on trimming the bushes around the school.  Some of the work wasn’t bad; we were using gas-powered hedge trimmers.  But some of the bushes were big, taller than any of us, and we needed to trim the top.  Grady was convinced that the best way to trim the tops was to put me in the bucket of a tractor, and lift me up so I could reach the branches.  I hated the idea, but didn’t want to say no to my supervisor. 
    So I started to get in the bucket, my mind racing with the hundreds of ways that this could end with a lost limb or fatality.  But, before the bucket could be raised, the secretary radioed for me to come to the office.  Somehow, I knew something wasn’t right, so while my first few steps were at a regular pace, I quickly sped up and ended up running to the office.  It was there that the secretary told me that my sister, Amanda, had been in a bad car accident, and I needed to get to Sparrow Hospital in Lansing quickly so that I could ride in the ambulance down to Ann Arbor with my other family members as my sister was air-lifted to U of M Hospital.  Fr. Dave, the pastor, drove me to the hospital in Lansing, where my sister ended up having surgery, rather than going to U of M. 
    I knew something was wrong, so I ran, and I’m willing to bet that Fr. Dave drove faster than the posted speed limit to get me to the hospital.  And yet, when Jesus gets word that his friend, Lazarus, is ill, St. John says, “[Jesus] remained for two days in the place where he was.”  What was Jesus doing? 
    Jesus knew exactly what He was doing, and what He was going to do.  We heard Jesus say, “‘Our friend Lazarus is asleep, but I am going to awaken him.’”  This may seem cold, Jesus waiting for Lazarus to die, and then raise Him from the dead.  But it was part of the Father’s plan, for the good of Lazarus, for the good of Martha and Mary, for the good of the apostles and disciples, and even for Jesus’ good. 
    It didn’t seem that way for Martha.  She said to Jesus, “‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.’”  But, even in the midst of her grief and confusion, Martha trusts in Jesus, and the power of God to do anything, even raise someone from the dead.  Mary, too, when she comes to see Jesus, repeats the refrain of Martha, “‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.’”  Mary, who had sat at the feet of Jesus to hear Him, while Martha worried about being hospitable, is now wondering what Jesus was doing, and why Lazarus had to die. 
    But Jesus is not callused to the death, either.  When Jesus came to the tomb, He cries.  This is the shortest verse in the entire New Testament: “And Jesus wept.”    Faced with the loss of His friend, Jesus cries.  He even took on our sorrow in the face of the death of a friend.  As Jesus goes to raise Lazarus, the crowd does not believe.  Even Martha says, “‘Lord, by now there will be a stench; he has been dead for four days.’” 
    And then, after this long, drawn-out episode of Lazarus getting ill, Jesus waiting, Jesus greeting Martha, and then Mary, and then going to the tomb, it all changes.   “‘Lazarus, come out!’” Jesus says loudly.  And Lazarus does.  And the Jews began to believe in Jesus.
    We’re in week two of no public Masses.  Now we have a Stay At Home order from Governor Whitmer.  School is still out.  We’re trying to prevent deaths from COVID-19 by our social distancing, but it almost feels like the world is dead.  It seems like there has been no life.  Many people aren’t even leaving their houses, or doing so very sparingly.  With so many people staying inside their homes, by now, there will be a stench! 
    And yet, the Lord is doing something.  Somehow, according to the will of the Father, this is for our good.  It seems like Jesus is waiting too long.  Things are dire!  We need a cure now!  We need this to end now!  But He’s still waiting.  So what is on the other side of this pandemic?  We don’t know, other than it’s new life.  And somehow, God will be glorified, and others will have the opportunity to believe in Jesus. 
    I know we want to rush this, and get this over as soon as possible.  Believe me, as much as I am grateful to Tommy for Facebook live broadcasting me to you, I’d rather have you here!  I’d rather celebrate the holiest week of the year with you.  But, for now, we wait in the tomb with Lazarus.  For now, we wait for the Lord to act.  And while we wait, we reaffirm our trust, that when the Lord Jesus does act, it will mean new life for each of us.  So let us wait with joyful hope to hear those words of our Lord: Come out!  And we will be unbound, and able to live in the freedom of the resurrection. 

Invites, RSVPs, and Attendance

Twenty-eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Ironically, as I was preparing for the homily this past week, I received an invitation in the mail for a wedding that is being celebrated in July.  Talk about the Word of God being active and alive!

With Facebook, there are more and more events to which we can be invited.  Sometimes there are still the paper invitations, especially with weddings, but I have seen more and more people go to online invitations for open houses, parties, and we use it on our parish Facebook page for different events happening in our parish.

An invitation is, firstly, a sign that we are important to the person doing the inviting.  I remember when I was helping to plan my ordination reception with my parents.  There were all the considerations about whom to invite.  Because you can’t only invite one second cousin.  If you invite one, you have to invite them all.  But sometimes you’re closer with some family members than with others.  So if we’re invited, it is a sign that we are important enough to get the invite.  And I think that’s one of the takeaways from the Gospel reading today: God considers each of us important enough to invite to His wedding feast.  That’s no small thing.  God wants each of us to share eternal life with him.  

Isaiah describes that wedding feast using the image of the mountain of the Lord.  There will be the best of foods and the best of wines.  The quality of the food and wine is so good that Isaiah does something common when something is too good for words: he repeats himself.  But beyond the food and wine, on the mountain of the Lord there is no more death, no more tears, and no more reproach (which is a word we don’t hear that much and means “the expression of disapproval or disappointment”).  The day of the mountain of the Lord is a day of rejoicing, because God has saved us.  And this reading is one of the suggested readings for funerals, because the mountain of the Lord should be the goal of our life, and it’s where we hope our loved ones go after death.

But, another takeaway from the Gospel is that not everyone RSVPs to the invitation in the affirmative.  There are people who decline the invite for things of lesser importance: farming, business, or even just ignoring the invite altogether.  Even though invited, they don’t give much weight to the relationship with the person who is inviting them to rejoice with him and his family.  And when there is more room for guests, because so many people have not accepted the invitation, the king invites others, some who are good, but even some who are bad.  Just because we are invited does not mean we go.  We have to choose to go to the wedding; simply having the invitation is not enough.

And lastly, Jesus talks about one of the guests not having the proper garments for a wedding.  Even though the king was glad to invite the good and bad alike, there were expectations about proper dress for the wedding.  And the one who did not have the proper garment was thrown out into the darkness, in the place of “wailing and grinding of teeth.”  When I hear those words about a garment, I immediately think of the words that I tell a child or adult at baptism: “you have become a new creation, and have clothed yourself in Christ.  See in this white garment the outward sign of your Christian dignity.  With your family and friends to help you by word and example, bring that dignity unstained into the everlasting life of heaven.”  We are told at our baptism, when we receive our invitation, that on the mountain of the Lord, at the Lord’s wedding feast, there is a proper clothing requirement, and that requirement is supposed to white to represent our purity from sin.  Reconciliation is, as it were, bleach, that, by God’s grace, washes clean our baptismal garment that we have soiled by our disobedience to God.

So often, evangelicals will ask the question, “Are you saved?”, and our Gospel helps us answer that question with a Catholic answer.  We were saved when we were baptized, when we accepted the invitation from Jesus to attend His wedding feast in heaven as we died with Christ in the waters of baptism that freed us from sin and made us children of God and members of the Church.  We are being saved as we, by the grace of God, try to keep our baptismal garment clean and daily act in such a way as to show that we want to attend the wedding at the end of time.  And we hope to be saved when we are invited to the banquet hall, with the proper wedding garment, and are able to rejoice with Jesus in the Kingdom of Heaven forever.  

Being baptized isn’t enough.  Baptism is the invitation to the wedding feast.  We have to respond to the invitation that Jesus extends to us each day of our life.  Because Jesus also says at the end of our Gospel, that, “‘Many are invited, but few are chosen.’”  Let’s not ignore this invitation, or act in such a way that shows that we have better things to do than to go attend the wedding feast of the Lamb.  Let us make our own the words that we hear at each Mass: “Blessed are those called to the supper of the Lamb.”

Facebook Friends with Jesus

Fifth Sunday of Easter

            Stay connected: that’s what social media says it can do for you.  It tells you that if you use the site, then you can keep track of all your friends’ (and general acquaintances’) birthdays, see what they are up to, rejoice in their triumphs, weep with them in sorrow, and stay connected. 

            And yet, the social fabric of our society is very disconnected.  You can have 700 friends on Facebook, and not really have anyone with which to share truly personal details.  You can follow hundreds of people on Twitter, read all of their accomplishments, sing along with their mopey song lyrics after a break up, and retweet their hilarious messages, and not truly have a real relationship with that person.  Now don’t get me wrong: I have no problem per se with Facebook, Twitter, or social media.  But, what I have noticed is that as much as social media says that it connects people, there are way too many people who feel adrift, without a true friend in the world.

            So when Jesus tells us today in the Gospel, “‘I am the vine, you are the branches.  Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit,’” our idea of staying connected to Jesus might be a little skewed.  After all, we’ve liked that picture on Facebook that says, “If you share this picture with your friends, Jesus will acknowledge you in heaven,” and we’ve retweeted the tweet that says, “Retweet if you love Jesus; keep scrolling if you love Satan.”  So we’re connected to Jesus, right? 

            Jesus reminds us that, “‘Just as a branch cannot bear fruit on its own unless it remains on the vine, so neither can you unless your remain in me.’”  Our life, especially our spiritual life, depends on our attachment to Jesus.  If we are connected, then we bear fruit.  If we are separated, then we die, just as a branch connected to the vine bears grapes, while the braches that have been separated from the vine die and are good for nothing other than fuel for the fire. 

            More and more as a society, we don’t know how to be connected with each other.  We try to fake it and take the easy way out.  We’re so busy, either with our own schedules, or those of our family, that we are losing the ability to stay in touch with each other, even when it’s our own families.  How long has it been since you had a nice, Sunday dinner, where you sat around the table and just spent time with one another: hearing about what’s going on, sharing jokes and funny stories, supporting each other in hard times?  Some families still do, and they tend to be happier families.  Too often, though, there’s a game on Sunday, or work to be done, and if the family eats at home, it’s whenever each person wants, not together, and is usually enjoyed while watching TV, so there’s no real conversation.  We run around, and get fast food, and are experts at doing lots of things.  But we have become novices at simply being together, which accounts for the deep feelings of loneliness and separation that exist, especially among our youth.

            And because we don’t know how to be connected in our human relationships, we also are lost in how to be connected in our spiritual relationships.  More and more people come to me and say, “Father, I feel like God has abandoned me.  I can’t feel anything from God.”  For some, this is due to the fact that they do not know how to be connected to God, other than the shallow connections that are as ubiquitous as the dandelions in a field of grass this time of year.  So let me suggest a few ways to be connected to Jesus.

1.     Carve out daily time for God.  We’re all busy, I know.  I often feel like I’m running from one thing to another.  But, I have found that the more I am able to set aside blocks of time: 30 minutes here, 5 minutes there, 15 minutes there, the more I can respond to the spiritual needs of the parish, because I am more connected to the vine, the life, the wisdom, the patience that comes from God.  Just like an iPhone, which cannot work very long without connecting the tether to an outlet, so our souls cannot be refreshed unless they are connected to God in daily talking and listening with Him.

2.     Follow the commandments.  In our second reading, St. John tells us that the way we know we belong to the truth—Jesus—is that we keep His commandments.  Do we follow the 10 Commandments, and the precepts of the Church?  Do we strive to live an honest life, putting God first, others second, and ourselves last?  And when we fail, as we all will, then return to the Sacrament of Reconciliation, to be re-grafted onto the vine of life.

3.     Enjoy Mass.  Now, you might think this is outside of your control.  Maybe you don’t like the homily; maybe you don’t like the music; maybe the pew’s not as relaxing as you would like; maybe you can’t stand that young priest.  But, while we can’t control the homily, the music, the pews, or the priest, we can come to Mass thanking God that we can set aside time to rest and relax in Him.  We can come to Mass at least 5 minutes early for silent prayer, and not leave Mass immediately after communion, rushing off to the next event, but make time to be with the Lord.  Vatican II taught that the Eucharist is the source and summit of the Christian life.  It is where we get our energy to be Christians and it orients us, if we are open, to the eternal liturgy of heaven where the angels and saints (and hopefully someday we will be saints) worship God.

4.     Read your monthly copy of FAITH Magazine, or check out or download a spiritual book, like The Lord by Romano Guardini, or Story of a Soul, by St. Thérèse of Lisiuex, or Peace of Soul by Archbishop Fulton Sheen, or To Whom Shall We Go? by Timothy Cardinal Dolan, or another Catholic book.  The soul is not separate from the body, and so feeding our mind with spiritual reading also feeds our souls. 

We live in a disconnected world.  We are so busy doing things with other people or for other people, that we have forgotten how to simply be with other people, including Jesus.  And no matter how many friends we have on Facebook; no matter how many followers we have on Twitter, we are not going to feel whole, to feel connected, unless we are united to Jesus the Vine.  Take time to spend with each other.  Make time for Jesus.  It will be the best investment you will ever make.  

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.