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?

Incremental Growth

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

(l-r) Anthony and Fr. Anthony

    When you have a goal, sometimes it’s easy to want to be at the end result, rather than being satisfied that you have done today what you need to in order to achieve that goal.  My best friend Anthony is very strong and very much in shape.  And when I started lifting weights over a year ago, I wanted my body to look like his.  I wanted the big biceps and pecs.  Now, if Anthony were to stand up next to me today, you would see that I have not yet achieved that goal.  But, I am bigger than I used to be, with better defined muscles.
    When it comes to our spiritual life, it is easy to fall prey to the same mentality, that we should achieve the goal immediately.  We read the lives of the saints, which helps us because we see in them the goal of living our baptismal promises.  But then we realize that we’re not at their level yet.  This can push us onwards, or it can also lead to a bit of despair, because we can worry that we will never achieve our goal because we haven’t achieved it yet.
    As we hear the call of the first Apostles–Andrew and John, and then Andrew invites Peter–we can see them searching for a more meaningful life, searching for the Messiah and desiring to associate themselves with Him.  To use the weight-lifting example, it’s as if St. John the Baptist says about Jesus, “Look at that guy flex!” and Andrew and John are amazed enough to follow a new leader, and Andrew even invites his own brother to join in.
    But Jesus doesn’t lay out for them everything that will happen, either to Himself or to them.  He doesn’t unfold how life will fully be like following the Messiah and being part of His inner circle.  He doesn’t explain that He’s going to wander around Judea and Galilee preaching and performing miracles.  He doesn’t tell them that He will forgive sins, which is reserved for God, or heal the blind, sick, and lame, and even raise a dead girl to life.  He doesn’t tell them that the Pharisees are not going to be fans, and are going to dog Him and His followers everywhere they go.  He doesn’t tell them that He will walk on water, multiple bread and fish for five thousand, or ride triumphantly into Jerusalem.  He certainly doesn’t tell them that the same crowd that joyously welcomes Him to Jerusalem for the upcoming feast of Passover will call for His crucifixion, which He will undergo, abandoned by most of His disciples. 
    He doesn’t tell them that they will be called Apostles, and will be the new patriarchs of the new Israel.  He doesn’t tell them that they will heal people and exorcise demons in His Name.  He doesn’t tell them that they will, more often than not, lack understanding of His teachings.  He doesn’t tell them that they will be sent out, rather early in the game, to preach His arrival.  He doesn’t tell them that one of the most trusted friends will betray Him for money, while the leader of His trusted friends will even deny knowing Him. 
    What does He say?  “‘Come, and you will see.’”  And Andrew, John, and Peter will stay with Jesus that day.  All that would happen, both to Christ and to the Apostles, is contained in that simple phrase, “Come, and you will see.”  He knew they weren’t ready for everything yet, that they had to slowly prepare for everything, so He didn’t share everything yet.  Just like, when I started lifting weights, I didn’t try to bench 205 lbs. (my current best).  When I started, I think I was lifting 75 lbs. and feeling the burn.  If I would have tried 205 lbs. when I started, I would have failed, and maybe given up.  But I persevered, and now am trying to get up to 225 lbs. 

NOT Fr. Anthony or Anthony

    God doesn’t give us everything all at once, even when we might desire to know it.  Like so many things in nature, the growth happens slowly, organically, methodically.  Yes, sometimes there are spurts of growth, but if the weight of the final goal was placed upon the embryonic beginning, it would crush the start so that the finish would never happen.  I think about it in terms of my own parents’ marriage.  In 1979, when my parents said, “I do,” they had no idea that my dad would convert to Catholicism and be baptized; that he would eventually become a deacon; that they would have three kids; that one kid (me) would fall eight feet, head first, onto a concrete floor (I know some of you are thinking, ‘That explains it!’); that one would be in a horrific car accident that would require weeks of hospitalization and rehab, and leave scars over her arm; that one would have difficulty with her hips at a young age, and then require lots of trips to the ER and breathing treatments for asthma; the time and effort they would put in to caring for their moms in their last days of life; that they wouldn’t both be able to be close to their fathers at the end of life due to COVID.  I’m not sure any couple could handle that at the age of 21 and 19, or any age.  But they have gone through all that and more, taking things one day at a time with Jesus, and seeing where He leads them. 
    Striving for holiness is a day-by-day affair.  We are not saints all at once, but each day choose to say yes to God and no to anything opposed to Him.  If you want to be a saint, then commit yourself, just for each today that you have, to stay with Jesus that today.  After the numerous todays that you spend with Him and cooperate with His grace, you’ll see the difference.  Your end will be determined by the daily decision you make to remain with Jesus.  Where does God want to lead you?  “Come, and you will see.”

Come, and You Will See

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time-St. Pius X

    Once the Bishop Boyea decreed that St. Pius X parish would be closed and which date the closing Mass would be, I was curious about what the reading would be for the week before (today), the last time I would preach as pastor of St. Pius X parish.  The last homily of a pastor at a parish is always a big homily, but especially when the parish is closing.
    So as I looked for the Gospel today, I was grateful that this Gospel passage would close out my preaching at St. Pius X.  This Gospel of the call of St. Andrew, St. John, and St. Peter (formerly named Simon) may not seem perfect, but it truly is.
    Today, and even more so next week, you may have this sense of, “What am I going to do?  Where am I going to go?”  In this way, you are like St. Andrew and St. John, whom St. John the Baptist directs to Jesus.  Today, as then, Jesus asks you, “‘What are you looking for?’”  Your answers certainly have a common thread, but also are as diverse as each person is.  Each of you seeks something the same and something different from the Lord.  Perhaps your question is like St. Andrew and St. John’s: “‘Where are you staying?’”  Or maybe better for today and next week, “Where are you?”  There is nothing wrong with that question.  All honest questions are welcome to the Messiah.
    Today, Jesus says to you, as He did to Andrew and John, “‘Come, and you will see.’”  Jesus didn’t tell them all that would happen to them over the next three years.  He didn’t immediately give them the term “Apostle.”  He simply invited them to stay with Him, and they did, starting with that day.  
    On 29 June 1955, Bishop Joseph H. Albers, first bishop of Lansing, erected St. Pius X parish.  And on 7 August of the same year, Fr. John A Blasko, the founding pastor, celebrated the first Mass in the Flint CIO Labor Temple at the corner of Corunna and Downey.  On those days, and all the days that followed, the invitation was the same: Come, and you will see.  Jesus didn’t show us then the ups and downs of the parish; the different locations where Mass would be said; the different priests who would serve as pastor or parochial vicar; or even how long the parish would last.  He simply said, “‘Come, and you will see.’”  And we have seen God working.  For 68 years and 7 months God has revealed Himself.  He has done so through the Mass, through the sisters and lay people who taught in the school, through the CCD classes, through the faith-sharing groups, through the food pantry, through the priests, through the buildings, and through the parishioners who became more like family.  
    And next week, as Bishop Boyea closes the doors to this church and declares it de-consecrated, the message will not change.  Jesus will still invite you: Come, and you will see.  And whether you stay with Jesus by joining St. Matthew or by joining another parish, Jesus wants you to stay with Him.  Today: stay with Him.  Tomorrow: stay with Him.  The rest will work itself out.  As long as you stay with Him.
    It wouldn’t always be easy.  Simon, after meeting the Lord, got a new name.  This group of three would grow to a group of twelve, which would shrink by one when Judas betrayed the Lord, and then would add Matthias and later on Paul.  Christ would demonstrate great miracles like the feeding of 5,000 with fives loaves and two fish.  Pharisees and scribes would seemingly constantly harass this wandering Rabbi and His disciples.  Most would abandon the Lord after He said that they had to eat His flesh and drink His blood to have life within them.  All of Jerusalem would welcome Him right before Passover, and then they would all yell out, “Crucify him!” five days later.  All but John and Peter would abandon the Lord after He was arrested, and even then Peter would deny he even knew Jesus.  Talk about your ups and downs.  But, even after abandoning Him, they would gather to stay in the place He celebrated the First Mass with them, and see Him risen from the dead and receive both His peace and His commission to spread the Gospel.  
    It has been and always will be the same: someone points out Jesus to us, and Jesus invites us to stay with Him.  It’s that simple and that complicated.  Stay with Jesus; stay with the Church.  I don’t know what that will entail for you, but the Lord of History, Jesus Christ, does.  What will happen if you stay with Jesus?  “‘Come, and you will see.’”

The Last Gospel

Nativity of the Lord: Mass during the Day/Third Mass
    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen].  There are so many beautiful images that the Scriptures bring to our imaginations about the Nativity of the Lord.  Maybe we think of Joseph leading Mary on a donkey as she travels to Bethlehem while being nine months pregnant.  Or maybe we think of them going up to inns, trying to see if there’s room, but not finding anything.  Because of St. Francis of Assisi, we may think of them in a barn-like structure, though the older tradition is that our Lord was born in a cave.  We may think of the shepherds seeing the angels, hearing them sing the Gloria, and then going to find the Christ Child.  Based upon the Christmas carol, we might even think about a little boy with his snare drum playing for the Holy Family (which is probably not what a woman who has just given birth wants to hear).    So which of these accounts do we hear as we come to Mass today on Christmas morning/afternoon?  “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was God, and the Word was God….And the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us, and we saw his glory, the glory as of the Father’s only Son, full of grace and truth.”  And yet, according to one scholar, John’s prologue was the traditional Gospel for Christmas Day from the time of the earliest lectionaries, or collections of readings for the Mass. 
    So why this Gospel?  Why this elevated reflection Christ as the Logos, the Word?  This prologue is really the Gospel writ small.  It precedes, in a sense, Genesis, and concludes, in a sense the Book of Revelation.  It starts at the beginning, but even before “In the beginning” from Genesis, because it speaks of the time when there was simply God, and nothing else.  It talks about the perennial back and forth between light and darkness, an unequal battle that entered humanity’s realm by the disobedience of Adam and Eve.  But it also talks about those who belong to God, are enabled to become His children, through this same Logos, this same Word, Jesus Christ.
    All of the stories with which we are familiar–Mary and Joseph, the inns, the stable or cave, the shepherds–John encapsulates in the pithy phrase, “And the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.”  John, who wrote this Gospel around the year AD 90, already had the witness of Matthew and Luke giving their own infancy narratives.  But there is more to Christmas than just a baby.  There is also the aspect that this baby brought us the grace to be freed from the slavery to the law.  Christ gave us more than just a new law.  He gave us Himself: “From his fullness…grace in place of grace.”  And John, even in just this first part of the first chapter, is able to start to tease out the invisible realities which this visible baby brought forth.
    Other than today and on Holy Thursday, in the Extraordinary Form, this Gospel passage is read at the end of each Mass and is called the Last Gospel.  This practice began in England in what is called the Sarum Rite from the twelfth century.  Between the eleven hundreds and the fifteen hundreds, it was a private prayer for the priest to say after Mass.  Pope St. Pius V added it to every Mass (with few exceptions) in 1570.  It was eliminated in the post-Conciliar changes to the Missal in 1965.
    But the value is that, at the end of each Mass in the Extraordinary Form, priest and people are reminded of this overarching theme of salvation: God in Himself; God in the Incarnation; God’s grace and truth given to us to become children of God, a revelation only made possible by the Incarnation of the Eternal Word.  And the Eucharist, just received at the time of the Last Gospel, is precisely the same Word, who strengthens the individual Catholic in the Theo-drama of God’s victory of light over darkness and holiness over sin. 
    This focus on the divinity of Christ also reminds us of the power of Christmas over all the other ways that God communicated.  The Letter to the Hebrews adeptly reminds us that God has spoken to us in partial and various ways.  He walked with Adam and Eve in the cool of the evening.  He spoke to Noah and commanded him to build an ark to save the righteous.  He called Abraham out of Ur of the Chaldees.  He called Moses to free His people from bondage in Egypt to freedom in the Promised Land.  He anointed David to be the king and shepherd of His people, Israel.  He gave Solomon the plan for the Temple and dwelt there.  He sent prophets to remind the people of their commitment to follow God and the consequences if they did not.  And all of those were good.
    But at that first Christmas, God chose to speak for Himself.  An ambassador is a good communication of the wishes and expectations of a ruler.  But the ruler himself communicates in a way that far surpasses a spokesman.  A picture or a painting can capture some of the beauty of a landscape.  But to be in the presence of the reality far surpasses any representation of that beauty.  Our Lord is the ruler.  Our Lord is the beautiful landscape.  And in encountering Him, in the Incarnation, we have the chance to appreciate the reality beyond the shadows the prefigured it. 
    This may not be the Christmas Gospel we anticipate.  But it’s the Christmas Gospel that explains not just that day, but all of salvation history.  This Prologue reminds us that Christmas is not just about the baby that we see with our eyes, but the God that we see with our faith.  May our appreciation of the Word made Flesh, spur us on to live in the grace and truth that come from Jesus Christ, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit are one God, for ever and ever.  Amen.

Being the Best Man

Third Sunday of Advent

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Today we are reintroduced to the person of St. John the Baptist.  We often do with the Precursor what we tend to do with other saintly personalities that startle us: we try to domesticate them.  We quickly skim over the more radical parts of their personalities and messages, and we go to the parts with which we are more comfortable and familiar.  With John, we may soften his facial features, and have him gently pointing out the Lamb of God along the Jordan River. 
    But a person who ate locusts and wild honey probably didn’t have the best complexion.  And I can’t imagine camel-hair clothing being all that fashionable, even back them.  John says that he fulfills the prophecy of Isaiah, to make straight the way for the Lord.  But as he does so, he calls out the Pharisees and scribes, and calls them a brood of vipers.  He prophesies to the religious leaders that any tree that does not bear fruit will be chopped down at its roots, and that God will burn the chaff, the useless bits of the harvest, “with unquenchable fire.”  John was not a wilting lily, but, in his own way, an extremist, who wasn’t afraid to call out those who needed to repent.
    But a later passage from the Gospel according to John, from whose Gospel we heard today, has St. John the Baptist also saying, “‘The one who has the bride is the bridegroom; the best man, who stands and listens to him, rejoices greatly at the bridegroom’s voice.  So this joy of mine has been made complete.  He must increase; I must decrease.’”  And since the liturgy wants us to rejoice on this Gaudete Sunday, this Sunday that our introit and epistle both center on rejoicing, it’s also important to meditate on the joy of hearing the voice of the bridegroom.
    When it comes to the image the Forerunner uses, that of a wedding party, we should make sure we have each character rightly understood.  The Bridegroom is Christ.  The bride is the Church.  This image can be difficult for guys, as we don’t think of ourselves as brides.  A bride is an altogether feminine image, and we men don’t readily attribute to ourselves femininity, which is proper to women.  But, it’s the flip side of the coin that we are all united and participate in the Son of God through baptism, which is a more difficult image for women, who probably don’t think of themselves in the masculine reality of being a son.  Still, as members of the Church, we are Christ’s bride, the one for whom He gives His life, His top priority and greatest love. 
    Because of the Incarnation, the Divine Bridegroom has connected us to Himself.  By His Passion He paid the price to free us from the dominion of sin and death, and liberate us into the free and elevating spousal union.  And this is certainly a reason to rejoice.  Of course, this Sunday we rejoice because we are more than halfway to the celebration to Christmas (in fact, this year, we only have 8 more days until Christmas).  But we rejoice because we will soon rejoice even more in the celebration of the fulfillment of all the Old Testament prophecies where God promised to send us a redeemer.  And living in this post-Incarnation time, we rejoice that we are the bride of Christ, united to Him through Holy Baptism so that we can reign with Him forever if we stay united to Him throughout our life.
    But, in another image that may be more difficult for women, we are also the best man.  Yes, that term specifically refers to St. John the Baptist, but it can also refer to us, because we also are supposed to stand at attention for His return, and listen for His voice.  And when we hear that voice, it causes joy because our role as best man is to help the groom prepare for his wedding feast where he takes a bride for himself.  God calls us, as He called St. John the Baptist, to be ready and listen for how God reveals Himself, so that we can point Him out when we notice Him. 
    This is part of how we live as those who evangelize.  We should constantly keep our ears and eyes attuned to the working of God, not only in our own life and in the life of our family, but also in the lives of those whom we daily encounter.  We should be ready to point out to people how we see God working in their lives.  Do we have the courage to help others see how God works in their lives?  Can we recognize how God works? 
    In that way, we are all supposed to be like Precursor of the Lord.  Whether it is helping others through turmoil and difficulty because of their lack of the Lord, or when we experience what many call a “God-moment” where we sense that God has just done something, part of our mission as disciples is to point out God working in other lives so that it leads to deeper faith.  So often we can go through life just presuming that everything is a result of our actions and choices.  It can be so easy to live like a deist, who believes that God exists but that He doesn’t really interact with our world, He just lets us do our own thing while He watches from afar.  But we are not deists.  We are Incarnationalists.  We believe that God took flesh because He wanted to, ever more closely, interact with us and draw us to Himself.  And while Christ our Incarnate Lord did ascend into the heavens, He promised not to leave us orphans, but to send the Holy Spirit to continue His work and to lead us into all truth.  And that Holy Spirit is alive and powerful and can work great things through us, if we let Him.  And when we see that work of the Holy Spirit, we can be like Buddy the Elf, who, upon learning that Santa is coming to the mall says, “I know him!” 

    We should not domesticate St. John the Baptist because it domesticates our vocation to point out the Lamb of God in our daily lives.  And the domestication of that vocation means that we don’t bother to point out the Lamb because we are afraid, or we don’t think others want to know Him, or maybe even that we want to keep the Lamb to ourselves.  But if we wish to rejoice, and if we wish others to rejoice, then we must stand attentive to the voice of the Bridegroom, prepare the way of the Lord, and point Him out when He comes: Jesus, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit is God for ever and ever.  Amen.

John, Pumbaa, and a Street Preacher

 Third Sunday of Advent

    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.]. For the first week of Advent I focused on waiting.  Last week I focused on preparing.  This week I’d like to focus on St. John the Baptist, who, as I mentioned last week, prepares the way for the Lord’s coming.
    Honestly, I always get the timeline with St. John the Baptist messed up in my head.  Because we hear about the Baptizer so much in Advent, I always picture him preaching at the Jordan before Christ was even born.  Of course, the Scriptures are clear that John was about six months older than our Lord.  So John’s preaching in the wilderness happens sometime around the Year of our Lord 30.  
    The Precursor, as he is also called, demonstrated an extreme care for doing God’s will, even others did not experience that care as normal.  John preached and baptized in the northern part of the Promised Land (the modern-day site is in Jordan and Israel, with the Jordan River acting as a natural border).  He wore camel-hair clothing and ate locusts (I’m sure Pumbaa would chime in that they’re delicious and nutritious and taste just like chicken).  
    People were drawn to this fire-brand in the wilderness.  The Forerunner (another way of referring to St. John the Baptist) drew many to his message.  Average people came to see him and hear him preach repentance, which they did, and many sought baptism.  Even soldiers (those would have been Roman soldiers) went to hear his message.  As, as the Gospel of John relates, this attracted the priests and Pharisees to examine who this character was.  They wondered if he might be Elijah (prophesied by Malachi to come before the Messiah), or even the Prophet that Moses spoke about in Deuteronomy.  But John simply identifies himself as the fulfillment of the prophecy of Isaiah, the voice of one crying in the wilderness to prepare the way of the Lord.
    I often tend to think of John like a street preacher.  I can’t say that I find street preachers usually an example of attracting people to the Gospel.  I remember one street preacher who was preaching as I was walking back from an MSU football game when I was a priest in East Lansing.  He was telling people to repent from their drunkenness and debauchery.  Yelling is probably a more accurate word than telling.  As I walked past I looked at him, and he must have noticed my glance, because he then said something to the effect of, “And don’t think your collar will save you from the fires of hell!”  Perhaps needless to say, I walked on by him, as everyone else did the same.

Statue of St. John the Baptist in Ein Kerem

    Whatever that street preacher lacked, John certainly didn’t.  Even with his strange clothing and diet, people knew that they were not living they way they should, and his message encouraged many to repent and be baptized.  This baptism wasn’t for the forgiveness of sins, but prepared for the baptism of Christ, a baptism the Precursor himself described of the Holy Spirit and fire.  
    I think the question for us as we rejoice while celebrating Gaudete Sunday (that Advent is more than half over), is how we prepare others to receive Christ.  John basically set the table for our Lord, and when the Savior appeared on the scene, John faded away, as he noted, referring to Christ, “He must increase, I must decrease.”  Yes, we hear about him with some disciples while he is in prison, under the watchful eye of King Herod, but John’s importance is only to prepare for Jesus’ coming and manifestation.  
    One of the struggles when trying to bring others to Christ is to make it about us.  I’m obviously not opposed to personal stories that hopefully help connect you to the Gospel.  But I try to make sure that, by what I do and what I say, you can grow closer to Christ.  It’s not about me; it’s all about Him.  We are drawn to certain personalities more than others, and to the extent that they bring us closer to Christ, praise God!  But how it easy can it be to leave people only connected to ourselves, rather than moving them to the Redeemer.
    All of us are called to draw others to Christ, to prepare them to receive the Lord.  It’s not just the jobs of priests, deacons, and consecrated men and women.  In many ways, the witness of the lay faithful can bear more fruit, because your life mirrors other laypersons.  It could be the person at work, the members of your family, or even strangers on the road or in the grocery store.  Does the way you act and the words you say prepare them to hear the Gospel?  Or does it lead to scratching of heads because others know that we’re Catholic, but we’re not acting too saintly?  Are we patient with the waitress who is overworked and taking a little longer to get our food, or maybe even messing up the order?  Do we snap at the customer service representative on the phone, or give the one-finger salute to a bad driver on the road?
    Parents, in particular, have the special vocation of preparing others for Christ by demonstrating what it means to live the faith by the way they treat each other as spouses, and their children.  Do you make time for daily prayer?  Do you speak with respect to your spouse, and build him or her up?  Is discipline, which is necessary, done out of anger or out of love, and do the children know the difference?  While children will, eventually, make their own decisions about whether or not they will practice the faith (just like those who heard the Forerunner could choose to follow him and then follow the Lord, or could walk away and go back to their own lives), how the faith is lived out makes a huge difference.  This is true for the role mothers have (our moms are often so talented and sharing the faith with us), but is also true for fathers.  When dad practices the faith, the children are much more likely to continue to live the faith into adulthood.  
    John the Baptist had a particular vocation to prepare the way for Christ.  But God desires all of us to connect others with our Lord by the way we live, by the words we speak, especially, but not limited to, the way our family develops.  Are we leading people on winding roads away from God, or are we making straight the paths that lead to our God [the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen]?

A Cosmic Wedding

 Nativity of the Lord–During the Day/Third Mass (EF)
    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.]  When it comes to weddings, priests have different opinions.  Some priests are not the biggest fans, especially of late, because all sorts of wedding ideas (most of which are foreign to the Catholic Rite of Marriage) have sprung up which (usually) the bride wants, or, from time to time, the parents (again, usually) of the bride can be very…involved in weddings.  While those things are still true, I find that I love weddings.  I love the joy of a couple coming together to commit themselves to each other and to God, the celebratory nature of a wedding, and the smiles that weddings bring to families and friends.
 

   Today as we celebrate Christmas, we celebrate a cosmic wedding, unlike any other wedding that came before, or any that would come after.  The music for the wedding is heavenly.  And the parents involved are anything but a problem.  As we come together for Christmas, we celebrate the wedding of heaven and earth, and the wedding of time and eternity.  Both are joined so as to never be separated again, and both are reasons for joy, celebration, and smiles.
    In Christ, heaven is forever wedded to earth.  Especially at Christmas, we often focus primarily on the human nature of Jesus, because that was something new that happened at the first Christmas.  At the first Christmas, we learned (eventually) that God and humanity could be joined together, and the God who was wholly clouded in mystery could now be seen face to face on earth.  We think about the shepherds who came to see Mary, Joseph, and the Christ Child.  We think about the cave (or manger) where Christ was born, the animals that were gathered round Him, and what was happening on earth.  
    But our readings today also help focus us on the eternal.  The author of the Letter to the Hebrews, traditionally St. Paul, talks about our Lord as the one through whom the entire universe was made, and the refulgence of the glory of God.  St. Paul emphasizes Christ’s divine nature and his superiority even to the angels.  And St. John begins his gospel account with the eternal nature of the Word, the Logos, who was with God in the beginning, and is God Himself.  While what we looked upon at Christmas is a little baby, what we actually saw was both God who is fragile and God who is omnipotent; the tiny child and the Lord of Hosts.

   Both natures, human and divine, are married in Christ, and, like marriage itself, what God has joined cannot be divided.  In the words of St. Athanasius, the great Doctor of the Church from Alexandria, God became man so that man might become God.  God took on our fallen human nature, so that we, in Christ, could be raised to the glory of the divine nature of God, not by substance but by adoption.  The glory of this day is that we have a savior who is going to save us from sin and death, and the darkness of the world is fading, even as the dark days of winter start to grow lighter.
    But in Christ, we also have the wedding of time and eternity.  In the Incarnation, we can see God, and know when He is (in Jesus) in one place, and not another.  He humbles Himself and subjects Himself to time and limits.  But the same God is outside time, seeing all time at once, and remaining the same “yesterday, today, and forever.”  And because of Christ, that connection remains forever, again, never divorced as a union founded in God.
    And that is precisely what is happening in this Mass, as well.  Each Mass is a little Easter, but we might also say that it is a little Christmas, inasmuch as divinity is united to humanity, and eternity is joined to time.  As I say the words of the Eucharistic Prayer, and as the Holy Spirit descends upon the bread and wine and transforms it into the Body and Blood of Christ, heaven comes down to earth, and is united in the Eucharistic species.  Christ, once more, is born for us, and is both fragile in our hands and on our tongues, without losing any of His power and authority.  As we enter into this Mass, we keep one foot in time (because we cannot leave this world and enter the next on our own), but we also put one foot into eternity, because we participate in the eternal offering of Christ at the right hand of the Father in heaven.  
    The beauty and otherworldly-ness of the Mass is on purpose.  We are not supposed to feel like we are at our home on the couch.  The music is not supposed to be of this world.  The smoke of the incense and the sound of the bells, and the unique words and language that are used are all meant to remind us that we stand at the antechamber of heaven, with the veil separating the two pulled back ever so slightly so that both can meet.  What we engage in at this Mass, and every Mass, is the wedding feast of the Lamb of God, where heaven and earth, eternity and time are joined together for the praise of God and for our benefit.  That is what you get to participate in (not merely watch, but actively engage in) when you come to Mass and join in the prayers, whether audibly or silently.  That is what you miss out on when you don’t come to Mass: the biggest wedding of the year, made accessible each day for anyone invited to the wedding.
    This wedding of heaven and earth and time and eternity make it possible for us to love the things of heaven, because we are drawn to them through the things of earth.  Through Christ’s humanity we are able to love His divinity.  Through what we experience with our senses, we encounter a world that is beyond anything we could ever see, hear, smell, touch, or taste.  As we worship with our voices on earth, we are joined by the voices of all the angels and saints in heaven.  That is a wedding worth attending!  That is the truest experience of joy, celebration, and smiles!!  [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.]
   

We're On a Mission from God

Third Sunday of Advent

     If I say the names Jake and Elwood, those of you who remember the 80s probably know exactly who I’m talking about.  Jake and Elwood are the Blues brothers, from the movie with the same name.  And as they work to get the band back together, they make it clear to everyone, that they’re on a mission from God. 
    Our first reading and Gospel today focus on a mission.  In the first reading from the Prophet Isaiah, we hear the mission statement that Jesus Himself will give as He preaches in the synagogue at Nazareth.  Jesus tells them, as Isaiah told Israel, that God has sent Him “to bring glad tidings to the poor, to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners, to announce a year of favor from the Lord and a day of vindication by our God.”  That’s definitely a mission from God, and a pretty good one!
    Our Gospel, too, makes clear that St. John the Baptist was “sent from God.  He came for testimony, to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him.”  We heard about St. John the Baptist, also called the Precursor, last week in our Gospel.  The Precursor is a man on a mission, to prepare the way for Jesus.  He is not the Messiah, as some had started to think, but wants everyone in Israel to be ready for the Messiah. 
    We, too, are called to be people on mission.  We, like Jake and Elwood, are on a mission from God.  I have used this quote before, but St. John Henry Newman wrote: 

God has created me to do Him some definite service.  He has committed some work to me which He has not committed to another.  I have my mission….He has not created me for naught.  I shall do good; I shall do His work.  I shall be an angel of peace, a preacher of truth in my own place.

God has given us each a mission, a call, and it’s something that no one else can do like we can.  Can we respond to that call?
    Many times when we think of a call, we think of priests and consecrated men and women like monks and brothers, nuns and sisters.  But all of us are called, by baptism, to be on mission for God.  Many are called to be on mission as a wife or mother, husband or father.  Others are called to serve as a priest or deacon, or be in a religious community.  Some women are called to be consecrated virgins.  But all are called to advance the Gospel to others.
    How do we recognize our call?  Prayer is key.  A call is something that we choose, but to which God first invites us.  We make a deliberate choice to follow the urging of the Holy Spirit in our life.  Imagine how silly it would sound if I said I chose to be a priest simply because no one else wanted me.  Probably not a great way to start the seminary interview with the bishop.  Instead, a call is something to which we are driven.  A wife (hopefully) doesn’t agree to marry someone simply because no one else will have her.  She finds a man who cares for her, who puts her needs above his own, who wants to work with her to build a family according to God’s plan.  She chooses to love him because she senses that they are meant to become saints together.  And through daily prayer, taking time in silence to hear the voice of God, we learn what God wants for us.
    Sometimes our idea of the call develops or changes.  I didn’t always want to be a priest.  I wanted to be married, have a few kids, a couple of dogs, a really nice house and car, and work either in the military, or as a lawyer, and then maybe a politician (don’t let that last part lessen your opinion of me!).  But through prayer, I came to sense that I could only be truly happy as a priest.  Of course, the Church had something to say about it, too.  It wasn’t simply that I wanted a particular vocation.  But with the formation that the Church provided, and the “yes” that the Church spoke through her leaders, I came to be confirmed in what I felt God wanted me to do.  Sometimes our understanding of our mission changes or develops.
    Another key part of our mission is that we don’t replace the Messiah.  An older priest once told me that his spiritual director had counseled him when he became all-too-convinced of his own importance, “The Church already has a Messiah; we don’t need you!”  Our mission is to cooperate with God, not to take His place.  So many people feel that they can decide what they want to do, rather than God; that they can define what happiness will be–whom they can marry, how many kids they need to have, how they should spend their money–without any consideration of what God wants.  God has made the world a certain way, and has taught us, through the Scriptures and the Church, what truly makes us happy.  When we choose other than that, we are in an exercise of futility; we cannot be happy doing the things that God has said will not give us true happiness. 
    Some of you may feel, due to age or other factors, that you have already accomplished your mission because you know your vocation.  But, as long as you are alive, you still are on mission.  You can continue to spread the Gospel through your children, your grandchildren, and others.  You can offer suffering to Jesus on the cross for an intention.  You can continue to help others know the joy you have from your relationship with Jesus.  Don’t let COVID give you the blues.  You are on a mission from God!

St. John Henry Newman

A Birthday and a Wedding

Solemnity of the Nativity of the Lord (Christmas)

    When we think of Christmas as a celebration, we often think of it as a birthday celebration.  And it certainly is.  We celebrate the birth of Jesus in the flesh in Bethlehem.  Some families have even gone so far as to have birthday cake on Christmas, or to sing “Happy Birthday” to Jesus at the family Christmas.
    But we can also think about Christmas as a wedding.  Our church takes on some of the appearance of a wedding.  At wedding, the church often is decorated with lots of flowers, like the poinsettias that we have here.  Often times you’ll have more candles lit at a wedding.  At wedding Masses we sing the Gloria, the song of the angels in heaven when Jesus was born.  And people dress up for weddings, like so many of you are dressed up today. 
    But the wedding that we celebrate is not between a man and wife, but between heaven and earth, between divinity and humanity, between God and man.  At Christmas heaven descends to earth as Jesus is born.  At Christmas we come to know of the union, never to be broken or divorced, between divinity and humanity in the Person of Jesus.  At Christmas, the angels make known the birth of the God-man, Jesus Christ, the Son of God and son of Mary. 
    The Prophet Isaiah himself uses the image of a wedding:

No more shall people call you “Forsaken,” or your land, “Desolate,” but you shall be called “My Delight,” and your land, “Espoused.”  For the Lord delights in you and makes your land his spouse.  As a young man marries a virgin, your Builder shall marry you; and as a bridegroom rejoices in his bride so shall your God rejoice in you.

God is our Builder and marries our humanity in Jesus.  God is our bridegroom and we, His people, are His bride.  No longer are we weighed down by our past sinfulness; no longer are we forsaken or desolate.  But we are the delight of the Lord, and espoused to Him. 
    We were not a bride that was desirable, because of our unfaithfulness.  We had been engaged or betrothed to God through Abraham, when God chose to make us His People.  But time and time again, we were unfaithful to God and wandered away from Him.  We were burdened by the yoke of slavery to sin, and Satan was our taskmaster.  But when Jesus Christ was born, He, the only one by whom we are saved, took us back to Himself and freed us from our bondage.  Jesus is truly “a savior…born for [us]” who heals us from our ancient wound of sin and gives us the freedom of the children of God.
    This is Good News!  This is the wedding announcement that should make all of us rejoice and be glad on this holy night/day.  For “The Lord has bared his holy arm in the sight of all the nations;” “All the ends of the earth have seen the saving power of God.”  “In times past, God spoke in partial and various ways to our ancestors through the prophets; in these last days, he has spoken to us through the Son.”  God has finally wedded us in Christ, and He will always stay faithful to His marriage vows, even when we stray and are unfaithful. 
    And this Good News is renewed for us each time we come to Mass.  In every Mass, it is as if Jesus is born again, as the bread and wine presented by you become the Body and Blood of Jesus.  Especially on Sunday Masses, we almost always sing the hymn of the angels, the Gloria, as Christ is born in our hearing of the Word of God, and in the confection of the Eucharist.  Heaven is joined to earth, with all the angels and saints, who worship God the Father through Christ the Son in the power of the Holy Spirit.
    But think about a wedding, and think about how you respond to that joyful news.  My sister, Allison, was married this past March, and my sister, Amanda, celebrates her 11th Anniversary on 27 December.  People were so happy and shared the news to those they met, in person and over social media.  Weddings are reasons for celebration and sharing that joy with others.  And so is the wedding of heaven and earth, divinity and humanity, God and man.  Isaiah encourages us: “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings glad tidings, announcing peace, bearing good news, announcing salvation.”  Will we keep this good news of this special wedding to ourselves?  Will we keep the lamp of joy under a bushel basket of fear?  Or will we join with the angels and shepherds in proclaiming to the ends of the earth the wedding which brings salvation to all those who have sat in the shadow of death?  The wedding is certainly good news.  And “Blessed are those called to the wedding feast of the Lamb.”

My brother-in-law, Tom, with my sister, Allison

Belonging to Jesus

Solemnity of the Nativity of the Lord

One of the great feelings that we get to experience as humans is the feeling that we belong.  There are so many groups to which we can belong.  First and foremost is family, and as we celebrate Christmas, we have a strong sense of belonging to that group.  We might also belong to a school, and we especially gravitate towards high school and belonging to a particular class (e.g., I’m a member of the Lansing Catholic High School class of 2002).  Maybe work gives us a sense of belonging.  I know that one of the greatest blessings in my life is belonging to the fraternity of the Catholic priesthood, a band of brothers who are in the field, fighting spiritual combat day in and day out.  Or perhaps our volunteer work gives us that sense of belonging.  I would say that being a chaplain for the Michigan State Police is also a great blessing for me and is a group I treasure.  Or maybe it’s something altogether different than any of the categories that I have mentioned.  Still, as humans, we seek to belong.

As Catholics, there is a group to which we belong which should be a defining aspect of our life: our faith.  In baptism, we became part of the family of God.  We also became members of the Mystical Body of Christ, the Church, through baptism, a group that offers us belonging.  We often break down this sense of belonging into a more manageable size, we might say bite-size pieces, as we look to our parish.  Parish identity is often how people identify how they belong to the Catholic Church, and how they define their membership as a Catholic.  I know that, as a priest, while I have been in three parishes in my eight and a half years as a Catholic priest, each time I go to a place, I dive in, and make that new place my home, my family, and how identify myself (at least partially).  

I think of all the people who are back here tonight because of a connection, present or past, to St. Pius X parish.  In my three years here I have seen people come to Christmas Mass here (regardless of where they live now) because they went to school here, because they were baptized here, or because their family still goes here.  And it’s beautiful to welcome them back.  People always talk about how St. Pius X always feels like home.  And I think we can say that part of that is that they belong.

But what we celebrate tonight is one of the primary mysteries, or realities, of our faith: that God became man.  God did not lack anything.  He was a perfect communion of Divine Persons–Father, Son, and Holy Spirit–existing from all eternity in perfect love, in perfect belonging.  But, in the fullness of time, in order to save His highest creation, humanity, who had wandered away starting in the Garden of Eden and through the subsequent centuries.  God joined Himself to us in Christ, uniting the Divine to the Human in the Person of Jesus.  We might say, in a sense, that God wanted to belong with us in a way that He never had before.  God knew us better than we knew ourselves, but He wanted to share all of our human experiences, except without sin.  And that’s what we celebrate tonight/today: the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.  Jesus, who is consubstantial with the Father, God from God, Light from Light, True God from True God, was conceived in the womb of the Blessed Mother by the power of the Holy Spirit, and was born in Bethlehem.

Few things are more hurtful than when the desire to belong is not reciprocated.  Mary and Joseph, looking for a place to give birth, did not belong and were not welcomed in Bethlehem.  How many times would Jesus be rejected throughout His public ministry, especially by the Pharisees and scribes, but eventually by almost all people, including most of His closest friends who were not with Him at the foot of the cross.  When Jesus taught about Himself as the Bread of Life, the Eucharist, in John 6, at the end, it says that many of His disciples left Him because His teaching was too difficult for them.  And on the cross, Jesus even experiences the full weight of sin, of feeling separated from God the Father, as He cries out, “‘My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?’”

But have we changed?  Are we so different from those who rejected Jesus?  Being a follower of Jesus means more than just showing up tonight/today.  Yes, this is one of the important high points of following Jesus, celebrating His Nativity, but if we wish to truly belong with Jesus, then it can’t be the only point.  If we think of our relationship with God like a marriage, it becomes obvious that this is true.  If I imagined myself married for a second (every woman’s nightmare, I’m sure!), and then, after the wedding, told my bride that I’d see her once a year, or even once a month, I’m sure our marriage wouldn’t be exactly a model union.  If, in our home, we agreed to treat each other with a certain level of respect, and follow certain practices for the betterment of our union, like putting the toilet seat down after I’m done, but then I never followed through, I’m sure our marriage wouldn’t be one for the ages.  I’m sure if we had kids, and I let the kids do whatever they wanted, while I relied on my wife to do all the disciplining, our marriage would be more written in the sand than in the stars.  

Belonging to someone means that we change our life for that person.  Belonging to Jesus means that we give our whole life–not just one day a year, or one day a month, or even just one day a week–to Him.  If we haven’t before, today is the perfect day to start.  The Lord always is waiting for us with open arms.  Jesus gave us everything: His conception, His birth, His life, His Death, and His Resurrection.  He left nothing out when He chose to belong to us.  Will we, to the best of our ability, leave nothing out when we have chosen to belong to Him?

"Lord, help me get one more"

Solemnity of the Nativity of the Lord

One of the questions I am commonly asked is what I do on my days off.  And when I get the chance, I like to see a good movie (when there are good movies out).  In early November I saw a movie called “Hacksaw Ridge.”  It’s based on a true story about a Seventh-Day Adventist, Pfc. Desmond T. Doss, who wants to be a medic in the Army during World War II.  Unfortunately, the Army makes a mistake (even though, as one character states, the Army doesn’t make mistakes), and he is assigned to an infantry division.  I don’t want to ruin the movie for you, but I will say that at one point during the movie, as Private Doss is stationed at a Pacific island, his division tries to take an elevated position, Hacksaw Ridge, which the Japanese have held on to despite multiple sorties.  As the healthy soldiers evacuate after being pushed back, again, by the Japanese, Doss states, at the top of that ridge, “Lord, help me get one more.”  And he rushes back, into enemy territory, to try to save injured members of his division.  He pulls them back, one at a time, and lowers them down the ridge, and then always goes back to find another soldier while saying, “Lord, help me get one more.”  

Now, it might seem odd to talk about a war movie on Christmas Eve/Day.  And this movie is certainly not a Christmas movie.  It’s Rated R for good reason: it’s one of the bloodiest movies I’ve seen in a while.  Children should not see it.  But that line has stuck with me since I saw it: “Lord, help me get one more.”

The Letter to the Hebrews states that, “In times past, God spoke in partial and various ways to our ancestors through the prophets; in these last days, he has spoken to us through the Son.”  All of the Old Testament was a story about God seeking His people, who had fled Him because of their sins, and the people seeking God, who was no longer able to walk among them because of their sins.  All of the Old Testament pointed to God ending this separation by sending His Son, Jesus Christ, the Word through whom all things were made, as St. John says in the Prologue of his account of the Gospel.  It is as if Jesus, God-made-man, God-with-us, was saying about us to His heavenly Father, “Lord, help me get one more.”  We were not injured in a pitched battle, but were beat up by our sins and Satan, who enticed us into evil, but then accused us after we gave into temptation.  We could not save ourselves, and we were dying in the battlefield of the world.  So Jesus came to us to save us.  He came for all of us, but we can also say He came for each one of us individually.  We are the one more Jesus came to help.  

Jesus helped us by being the light to those who walked in darkness, by destroying the yoke of sin and death which enslaved us, by being born as a defenseless child in a part of the world that no one cared about.  Seeing how wretched we were, how lost we were, how injured we were, Jesus could not help but enter our world of sin and sorrow, though He had no sin Himself, and give us the healing, without which our souls would perish eternally.

“Lord, help me get one more,” was fulfilled in the Blessed Virgin Mary, in Joseph, Jesus’ foster-father, in Zechariah, in Elizabeth, in the shepherds, in the magi, and in all those who came into contact with Jesus.  Jesus, whether as an infant at His Nativity, or as a man in His earthly ministry, or hanging on the cross in the sacrifice that put an end to sin and death, came to offer every person the gift of eternal salvation.  Jesus came to rescue us from Hacksaw Ridge.

But Jesus offering to help us didn’t end when He ascended into heaven.  Jesus established a Church to continue His saving work, by the power of the Holy Spirit.  He gave His apostles, who gave to their successors, the bishops, and their assistants, the priests, the authority to act in His name.  They are the ones now who are called to live out, “Lord, help me get one more.”  As long as there is a human on earth who has not come into contact with Jesus, Jesus remains on Hacksaw Ridge to help one more.

Tonight/Today, as at every Mass, Jesus comes to us under the appearance of bread and wine, which are truly the Body and Blood of Jesus.  Every time Mass is celebrated, Jesus becomes flesh once more, and so says to the Father, “Lord, help me get one more.”  He offers to heal our wounds through sacramental confession, and then gives us the food that strengthens us, because we are allowed to partake of Jesus’ own divinity, and puts us on the road to heaven, where there is no more battle, no more Hacksaw Ridge.  

If you’re here tonight/today as a Catholic who attends Mass every week, Jesus is here to heal you and strengthen you; He is here to save you.  If you’re here tonight/today as a Catholic who has been away from the Church or doesn’t come that often, Jesus loves you no less, and wants to heal you through the Sacrament of Penance, and strengthen you through the Eucharist; He is here to save you.  If you’re here tonight/today as a visitor who is not one with us in our Catholic faith, Jesus loves you no less, and is still seeking you on the battlefield to bring you into a full relationship with Him, and heal and strengthen you; He is here to save you.  Tonight/today, Jesus says to our heavenly Father about each and every one of us: “Lord, help me get one more.”

How Can I Keep From Singing

Solemnity of the Nativity of the Lord–Mass during the Day

“Fr. Anthony, you sing a lot.”  I have heard that phrase no small amount of times.  Some people like the chanting.  Others do not enjoy it.  Some have even accused me of chanting just to show off my voice.  Why do I sing?

St. Augustine says that singing is for those who are in love.  And I am in love…with my God, above all.  So I sing, I chant, to Him.  Think about your favorite love song for a second.  What would it be?  In your mind, hum a few bars of the song, or at least imagine that person singing it.  Now imagine that person simply saying it.  Very different, right?  One of my favorite love songs is “My Girl” by the Temptations.  Probably most of us know it.  We can hear the into…We can hear The Temptations singing it.  So imagine if it were simply stated: “I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day/ When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May/ I guess you’d say/ What can make me feel this way?// My girl, my girl, my girl/ Talkin’ bout my girl/ My girl.”  Not quite the same, is it (and not just because it’s me reciting it!)?

I rarely preach on the Psalm, but today did you listen to it?  “Sing to the Lord a new song,” and “Sing joyfully to the Lord, all you lands; break into song; sing praise.” and “Sing praise to the Lord with the harp, with the harp and melodious song.  With trumpets and the sound of the horn sing joyfully before the King, the Lord.”  The Psalm itself is a song, and it’s encouraging us to sing!!  But why?

We sing today because we are (hopefully) overflowing with love because God has become man in Jesus.  Salvation has been announced, the Lord has restored Zion, He has comforted His people and redeemed Jerusalem.  In Christ, we see our salvation.  And we know the Gospel.  While the brightness of the day is slightly clouded by the crucifixion which we will recall in three short months, the crucifixion itself is enlightened by the Resurrection.  

We sing today because we are (hopefully) overflowing with love because while “In times past, God spoke in partial and various ways to our ancestors through the prophets; in these last days, he has spoken to us through the Son.”  Jesus is the fulfillment of the entire Old Testament, and makes clear in Himself what God wants us to know and how God wants us to live.  Jesus, the refulgence (there’s your million dollar word for the day) of the glory of God the Father, “the very imprint of his being,” begins the way by which He purifies us from our sins.  We sing today because “A holy day has dawned upon us.  For today a great light has come upon the earth.”  

We sing today because we are (hopefully) overflowing with love because Jesus, the eternal Word who was in the beginning with God and is God; who created all things and without whom nothing came to be; became flesh and made his dwelling among us, and we say his glory, the glory as of the Father’s only Son.”  We rejoice because “From his fullness we have all received, grace in place of grace, because while the law was given through Moses, grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.”  

All of this is Good News, is great news!!  Our hearts should be bursting with joy at this news.  Even those for whom this is a particularly tough time of year, those who have lost loved ones, whether recently or longer ago, can rejoice because by the mystery of the Lord’s Incarnation, which made possible the crucifixion and Resurrection, we know that death is not the end, and that those who follow Jesus can look forward to an eternal life of joy.  By His Incarnation, Jesus gave us the possibility to be healed from all illness, and to find the fullness of life in heaven.  That is joyful news!!

Will we keep it to ourselves?  Or will we share it with others?  Will we limited by word, like reciting a love song, or will we break into song and sing praise?  May we be the ones about whom Isaiah prophesied when he said, “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings glad tidings, announcing peace, bearing good news, announcing salvation.”  May we “Sing joyfully to the Lord…break into song; sing praise.”

A Call, Not a Text

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

Until I was around 25 years old, I was convinced that I was never going to have a cell phone plan that included texting.  No one texted me, and I didn’t text anyone.  It seemed like texting was really pointless.  Why not just call and talk to the person?  What was so wrong about physically hearing the voice of the other person, and what was so right about typing out a short message to the other person?  I don’t know when that exactly changed, but I remember thinking how much easier it was to ask a person if they wanted to go out to dinner, rather than going through the whole formality of, “Hi!  How you doin’?  Thanks, I’m doing well.  Hey, I was just wondering if you had dinner plans tonight.  No?  Where would you want to go?  Yeah, that’s a good place, but I just went there last week.  Want to try a different place?  Or what are you in the mood for?  Italian sounds great.  Meet you at the restaurant at 5?  Oh, ok; 5:30 then?  Great.  Talk to you later!  Bye!!”  Now it’s just, “Dinner? Italian? What time? Cya then.”  

Texting has seemed to replace calling.  Usually the only phone calls I get are from much older family members, businesses at work, and emergency calls.  Almost everyone else texts.  And yet, it means more when there’s a call.  Calling is to texting what a letter is to an email.  It just shows so much more commitment and personalization.  

Today’s readings focus us on a call from God, especially the first reading of the call of Samuel, and the Gospel with the calling of the first disciples of Jesus.  But in each case, God doesn’t send a text to Samuel, nor does Jesus text Andrew and Peter.  He personally invites them to a special relationship with him.  In the case of Samuel, God calls Samuel to be a prophet.  In the case of the disciples, Jesus calls them to leave everything behind and follow Him.  Even the Psalm takes up this theme, as we heard, “Sacrifice or offering you wished not, but ears open to obedience you gave me.  Holocausts or sin-offerings you sought not; then said I, ‘Behold I come.’”  There is a call from God that is meant for a response.

There are many calls that God makes to us.  And each involves us personally.  It’s not a group message.  When we are baptized, our name is spoken out loud in the church for the first time.  And God calls that child by name to be a saint, a holy man or woman.  That is our universal call or vocation to holiness.  When we are confirmed, our name is called once more and we are given the mission of proclaiming Jesus by how we live our lives and what we say.  That is our vocation to be evangelists.  When we commit to a vocation, after God has led us there, our name is spoken once more, and we are given a specific way of glorifying God.  We can glorify God through a vocation to serve the Church as a Deacon or a Priest in the Sacrament of Holy Order; to put on Christ in a special way, as Christ the Servant or as Christ the Head.  We can glorify God through a vocation to serve the Church as a consecrated man or woman, as a monk or nun, as a brother or sister, or as a consecrated virgin; to dedicate our entire life to Jesus and give Him all that we are.  We can glorify God through a vocation to marriage to serve the Church by witnessing Christ’s love for His Church, a love which sacrifices all for the other; to cooperate with God in forming new life and new disciples of Jesus.  Whether in the Sacrament of Holy Order, the Sacrament of Marriage, or consecrated life, God personally invites us to these ways of life as our names are proclaimed in the church.  

But in addition to the large scale calls, what we might call the macro-calls, there are also the small scale calls, what we might call the micro-calls.  These are the daily calls that God makes in our life to follow Him in a particular way.  Maybe He’s calling us to help someone at work going through a difficult time; to stop gossiping; to love more; to share; to pray for someone.  Each day the Lord invites us to follow Him.  And each day we say yes we are responding to the large scale call.  But whether macro or micro, each call requires a response.  There is no conversation with a person if we don’t answer the phone call.  There is no conversation with God if we don’t listen to what He wants to say to us and respond.  Sometimes it will come in a very powerful way that is out of the ordinary like with Samuel.  Sometimes it will come in a very mundane way that doesn’t seem like a big deal, like when Jesus told Andrew, “‘Come, and you will see.’”

Through the Eucharist which we will receive, God is extending a call to grow more deeply in union with Him, and is giving us the strength through the Body and Blood of His Son to respond to that call.  This week I encourage you to listen for the call of God.  It won’t come impersonally like in a text, but will be a personal invitation from God to love Him more and share that love with others.