Jesus in Hicksville

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

Sometimes the name of a place is used, but then no one really knows where it is.  For example, people will still sometimes say, “She lives to Timbuktu,” to express that the woman lives very far away.  But if you ask people where Timbuktu is, most people don’t know, other than the fact that it’s far away.  Other people might think it’s a made-up city.  In fact, Timbuktu is a real city in the West African country of Mali.  Now, as Americans aren’t always the best at geography, even saying it’s in Mali in West Africa might not help.  So, hopefully to make it clearer, Mali is north of the countries of Ivory Coast and Ghana.  If you’re still not clear where Timbuktu is, you can google it when you get home.

For Jews hearing about the lands of Zebulun and Naphtali, they would have understood where that was.  We, as 21st century Americans, probably just glossed over those names, and figured that they are some weird names from a time long past.  Zebulun and Naphtali were two of the 12 sons of Jacob, also known as Israel.  Long after they died, the tribes that bore their names received land in the Promised Land.  They were not the strongest tribes or the most distinguished for anything, and they became the part of Israel that broke away after King Solomon died.  They were later conquered by the Assyrians, and mixed Judaism with the pagan religions.  For observant Jews, those lands were backward, not faithful, and not a destination.  We might use the term “Hicksville” to describe it.

But the Prophet Isaiah promised that God, after degrading those lands, would give it a great light, to bring it out of darkness.  God would give them great joy, as at a harvest festival, and would end their slavery.  God promises good things for those who, for centuries, were not seen as entitled to good things.

That promise was fulfilled in Jesus.  Jesus goes to Capernaum, “in the region of Zebulun and Naphtali,” to preach the Gospel, saying, “‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.’”  Jesus is the one who is the Light of the World, and gives them light by revealing the good news of salvation in Him.  Jesus cures the sick and expels demons, something that would cause anyone to rejoice.  And Jesus would eventually destroy the slavery of sin by His death on the cross.  Jesus was the perfect fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy to “Hicksville.”  While Jerusalem was the place to be because of the temple, and was the center of religious life for any Jew, God, in the Person of Jesus, goes to places that other religious leaders had long since abandoned.  

And while in “Hicksville,” Jesus begins to form His new Church.  He choses Twelve Apostles, some of whose names we begin to hear at the end of today’s Gospel: Simon, later called Peter, and his brother, Andrew, as well as James and John, the sons of Zebedee.  These four are fisherman.  They are not well educated, and while they practiced Judaism, they were not scholars of it.  None of them were rabbis or scribes.  

In one sense, as people who live in the greater-Flint area, we should be able to relate to the land of Zebulun and Naphtali.  Flint may not be “Hicksville,” but it’s not exactly the top destination of Michigan.  Generally, people are not climbing over each other to move into Flint, as we all well know.  But that does not mean that God has abandoned us.  To the contrary, God still brings light to people who walk in darkness, and still wants to crush the slavery of sin in our lives.  

We see that through the care of Bishop Boyea, a successor to the apostles, for Flint.  Besides the entire Faith in Flint initiative, which seeks to gather the resources of the Diocese of Lansing to assist the Catholic and even non-Catholic population of Flint, no other region in the Diocese has so many young, dynamic priests like Fr. Zach Mabee, Fr. Paul Donnelly, Fr. James Mangan, and Fr. Dan Kogut.  Just as God has a special love for what Biblical scholars refer to as the anawim, the poor and outcast, so Bishop Boyea has shown his special love for Flint by sending all-star priests to build-up the faithful and spread the Gospel.

But God is also calling you to build up the Church.  While we priests do our best to support the faithful with the graces which flow from the sacramental life of the Church, it is the faithful who are called in particular to spread the Gospel and build up the Church.  It is by encountering Christ, even here in Flint, which strengthens us to live our faith, not just for an hour on Sundays, but seven days a week in our homes and workplaces.  Faith sharing groups like ARISE are meant to strengthen our faith and give us the courage to be sent out, which in Greek comes from the word 𝛂𝛑𝛐𝛔𝛕𝛐𝛌𝛐𝛊, which means those who are sent out.

The strength of this parish comes from your response to God’s grace.  If you engage your faith, and make it something that is not only about Sundays, we will be a strong parish.  If we are willing to be challenged to conform our lives more closely to Jesus, and then to be sent out to show and tell others about that transformation in our lives, then Flint will become a place of blessing, a place Jesus is at work.  God calls us to repent and spread the good news of the kingdom of heaven.  Will we respond to God’s call?

Giving Not Getting

Solemnity of the Epiphany of the Lord 

To give a person a good gift, one has to know the person.  For example: last Monday my grandfather turned 90.  There are lots of thoughtful gifts that one can get a 90-year-old: maybe precious metals, mementos, etc.,.  My grandfather didn’t want any of it.  He simply wanted to eat together as a family and spend time with each other.  So all four of my uncles, even the two from Arizona, came together with my parents and we ate out at a restaurant.  However, disregarding my grandfather’s instructions that there were to be no gifts, I bought him something we joke about all the time, something I was sure he would use: bologna.  He loved the gift, and it caused a good amount of laughter.

My grandfather, seated next to my grandmother,
with their 5 children behind them

I also recently asked some of the kids at Powers that I know who are dating what they got for their significant others.  The students I spoke to talked about getting jewelry (especially for the girls), clothes, and other sentimental items.  Some of them took their boyfriend or girlfriend out to dinner, or gave them gift cards.  Talking with the students, it reminds me why I was glad I never had a girlfriend in high school for whom I had to buy things.   

We hear today about the gifts that the magi brought Jesus: gold (for a king); frankincense (for a god); and myrrh (for burial).  We of course know that these gifts were very fitting for Jesus (as well as very pricey), as Jesus is the King of Kings, True God, and the one who suffered death and was buried for our salvation.  The gifts of these three wise men were the perfect gifts.

The gift that Jesus wants is the gift of our lives.  He wants all of us, not just some of us, but all of who we are, and He wants that gift because in giving ourselves to Him, we end up finding true happiness.  This is one of the paradoxes of our faith: it is only in giving ourselves away to Jesus that we actually find who we are meant to be and how we can be happy.  In this new year, people do all sorts of things to try to better themselves and give themselves happier lives.  In reality, the only way we truly better ourselves is by giving our mind, heart, body, and soul to Jesus.  Loving God and loving our neighbor is a gift even better than gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

What is interesting is that, as we come to Mass each Sunday to adore the Christ, just as the magi did two millennia ago, some, maybe even many, of us come not wanting to give a gift, but wanting to receive one.  Mass has become to some, or maybe even many, “what do I get out of it?”  Perhaps the words that priests least want to hear on a Saturday evening or Sunday is: “I don’t get anything out of Mass, Father.”  

Of course, we do get something out of Mass.  We get to hear the Word of God; we get to receive the Body and Blood of Jesus; sometimes we get a good homily; we get the opportunity to unite or lives more closely with Jesus.  If we feel like we don’t get anything out of Mass, we have to ask ourselves: is the Word of God and the Body and Blood of Jesus not a good enough of a gift for us?  But the real problem is not what we get or don’t get out of Mass, but thinking that we go to Mass to get something in the first place.  Just as the beginning of cultural changes are hard to pinpoint, so the beginning of this phenomenon of going to Mass to get something is also hard to pinpoint.  When did we first start thinking: Mass is only as good as when I am moved emotionally, or like the music, or like the homily?  I don’t know, but that approach is a poison that is drawing people away from Jesus.

Don’t get me wrong: people do sometimes have great emotional experiences during the Mass, or the music helps them to pray and unite their lives to Jesus, and on rare occasions they even get good homilies.  And that is something for which we can give thanks.  But each time we come to Mass, we come to give, not to get.  Coming to Mass to get something out of it is like the wise men arriving at the home of Mary and Joseph and Jesus, and saying: “Thank God we found the newborn king!  What can you give us?”  No doubt, the magi did receive something for seeing Jesus, and recognizing in Him the newborn King.  But they did not travel from afar to get something, but rather to give something.

If we come to Mass because of what we like, or the experience we want to have, we are coming not so much for Jesus, but for ourselves, and we are missing the point of Mass.  We have the opportunity each week to come and adore the same Jesus the magi worshipped.  We have the opportunity each week to give Jesus the gift that He wants: not so much gold or frankincense or myrrh, but the gift of who we are, so that He can truly make us free and happy.  The wise men followed the star from afar to come to Jesus in Bethlehem; most of us don’t even have to use OnStar to get to St. Pius X.  But in the Eucharist God becomes flesh once more, and we can do Him homage.  If we put ourselves into the Mass, then we will likely get something out of it.  But even if we don’t “get anything out of it” (beyond hearing God’s Word and receiving the Body and Blood of Jesus), then we don’t need to get worried or leave.  At those times Jesus invites us to give more deeply of ourselves and unite even the things we don’t like to the cross of Jesus, so that He can transform us more powerfully into His disciples.  Jesus desires the gift of all of who we are.  Did we come to get or to give?  

A Mother's Love

Solemnity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Mother of God

Of all other humans on earth, Jesus has a special kind of relationship with His mother, Mary.  This probably doesn’t surprise us, as mothers and their children often have a special connection, that a father and his children will never exactly have, because he didn’t carry them in himself for 9 months.  Mary was the perfect disciple, saying yes to God always, and that gave her a unique relationship to Jesus, Himself God-Incarnate.  But Mary also had a special relationship with Jesus, because He is her only Son.  Mothers generally love all children, but their love their own children more.  Mary loved Jesus as her only Son, but also as her God.

If we are members of Jesus’ Mystical Body, the Church, then we should also have a special love for Mary.  And that is why we are here today: not because it’s New Year’s Eve/Day, but to honor and show our special love for our mother.  But, if we are members of Jesus’ Mystical Body, the Church, then Mary also has a special love for us.  And sometimes, that love is made manifest in a particular way.

Fr. Tom Butler is originally from Texas, but he became a priest of the Diocese of Lansing.  His most recent assignment, before he retired a few years ago, was Sts. Charles and Helena in Clio.  He told me this story after he retired and was living in Blissfield in Lenawee County.

Some years back, Fr. Tom’s brother died at a young age, and his mother had the sad duty of burying her son.  Some of you may have had to go through that terrible trauma.  My paternal grandmother did not too long ago.  In any case, Fr. Tom went back down to Texas, around Dallas, where his brother was being buried.  It was an unusually cold, winter day, and at the end of Mass, Fr. Tom, walking with his mother behind the casket, decided to stay inside the church building and not weather the elements.  As the casket was being put into the hearse, Fr. Tom’s mother turned her head, and then started to lose her footing.  She steadied herself, but Fr. Tom said, “Mother, are you okay?”  “Yes, I’m fine,” she said, and Fr. Tom figured that she was overcome with grief at that very powerfully sad moment.  

At this point, Fr. Tom explained that his mother, though a convert to Catholicism, had a hard time giving up some of her Baptist roots.  In particular, she always struggled with the role Catholics gave Mary.  She believed Mary was the Mother of God, but was always afraid that by giving too much of a place to Mary, she would not give enough to God.

A few months after the funeral, Fr. Tom’s mother called him.  “Tom,” she said, “do you remember at your brother’s funeral, when the casket was being placed in the hearse?”  “Yes, mother,” he replied.  “Tom, do you remember me getting a little shaky?”  “Mother, is there something wrong?” Fr. Tom asked as he was getting a little nervous.  “Everything’s fine.  But I need to tell you what happened.  When the casket was being placed into the hearse, I felt someone tap me on my shoulder.  I thought it was you, but then I noticed you were holding my hand.  So I turned, and I saw Mary standing next to me.  And she startled me a little.  But then she said, ‘I’ll take care of your son for you until you come to join him.’  And then she disappeared.  But I knew everything was going to be alright.”  

First, I apologize for those of you who don’t have a kleenex or a handkerchief with you.  Second, while many of us won’t have those extraordinary experiences of Mary’s love, Mary loves us no less, and her care for us is that powerful.  May we show our love for Mary, and may we be receptive to the love of Mary, “now, and at the hour of our death.  Amen.”

"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.”

One of Those Days

Third Sunday of Advent

Have you ever had one of those days?  You know, the day when your car won’t start; or you overslept, and while racing into work get pulled over for speeding; or when you forget about a test that you have today; or when you end up wearing the delicious lunch that you were so proud you brought to work; or just when everything seems to be working against you in general?

Life can be rough sometimes.  We try to do our best, but sometimes our best is not enough, is not appreciated, or simply doesn’t work out at all.  I think we all have those days.  Misery loves company, and so today we can commiserate (at least a little) with St. John the Baptist.  There he was, just preaching God’s word, preparing the way for the Messiah, baptizing people in the Jordan, and then, because he was preaching against the immoral marriage of King Herod and Herodias, gets locked up in jail: no trial, no chance to plead his cause, just locked up indefinitely.  He doesn’t know it, but at some point in the future, he will become the victim of a hastily-made promise in response to a dance by King Herod’s step-daughter, Salome.  Life was not dealing St. John the Baptist good cards.

We can understand his questioning.  Nothing seems to be happening the way he thought it should.  So he sends messengers to Jesus, just to make sure that his second cousin is really the Messiah.  The floor has seemed to come out from under St. John the Baptist, and he’s grasping for some solid footing.  

But Jesus rarely answers questions with a simple yes or no.  There is always more to His answers than an everyday affirmation or negation.  So Jesus says, “the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them.”  Jesus’ ministry is confirmed not simply by word, but by what Jesus does.  Jesus’ own actions testify that Jesus is the Messiah, and even more than that, is God Himself.  But then Jesus has that curious line: “And blessed is the one who takes no offense at me.”  In other words, blessed is the one who can accept God’s plan for salvation, even when it’s different from our plans.

The kingdom of heaven is still at hand.  It is still present in embryonic form on earth, and is still coming in its fulness with Jesus’ return.  Somedays, especially on one of those days, we may think, ‘God, can’t you just make things work the way they’re supposed to?  Isn’t it time for all of this brokenness and messed-up reality to come to an end?’  But St. James reminds us that it will happen in God’s way and in God’s time.  He reminds us in the second reading to be patient, and be stout-hearted.  Just as the prophets in the Old Testament kept waiting and waiting for the Messiah to come; just as they preached God’s word without often seeing the fruits of their own preaching, so we are called to wait and let God establish His kingdom in His way, which is often not our way.  If it were up to us, the kingdom of God would likely have come in shock and awe years or even decades ago.  But then, if God were doing it our way, the kingdom of God may have come in its fulness centuries ago, and we would not even exist.  

Today we rejoice, because we are more than halfway to Christmas.  We rejoice because our waiting for the celebration of the Nativity of our Lord is close to an end.  We rejoice because our salvation is nearer now than it was years or decades ago.  But we are not there yet.

Still, God is faithful to His promise, and He is preparing, in His time and His way, a new kingdom where there is life even in the desert; where glory and splendor will be the norm; where feeble hands, weak knees, and frightened hearts will be strengthened.  Isaiah prophesied that the kingdom of God would include the blind seeing, the deaf hearing, the lame leaping, and the mute singing.  Jesus was affirming to St. John the Baptist in His response that the kingdom of God had already begun, and that even though it was not present for St. John in its fulness, it was present in its fulness in Jesus.

If we have Jesus, it doesn’t mean that our life will be easy and carefree.  The gospel of prosperity and a happy-go-lucky life is not the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  But the Gospel of Jesus Christ is that we have take hold of the kingdom of God in the midst of brokenness and error, and that the darkness, though it surrounds us, cannot conquer the light of Christ.  And that should cause us to rejoice.  Because even on one of those days; even on the days when everything seems to go wrong, we have Jesus, especially in the Eucharist, and spending time with Him and receiving Him gives us the strength to persevere in our hope and our faith until Jesus returns again, and ushers in the fulness of the kingdom of God at the end of time, when God will be all in all, when God will put a definitive end to sin and suffering, and when perfect happiness will be the reality for all those who persevered with Christ on this earth in the new heaven and new earth.

'Twas the Night of Little Giants

Second Sunday of Advent

Two weeks ago we ended our Extraordinary Jubilee Year of Mercy.  Maybe after hearing today’s Gospel we feel like we have begun the Year of Divine Wrath!  St. John the Baptist certainly did not pull any punches.  To those who were open to him, he was preaching, “‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!’”  To those who weren’t open to him, the Pharisees and the Sadducees, he was even harsher: “‘You brood of vipers!  Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath?  Produce good fruit as evidence as your repentance.  […] His winnowing fan is in his hand.  He will clear his threshing floor and gather his wheat into his barn, but the chaff he will burn in unquenchable fire.”

An icon of St. John the Baptist
from outside Ein Kerem, Israel

I often wonder about how St. John the Baptist drew so many people.  He definitely had positive things to say, but a lot of what he said was somewhat harsh and critical.  Who gathers to hear the message: you are sinners and you need to shape up!?  And yet we hear about the large crowds who came to him to be baptized.  I remember walking back from the MSU-Notre Dame game (the famous one with the Little Giants play), and there was a street preacher along one of the sidewalks yelling at people to repent from their sexual immorality, their drinking, and their sinfulness in general.  I was in my collar, and as I looked at him, he said, “And don’t think you are safe because you work in the church!” or some such thing.  But people weren’t lining up to listen to him; in fact, they just walked on by. 

St. Matthew tells us that St. John the Baptist was the one who was preparing the way for the Lord.  God prepares the way for the public ministry of His Son, Jesus, by having a guy who eats locusts and honey tell people that they are sinners.  Hmmm…not the first approach I would think of if I wanted to get ready for the Messiah.

But, as Isaiah says elsewhere, God’s ways are not our ways.  And if we stop to think about it, it actually makes sense (except for the locust and honey part; I’m still not sure I get that).  We did just end the Year of Mercy, and we were rightly focused on God’s generous love which forgives us.  But love cannot be forced or faked.  God does not force His love on us (nor His mercy), and God does not give His forgiveness to those who are not sorry.  And so as odd as we may feel it is, the call to repentance is an important one.

Certainly, God’s grace starts the process.  We cannot be sorry without God enlightening us about our sins and the ways we have separated ourselves from Him.  But then we have to take the second step and acknowledge that we are wrong.  It’s one thing to think, “Maybe I shouldn’t have done X;” it’s another thing altogether to say, “I sinned when I did X.”  And it is only after we say “I sinned when I did X” and are sorry for whatever X is and make a resolution to not do X again that God can forgive us, because it is only after recognizing our sinfulness and our need for being forgiven that we will be open enough to receive God’s forgiveness.

The call to repentance and to admitting we have sinned is vitally important, of eternal importance, because only when we admit we have sinned and repent are we able to be forgiven.  Without someone to remind us that we are not perfect, that we don’t have everything figured out in our life, that we are sinners, we are not in a disposition to receive the mercy of God which we just focused on for the past year.  We need people in our life like St. John the Baptist to tell us we are sinners, not to beat us up, not to make us despair, but to prepare the road that Jesus wants to take to our hearts.  

Is it hard to admit that we’re wrong?  I’m a perfectionist, and it’s hard for me.  But it’s the truth.  I am a sinner.  And I don’t have to be Hitler or Stalin to accuse myself of sin.  We are all sinners, and we all need to repent.  We all have things in our life that are not of God and which have damaged or even severed our relationship with God.  Maybe we are afraid of guilt; maybe we don’t like that feeling.  But feeling guilty is a sign that our conscience, the voice of God in our hearts, is working properly and is properly formed by the Word of God and the teaching of the Church.  I don’t worry about the kid who cries after being caught doing something wrong in our school; I worry about the kid who feels nothing after being caught doing something wrong.

But God does not intend for us to remain in our guilt.  Guilt is meant to move us to repentance and the Sacrament of Penance.  How long has it been since you confessed your sins in the Sacrament of Penance, the way Jesus taught us to receive His forgiveness?  A month? Six months? A year? Five years? Ten years? Twenty years?  No matter how long it has been, do not let it last one more month.  God wants to shower His mercy upon you, and is waiting for you to respond to His grace to go to the Sacrament.  I’ll be glad to help you through the process if you’ve forgotten how to celebrate the sacrament or your Act of Contrition.  Or we’ll have other priests here on Sunday, 18 December at 3 p.m. to hear your confession.  The Year of Mercy is over, but God’s mercy endure for ever.  “‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!’”

Not Christmas Yet

First Sunday of Advent

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

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

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

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

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

The King of Glory

Solemnity of our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The End is Near

Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chocolate, Puppies, and Belinda Carlisle

Thirty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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