Sunday Readings

Family Holiness

We live at a time when the hardest thing some one can do is to be a member of a family. Yes, there are the modern distractions that don’t help. There are the confused roles of who is actually the one or ones charged with authority. The most intact and communicative family on TV is the Simpsons. But one element that cannot be ignored is the role of a parent as the protector of the family. As we celebrate this Sunday after Christmas, we focus on the Holy Family and the Gospel today speaks of incredible protection. In Advent and in the Christmas liturgies, there is a proper emphasis on the role of Mary and the birth of Jesus. Today we complete the picture with Joseph.

He is clearly the protector of the Body of Christ. He is prompted by angelic dreams and acts on them. He is the guardian and is a good one. It is the first role of a father. It is the primary responsibility of a parent, not the government. It is an obligation that cannot be handed over to anyone else unless there is a true and serious reason. Parents are not perfect but are always preferred. And this is the will of God. We can see it nature and enshrine it in our laws.

But there is more. And there is a greater reason. The other night, I enjoyed a musician playing in a trio. At a certain point, his son joined him on stage and they played a duet. As I listened, I thought how lucky this young man was. His father had protected and guided him as a young boy. I’m sure he even raised his voice to make the boy practice and take music lessons. And years later, they could make music and clearly enjoy what they were doing. When they finished, they shook hands. There was no silly expression of affection to make up for a lack of others. There was no beaming pride from either as if this was something unusual. There was, however, a visible understanding that this is just the way it should be.

The feast of the Holy Family says that there is way things should be. This holy Family is not your usual family. A mother conceives the Son of God by an angel and relies on a father who gets his life plan from dreams. Patterning ourselves on this ideal is about the life we have as families as God permits and as God wills. It is about the way things should be as they are. Yes, a world without divorce is to be preferred. Children thrive with an intact family. But fallen human nature - being what it is - creates situations as they are. And although we ‘live a little left of living right’, grace is at work. And there are difficult realities over which we – sadly – have no control. Regardless of the family situations we are handed and even the ones we create, God is calling us to be more. We are called to be as faithful as we are able given what we have.

There are many voices out there telling us that the family is broken beyond repair. They tell us it is not possible or that things have gone too far. They either throw up their hands in despair or propose silver bullet solutions that have never worked. Whether on the left or the right, they miss the point. The family is not solely dependant on structure. A Christian family is built on relationships formed on the pattern of God’s own relationship with us. Ours is a faith that says those who know the love of God automatically try to reflect it in the way they love one another. And while never perfect, that effort, that life is…well just the way things should be. And like those two musicians, harmony is the product and the goal.

Look, you need no preacher to tell you that living as a Christian family is not easy. Nor does any preacher have a little booklet that has an infallible set of rules for cohesive domestic tranquility. But if a family is Christian, then only the charity of Christ can be its solid and successful foundation. As it was in the Holy Family. The authority of parents and the community of protection make sense only when built on this. And when it is, that harmony is echo of the divine.

Sunday Readings

The Word Among Us

Rudolf and the other reindeer are now on vacation. The white Christmas is only on TV. And Santa Clause…has left the building. By 9 AM Christmas morning, Christmas, for many, is over. The magic begins to wear off and the stores get ready for Valentine’s day. But we are in this Chapel for something more lasting. We are here because “the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us.”

Last night we considered the wonder of God drawing our humanity into His divinity. This morning we remain the glow of the Incarnation. We take a step back and pause as we remember an event that is more than history, more than theology. The Word is God and dwells among us. All the Christmases and histories and theology of the past are met together in us as the image of salvation rests in the manger. So in the after-glow of what happened when half-spent was the night, we do we see? What is it we celebrate this Christmas morning?

Pope Benedict recently said that said that ‘God is big enough to become small.’ The wonder of the Incarnation is that it actually happened. God became one of us so that we could become as God. In the long and dark history of human sin and mistakes, some thing very right has now happened. And the Incarnation dares to redeem these tragedies. People who have good luck often think that they deserve it in some small way. But this is so much more; this is grace.

And we are not rejoicing in something that just happened long ago in a far-away place. This happens among us and within us even as it is something above and beyond us. It is ours by grace but never a possession we can hoard.

I look around my room and see a collection of gifts I have received over the years. I’m even wearing a few of them. As we look around this holy place, we see a plethora of gifts given and by which we are privileged to live here. And while we can all find reasons – and good ones – to complain, we are comfortable with the gifts we have received. Perhaps, to our embarrassment, we even take them for granted.

The Incarnation is one of these and Christmas is a reminder that the Gift is there. It quietly shouts a Gloria that God has acted for our good. Through the hardened heart Christmas taps its grace. The Mystery of the event presents to puzzled minds a peace that becomes an answer too profound for words. The Eastern Christmas Liturgy begins with the Deacon practically screaming in the middle of the Church that ‘God is with, understand all ye people and submit yourselves for God is with us.’ Ain’t no jingles bell with that one! It is a reminder not of meaning but of a Person. It is not a call to arms to fight the forces of secularism as much as it a reminder of the dawn of redeeming grace.

Scientists question if we’re alone in the universe. Well we know we are not. God is with us. Christmas proves it.

Sunday Readings

Promises

I have always enjoyed people telling me what my job is. I am used, at this point, to folks informing me what religion is supposed to do. For example, religion is supposed to help us get along, make us feel better about our lives and bring some peace and order into the world. Through a combination of magic, incantations and non-judgmental permissions, I guess this is the goal of religion. If you show up in Church only to be ‘hatched, matched and dispatched’, I can see why religion should be that way. If you’re angry at the world, maybe religion should do that. If you don’t think you should be told anything, religion should fulfill this role. What I’m hinting at is that people are always trying to make faith into their own image.

We all need to do this because as thinking creatures, we are drawn to certain things and repulsed by others. We have to incorporate the truths of faith into realities we can understand and handle. But we have to be reasonable. We have to be careful. As that great philosopher of the modern age, Clint Eastwood, says, “A man’s got to know his limitations.”

So what are our expectations of Christmas? Are they reasonable? Are they fulfilling?

Today’s readings are about prophesy and fulfillment. They state that God has made a promise and He came through. He is not swayed by the temporary needs of human beings yet He answers them. He is not fooled by the false piety of folks like Ahaz yet offers more than anyone deserved. And all these years and centuries later, we find ourselves caught up in wondering how to get the Christmas feeling or create the magic of the holiday. Perhaps it is to us - as much as to King Ahaz - that God smiles, shakes His head, and says, “there, there. Wait to until you see what I have planned for you.”

There is a certain sense, as we hear the motor of Christmas preparation revving up to full throttle, that the promise of this holy day is made to us as well. Through the clanging and banging of drummer boys, jingle bells and grandmas threatened by on-coming reindeer, something silent and soft is heard. It’s a promise formed by faith, packaged in hope and whispered in prophesy. It is a promise proved by history as we hear again the message of the angels. As Christ was born in Bethlehem, He is born again in the hearts of those who have been born again through grace. What began in the heart of God reaches our hearts today. There’s no magic in this, no spirit we have to catch like the flu. It’s pure grace. It’s a promise undeserved and unexpected. The God of the Stable is the Lord of this Eucharist. We reach to the eternity of heaven where Christ is forever seated at the right hand of the Father and find ourselves once again before the manger.

That was the message of Gabriel to Mary. This is the promise given to us as well. At Christmas time, we like to encourage each other to be generous and to give as God has given to us. We greet each other in the hope of a greater earthly peace. And this is good and right. But we come – in faith – before the nativity scene not to hear a lecture on altruism or a moral exhortation to be more aware of others. We come to this scene to see a Baby. We listen to the silence of a night divine to hear the crying of a new-born boy. We stand with others caught up in the moment because we are present to something so much greater than ourselves.

There is no question that children are better at Christmas than adults. Their eyes are widened by the colors and treats and spectacle of it all. They need no lessons or lectures to enjoy it. They are caught up in the wonder of our lovely and very human attempts to reflect the mystery of the Incarnation. The child who stares at the Christmas tree or who plays with the Nativity scene is engaged in a mystical action of seeing the promise fulfilled. They may not understand it fully, and no one ever can capture it. But if we can go back to that simplicity with what we know of the grace of God, we will celebrate the Nativity of our promised Lord as we should.

In the craziness of the next few days, take some time to do just that. Give yourself a few moments to stare at a decorated tree or house. Just sit there in front of a nativity set and look. You may not see angels or hear their Gloria, but in heart and mind, you will go even unto Bethlehem as the shepherds did once and, like them, find the Child who redeemed the world and you. He has promised, He has done it, and He will do it.

Sunday Readings

Keep It Real(istic)

When I was applying to College, a question was raised about me looking at a prestigious college involving more academic work than I cared to do. My college advisor diplomatically replied that we “needed to be realistic.” And, boy, he was right! It – and I – never would have worked that hard and it would never have worked out. This situation was handled intelligently and on the basis of realistic expectations. But why are we like this? Why do we go beyond and think that the very laws of nature will be changed? Why do we ever expect a spiritual solution to a very material situation? Put bluntly: how can we hope for a miracle?

Well, we do. And we are not the first. The disciples of John the Baptist came to Jesus to see if He was the miracle of all miracles. They were asking if the tremendous promise of a new world they had heard would finally come. They knew the promise we hear today in the first reading from Isaiah. They came to Jesus to see if they were being ‘realistic’ – if their expectations were possible and reasonable.

No, there were no miraculous blooms of desert plants or topographical changes to construct a new Garden of Eden. But there were real changes caused by the preaching of Jesus and that was changing lives. Perhaps there were no special effects that would make the news, but the Good News was doing something truly substantial. And Jesus even brings the spectacular impression of John the Baptist into proper perspective. He calls His own disciples to keep it realistic and see John in light of the Gospel and not as a stand-alone curiosity. In other words, Jesus - the object and giver of faith - calls us to look for the Gospel of faith in the real world.

As I wrote this homily, a very intelligent young man who turned 17 on Friday describe himself as ‘skeptical’ as he approached this awesome milestone. He wasn’t being cynical but honest. He sees the challenge of maturity and faces it. That is a realistic faith in the natural order. In the super-natural order it is the same. We are dealing with the realities of life as well as the reality of God’s grace. We can expect cosmetic changes that will be pretty, but not lasting. We can ask for short-cut miracles but our faith will go nowhere. If, however, we embrace the transformation of the Gospel, we will see changes and new things in a life we could never expect.

Given the theme this Advent of hope, it is more than appropriate to ask: “hope in what? Hope in whom?” The real faith in a real God becomes the answer. In our hearts, as Pope Benedict reminds us, the line between faith and hope blurs as we experience not them, but God Himself. To say we believe in God is to say that we believe in more than a feeling, more than a show and more than an idea.

The transforming power of the Gospel is to discover that the Babe of Bethlehem believes in us. And because He does, we can become more like Him who was so much like us.

Sunday Readings

John Bugs Us

Today is the second Sunday of Advent and according to tradition, we hold in front of us the image and the preaching of St. John the Baptist. This prophet of the arrival of the Messiah clearly made an impression. As the Gospel says today: John wore clothing made of camel’s hair and had a leather belt around his waist. His food was locusts and wild honey. What this means is that we are seeing a man wearing a fur coat in the desert who ate bugs. He yelled at the people who came to see him. He warned people that change was a-coming. Finally, he would give his life in witness to the truth. To say he was memorable would be an understatement. His fiery preaching and life had shock value pop-stars and their promoters dream of. But John was for real and he stands as a wild witness to the coming of Christ into our world.

But one thing John did not point to was the ‘magic of Christmas’. He did not offer the world a ‘Seasons Greeting’ or a ‘Happy Holiday.’ There was no Rudolf yet and Frosty would not do well in the desert of Judea. John was seeing something the world needed then as much as we do today. John saw the hope of redemption in his cousin, the Lamb of God.

Pope Benedict’s letter on Christian hope says that it is more than wishful thinking. He reminds us that it is an active motivator that aims for something higher and more lasting than even the best of human effort and thinking. We can see this in the Gospel today. John notices that some are showing up at the Jordan for what amounts to a spiritual tune-up and a quick-fix. It’s like the crowd that shows up for Christmas and Easter only. Washing in the Jordan at the urging of John could become like sprinkling lottery tickets with Holy Water. No, John was pointing to Some one and not merely something. He wasn’t offering a cheap absolution but a total renovation. He saw in the coming of Jesus a new world that was more than a gleaming promise of a new world order. In fact, he saw in Jesus not only a promise, but hope itself.

You see, people hear promises all the time. They hear them at home, in church and in school. We hear them from priests and politicians. ‘Try this’ or ‘buy this’ – it will make you and your life better. Work hard, be good and God will come through for you. At Christmas time, we hone in on hope and rightly so. But without the witness of John, without the vision of a world remade that was the Baptist’s, that hope will soon prove as empty as a glass ornament and just as breakable. The Messiah born in the stable with all the animals and was to die treated as one. And because of what began on that starlit night, the darkened hill of Calvary was not the final word – for Him or for us. The radical witness of John is remembered because of how radical the message was to be. He tried to match our expectation with the hope who walked among us.

Do you hear the message of John? Are you struck by a man most would call crazy today because he saw something possible beyond our normal and cynical thinking? That can sound so theoretical. It’s a good start and a valid Advent question. But John was not abstract. Nor is Jesus. So let’s re-phrase. Given everything and every one in your life, can you see Jesus as your redeemer? With all your sins, faults, mistakes and bad habits, can you believe in God’s love for you? Despite your less-than-glorious history as a human being, can you perceive the hope God has in you?

To be honest, most of us need a life-time and beyond to answer ‘yes’ to those questions. The holiest saints needed that long. I guess that is why year after year, Advent after Advent, we try and listen to John the Baptist. We have such a tough time believing in the hope God has for us it takes a shrieking prophet wearing his fur coat in the desert, munching on bugs with sweet sauce, to get it across to us. So John keeps proclaiming ‘prepare the way of the Lord’ because we truly need to be prepared for real hope.

God grant that it be so and through this Eucharist that looks forward in hope to our glory, may it be so on Christmas and each day of our lives.

Sunday Readings

Light Please

In the days of the dinosaurs, long before you ordered tickets and picked them up from a machine, going to the movies was really fun. I think of cool evenings, with the sun declining and the lights of movie theaters beginning to twinkle as the lines formed to buy tickets. There were usually two lines for the big movies. The first was the ticket buyers line and the second was the ticket holders line. The waiting was time spent with friends and looking to see who you knew. Since there were no cell-phones, you had to talk with the people you were with. It was social waiting together. It was part of the whole experience and the fun of a Friday night movie just as much as the popcorn and the milk-duds.

Welcome to Advent. This is our social time of waiting together. The world grows darker each day as the winter approaches so we huddle together and look for light. Doesn’t a well-lit Christmas tree or some one’s house always seem to look better when there are people standing next to you? No one likes to wait alone but when others are with you, isn’t it more bearable? Despite our very good advances in technology, we still have to wait and we still wait together.

So what are we waiting for in Advent? Jesus was born two thousand years ago so it can’t be that. Christmas Day is coming on the calendar whether we wait for it or not. There must be something else in Advent other than this. Let’s go back to the darkness we hear about. We look around and we see things that are not right and not good. We see the cumulative effects of sin and disregard of God piling up and making life miserable. We see violence ripping families apart and destructive behavior shattering lives. The darkness of human stupidity and malice is scary. But we are strangely hopeful because of grace. We believe that the worst in others and in ourselves can be redeemed. There is a hint of grace all around. The Israelites in exile heard of as they listened to the promise of being restored to the heights of Jerusalem. The disciples of Jesus saw a rescue from it similar to the way Noah saved the lucky ones in his ark. Even St. Augustine found grace in giving up his wicked ways when heard this reading from St. Paul.

Advent is about hope not for the inevitable, but for the possible in each Christian. It is a hope that is active not passive. It doesn’t sit around marking the passing of time but stands up to look for the fulfillment of a Promise. Even in the darkness, it wants nothing to do with the darkness. Knowing the sorrow of sin, it chooses the joy of repentance. Knowing the imprisonment of despairing boredom, it craves the freedom of God-given opportunity. And that expectation is not isolated or merely individual. We celebrate it together.

If you want to find the ‘Christmas Spirit’ you have to look for it. So many think that a Martha Stewart perfect holiday will bring it. Or the perfect gift. Or the perfect card. No wonder people get depressed with it all. And sadly some look for the ‘Christmas Spirit’ in a bottle of spirits instead. But none of that is real. We cannot hope for something if we refuse to wait for it. We cannot see what is to come if we cannot look out for its arrival. The other night I saw, once again and unplanned, the Charlie Brown Christmas. I cannot hear Linus reciting the Christmas Gospel without getting a little choked up. Here they were, weighed down by the commercialism and materialism of the ‘’Holiday Season’ when a smile, a light comes into their little lives as they find what they were unsure of seeking out. It’s interesting that Linus begins his recitation on the stage by saying, “light please.’

That’s our Advent prayer. In the darkness of the season and in the murky remnants of sin, we say to God “light please.” We repent not by giving up doughnuts and chocolate but by casting away the works of darkness. We sift and separate what in our lives is of that darkness and what is of the light. We watch with anticipation and without fear. And the Light of the World, whose Incarnation we celebrate in less than month, will find a place to shine.