Sunday Readings

Venite Adoremus

In case you missed it, the Christmas shopping season has begun. Our annual nationwide frenzy to buy the ‘perfect gift’ has started once again. We can look at the economics of this and hope for the best. We can complain about the vapid materialism as we have been doing since 1780 and still be correct. But I think it is also important to highlight this moment of generosity -- and we can be very generous to those we love.

Just think for a moment how we go about finding a gift. We know the difference between the gifts we have to buy and those we love to buy. When the gift is for someone we truly love, we prowl the stores and catalogs like a hungry animal trying to detect the faintest trace of food. We are, to put it in the language of today's readings, alert.

We are "on the watch" not because we are afraid but because we love. We want the future recipients of our gift to be pleased with it more than anything else. We are looking for that unseen, intangible sign that we are reaching our goal.

So on this first Sunday of Advent we are once again "on the watch" for another Gift. We are not waiting for the birth of Jesus Christ because that happened 2000 years ago. But because of His birth so long ago, (and the promise of his birth even longer than that), we are still receiving the gift of His grace. In His eternal love for us, that gift of grace is continually offered each day and each moment.

If we can put so much effort in so much care into buying the perfect gift for another human being, the challenge of Advent is to have an even greater watchfulness for the goodness of God in the holiness of our life. That is why year after year we call each other to be alert and to pray.

The sad history of humanity -- not to mention our own personal histories -- is very clear how often this gift of holiness is missed. In fact humanity’s need for the gift of the Christ-Child began with the original rejection of the gift of God's own friendship. And with faith in His promise to return one day in glory, the Church continues to celebrate the season of Advent as a loving reminder.

Most of us need this reminder especially when the difficulties of life bear down upon us. At times, in those moments when things are so tough and so dark, it is as if the stars in the heaven around us begin to fall.

But because of our faith, because of the hope promised each one of us, we have the right to raise our heads and expect to find redemption and salvation. The popular saying "Jesus is the reason for the season" is true not only for Christmas but also for Advent.

We watch not only for 25th of December but for a day far more glorious. We are not searching by the light of a star from long ago but for the Light of the World in the darkness of our own day. But we do not do this with the anxiety of a procrastinator on Christmas Eve or with the fear of embarrassment for giving the wrong gift. We watch in quiet hope for what we have been promised by the God who -- as the old prayer says -- can neither deceive nor be deceived.

So as we run around trying to find the perfect gift for those we love as we celebrate the ultimate gift of divine love, take a moment and consider why you are doing what you are doing. Every gift, card, and "Merry Christmas" -- what ever it is that we do for one another regardless of how small or great -- is our wonderful and little attempt to imitate what God has already done.

I'm sorry to say, as Calvary is my witness, there is no magic to Christmas anymore than there was on top of that hill. There is only the mystery of a love, ever ancient and ever new. Each Advent, as we imperfectly search for the perfect gift, we hear the call to watch for the God who is searching more for us than we ever could for Him.

And He found us as He laid in a manger.

Venite adoremus Dominum.

Sunday Readings

Long Live the King

How does an American celebrate the feast of a King? Sure, we were a nation that once had a king. In fact, we have several -- English, Spanish, and French. At least those were the Western European Kings; native cultures and empires had their own as well. The truth is, we do not relate to royalty. But we do understand authority.

America understands the importance of authority. The government, the Courts, the electorate -- all of these have authority in our lives and in our society. Individuals, and that includes us, choose our authority that we decide to ac knowledge. These are the unelected yet powerful forces that shape our society. Things like the media, fashion, news outlets and such maybe have more influence on the average person than the full force of the United States government.

Recently, I am happy to say, Archbishop Dolan took on the latent anti-Catholicism in certain media outlets in our world. Some were disappointed and felt that his statement was overkill and even inappropriate. But ultimately, he was right and took on the authority he saw as contrary to what we are celebrating here today.

Dolan correctly notes that we as Catholics have both the opportunity and even the obligation of honestly critiquing the effectiveness and decisions of the church in our own day. But our loudest critics are clearly not interested in the betterment of our church. And sad to say, there are many within the church who are deeply convinced that the most effective church is one without authority.

You see, authority itself is being attacked. The primary weapon is the illusion that the Catholic Church has the opportunity and ability to exert its will on anyone and anything associated with it. It feeds the popular myth of the horrors of Catholic school, confession, and the usual. Legions of supposed liberals follow in lockstep doctrine that Catholic churches are continually plotting the destruction of free thought. It is, as has been said, the "anti-Semitism of the intellectual."

In the average Catholic says, "so what?" It is as if the attacks on the church are justified because of the misbehavior of a very few. But more importantly, the authority of what the faith offers is being attacked. Like the silliness in the da Vinci Code, the exception proves the invalidity of the entire project. If a teacher in Catholic school yelled at me, that means everything the Catholic Church has ever taught must be wrong.

There are legitimate issues and practices we can consider, discuss, and even argue. But when the authority of the truth is questioned and even despise, we have nothing left. We start to hear stories of religious groups that were once within the church but who have now "moved beyond Jesus." We see the sacred profaned and the mystical ridiculed. The entire point of the Gospel becomes the creation of communities that affirm how really good we all really are.

But look and see. Do you see the long lines for vampire movies that assume the spiritual dimension of life? Do you hear the Gregorian chant softly in the background of Hollywood portrayals of our parishes? Can you smell the incense?

No, these images clearly reveal a desire for a sense of the sacred. This is the very heart of the authority of the church. It is not about image or style or anything like that. This is a question of the authority that the spiritual life has in the lives of the members of our church. The rules and laws of religion without spirituality make no sense. The demands of customs and traditions become meaningless burdens without a real connection to the heart of God. And without the sacred, we become a justifiable target of ridicule and disdain.

To say that Christ is King today is a radical statement. We are extolling a king who was crucified, whose crown was made of thorns rather than gold. We are proclaiming the authority of love divine over the authority of human opinion. His incomparable sacrifice demands reverent obedience from those who have begun to understand its meaning.

A friend of mine commented recently how sad that so many stores are opened on Sunday and filled with customers. I replied it is far more sad the churches are open on Sunday -- but not filled. Lamentation or laws will never fill them. The authority of Christ the King is an authority in the heart more than anywhere else.

Because of this love, in this authority, we freely say, "Long live Christ the King."

Sunday Readings

No End

Once again we are treated to a movie about the end of the world. Every couple of years another one pops up. When you add religion to this mixture, it gets really good. You can’t escape it. Doomsday is a shadow that hangs over scientific, religious, and popular thinking.

Is the world going to end? Will darkness and distress signal of the finale?

In the Old and New Testaments we have indications and prophecies that it will. As we approach the end of the liturgical year, our readings begin to shift towards that climactic moment of existence. Go into any bookstore and you will find shelf after shelf with the theories, signs, and proofs that the end of the world is upon us.

As far as we can see, every one of them has been wrong up until now. One interpretation necessarily yields to another by the evidence of continued existence.

But given the readings today, let's ask two basic questions: why would God destroy the world he created and why do we expect him to do this?

First, regardless of apocalypse or cataclysm, we do not believe in the annihilation of the universe. To put it bluntly, we simply do not believe that the world will end. Every week we profess that we believe "in the resurrection of the body in the life of the world to come." The world, while changed, will continue to exist. It's a matter of faith and is about matter itself transformed.

But why would anyone want the end of the world? Why do religious zealots convince their followers to sell everything or do themselves harm in anticipation of total destruction? Why do self-made martyrs believe that they are helping God by violence and terrorism? A quick glance around proves that this is not an isolated creed. But it is a wrong belief because the end of all things is not a good thing, much less a godly thing.

No, the darkness and distress are ultimately events of the soul more than history. These cataclysms reek havoc in the human heart and leave the soul in fear and trembling. It's understandable that human beings, lazy as we are, transfer these fears as far as possible to the outside world. Everyone else and everything else will be destroyed -- but not us. Divine Providence, it is commonly held, will always favor those who know the mysteries of its workings.

But that's not true, is it? The earthquake levels the church and the strip club; the flood washes away the prison and the orphanage. Darkness creeps into the heart of the children of light.

A charmed life is free of darkness but a graced life knows how to handle it. The realities of life can be overwhelming at times and very obscure. As time moves on, most people experience the common limitations of humanity. We grow weak, loose strength, and succumbed to illness.

And often times worse than these things is the fear we have of them. We shudder at the thought of not being able to do what we are able to do now. Some places have even legislated the most extreme and antiseptic solution to this supposed terror.

Faith responds differently. The grace of God does not mask the darkness or pretend it does not exist. It draws us into the heart of distress where we find the victorious Savior. So regardless of how difficult or fearful the situation, the pain is never the final word. The triumph of the crucified and risen Savior is the inheritance of those who are crucified and risen with Him. Faith in the goodness of God does not exempt us from the difficulties of life. But rather than the difficulties of life, we find the goodness of God and grown in faith.

Every Christian needs to hear this. Saint and sinner alike are human beings faced with the looming specter of hopelessness. We are convinced that we are not alone even when we feel abandoned; we are not defeated when victory is impossible.

This is so much more than the power of positive thinking -- this is the power of God's own action. Just as we make the mistake in thinking that disasters only happen to the other guy or the wicked, we make the mistake of placing all our hope in ourselves.

The Angels come to the aid of those who are not too busy looking around or only within. We may see the Son of Man coming on the clouds and with great glory but what is more important is that we actually know who he is. God is no stranger to us because he is no stranger to our pain for our fear.

So in the darkness, in the difficulty, lift up your head and see the Redeemer who saw you first.

Sunday Readings

Very Little

Every time there is an election, we always hear of a couple of highly contested races that seem to depend on a very slim margin. It is usually only a couple of votes that determines the winner. Every World Series, it is one play, one hit, that determines who is the world champion. Small things seem to add up. And yet, when all is said and done, it is those very small things that determine so much.

Today our readings are precisely about the small stuff. In the first reading and the Gospel, the principal actor is a widow. In ancient times, the widow was an exceptionally vulnerable individual because her security and stability in that society was no longer. And while that society would never value the contributions of such an insignificant member, God clearly has a different idea.

It is this biblical teaching that validates the call of St. Jeanne Jugan to strive and become as ‘little as possible’. It was a constant theme in her ministry and teaching. But this is not a call to weakness in the sense of doing as little as possible or contributing only the least of what was required. In all these cases, the smallness was actually a powerful and enduring catalyst. The contribution of the smallest act of charity would now take on a value that is hard to see and even harder to count.

We have heard this before. It is part of the popular self-actualizing pop psychology of today. It is a commonly held belief that every person has a particular talent and gift that will change the world. Based on that, it is the duty of every school, government, and family to bring this gift to fruition so the individual can achieve more than any human being in history. It reminds me of the cartoon on a napkin at the graduation party which said, "look out world, here I come and I'm coming for you!"

But this modern attitude has jumped the tracks and left the wreckage of disillusioned self-esteem in its wake. Just turn on Dr. Phil or some of the other afternoon chat programs. I think the reason for this discouragement can be found in the observation that Jesus Himself made that day in the Temple.

As He watched the dramatic and highly visible donations being placed in the collection box, He noted that the few coins of the widow had a spiritual value very different from the heavy hitters. It is even noted by some commentators that Jesus was lamenting how this poor woman was endangering her welfare by religious laws demanding at least some contribution. Even so, I think that would be a valid secondary understanding of an extremely personal and important point for all Christians.

The widow of our first reading was in a similar position. Times were desperate in that land and yet because of a small act of charity, a true sacrifice, God provided. No one but the three characters in the story knew of this miracle. It was hidden, small, and seemingly insignificant.

The Gospel message is not a new way of doing things but a new way of being. It is a call to a higher vision not of human origin, but of Divine. As basic food staples such as bread and wine and oil and water become the vehicles of grace itself, this new order of things demands and effects a transformation of creation.

There is no sacrifice offered to God without value. There is no pain, no joy, no sorrow, no hope that is outside God's acceptance. As one of the church Fathers noted, we may not be all equal in what we are able to give but we are all equal in the opportunity to do so. And when delusions of grandeur and high human destiny start to fade, we are left with what may seem to be insignificant, but find it has incalculable value to God.

Since we are already starting the pre-Christmas shopping season -- at least when it comes to TV advertisements -- we are ready to hear about giftgiving. As Christians, our contributions and sacrifices are the gifts we are called to offer – even the insignificant ones like inconveniences and pain. In the Eastern Church, for Christmas Vespers, the Liturgy sings a question our readings today can answer:

What shall we offer Thee, O Christ,
Who for our sakes hast appeared on the earth as a man?
Every creature which Thou hast made offers Thee thanks.
The angels offer Thee a song;
The heavens, their star;
The wise men, their gifts;
The shepherds, their wonder;
The earth, its cave;
The wilderness; the manger;
And we, we offer Thee a virgin mother.

What shall we offer Thee, O Christ? In our quest for glory and recognition, maybe we would be happier if we understood what God counts more than what we value.

No, this is no excuse to be cheap with such a generous God. But we are challenged to never throw away what is of such great value. Ask for the wisdom to see what you have been given for the opportunity to offer. Don’t sell yourself short. It may not appear to be much but let God determine the exchange rate. He is the creator who permits what we often do not choose. It’s all His in the first place given to us as a gift and for a gift.

Yes, “all things come of Thee O Lord and of Thine own have we given Thee.” May the Lord accept all our sacrifices for the praise and glory of His name, for our good, and the good of all His Church. Amen.

Sunday Readings

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Good Company

To be honest, I never got Halloween. Don't get me wrong, the candy... that I got. But dressing up as our worst fears or worse, celebrating evil itself was something that made no sense to me. But not everyone celebrates the demonic. This weekend is filled with precious princesses, noble knights, and superheroes of unparalleled virtue. We give ourselves permission to play the role of something we are not nor will we ever be. It's fun but it is not real.

Today is as real as it gets. Halloween is the vigil of the feast of All Saints. What is done in the dim and flickering orange glow of a ghoulish evening gives way to "the bright promise of immortality." Today is not about dressing up or even acting like a saint. There is no ritual or game appropriate to the day. There are no real customs to speak of or traditions to uphold. No, today is far too bold for any of that.

Imagine: normal, ordinary, and flawed human beings stand before God to claim the title of "Saint." There is something within us telling us that not only can we one day be called a saint but that we actually should be one. We share a common - though quiet - conviction that if we are not going to be saints, why bother? And regardless of any distinction we make between human beings, we all share an equal claim to be called a saint.

So does that mean your descendents will be going to St. Robert the Great Parish for Sunday Mass? Even I have to admit that the chances of that are unlikely. A canonized saint is someone who, having lived an exemplary Christian life, is held up by the church as an example and as an intercessor for the Christian faithful. The Pope does not, as we often hear, "make someone a saint." That is above his pay scale. What the church does is a very thorough investigation of the life, writings, virtues, and demonstrable miracles of a person who has a reputation for holiness. It is a massive and exacting process. I was privileged to be in Rome on October 11th for the end result of one such process. Jeanne Jugan (who founded the Little Sisters of the Poor) became known to us as St. Jeanne Jugan. Invoking his apostolic authority, Pope Benedict ordered that her name be held among the saints of the Church. Those of you who have been to a canonization can relate to the drama and gravity of what was being done.

But as I said, this was the end result. In a massive collection of paperwork (and footwork), the church is presented with the natural and supernatural story of one person. This takes years and many people to work and pray. I saw the beginnings of this process a few years ago as the information was being gathered for the cause of Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen. After all, the church wants to be as sure as it can be when she holds up an example of what we are called to be.

This feast celebrates those who are canonized – and there are many of them; but not only those whose personal holiness triggered the admiration of others on such a scale. We celebrate those who have also achieved the one and only thing Christians aim for. We celebrate every soul called home to the glory of heaven and we ourselves who live in hope of it. So yes, we as the intercession of all those good people in our lives “who have gone before us marked with the sign of faith.” We can all compose our own litany of family and friends departed who, from a human point of view, most likely stand before the face of Almighty God.

But don’t miss what I just said. Don’t forget to include ourselves. Some may object, “hey, Father, we’re still here!” (Well yes, unless my homiletic technique has changed the situation.) But we are saints. No, we have not “finished the race” and come to the fullness of heaven. Still, we are on the way. In a few moments we are going to stand before our God and profess that we believe in “the communion of saints” and by that act of profession, we include ourselves.

We are holy even if we do not always behave in a holy manner. We have received the sanctifying grace of Baptism and the pledge of eternal life. We are separate from what is not holy. Our imperfection as human beings has no bearing on the awesome grace God has given to us. Holy is what we are. How we live it out is a different matter.

We do not become saints by being good or acting kindly or sharing or any of the other good things we are supposed to do as Christians. We become saints because we already are. This is God’s doing, not ours. This is the basis of every good thing we attempt and every evil we try to avoid. To pretend that our attempts at virtue are sufficient - or even greater - than God's mercy is a heresy. It's like dressing up for Halloween; it's simply not real.

God makes saints; no one else. This is a free gift from the generous heart of God. But like any gift we can use it or misuse it, keep it or return it. Today says that it is possible for every Christian soul to be a saint because so many already have been. Today tells us to look at who we are before we look at what it is we do and fail to do. The witness of this great multitude spurs us on to claim by a life well lived what God has already given us.

The church on earth today joins the church in heaven in praising God whose grace has brought us together. Tomorrow, the feast of All Souls, we pray for those who, in death, await the fullness of that eternal vision. This is His amazing grace at work among us and beyond us.

So saints, and, yes, I’m talking to you, rejoice now as we will one day around the throne of God in glory. And will be together then as we are now.

It will be a bit more crowded – kind of like Christmas or Easter – but that will be more than good company.

It will be a great one.