The Seventh Day in the Octave of Christmas

Lectionary: 204

But you have the anointing that comes from the Holy One, and you all have knowledge. I write to you not because you do not know the truth but because you do, and because every lie is alien to the truth.

"On 31 December 2019, the WHO China Country Office was informed of cases of pneumonia of unknown etiology (unknown cause) detected in Wuhan City, Hubei Province of China. As of 3 January 2020, a total of 44 patients with pneumonia of unknown etiology have been reported to WHO by the national authorities in China. Of the 44 cases reported, 11 are severely ill, while the remaining 33 patients are in stable condition. According to media reports, the concerned market in Wuhan was closed on 1 January 2020 for environmental sanitation and disinfection. WHO website

"And the rest is (still unfolding) history." Like many histories, we don't know how it will end. Some of us will meet the end before it ends. 

This has been a difficult year for the world. When AIDS came to India in th 1980's, public health officials were not greatly concerned. They cared about dying people, of course, but they were preoccupied with several other public health issues like cholera and diptheria, which were more contagious and more immediately harmful. When Covid-19 arrived in 2020 only the most foolish nations ignored it. 

In the middle of a terrifying story, we wonder who's in charge. We might pause to blame the apparently responsible parties; but as we learn more about a pandemic, the blame seems to spread like the disease itself, until it doesn't really matter. 

Some caregivers blame themselves for allowing the vulnerable to become sick, but their remorse doesn't help and isn't necessary. A highly contagious virus, like wind, water, and the Holy Spirit, goes where it wants to go. 

Many nations have invested much in pursuit of a vaccine for the illness, but there is no cure for a virus. There are only treatments as we wait for the body's immune system to get the upper hand. 

Some people believe the virus leapt from another species to the human, like the bird virus of several years ago. Those fiends are particularly nasty. And there are other species everywhere!

As I write this I am reading a headline, "Britain tightens lockdowns over virus mutation with 'signficantly faster" transmissions rates." Oh great! Does everyone feel vulnerable yet? Is there anyone not worried? 

If the Gospel means anything it begins with, 

"Our help is in the name of the Lord who made heaven and earth." (Ps 124)

and

Unless the LORD build the house,

they labor in vain who build.

Unless the LORD guard the city,

in vain does the guard keep watch.

It is vain for you to rise early

and put off your rest at night,

To eat bread earned by hard toil—

all this God gives to his beloved in sleep. (Ps 127)

With all due respect to human engenuity and cleverness, we must beg God for mercy because hope begins in God. If we have any part in the story of deliverance it begins with our willingness to follow the lead, inspiration, and wisdom of the Holy Spirit. Acting or thinking as if we don't need God, and we're perfectly capable of handling this ourselves is utter foolishness, a trait routinely condemned in the Bible. Stupid is no excuse. Arrogance is not an asset. 

As 2020 ends we beg God for mercy. Parce Domine; parce populo tuo, ne in aeternum irascaris nobis. Spare us, O Lord, spare us your people. Lest in eternity, you be angry forever with us. 

Sixth Day in the Octave of Christmas

Lectionary: 203

I am writing to you, children, because your sins have been forgiven for his name’s sake.

I have every intention of getting the Covid-19 vaccine as soon as it becomes available; and as a health care chaplain who has often anointed Covid patients, I hope it's effective. 

But I am a vaccine skeptic. I don't doubt the science or the promise, but I don't expect salvation through any form of technology. 

I have regarded the pandemic as a punishment; it resembles the Egyptian plagues described in the Book of Exodus, and the terrible afflictions that fell upon Jerusalem. The prophets recognized the hand of God in every disaster that befell God's chosen people. We should do the same. 

I hold this belief not because I suppose the Lord is a wrathful god in the "Old Testament manner." There is only one God and he is the same in the Old and New Testaments. 

Rather, I see God's universal claim on all human beings, regardless of their various religions, and WE must turn away from sin and believe the Gospel. When we do so we will be far less vulnerable to pandemics; we will be far more prepared to do whatever it takes to mitigate suffering, develop solutions, and share them equally among all human beings. There can be no rest until then. 

 

Our Jewish ancestors recognized God's universal authority over the Earth and its inhabitants, which included the power to shine on the good and the bad, and to rain on the just and the unjust. If we have better insight today, it's only in our grasp of how many billions of people there are, and how widely their beliefs differ. 

We must care for every human being with medical advances, economic equality, political stability, military security, and evangelization. They should hear the Good News of Christmas; and that has nothing to do with Santa Claus. 

Everyone should hear "Your sins have been forgiven..." in the birth, death, and resurrection of this Man of Galilee. Born in our time and our world, his Gospel must be integrated into the histories of all nations, and the personal story of every human being. All have sinned, as Saint Paul insisted, 

For there is no distinction; all have sinned and are deprived of the glory of God. They are justified freely by his grace through the redemption in Christ Jesus...

If we ever forget to warn the Earth's inhabitants that, "...the world and its enticement are passing away. But whoever does the will of God remains forever." we will fail in our mission and lose any claim upon God's mercy. 

The Fifth Day in the Octave of Christmas Lectionary: 202

Lectionary: 202


Whoever says he is in the light, yet hates his brother, is still in the darkness. Whoever loves his brother remains in the light, and there is nothing in him to cause a fall. Whoever hates his brother is in darkness; he walks in darkness and does not know where he is going because the darkness has blinded his eyes.

I met a man who clearly loves the Lord, his family and church, and his ministry. He is a very pleasant conversationalist, enthusiastic, dedicated, and fun to be around. But I noticed in several conversations about society, religion, and politics, when one particular subject came up, he went ballistic. He raged against the diabolical conspiracy those people have introduced into American life.

I basically agreed with him but I wanted to say to him, "They're here to stay. How can we invite them into communion?" I never had the opportunity; he did not want to hear another point of view. Not even a more nuanced agreement.

Besides the Pandemic, 2020 has forced us to look at the threads of hatred woven into our attitudes, habits, beliefs, and customs. When minority groups appeal to the majority for understanding and sympathy, some people respond with shocking demonstrations of mocking contempt. I recall three “white” men reenacting the killing of George Foreman while waving an American flag. Despite its appalling crudeness, the scene appeared on a major news broadcast.

That trio represented an unapologetic violence that finds encouragement even among practicing Christians. They would say to Saint John that they are “in the light,” and would deny that they “hate” anyone. They might say they were injecting humor into a moment of tension. They certainly thought it was funny.

Were he to listen to me for spiritual advice, I would say this to my friend: 

In his Salutation of the Virtues, Saint Francis insists that all of the virtues which come from God -- excluding those that human societies might praise without God's endorsement -- accompany one another. His Salutation begins: 

Lady, holy poverty, may the Lord save thee with thy sister holy humility! O Lady, holy charity, may the Lord save thee with thy sister holy obedience! O all ye most holy virtues, may the Lord, from whom you proceed and come, save you! There is absolutely no man in the whole world who can possess one among you unless he first die. He who possesses one and does not offend the others, possesses all; and he who offends one, possesses none and offends all; and every one [of them] confounds vices and sins.

No one should suppose that they stand well enough in God's sight if they habitually neglect any of the virtues. It is not enough to love one's family and despise a neighbor, or vice versa. It is not enough to do one's civic duty while neglecting hearty support of the Church. It is not sufficient to avoid adultery while secretly practicing lust. He who offends one virtue possesses none and offends all. 

The Virtues are a family. You cannot expect to insult my brother or sister and not offend me.

Whoever says he is in the light, yet hates his brother, is still in the darkness. Whoever loves his brother remains in the light, and there is nothing in him to cause a fall.

Feast of the Holy Innocents, martyrs

Lectionary: 698​

(King Herod) ordered the massacre of all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had ascertained from the magi. Then was fulfilled what had been said through Jeremiah the prophet:

A voice was heard in Ramah,

sobbing and loud lamentation;

Rachel weeping for her children,

and she would not be consoled,

since they were no more.

 

I believe the expression is “collateral damage.” Herod intended to destroy only the child whose star had been seen at its rising, whom the magi came to worship. Unfortunately, the king’s peace of mind and Jerusalem’s security under the unstable despot required the additional casualties. 

Americans understand collateral damage as both our dignity and our security were assaulted in September 2001. The ensuing invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq cost many thousands of civilian lives. Many people seem not to remember why we invaded those distant countries in the first place. They did not provide us or any other nation with more security. But that too they regard as regrettable and most unfortunate.

Abortion was also supposed to prevent unwanted invaders of domestic tranquility. Desirable children would be welcome, protected, and nurtured. Undesired children were expendable. The proponents of abortion have noticed neither the rise in violence against preferred children, nor their high incidence of suicide.

Sadly, we still hear sobbing and loud lamentation. Rachel weeping for her children, and she is not consoled, since they are no more. Neither security nor prosperity can be secured by violence.

The tragic story of the Holy Innocents inevitably accompanies the Infancy Narrative of Jesus. Without the brilliant star of Bethlehem we cannot see the evil we generate and tolerate. Herod was taking care of business when he sent his soldiers to find the infant. The soldiers were following orders. Jerusalem was anxious that the moody, suspicious king should not be unhappy. The babies of distant Bethlehem and their wailing parents: what did they matter in the light of national security?

If the Gospel is true it will show us much that we’d rather not see. But if we turn away from Rachel and her grief, we lose sight of the Lord.

The Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph

Lectionary: 17

When the days were completed for their purification according to the law of Moses, They took him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord, just as it is written in the law of the Lord, Every male that opens the womb shall be consecrated to the Lord, and to offer the sacrifice of a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons, in accordance with the dictate in the law of the Lord.

Thrice in today's gospel we hear references to the Law of Moses, which Saint Luke calls, "the Law of the Lord;" and all three citations stress the Holy Family's obedient observance: 

• "...just as it is written in the law of the Lord," and
• "...in accordance with the dictate in the law of the Lord."
• "When they had fulfilled all the prescriptions of the law of the Lord..."

We should understand that Joseph and Mary took their religion very seriously and observed it closely. This particular custom of "presenting him to the Lord" entailed a major sacrifice for the young couple. They had to give their firstborn son to the Temple, and then purchase him back. The wealthy might redeem their pride and joy for a heifer or a lamb; the poor were allowed a lesser donation of doves or pigeons. In any case, God claimed the child for his own; and then graciously allowed them to take him home to raise him properly. 

Hypocritical, cynical, or secular persons might laugh off the symbolic gift of their baby son to God: but the Holy Family, like all devout souls, took it very seriously. Just as Catholic parents symbolically drown their babies in the water of Baptism and receive them purified, sanctified, and elect in God's sight, this Jewish couple received the Son of God into their home with renewed reverence. 

As I read the life and writings of Saint John Henry Newman this past year, I noticed how seriously he took religion. In the nineteenth century, he saw among his fellow Anglicans increasing secularity and a growing dismissal of religious obligations. While many still claimed allegiance to "God and King," and observed the important rites of baptism and burial, religious observance was more formal than faithful. It had little impact on the values which guided public discussion. 

I majored in English literature, and I remember few references in the classic English novels to Anglican church, prayer, or Communion. In Dickens' famous Christmas Carol, Ebenezer Scrooge's conversion propelled him to the market to purchase a turkey, and not to the church to confess his sins. The young Jane Eyre was fortunate to escape the religious orphanage and the rule of a pious maniac. Charlotte Bronte does not suggest Mr. Brocklehurst was a pedophile but, given what we now know, you have to wonder.  

In our time, religion is not simply dismissed; there is a deliberate attack upon it. Many in the Twelve Step movement insist that their meetings are not religious but spiritual. A growing number of people say they are SBNR -- spiritual but not religious. They often impute religious people as smug, arrogant, and unfriendly despite the eager welcome that nearly every church extends to the occasional visitor. In either case, the "nones" feel neither need nor interest in any religion.   

Is there something wrong with being religious? Should we have to defend our first amendment right to practice our faith? Should we anxiously fear losing the right as gun owners fear losing their absurd weapons?

The Covid epidemic will be remembered as a turning point in our personal and communal life. By the time a new normal emerges, not many will resume the old practices. This crisis is an opportunity to reconsider the impetus that drove our old ways of thinking. Along with our faith, we might take another look at religion. 

If you are convinced as I am, that we should regard the pandemic as a divine invitation to "turn away from sin and live by the Gospel!" you will dismiss technological fixes and chemical cures for our sickness. They might create a vaccine for Covid-19 -- and that's a good thing! -- but there is no vaccine for the political polarization, the racism, and the misguided notions of freedom which made the virus more virulent. No vaccine can inoculate us against the cynicism that intentionally put an incompetent in the White House.

Spending more on the military will not stop epidemics, neither will more entertainment media, computer games, sporting spectacles, or designer drugs. The next big thing might promise to change the world again, but it certainly will not penetrate the roots of Original Sin. 

Nor will insipid expressions like "Love" make a difference. It's time to reclaim the value and reopen the sealed doors of religion. 

Let's say that someone you love and intensely admire says, "I am going away but I want to stay in touch. Here is a very expensive fountain pen and I want you to write letters to me daily telling me about your life and adventures. Don't write to me with a ballpoint pen, or pencil; nor with a computer or typewriter. I will read nothing but letters written with this pen!" 

Because you love and admire that person intensely, you will accept the pen, use it wisely, and guard it carefully. You won't misplace or lose it; you will keep it clean and ready for daily use.

I am saying our Catholic religion is like that valuable pen. Some well-intentioned people would replace religion with entertainment. They think the same values can be conveyed persuasively when the audience is amused. They're convince that the very people who are desperately hungry to learn and practice a worthy religion, will turn away if they're not thrilled, exhilarated, or elated. 

But entertainment taints the message, turning it to something less than pure. Entertainment is about the fickle desires of the audience; religion worships wholesome. We not only cheapen our faith, we insult the integrity and intelligence of God's people when we entertain them with our priceless truths. 

When Simeon took the Child in his arms and blessed God he wasn't entertaining Joseph and Mary, nor were they tickled by the old man's antics. When Mary pondered these things in her heart, she wasn't thinking how funny they were. 

Let us announce God's majesty and reclaim our human dignity through the practice of our religion. Let us take seriously the obligation of weekly attendance at Mass and daily prayer, in season and out of season, whether it excites us or leaves us unmoved. Religion is like food; I don't eat it for entertainment; I eat it as I prepare to serve the Lord. 

Feast of Saint Stephen, first martyr

Lectionary: 696

When they hand you over, do not worry about how you are to speak or what you are to say. You will be given at that moment what you are to say. For it will not be you who speak but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you.

I have just finished reading Immaculee Ilibagiza's account of the Rwandan Holocaust, "Left to Tell." Her story is intensely personal, and yet terribly familiar. 

A few months ago a friend handed me a book about the men and women who hid and protected Jews from the Nazi regime. Despite its stories of grace and God's mercy, I could not read more than a few dozen pages. I was overwhelmed by their setting. How was it possible that friends who had watched, assisted, and protected one another as neighbors, turned to spies, traitors, and conspirators of genocide? 

I was troubled also by the growing realization that it can and might happen here in the United States. Disagreements among my friends, family, and friars could devolve into an unspeakable nightmare. I have heard too many stories of genocide in Europe, Africa, and Asia to believe otherwise. 

In the incumbent President's reckless denial that he lost his bid for reelection, and in the credulity of millions of people who believe him, I see an invitation to violence. I am too familiar with American stories of lynchings, race riots, and the collaboration of police in crimes. I have listened to police as they patrolled a small, southern town.  

I am also too familiar with the darkness that could not overcome the light in our Christmas stories to not see it in the events of 2020. If anyone did not notice the sinister insinuation of Herod's instruction to the Magi, 

“Go and search diligently for the child. When you have found him, bring me word, that I too may go and do him homage,”

the feasts of Saint Stephen, the Holy Innocents, and Saint Thomas Becket will remind them. 

Immaculee found strength, courage, and guidance in her Catholic faith. She hid in a small bathroom for several months with five other women, and then emerged to discover the sights, smells, and pervasive threat of death. First she begged God for her survival, and then she pleaded with God to help her forgive the unforgiveable. Clinging to her father's rosary, her only comfort was prayer. In a darkness that permitted no guiding light, the Spirit led her and protected her. More than once the killers who sought her by name were struck with blindness in her presence. 

The protomartyr Stephen invites and challenges us to see the Lord guiding and directing us daily. To believe "It can't happen here" or "It cannot happen again" is to believe in no-god; it is an about face from faith. History and the signs of the times conspire to overthrow such naivete. 

Rather, we must pray urgently, "Dear God, protect and guide us through this difficult time. Make us one again with no distinctions that would trigger another killing." 

The Nativity of the Lord (Christmas)

Readings for the Mass at Dawn


When the kindness and generous love 
of God our savior appeared, not because of any righteous deeds we had done but because of his mercy, He saved us through the bath of rebirth
and renewal by the Holy Spirit,
whom he richly poured out on us
through Jesus Christ our savior,
so that we might be justified by his grace and become heirs in hope of eternal life.

There are two kinds of generosity: 

There is the generosity which is abundantly wealthy and freely bestows gifts on others. A recent news story reported that one of the world's wealthiest men, owning in excess of one hundred billion dollars, ($1 and 11 zeroes) paid a third of his wealth to his ex-wife as alimony; but he soon recuperated and now has more than he did at the time. 

The same story said that Bill and Melinda Gates cannot give away their wealth fast enough; they're still earning more. Such people can be "generous" because it costs them nothing. 

And then there is God's mercy. It is that which we celebrate at Christmas. We remember the Lord who emptied himself in love for us, first by becoming a helpless human baby. Our infinitely Good God, with surpassing majesty, power, and compassion poured out his life on Calvary. He was drained of Spirit, Blood, and Water. There was nothing more to give. 

It began in Bethlehem, amid the winter's snows, in a stable, in a manger. 

We pray that we might be worthy of the latter kind of love. 

Thursday in the Fourth Week of Advent - Mass in the Morning

Lectionary: 200

I will fix a place for my people Israel; I will plant them so that they may dwell in their place without further disturbance. Neither shall the wicked continue to afflict them as they did of old, since the time I first appointed judges over my people Israel. I will give you rest from all your enemies.

 

The aging warrior king David, who enjoyed a good fight as much as anyone but was too old for combat, found great consolation in Nathan’s prophetic words, “I will give you rest from all your enemies.”

He knew that sacred word was not for him alone. He had fought to create a small, independent kingdom, free from harassment of powerful neighbors like Egypt and Assyria, and free to worship their own God. A devout man despite his warrior instincts, David respected the Hebrew prophets and Levite priests who maintained the ancient traditions of Israel. He would not live to see his greatest project completed, the Temple, but he hoped that the House of God would anchor the people’s religious fidelity forever. From Zion, the Rock of Faith, and this Temple, a House of Prayer, God would maintain their national security and a prosperous peace. All nations would envy and admire Jerusalem’s splendor; they would come to the Holy City to learn its wisdom and worship its God.

"Can't we all just get along?" You might remember the rioting in Los Angeles after the police, who had severely beaten Rodney King, were acquitted. Amid rioting and looting, the bewildered victim wondered.

No, getting along will never be enough. Injustice must be addressed; evil must be atoned. If ancient nations streamed to Jerusalem to see the holiness of Solomon's temple, they also saw the injustice of orphaned and widowed beggars.  Privileges were lavished on the privileged; and cruel neglect allotted to the rest. The wicked continued to afflict them as they did of old.

When the Son of David stood before Pontius Pilate a thousand years after King David's reign, he admitted, "My kingdom does not belong to this world." 

His kingdom begins when we hear the cry of the poor and admit we have done wrong. The cry might be heard as we examine our conscience daily. Or it might be a gentle reminder like that of a friend who said to me, "You must not think, speak or act that way. It might have been acceptable at one time, though it never should have been. It is not okay now." 

Even Jesus had to accept the implied rebuke of the woman who boldly declared, "The dogs eat the scraps that fall from the children's table." If he can change his attitude toward aliens and foreigners, I certainly can too. 

We should also remember the Apostles who heard the complaint of the gentile Christian widows when their Jewish sisters were preferred. They did not surrender their authority as apostles in the nascent Church, but they recognized the injustice and appointed gentiles to share the responsibility and authority of Jewish deacons. 

Despite his reverence the Warrior King David was not permitted to build the Temple. There was blood on his hands. He had much to atone. As we celebrate Christmas, we ask God to see our willingness to be rebuked, our humble confession of sins, and our readiness to change our attitudes and habits. We might yet be found worthy to know the Prince and his Kingdom of Peace.

Wednesday of the Fourth Week of Advent

Lectionary: 199

When they came on the eighth day to circumcise the child, they were going to call him Zechariah after his father, but his mother said in reply, “No. He will be called John.” 
But they answered her, “There is no one among your relatives who has this name.” 
So they made signs, asking his father what he wished him to be called. He asked for a tablet and wrote, “John is his name,” and all were amazed.

 

I’m sure every Catholic and most Christians have heard complaints about the Catholic Church. People often say, “I have issues with the Catholic Church!” They don’t like her teachings about abortion, divorce, capital punishment, or euthanasia; or one of many lesser issues. Some resent the strict discipline of their parents and teachers, supposing they would be happier today had they had different upbringing. Or they simply resent the magisterial authority of the Church. 

That’s all good! If there is any sure sign of the Church’s authenticity, it’s the way it makes people uncomfortable. A religion that consistently comforts, reassures, and encourages cannot represent Truth, because Truth will always stand in opposition to many of our opinions, attitudes, and traditions. A religion that strives to help everyone to play nice must smother many cries of anguish, disappointment, and grief.

John the Baptist, from the day he was born, caused trouble, as we hear in today’s gospel. His relatives intended to name him Zechariah after his respected father; but God had chosen otherwise, and the elderly couple would not defy God despite everyone’s expectations.

Fortunately, even before the old man’s tongue was freed and he sang his Benedictus, Saint Luke tells us that the relatives came and, “All were amazed.” Amazement, awe, wonder, fear of the Lord: spiritually and theologically, these are essentially the same thing. We should cultivate and welcome that reverence for Divine Authority that comes upon us when we see, hear, or sense the Presence of God. We must bow before it, grateful for God's governance of our lives. 

A secular culture can’t be bothered with subtle things like piety and devotion; they have mountains to climb, obstacles to overcome, and people to destroy. They’re god does what they want him to do. I believe it was King Henry II, in the play A Lion in Winter, who said, “I am the king! When I pray God listens!” In a secular culture, everyone is king, but there is no God.

John the Baptist prepared the way of the Lord by naming the sins of the people and inviting them to repentance. Herod Antipas, nephew of Herod the Great, despised him for his defense of marriage, but many people opened their hearts to the Lord after accepting John’s message and his baptism.

Chastened by our faith and the Advent season, we now wait eagerly for the coming of the Son of God.

 

Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Advent

Lectionary: 198

“My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord;

my spirit rejoices in God my savior.

for he has looked upon his lowly servant.

From this day all generations will call me blessed:

the Almighty has done great things for me,

and holy is his Name.

 

Often, as we watch dramatic television, movie, or stage presentations, and as we read short stories and novels, we are invited to be the protagonist of the story. We enter the mind of that person, recall their memories and feel their feelings. We love whom they love and fear whom they fear.

We do the same when we encounter Mary’s Magnificat. We “amen” her delighted feelings of joy and confidence in God. We remember the long history of Israel and God’s interaction with Israel, which has brought her to this point. In the New Testament she and Joseph are the ancestors where Abraham and Sarah were the ancestors of the Old Testament.

But reading, reciting, or singing the Magnificat is more than a literary experience for us; it is religious, and the prayer evokes her story from her Immaculate Conception to the Sorrow of Calvary, the Joy of Easter, and the Glory of her Assumption into heaven. The words draw us into communion with Mary. Her blessings are ours and we celebrate the privilege she has been given, a privilege which she also deserved for she grew in innocence from grace to grace.

Further, in the same communion, we say, “All generation call us blessed” for we know her Son through our Baptism, Eucharist, and life of prayer. We know this privilege not as something to boast about for it is very costly; and we protect it like a secret, a mystery not revealed carelessly to the indifferent.

As a I prepared to celebrate the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception, a Protestant colleague wondered how I might make relevant such an esoteric doctrine to my congregation. I assured him we give glory to God for the wonderful blessings he has given Mary. And the second reading that day, from Saint Paul's Letter to the Ephesians put the words in my mouth:

...so that we might exist for the praise of his glory, we who first hoped in Christ.

If I thought salvation was all about me, then I might wonder, "What does a blessing for Mary have to do with me?" I might even ask, "Am I my sister's keeper?" as if her life is somehow removed from mine.

Catholics celebrate Mary and the Saints for their blessings are ours and our blessings are theirs, and we're all albout praising God -- "for the praise of his glory."

If someone from your hometown won the Heisman Trophy you might tell people about that, even if you were a Protestant! Because that athlete's achievement somehow reflects on you. Only a hardened cynic could deny that. But the glory of Mary's Immaculate Conception is infinitely more wonderful than a football award. Our Mother, Sister, Consoler, and Companion is the highest honor of our race. We are happy for her, and happy to be in the crowd that surrounds her.

Monday of the Fourth Week of Advent

Lectionary: 197

On that day, it shall be said to Jerusalem:
Fear not, O Zion, be not discouraged!
The LORD, your God, is in your midst, a mighty savior;
He will rejoice over you with gladness, and renew you in his love,
He will sing joyfully because of you,
as one sings at festivals.

The Mother of Jesus is for Christians the New Jerusalem, the "Daughter Zion" who shouts for joy and exults with all her heart. We discover her joy especially in Luke 1 as she visits her cousin Elizabeth. The older woman's greeting and her song, the Magnificat, describe their ecstasy upon greeting one another. 

It's fascinating how often we find Mary in Jerusalem: 1) she visits Elizabeth; 2) she and Joseph present the child on his fortieth day; 3) they find the twelve year old in the temple, 4) she is there just outside the city on Calvary, and 5) she is with the disciples at Pentecost. Though she is also seen in Galilee, Bethelehem, Cana, and the sky (!), Mary frequents Jerusalem most often, a cosmopolitan woman. 

These women know something which the world cannot imagine. It begins with the "ordinary miracle" of pregnancy, which might be regarded by an old celibate like me as something entirely too common until I pause to consider the wonder of a human being born of another human being. How is it possible that God gives such power and authority to us as to create  human beings with all their fascination, strangeness, and curiosity? We know of no other creature in the universe remotely similar to a human baby. Shouldn't that prerogative belong exclusively to the Creator? With that, Elizabeth and Mary already know something "the world" cannot comprehend. 

But they know also the astonishing mystery of their fertility, an old woman and a virgin will have sons. Romans, who were notoriously superstitious as their own historians admit, might have made something of their story had they known of it. But the powerful -- the emperor, his governors, procurators, and centurions -- couldn't be bothered with unusual births. 

At this moment in our story, only Mary and Elizabeth know what is happening, that the long desired of nations is about to appear. 

Many people today are hoping and praying that the several vaccines for Covid-19 will be effective. They hope we might soon get back to normal, if anyone can remember what normal was. Was that before the impeachment trial; the separation of immigrant children from their parents: or when presidents appointed secretaries of government offices and the Senate confirmed them? When excited parents announced the good news of unborn children? When spouses were faithful to their partners and children? How long ago was that?  

The normal we long for is yet to appear in human history. It will begin when the nations hear Saint John's voice in the wilderness and come out to him to be baptized in repentance. It will begin as the nations recognize the Son of Mary by his Crown of Thorns as the King, Lord, Messiah, and Savior. 

On that day we will rejoice with Mary and Elizabeth in the birth of their sons. Today we share their happy expectation. 

Fourth Sunday of Advent 2020

Lectionary: 11

To him who can strengthen you, according to my gospel and the proclamation of Jesus Christ, according to the revelation of the mystery kept secret for long ages but now manifested through the prophetic writings and, according to the command of the eternal God, made known to all nations to bring about the obedience of faith, to the only wise God, through Jesus Christ be glory forever and ever.
Amen.

How often have we prayed for strength during this past year? We have shared a communion of suffering with family and neighbors, with fellow citizens whom we've never met, and strangers we'll never meet. The epidemic that visited our homes is, in fact, a pandemic which grips the whole world and challenges every human being on Earth. If we remember other plagues like the Bubonic Plague of the second millennium, and the 1918 influenza, we have never heard and witnessed the suffering of millions all at once as we do today.

Predictably, the crisis has been met not only with grief, but also resentment, suspicion, and denial. People who habitually flee from hard truth, or dubiously take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing make fools of themselves, only make matters worse for those who are trying to alleviate the situation.

As we prepare for Christmas with the traditional sacrifices -- prayer, fasting, almsgiving -- we draw strength from the "mystery kept secret for long ages" which is revealed to those who observe the season of Advent.The Evangelists give us stories of happiness in images of brilliant light and lowering darkness. Saint Matthew's story of the magi who worshipped the Child with joy is cast against the threat of King Herod's "homage" and Jerusalem's distress. Saint Luke sets the Child's birth in rural poverty among shepherds. Our Savior could not be born in royal splendor with choirs of sycophants singing just outside the labor room. We would neither recognize nor welcome such a bizarre baby.

The plague reminds us of the values we have neglected, especially of maintaining our health care systems and their availability for everyone. When medical care is reserved for those able to pay private doctors, for-profit hospitals, rehabilitation and nursing homes, it will be overwhelmed by a plague as devastating as any that struck Egypt in the Book of Exodus. When the big bucks in medical care are reserved for specialists who treat one patient at a time, and not for community-based health care, you know we're set up for disaster.

Health care is for everyone or for no one. Catholics know that because we remember the Lord's healing everyone who came to him. Even before the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5, we read in chapter four,

He went around all of Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom, and curing every disease and illness among the people.

Twenty centuries later, we realize the world has not changed as much as we thought; our Sciences, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics (STEM) neither prevent sin nor protect us from its punishing consequences.

The mystery kept secret for long ages but now manifested through the prophetic writings and, according to the command of the eternal God, is the reassurance we find in Jesus's presence with us. 

He comes to save us, not to fix us. As much as we appreciate physical and emotional healing, we must know the spiritual healing of his abiding presence in our poverty and vulnerability. The lamb has come to live with his sheep; those who quit denying their bovine foolishness welcome him.

Until the Judgement Day our sinful pride will foil our best efforts to save ourselves. For every good effort we make in our human compassion for one another, we sabotage it when we fail to go the extra mile, give our shirts as well as our jackets, and turn the other cheek.

Christmas celebrates the God who gave his only begotten son to the Earth, restored him to life when we killed him, and appointed him to gather his own into the Kingdom. God in his infinite mercy gave more than he could afford because there is no other way to save us. And we must do the same.

Saturday of the Third Week of Advent

Lectionary: 195

But the angel said to him, “Do not be afraid, Zechariah, because your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you shall name him John. 

And you will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord. 

When we learn of the Angel's appearance to Zechariah we have already been told, "...they had no child, because Elizabeth was barren and both were advanced in years." 

We might suppose the old couple had given up praying for a child long ago. It wasn't going to happen and what's the point of praying now, years after menopause? 

So the Angel's announcement came as something of a surprize, like a package ordered by mail that had never arrived and suddenly appeared many years too late. If the apparatiion was frightening for being unexpected and unusual, we can only imagine Zechariah's puzzlement, if not perplexity, at Gabriel's good news. His question -- "How shall I know this? For I am an old man, and my wife is advanced in years.” -- was only the first one that came to mind. And then, when he heard the high-ranking Angel's rebuke, he shut his mouth and didn't open it for nine months! 

The unspoken message from one servant to another: "You prayed for this! Now deal with it!" 

Gabriel appears twice in the first chapter of Luke, and was probably the same messenger in Matthew 1. He is under orders and if he waits for a response he waits for only one -- "Yes." Or, as Mary said, "I am the handmaid of the Lord. Be it done to me according to your word." 

Gabriel, Mary, Joseph, Zechariah, Elizabeth, the centurion -- all are under orders and do as they're told. God is not in the habit of asking anyone's opinion about his plans for them. We discover our freedom not in consultation but in obedience. 

There is, of course, refusal. Saint Bernard shuddered at the thought in his marvelous reflection about that moment in Mary's life. Recalling the woman who searches for her lover in the Song of Songs, he warned Mary: "If he should pass by because of your delay, in sorrow you would begin to seek him afresh, the One whom your soul loves."

We should also shudder at the thought of delaying or withholding consent to the merciful will of God. We should not hold out for a better deal! There will be a world of hurt between that lost opportunity and another the Lord might offer. Our message of God's endless love should not suggest we can ignore his kindness until we're in the mood to accept it. People die of that. 

Rather we ask God to give us the eager readiness of Mary who did not hesitate when Gabriel appeared to her. 

Friday of the Third Week of Easter

Lectionary: 194

Behold, the days are coming, says the LORD, when I will raise up a righteous shoot to David; As king he shall reign and govern wisely, he shall do what is just and right in the land. In his days Judah shall be saved, Israel shall dwell in security. This is the name they give him: “The LORD our justice.”

After forty-two generations of Abraham's sons, in which the LORD prepared the Jewish people through centuries of trouble, disappointment, violence, and grief, Joseph the just man, of the House of David, appears. Jeremiah, the prophet of today's first reading, had believed that the former greatness of David's royal city Jerusalem should be restored by the reappearance of David, or one like him, a son of David. He would make Jerusalem great again.

The synoptic Evangelists -- Matthew, Mark, and Luke -- name the Nazarene's father as Joseph: Matthew and Luke add that Joseph was a Davidic descendant and native of the ancient king's hometown, Bethlehem. 

The lesson is simple: everything that is happening and will happen follows God's plan. Nor is it hard to understand God's ways since the prophets had foretold it in detail. 

As the Pentecost-inspired witnesses of Jesus's resurrection streamed from Jerusalem to announce the Gospel to the whole world, the Evangelists laboriously documented the foundations of this new religion in ancient Jewish traditions. The Gospel Revelation fulfilled a history of revelations from Abraham to John the Baptist. (John the Evangelist will go a step further as events in the life of Jesus fulfill his own predictions.) 

Born of Jerusalem's paroxysm of violence on Good Friday and the eerie silence that followed it for fifty days until Pentecost, Christianity was an exciting, chaotic wave of enthusiasm. People were suddenly gaga believers in the man they had despised and condemned to death. His disciples were not only preaching his doctrine, they were healing the sick and raising the dead. When religious and civil authorities intervened the movement only metastacized, spreading from city to city, and eventually to Europe and Africa. 

But for all the excitement it needed historical validation. Nothing comes from nothing and this movement has to come from someplace deeper than enthusiasm. And so the Evangelists, recalling Jesus's example, combed the Hebrew scriptures and found innumerable references to God's promised Messiah. 

Saint Matthew and Luke were especially committed to this process. Religious, civil, and intellectual authorities should understand that what we're seeing is not, with reflection and contemplation, unexpected. This is absolutely typical of everything we know of God. 

The Evangelists are particularly challenged to explain how a crucified man -- apparently a criminal -- can be worshipped as God. Ordinarily, only morbid curiosity would take an interest in criminals and their final days. Their stories would only show that the conman or the crook finally got what he deserved. But the Gospel celebrates God's triumph, his mighty work, over sin and death; and over everyone who would use death as final solution. 

Nothing can come between God and his people, not even their savage destruction of his Divine Son. 

It didn't begin with Joseph, the husband of Mary; it began with Abraham. (Luke would point even further back, to Adam.) 

As 2020 comes to its dreary end and we hope for a restored normal in 2021, the Evangelists remind us that God is still in charge. What seems haphazard and chaotic is actually ordained for God's purposes. We have only to watch and wait with expectation as Saint Paul assures us:

I consider that the sufferings of this present time are as nothing compared with the glory to be revealed for us. For creation awaits with eager expectation the revelation of the children of God; for creation was made subject to futility, not of its own accord but because of the one who subjected it, in hope that creation itself would be set free from slavery to corruption and share in the glorious freedom of the children of God. We know that all creation is groaning in labor pains even until now; and not only that, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, we also groan within ourselves as we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved.

Now hope that sees for itself is not hope. For who hopes for what one sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait with endurance.

Thursday of the Third Week of Advent

Lectionary: 193

…Eliud the father of Eleazar. Eleazar became the father of Matthan, Matthan the father of Jacob, Jacob the father of Joseph, the husband of Mary. Of her was born Jesus who is called the Christ.

 

An epidemic of epic proportions throws its weird light on all our reflections as we enter the deeper silence of Advent. Many faithful people will celebrate the mysteries at home without attending a Christmas Mass. If some only attended the Mass once a year, to savor its nostalgic redolence, they’ll skip it this year; or attend in stubborn denial of Covid 19’s cruel regime. Some who have attended Mass haphazardly in ordinary times will not appear this year, or ever again.

The pandemic reminds me of those dark years when midnight mass was a clandestine response to Protestant hostility. When it was illegal to celebrate Christmas, Catholics gathered in secret, late at night, often in the ballrooms of wealthy families.

In a similar darkness we hear the names of Jesus’s ancestors today. They remind us of the past, and its weight in our present affairs. The past does not go away because we , or deny it, forget it, or wish it would. Consequences of past events may appear unexpectedly as blessings or curses; and they can alter everything we thought about the future. The violent demonstrations of 2020 in the United States have reminded Americans of sordid chapters and unresolved issues in what we considered our glorious history.

Saint Matthew’s genealogy insists that the Lord God planned from ancient times the appearance of the Messiah, at this time, “in the fullness of time.” He could have been born at no other time, nor in any other place, nor as the child of any other father but Joseph, the son of David, the husband of Mary.

In a novel by Nikos Kazantzakis, “The Last Temptation of Christ,” as Jesus is dying, he is afflicted with a powerful fantasy. In his dream he abandoned his mission to marry the Magdalene woman. He and the guys get together occasionally to reminisce about the wondrous years when he walked on water and multiplied loaves of bread. They laugh about the frustrated Pharisees who attempted but could not control their high-spirited antics. The couple now have children and anticipate grandchildren; they have settled down to the quotidian life of Palestinian peasants.

But in the novel, just as his crucified, tormented body is about to expire, Jesus wakes up to realize the dream is a temptation, and he must embrace with his pinioned arms the pain, horror, and hopelessness of the cross. He belongs where his mission has placed him. And there he dies. Because he has died, we are saved.

In Saint Matthew's Gospel, God comes to us as Emmanuel, as "God with us." Forty-two ancestors tell us that God is with us in the past; and for that reason, our past is holy despite the rogues who appear in Jesus's genealogy and the crimes of our more recent history. The Son of God is with us even on the hard, unforgiving wood of the cross; and would be no where else. Nor should we fear the future for the Lord is with us there. 

God with us is present always for there is only one moment -- one present -- in God's time. We call the Eucharist the Real Presence as the Lord invites us to abide with him in this moment, in this Year of Our Lord, 2020, the Year of Covid-19, with neither reluctance nor regret.