The Seventh Day in the Octave of Christmas

 Lectionary: 204

Children, it is the last hour; 
and just as you heard that the antichrist was coming,
so now many antichrists have appeared. 
Thus we know this is the last hour

2021 has  been a helluva year in the United States. A year ago, even as we thought we might be turning the corner on the Covid 19 epidemic, an enraged president called for a mob to overwhelm the Congress of the United States and subvert the November 2020 election. We have yet to agree upon what happened and what it means. 

We seem to be enduring a prolonged last hour as we decide whether we should continue the American experiment, a collective project which can always fail and never succeed. 

In his book, The Everlasting Man, G.K. Chesterton describes the bewilderment of the world in which we live. They cannot believe in the Gospel because it encourages more joy than anyone should have, and more freedom than they can imagine. Because their god is a monotheistic, unimaginative deity which created the universe for no particular reason and then forgot about it, they have never known the Spirit of God. They cannot imagine a world without coercion and threats to protect their illusions of freedom.  

Jesus promised the crowd in John 8: “If you remain in my word, you will truly be my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." (31-32)

Many people believe freedom is the ability to create their own facts and live in a world of their own fantasy. Their world has no epidemic so there's no need for masks or quarantines. Their minds are entirely spiritual and their bodies do not die so they can play with stimulants and intoxicants without fear of consequence. Their world suffers no limits so they can exhaust its resources with neither discipline nor restraint. Poor people are other people in their world, and never their own people. Because they know none of that is true, they live with an abiding dread. 

Jesus offers his people the freedom of giving to others, of trusting his spirit, of living in the confidence that life is good, holy, and meaningful. God travels with us and knows our distress even as he leads us out of it. 

As a new year begins we ask the Spirit to guide us where we cannot see; and to help us give what we cannot afford to lose. 

The Sixth Day in the Octave of Christmas

 Lectionary: 203

When they had fulfilled all the prescriptions
of the law of the Lord,
they returned to Galilee,
to their own town of Nazareth. 
The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom;
and the favor of God was upon him.

The first disciples of Jesus apparently had little interest in his childhood education or formation. They did not ask about his parents or his mentors, or if he had travelled and where that might have been. They knew of his family; that some supported his mission and others opposed it. 

Despite that dearth of information Saint Luke believed he should fill in the blank space with whatever he had. The Gospel would not be complete if the Lord had just appeared full grown, without a past like the Lone Ranger. He had not come from nowhere and disappeared into nowhere. He was a Jew, native of Galilee, with ancestral connections to Bethlehem, the city of King David. 

Nor had he appeared to his parents like an infant-sized adult. He was born of woman like every other human being, helpless, inarticulate, needing protection and guidance. He had developed from infancy to adulthood as every human should, Saint Luke assured the skeptical, "The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him." 

Christian piety would sometimes naively forget the development of the Messiah through the normal stages of maturity. It is tempted to regard the boy Jesus as superior in every way to other children, and then scold those other children for not being Christlike. We do better to understand that the Spirit guided the boy to manhood as the same Spirit guides each of us, patiently, serenely, confidently. If there were thirty silent years in the life of Jesus, there is time in our lives also for misunderstandings, mistakes, foolishness, and and the growth of wisdom. 

The Fourth Eucharistic Prayer reminds us, he was, "a man like us in all things but sin." By that we understand that sin is not necessary. If God leads us out of sin to grace, the sin was never a necessary place to begin. 

But Jesus knows our weakness for he saw the work of the Holy Spirit in his life. Though he was as foolish as any child, the Spirit led him. He knew it and was grateful. We too recognize the Divine Impulse that called us out of darkness into light. It said to each of us, "I didn't create you for this. You deserve better." 

And wisely, we followed that Voice. 

The Fifth Day in the Octave of Christmas

 Lectionary: 202

Beloved, I am writing no new commandment to you
but an old commandment that you had from the beginning. 
The old commandment is the word that you have heard. 
And yet I do write a new commandment to you,
which holds true in him and among you,
for the darkness is passing away,
and the true light is already shining. 

The older I get and the more I see of the post-modern brave new world, the more connected I feel to the old, prehistoric world. We hardly adjust to the present before it's past and new things demand our attention and response. 

But that golden era of the ancient past still creeps up on us as the future rushes over us. Attitudes and beliefs we thought dead and dismissed remain virulent. Wars that were supposed to solve irreconcilable differences solved nothing. Modern, scientific education imposed by the enlightened elite left millions in the darkness of stone age superstitions. They just didn't buy it. 

The past still offers us a wisdom of hard experience that cannot be dismissed; and  a Revelation ever ancient, ever new. Gothic cathedrals of Europe still dazzle post-Christian pagans with the light of faith. If they disagree with its teaching out of fear of changing their Enlightened opinions, they long for its blessed assurance. 

The Letters of Saint John, apparently written after the Gospel was published and widely read, reflected further upon its revelations. The author assured his readers that the new commandment to love one another had always been God's word. The Word itself was shown to Abraham and Sarah as they bore Isaac. There is nothing new about loving God with all one's heart, soul, mind, and strength. And yet the command is new; and as beautiful and intoxicating as the sunrise. 

Standing in the gateway of 2022 with the issues of 2021 largely unresolved, we pray that the Ancient Word will go with us. Many crosses must yet appear, many challenges inexplicable and unbearable. Whatever the future reveals it will need the past to explain it, and the Word of God to make it holy. 

The Christian enters the future with the assurance of Emmanuel. God with us remains. 

Feast of the Holy Innocents, martyrs

 Lectionary: 698

When Herod realized that he had been deceived by the magi,
he became furious.
He 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.

G,K. Chesterton, in his book The Everlasting Man, writes that Moloch was the god of the Punic people. Their business empire spanned the Mediterranean Sea from Tyre to Spain, with its capital in Carthage. It challenged the Hebrews and their worship of the Lord until the Romans finally defeated Hannibal and destroyed Carthage. Chesterton saw the hand of God in Rome's success because, although they worshiped idols, they were less barbaric than the Punic people who sacrificed living infants to Moloch.

Herod's slaughter of the Holy Innocents seemed to spring from the same contaminated soil of Canaan. The Jewish kingdom of David  had never completely eradicated the superstitious cult of idols. Before the Babylonian Exile, some of his royal descendants were known to sacrifice to Moloch to maintain the loyalty of pagan citizens. 

Herod, driven by insane jealousy, resumed that horrible practice after his meeting with the Magi. Frightened people do stupid things; many abandon their superficial faith in God to plead for help from idols. Did not Saul, the first Jewish king, consult a medium in his terror, and summon the ghost of Samuel from the netherworld?  

Turning away from the Truth in the first century or the twentieth-first century opens one to stark fear and then to idolatry. Today we have seen its most naked, horrifying forms in abortion -- a sacrifice of unborn children. And the killing of school children. The former holocaust is for "sexual freedom;" the latter is justified by "the second amendment."  

We cannot celebrate Christmas without remembering the Holy Innocents. The Lord's birth is not universally welcomed. His coming is regarded in many places with suspicion and greeted with violence. Nor should his disciples expect any better:

Remember the word I spoke to you, ‘No slave is greater than his master.’ If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you. If they kept my word, they will also keep yours. And they will do all these things to you on account of my name, because they do not know the one who sent me. (John 15:20-21)

The persecution of the Church has never ended, and never will. As Catholics who publicly worship God in our churches, practice sexual fidelity within our marriage vows, and welcome children both planned and unplanned, able and disabled, we should remember our fellow Catholics in many nations who suffer ostracism, public humiliation, and martyrdom. We stand with them and pray that we are worthy of their company. 

Feast of Saint John, Apostle and evangelist

 Lectionary: 697

What was from the beginning,
what we have heard,
what we have seen with our eyes,
what we looked upon
and touched with our hands
concerns the Word of life....

One does not read the Gospel according to Saint John; one enters the mind of God as into a cathedral. This work of genius challenges everyone who approaches it; even a sentence or verse appears like an opening to incomprehensible beauty. We've seen "John 3:16" posted on bumper stickers and placards as if everyone knows what it means. But if we were to consider the verse we'd have to stop, pull off the highway, turn off the television; and sit, wonder, and wait for an unknown signal to resume our lives. 

Today, I am thinking of two signal verses in the Gospel. When two of the Baptist's disciples followed Jesus, he turned and asked them, “What are you looking for?” It's a simple question really, but... “What are you looking for?” 

The two hardly knew what to say and replied, "Rabbi, where are you staying?" It's not an answer to his question. Where Jesus lives might express no more than a passing curiosity, like Pontius Pilate's, "Where are you from?" Does it really matter whether a condemned man is from Galilee, Nazareth, or Bethlehem? 

But everyone who reads or hears the Gospel must answer for themselves, "What are you looking for?" 

Is what you're doing satisfying? Is it helpful or meaningful? Are you planning forever or for nothing? What do you expect from your life? 

When the disciples reply, "Where do you stay?" they might be asking for anything. I knew a man, afflicted with dementia, who knew the state of Minnesota like the back of his hand. Whenever a person's name came up, he'd ask, "Where is he from?" Sometimes I was only referring to a telephone call or an email and I would reply, "The Internet." It was an idle question and an equally idle answer. 

Where is Jesus from? The disciples want to know; Pilate hopes he is only from Galilee. 

And Jesus replied to John's disciples, "Come and you will see." An invitation into the mind of God. 

Later in the gospel, Jesus turns again to the disciples and asks another question, “Do you also want to leave?”

Saint Peter replied for you and me, 

“Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God.”

The disciples of John had asked, "Where do you stay?" but they had not stayed anywhere. They were always on the road from the Jordan River through Cana, Capernaum, and Samaria to Jerusalem and Calvary. They stayed only with Jesus. 

As 2022 breaks upon us, with its hope for an end of Covid, and its longing for relief, mercy, justice, and a peaceful climate the faithful answer the Lord with their feet. We go as he leads us. 

Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph

 Lectionary: 17

Beloved, we are God’s children now;
what we shall be has not yet been revealed.
We do know that when it is revealed we shall be like him,
for we shall see him as he is.

Since I came to the VA as a chaplain, over fourteen years ago, I began to call every man brother. It seemed appropriate among the male veterans; and some Protestants, seeing my Roman collar, preferred to call me brother. It feels comfortable in this setting. 

People like to speak of the "brotherhood of man" and the "sisterhood of nations." We're reminded that there is only one human race, and we're mutually dependent upon one another. We use words like interdependence, interconnections, and co-responsibility. 

Before the Internet invaded our lives the film The Mission (1968) showed how eighteenth century European politics impacted the life of distant natives of the Amazon jungle. Today, huge cargo ships move megatons of freight throughout the world, millions of airline passengers transmit viruses around the globe, and people talk to one another without asking, "Exactly where are you?" because they're online. There is only one economy on Earth and it pokes, pushes, and shoves every human being. Like it or not, we are family.

And today is the Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. 

When is Jesus's birthday? Some cynics like to point to uncertain passages in the infancy  narratives that indicate he was born in the springtime. Someone told me recently he was born in late summer. I say, God knew what he was doing when he instructed Rome to impose December 25th on the western Churches as the Feast of the Nativity. The date is close enough to the winter solstice, an event observed by the entire planet, although it is also known as the summer solstice.

Christmas is an astronomical event, placing all nations and every human being within the orbit of the Solar System. It reminds us of the miracles of organic life and human life which appear only on this planet, within a Goldilocks region of our particular star, and within this constellation. The entire earth sees the solstice; Christmas makes it holy. Christmas announces the Holy Family of humanity. 

As one family we have to get along with each other. You choose your friends; your family you're stuck with. And we are stuck with one another. Our borders are porous and arbitrary; our laws are uncertain and confusing; we can rely on neither borders or laws to show how we should treat one another. 

For that we turn to our God who sends his only begotten Son to be our Lord, Savior, and Brother. We turn to Jesus who gives us Mary as our Mother, Sister, and Daughter. Receiving the Son and the Mother we become One World Holy Family with Saint Joseph. 

The Nativity of the Lord (Christmas) Mass during the Day

 Lectionary 16

Break out together in song,
        O ruins of Jerusalem!
    For the LORD comforts his people,
        he redeems Jerusalem.
    The LORD has bared his holy arm
        in the sight of all the nations;
    all the ends of the earth will behold
        the salvation of our God.

"Everyday is Christmas," some like to say, or, "Everyday should be Christmas." The cheerfulness, generosity, and pleasantries of this season should be our typical, everyday modes. 

I am not entirely comfortable with the sentiment as it might provide an excuse for ignoring this most sacred day altogether. But I get it too, and I might use it for a conversation starter: How can we practice this spirit every day of the year?

The obvious answer is religion. I meet former Catholics who tell me they don't agree with the Church about some of its teachings. I answer, "Being Catholic is not agreeing to an idea or any set of ideas. Being Catholic is membership in Jesus Christ." It is a daily practice, a weekly ritual and an annual observance. 

Being Catholic begins first thing in the morning with what you wear. When I search for someone listed as Catholic and I see the chain and a medallion on his chest, I know I have found my patient. It may be a cross, crucifix, or a medal of Mary, Saint Michael, Anthony, or Benedict. It's often sterling silver, sometimes brass or gold. They wear this Catholic symbol summer and winter, in bed and at work, in the shower and under layers of clothing. There is usually a story with the item because our religion is comprised of stories. 

Many Catholics add to their clothing a rosary, which is always in their pocket or purse. "Don't leave home without it!" If some Americans are armed and fearful, Catholics are more prepared to pray. (I was recently awarded a license to carry a rosary!) The rosary is a ready companion during the morning commute; it is the goodnight kiss at bedtime. 

Because we eat every day, Catholics pray every day. It may begin with the "Morning Offering;" it may end with an Act of Contrition. Every meal is graced with prayer. 

I recommend the Liturgy of the Hours to anyone who is serious about prayer. This tradition is just as fresh and inspiring today as it was to Counter-Reformation missionaries, medieval monks, and the seventy-two disciples of Jesus. It flows in  an unbroken stream from the Jewish customs of daily temple and synagogue worship. 

The Liturgy of the Hours is complicated and sometimes confusing with many options, but that keeps it interesting as we practice it year after year, decade after decade. And modern technology provides many helpful guides. 

Plus, because it is liturgy and the prayer of the whole church, the devout can join communities of prayer in their local parish, by telephone, or online. This is a prayer of the entire earth. The Hours have standard editions which make it easy for everyone to join at a moment's notice. 

Many Catholics find simplified versions of the Hours like the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Saint Francis, or Jesus and Mary.

And, of course, daily Mass for those who are retired or can manage their schedules. The Church celebrates Mass every day, why not attend? It's what we do. The Bishops of the United States have called for a renewal of devotion to the Blessed Sacrament among Catholics, and have published an important statement called, THE MYSTERY OF THE EUCHARIST IN THE LIFE OF THE CHURCH. Be the first in your parish to read it!  

I should add that a Catholic home looks like a Catholic home with images of Mary, the Saints, and other symbols. People festoon their homes with symbols of every sort, from anodyne Walt Disney characters to diabolical fiends. What do people see in your home? 

Some people insist they are spiritual, not religious, But when I ask, "How do you DO your spirituality? " they say nothing.  As there is no body without a soul, there is no spirit without a religion of some sort, but many are misleading and some are downright evil. Our Catholic Church is guided by the Holy Spirit, who is God. 

How do you DO your Catholic? A new year begins in seven days. Let us prepare the Way of the Lord.

Friday of the Fourth Week of Advent (Mass in the Morning)

 Lectionary: 200

The LORD also reveals to you
that he will establish a house for you. 
And when your time comes and you rest with your ancestors,
I will raise up your heir after you, sprung from your loins,
and I will make his Kingdom firm.
I will be a father to him,
and he shall be a son to me.
Your house and your Kingdom shall endure forever before me;
your throne shall stand firm forever.’”

"Context is everything!" we're told but many people overlook the context of God's promises and thereby, their meaning. Can we hope without a promise? Without confidence that the One who promised will keep his word? And what is that exact word, anyway? 

Some people hope for eternal life, or they hope at least to see their loved ones again in the hereafter. They insist that death cannot be the end of their spouses, parents, or children. "It's not time yet!" they say to the priest who celebrated the Mass of Resurrection, the undertaker who carried the body away, or the groundskeeper who filled the grave. "It's not yet time to give up my fidelity to the one I love. I will be true forever!" 

Stepping away from the grave we search for the promises in the scriptures and we discover many. Among them, Nathan's words to David, 

"I will raise up your heir after you, sprung from your loins, and I will make his Kingdom firm forever."

Those who study history know forever is a very long time; it is longer than the widow imagines. It is longer than a century or a kingdom. David's throne in Jerusalem survived over four hundred years, until the city was sacked and the temple razed by a Babylonian army. No Davidic king would ever sit on that vanished throne again. 

But the Word of God abides forever, and the promise remains. Christians take it quite seriously. We believe Mary's son is the "mighty Savior, born of the house of his servant David." Although he died as every child of every woman must die, he reigns forever as the Son of David and Son of God because the Word of the Lord abides forever. 

If we hope to see our loved ones in a blessed afterlife, the rock foundation of that hope is the promise made to David and fulfilled in Jesus. We will be raised up with him or not at all. If we surrender that hope our beloved fades into empty, pointless vacuity. They might never have existed. And who will remember them when we are gone?

Christmas is hard on some people, especially that first Christmas after a funeral. Some of its beauty and charm went with the loved one. But for the faithful, Christmas remains a most sacred and reassuring promise. It is as dependable as the Earth itself, as the moon in its cycles and the sun in its brilliant heat. 

For just as in Adam all die, so too in Christ shall all be brought to life, but each one in proper order: Christ the first fruits; then, at his coming, those who belong to Christ; then comes the end, when he hands over the kingdom to his God and Father, when he has destroyed every sovereignty and every authority and power. For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death. (1 Corinthians 15: 22-26)

In the context of these promises, we find our hope.

Thursday of the Fourth Week of Advent

Lectionary: 199

Lo, I will send you
Elijah, the prophet,
Before the day of the LORD comes,
the great and terrible day,
To turn the hearts of the
fathers to their children,
and the hearts of the children to their fathers,
Lest I come and strike
the land with doom.


The work of John the Baptist -- "to turn the hearts of the fathers to their children and the hearts of the children to their fathers" -- began with his naming. If everyone expected the boy to be named after someone in the family, preferably his own father Zechariah, the Spirit of God dictated otherwise. The firstborn son of an aged couple would not redeem his parent's reputation for sterility with the title of "Junior" or "Little Zack."

Zechariah and Elizabeth affirmed the infant's mission when they named him John. This child would begin a new line of prophets and martyrs. Their birth would be baptism, and many would be like John's, a baptism of blood. And his name would last forever, "John the Baptist."

The relatives and friends who have come to honor the unexpected blessing make quite a fuss about this incident. "None of his relatives are named John!" they complain. "It's not traditional, it's not our custom, it doesn't make sense. If he's named John what will that lead to?" They are somewhat reassured by the sign of the old man regaining his speech. It seems that God is present here, "But what does it mean?"

Christmas, the most honored of Christian festivals is hoary with customs and traditions, many reinterpreted to suit the desperate needs of an anxious, consumer society. Billions of dollars are spent on gifts which should turn the hearts of the fathers to their children and the hearts of the children to their fathers. Families flood the highways and airports in desperate efforts to heal the rifts of past years.

But the damage of abortion -- the angst of realizing I might have been aborted -- plagues younger generations of many nations. Some have learned that their fathers or grandparents urged their mothers to abort. Many more failed to prove that their mother's "sacrifice" was worth it as they disappointed them on many occasions. God's prediction in Genesis had been fulfilled when the children demonstrated that they were not sent to fulfill the expectations of their parents. A pall of disappointment shrouds the life of families as divorce, drug abuse, and suicide shatter the hopes and dreams of all the years.

The birth of John the Baptist inaugurates a new age in human history. Children will not be given to anxious parents to satisfy their needs for clones of themselves. The Spirit that drives the Baptized does not create an infant to be just like their parent, a chip off the old block. They will often ask, "What will this child be?" as the children are baptized, receive Holy Communion, atone for their sins, receive Confirmation, and discern their vocations. Parents will suffer more anxiety as the children witness their faith in Jesus and the Church in an increasingly hostile world.

Those who prepare for Christmas with the disciplines of Advent, poring over the readings, songs, and symbols hear the ominous sounds of the future approaching. Even as they revive the ancient rites and memories of Christmas they catch the undertones of uncertainty and wonder. The Gospel assures us that God is here. When Zechariah regained his voice, the anxious family realized the Lord is near, even in this room! And surely the hand of the Lord was with them.

Wednesday 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....

The Church sings or recites today's gospel, every evening in every season. It is a reflection on blessings received and blessings to come. Because it is the prayer of Mary it is the prayer of the whole church, for she is the first and most blessed member of our Church. We learn these words as prayer, and we learn to pray by them; and praying thus, we learn how to be disciples of Jesus and people of God.

Today's first reading and psalm from First Samuel reveal the ancient roots of Mary's prayer. She echoes Hannah's prayer upon giving her firstborn son to God. Because the song is anchored in the history of her people, those who pray with these women are grafted into the Family of Abraham. We flourish and bear fruit as we adopt the faith, practices, traditions, and sensibilities of God's people. 

The song begins with Mary's delight at what God has done for her. This is not boasting for she never directs attention to herself. Rather, she is the handmaid of the Lord and her pleasure is God's pleasure. Sometimes people who are honored with an award, whether expected or not, try to say they don't deserve it, it should go to someone else, or act as if it's no big deal. That false modesty demeans the appreciation, dignity, and intelligence of those who offered the award. The response should be, "Thank you!" and a recognition of what it means to oneself and everyone else. In other words, "It's about us." 

Acknowledging that, "All generations will call me blessed" -- as we do! -- Mary recognizes the God who has done this mighty work. He has exalted an unknown maiden of Galilee; her fame will outlast the Roman Empire! 

She goes on to recount God's customary action of humbling the mighty and raising the lowly. That began when the Lord Sabaoth delivered the Hebrew slaves and annihilated the Egyptian army. The least promising of Jesse's sons became the King of Israel. The destroyed city of Jerusalem and its citizen reappeared after nearly a century of exile. As Psalm 37 says, 

Wait eagerly for the LORD, and keep his way. 

He will raise you up to inherit the earth; 

you will see when the wicked are cut off. 

I have seen a ruthless scoundrel, 

spreading out like a green cedar. 

When I passed by again, he was gone; 

though I searched, he could not be found.

The Magnificat concludes where it began, remembering God's mighty works for "Abraham and his children forever."

Her prayer, my prayer, your prayer, and ours are always the prayers of God's people for deliverance, for life, for flourishing in praise of the Lord. The story of my life is not about me.

Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Advent

 Lectionary: 197

Hark! my lover–here he comes
        springing across the mountains,
        leaping across the hills.
    My lover is like a gazelle
        or a young stag.

"Three days after you're dead!" the old priest told me. I was nineteen years of age at the time, and I don't think that I'd ask the question, "When do you get over wanting sex?" But the subject was on my mind. And, in any case, he had much experience and had thought about it for many years, and that was his answer. 

And why should it fade any sooner, or even then? Created in God's image, restored to our natural state by grace, and then growing from grace to grace, don't the curiosity, fascination, and wonder about other people increase as we become more like God? 

The Father's delight in the Son, which we heard as Jesus was baptized, finds a pale reflection in Adam's delight when the Lord presented Eve. And Elizabeth, inspired by the Spirit, was elated when the young Virgin called her name and appeared at her door. 

There is more to eroticism than sexual desire. Eros begins in the mystery of the Holy Trinity, as the Father, the Son, and Holy Spirit are endlessly delighted in one another. Their radiant joy first creates the universe and then redeems it. Their joy sweeps you and me into it, like laughter spreading in a crowd of strangers. We may not be sure what is so delightful but we're happy to share it. 

I heard another presentation about celibate sexuality recently. It's part of the unending response to The Scandal, now in its third decade. And once again, I heard no priest, brother, or nun explain why the Lord has given this beautiful form of Chastity to the Church, or why we should be grateful for it. Because the presenter was a counselor schooled in psychology, she did not touch upon the subject. 

I proposed a poem: 

Pygmalion

Startled when a living eye appeared

To gaze beneath the polished marble stone

I stood enthralled, astonished. Then I feared

My eager tools might ravage facial bone

Or tender flesh within the supple layered

Features of this rock. The monotone

Of day-in, day-out prayer had persevered

On God who said this sexless haggard crone,

My stony privacy, should yield to grace,

A muse called Chastity. Her gentle smile

Should bring me comfort still. And now a face

Of neither cynicism nor of guile

Accompanies my solitude; and eyes

Aglow with blessings solace ancient sighs.

 I believe Jesus found endless delight in meeting other people, and complete satisfaction in healing the sick, enabling the malformed, comforting the bereaved, and raising the dead. But even simple conversations like his encounters with Nicodemus and the Woman at the Well were deeply satisfying. They made his day, as mine are made when I meet Veterans willing to tell me their stories. 

I approach each Veteran with hope and curiosity and a measure of trepidation. Are they ready to meet a chaplain? Are they willing to look beyond the pain, anxiety, uncertainty, and confusion of this moment to remember how they got here? Many are happy to talk, to put this moment in perspective. They want to remember that they have much to live for. 

On this 21st day of December, as the Nativity of the Lord rapidly approaches and our eagerness is whetted like a sharpened sword, the Church offers us this passage from the Song of Songs, that perfectly erotic and profoundly sacred book. 

She reminds us that God her Husband is endlessly fascinated by her with Adam's own pleasure upon meeting Eve. And the Father is eternally delighted with you and me, her children. He is about to seat us at his banquet table; and, with towel around his waist, seduce us with a feast of rich food and choice wines, juicy, rich food and pure, choice wines.

Monday of the Fourth Week of Advent

Lectionary: 196 

The LORD spoke to Ahaz:
Ask for a sign from the Lord, your God; let it be deep as the nether world, or high as the sky!

In late Advent, the O-antiphons mark the final days of expectation. One antiphon appears each day to introduce the day's selected gospel passage, and to open our hearts to Mary's Magnificat in the Evening Prayer. Today we hear:

O Key of David, opening the gates of God’s eternal Kingdom: come and free the prisoners of darkness!

That "key," as suggested by the readings from Isaiah and Saint Luke, might be the ready obedience of Mary. It stands in sharp contrast to Ahab's hypocritical sincerity which "would not ask, would not tempt the Lord." 

December 20 is marked for those who pray the Office of Readings by Saint Bernard's reflection on the Annunciation. I look forward to it each year. The eleventh century abbot imagines Mary's astonishment at Gabriel's appearance, and her wondering what the greeting means. Recalling the importance of that critical moment, he dramatically fears that she might hesitate. The young woman who already has plans to marry Joseph might pass the opportunity to welcome the Redeemer and save the universe. He brings home to me the beauty of her humble compliance and the urgency of her obedience. 

The "Key of David" is our urgent readiness to obey, to be moved, and guided by the Holy Spirit, as were Jesus, Mary, and all the saints. Advent is not a period of idle waiting for something to happen. It is a time of reflection upon our sorry state which brings us to an urgent, hopeful, confident willingness to "Do whatever he tells you." 

We have been living with Covid 19 and its variants for over two years now. The plague has accentuated innumerable problems and transformed them into crises. Along with over 800,000 American deaths by Covid, there have been over a hundred thousand American deaths by drug overdose. How many have died as a result of plague-related malnutrition, murder, and suicide? A nation of chronically lonely people, in decline since its stunning victories in 1945, cannot persuade its populace that life is worth living. Many spend their last years gazing not at the mystery of salvation but at a television.  Their belief that "Freedom is doing what you want to do" is killing them. 

O Key of David, opening the gates of God’s eternal Kingdom: come and free the prisoners of darkness!

As we hear Saint Luke's account of the Annunciation, we recognize Mary's obedience as the key to freedom. We must not only practice that freedom, we must persuasively show our freedom to a skeptical world. Like addicts everywhere, they stubbornly cling to the false belief that if they just keep doing the same thing over and over again, it will all come our right. 

An undertaker told me recently that the most popular song for American funerals is, "I did it my way." What should we expect of such people? 

Advent and Christmas lead us back to our poverty. We see it in Bethlehem; we feel it on Calvary. We cannot save ourselves. Today we join the chorus of saints and angels and sing: 

Let the Lord enter; he is the king of glory.

Fourth Sunday of Advent

Lectionary: 12 

“Blessed are you among women, 
and blessed is the fruit of your womb.
And how does this happen to me, 
that the mother of my Lord should come to me?

The word come occurs five times in today's readings from the Prophet Micah, Psalm 80, Hebrews, and Saint Luke. Advent means coming. 

And, of course, "Christmas is coming!" and "Santa Claus is coming to town." 

Something is about to happen. As "Tony" sang in West Side Story: 

Could it be? Yes, it could
Somethin's comin', somethin' good, if I can wait
Somethin's comin', I don't know what it is
But it is gonna be great.

Advent is the season of expectation for something coming.  Saint Paul, reflecting on the virtue of hope insists: 

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.

Our Virtue of Hope is nothing like, "I hope it doesn't rain tomorrow." That is built of reasonable predictions about the future. Unlike other clever animals, humans have a singular talent for predicting the future and investing time, energy, and confidence in those expectations. We discern cycles of night and day, winter and summer, boom and bust; and build upon that knowledge. We hope our predictions work out. 

The Virtue of Hope attends a different Lord and a very different cycle. It waits upon God's promises, and remembers the Lord's final word as he ascended into heaven, 

"It is not for you to know the times or seasons that the Father has established by his own authority."

This divine virtue sees the power and possibility of grace in apparently hopeless situations. It lives by the power of the Holy Spirit with generosity, courage, and confidence in Nazi death camps, and Covid wards. It walks on water so long as it gazes upon Jesus. 

Hope is never outlandish or absurd; it is not the insane impulse of madness, a Don Quixote tilting at windmills. Rather, it sees openings where others see obstacles. Hope is impelled by obedience, as when Peter heard a single word from Jesus, "Come!" 

Can an old, barren woman bear a prophet? Can a Virgin conceive a Messiah? Only a fool would think so, or someone who sees as God sees. for nothing will be impossible for God. 

Saturday of the Third Week of Advent

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.”

 

Several years ago a punitive measure called “Three strikes and you’re out” was rushed through several state legislatures. The idea was that a third felony conviction should result in the criminal’s incarceration for the rest of their life. It sounded reasonable to many persons with little experience of criminal courts and America’s overpopulated prisons. It promised to simplify the sentencing procedures, removing from the hands of pusillanimous judges the discretion to give a lighter sentence.

The results were predictably disappointing. Crime did not decrease as persons with poor impulse control do not think of consequences. Crowded prisons became overcrowded; convicted felons were still released from prison to return to their crimes, and taxpayers complained about bad people enjoying “three hots and a cot.” 

Three strikes and you're out attempted to make the judiciary less personal. It should have worked like a machine. No ifs, ands, or buts.

In today’s passage from Isaiah, we are assured, “As king he shall reign and govern wisely.” The Lord does not promise that a machine would replace his governance. Although God gave the laws, he also provided a lawgiver and a judge to administer the law. There was nothing automatic about it, partly because no one in 1200 BC had ever imagined automation or machinery. (Etymologically, the word machine is borrowed from the theater and describes plots and schemes, as in deus ex machina.)

Nor need we look to machines, technology, programs, robotics, and algorithms to save us. These human devices have their use but the joyful cry of Advent is, “The LORD our justice.”

 

 Our God, we must announce continually, is a personal God; more precisely, a three-personed God who knows you and me not as ciphers or units but as infinitely mysterious and rapturously beautiful. If the personhood of God is beyond anything we can imagine, it is not so far beyond that we cannot use the same word -- person -- for the human being. God is not a force, power, or principle; and certainly not a symbol for something else altogether. 

Made in God's image we are persons and we must always relate to one another as persons. No one should suffer being treated like an animal or an object. When warfare would regard us as casualties; the market economy, as consumers; and industry, as commodities, human beings resist and protest. 

Our scriptures come to us as testaments to an ancient time when the entire universe seemed peopled with gods, demons, angels, and spirits. Our doctrine of one God has not depersonalized that sacred place; it does remind us that we are responsible to "the Lord our justice" who reigns and governs wisely, who does what is just and right in the land.

Friday of the Third Week of Advent

Lectionary: 193

The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ,
the son of David, the son of Abraham.
Abraham became the father of Isaac,
Isaac the father of Jacob,
Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers....

Periodically, I must refer back to a statement of Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschl in his book, Man is not alone, a philosophy of religion:

Not the individual man nor a single generation by its own power can erect the bridge that leads to God. Faith is the achievement of ages, an effort accumulated over centuries. Many of its ideas are as the light of a star that left its source centuries ago. Many songs, unfathomable today, are the resonance of voices of bygone times. There is a collective memory of God in the human spirit, and it is this memory of which we partake in our faith. (page 161)

 As we enter this deeper, more sacred eight days of Advent, we should feel the presence of millions of longing souls. We should hear the resonance of voices of bygone times.. 

As a Franciscan novice in 1966, entering religious life, I was immediately drawn to the Liturgy of the Hours and the daily recitation of the psalms. I belonged in that company. We were given transitional breviaries with Latin and English texts, and we alternated the two languages throughout the week. I had taken four years of Latin in the minor seminary but could only pronounce the words with my Louisville accent. The English was more familiar but in neither language were they my words. 

These psalms, canticles, and readings were the prayers of the whole Church through many past and future centuries. The breviary at the time was a one-volume text to be carried by peripatetic friars who should never ride a horse or carriage. That handheld codex was as close to a home as they should know, and all the saints lived within its pages. 

The liturgical prayer of the whole church became my words as I became one of them. I could never abandon my American citizenship or my family membership but I was joining a company -- a companionship -- that accumulated over the centuries. 

My Franciscan identity, our Catholic religion, and our Christian faith are God's gift to each of us in particular, and to the world as a whole. Religion is a faith received from ancient times. As Rabbi Heschl says, no single person or generation can build a bridge to God. No one can pick and choose from our religion what they want to believe. The Church is not a cafeteria or smorgasbord of beliefs. 

While different people are initially drawn to different facets of this wonderful treasure, in joining the Church they accept everyone who belongs to the Church -- past, present, and future -- along with our doctrines, history, achievements, sins, and atonement. 

Jesus's prayer that all be one cannot be frustrated. It must come to perfection in its time and it must draw each of us into him as he gives himself to the Father. 

Entering these most sacred days of Advent we lay aside that treacly specialness that sets me apart from them. We join the procession to Bethlehem to worship the Child with his Mother, and all the saints, and all the sinners, and every animate and inanimate creature. 

Thursday of the Third Week in Advent

Lectionary: 190 

Fear not, you shall not be put to shame;
        you need not blush, for you shall not be disgraced.
    The shame of your youth you shall forget,
        the reproach of your widowhood no longer remember.
    For he who has become your husband is your Maker;
        his name is the LORD of hosts...

The study of shame in religion is deep and complicated. A disinterested observer might wonder why the two are related, and why is it so complicated. 

I have heard much of shame in confidential conversations; I have also heard about it in lectures and read of it. Many people have attempted to purge the wound of shame by renouncing their religious faith, and especially their Catholic faith. I wish them luck but I fear they have cancelled the relief they need, and deprived themselves of both healing and sacred pleasure. 

While the Bible is familiar with shame, it was never God's intention to shame his people. We first hear of God's sadness in the Garden of Eden, when Adam and Eve, realizing they were naked, hid from God. They fashioned fig leaves into clothing and the Lord, to relieve their distress, gave them more becoming dress of animal skins. 

Shame appears as a weapon of invading armies when they humiliate their victims by rape, torture, murder, pillage, plunder, and deportation. Their cities, homes, and temples are burned, their cattle are stolen and crops are destroyed. Whatever cannot be taken is destroyed. The object of shame is to psychologically paralyze survivors; the result is often the rebellion of succeeding generations. 

Crucifixion proved to be an especially effective weapon as the victim's family, friends, followers, and fellow citizens could do nothing but watch in horror. They felt shame in their helplessness and grief. Today we call it "moral injury" or "spiritual distress." It may effectively cancel for the rest of one's life every spiritual impulse toward generosity, courage, or pleasure.

But we also encounter shame among Catholics today, and it seems to relate to the Jansenist heresy. I found some insight in Leszek Kolakowski's book, God Owes Us Nothing: A Brief Remark on Pascal's Religion and on the Spirit of Jansenism. During the Age of Enlightenment with its stratification of society and increasing distance between wealth and poverty, churchmen found themselves offering contrary spiritual advice to different people. 

Poor peasants were told to observe the laws scrupulously lest they suffer severe punishment for common sins like adultery, while the wealthy were readily excused because they had the economic freedom to do as they pleased. It's very difficult to excommunicate the only wealthy donor of your parish or diocese! Their servants too, may have to commit or abet certain immoral behaviors since they have no other financial support. They're families depend upon that income and their sympathetic confessors give them only light admonishment with "three our fathers and three hail marys."  

For the vast majority, an image of God emerges out of this severe system that resembles the feudal landlords. This masculine deity is powerful, arbitrary, indifferent to suffering, and perpetually looking for reasons to punish, disown, and destroy. He does not seek the lost, bind the wound, or raise the dead. His decrees are everlasting and punitive. Hell is eternal; and mercy, undependable. That God owes us nothing,

When this violent image of an all-powerful God is reinforced by widespread alcohol, tobacco, and chemical abuse children in such a family grow up fearful, anxious, and ashamed, or belligerent and rebellious. They dare not ask for anything. Their weakness is vulnerability; and vindictive abusers look for weakness to validate their explosive anger. They cannot rebel against a universally unjust system so they express their frustration on the weaker within their family or immediate circle: the infirm, elderly, children, and disabled. Even the pets suffer. 

If religion can make a difference in such a system, it will be an act of God, a revelation as abrupt and unexpected as a Virgin Birth or the Resurrection of a crucified man. 

Christianity flourished in its first centuries precisely because people accepted a religious freedom to defy shame and guilt. Gazing upon the Crucified and breathing His Spirit, they surrendered their helplessness and smoldering resentments. When they forgave their tormentors and despised the shame they knew a power greater than anything a Roman army could muster or imagine. 

During the Christmas season, which still announces religious faith to our secular world, we must reclaim and renew our devotion. It's not the power of positive thinking; it's not new age psychology or eastern mysticism. The cross is the key and religious faith is the doorway to freedom from shame for those with the courage to enter.