Fourth Sunday of Advent

Lectionary: 12

"When Christ came into the world, he said: 'Sacrifice and offering you did not desire, but a body you prepared for me....'

 T he Son of God, like every other human being, received his human flesh from his Mother. As Saint Paul said, he was “born of a woman, born under the law.” He lived as we do with the laws of physics, motion, thermodynamics, and gravity. They applied to him as they do to us. There are also laws of biology, physiology, sociology, and economics; plus laws of federal, state, and local governments. There is, in this world, no “land lots of land with an open sky above.” Because we are human bodies, everyone is fenced into complex systems of laws upon laws. 

However, many people – forgetting who they are and where they came from – think of their bodies as fungible commodities. Rather than admitting we are human bodies, they like to say, “We have human bodies, but we are really human souls and someday our bodies will die and our souls will be released to go somewhere else. That, they suppose, will be true freedom.

Taking that harmless notion further they say these plastic bodies can be rebuilt, reprogrammed, re-sexed, or replaced by newer, more versatile models. Perhaps, in a few years, when they’re too old and no fun anymore, our fun loving souls can migrate into animals or children; or computers to survive indefinitely as avatars in cyberspace. They cling to a so-called spirituality that insists our human bodies are not real; or if they’re real they’re temporary and disposable. 

Some Christians say that Jesus was a human being, a Jewish man and citizen of the Roman empire under Tiberius Caesar. But, they say, with his death and resurrection he had finished being a human body. He had become  a spirit – a life-giving spirit – that is no longer male, Jewish, or human, and no longer the Child of Mary. They dismiss our belief in the glorified body of Christ, preferring a disembodied Jesus. 

They forget the purpose for which he died; it was not to be relieved of his despised, useless body with all its vulnerability. Rather, he was born, died, and raised up so that he might give his sacred body more freely and completely to us in the Blessed Sacrament. Before his death, he could be physically present and visible only in one place at a time; but in his glorified body he is everywhere the Eucharist is celebrated by the believing Church. 

Christmas is a celebration of the birth of Jesus as a male, Jewish, human child. It is also a celebration of gratitude for all the goodness of our human nature, including our frailty, vulnerability, aging, and eventual death. It is all good; it is all holy. And we learn from the Lord – we learn as the Spirit teaches us – to be glad and grateful for who we are. We learn to give ourselves to others freely and generously, without holding back, without fear of betrayal. Even when betrayals happen we can learn from the experience and be grateful for it. 

The Catholic Church celebrates the enduring humanity of Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament. I think of that last evening before he died. After he had commanded his disciples during his Last Supper to, “Do this in memory of me,” he went to the Garden of Gethsemane, and there the full import of his own mysterious words came to him. They struck hard at him and knocked him to the ground. Having said “Eat my flesh” and “Drink my blood” he could not turn back from what had to follow. 

What followed involved his human body as he had never known it before. Perhaps you have had a similar "awakening experience" when you were injured or hospitalized. I spent three weeks in a hospital bed and, believe me, the experience changed my understanding of my body and myself. 

Jesus would be manhandled by professionals who knew how to inflict pain, were under orders to do so, and enjoyed their work. He would be driven past exhaustion to carry his cross after the slaps, insults, beatings, and scourging. He would finally be suspended by his hands and feet on the unforgiving wood of the cross – for the rest of his life – which stretched on from minutes to hours. There, in that agony, he learned what it means to be human; what it means to give his life for others; and what it means to love as God loves.

But even during those hours of unbearable suffering, he would not regret his birth, or life, or the work he had accomplished. He would not be like Job who cursed the day he was born. He still loved the Woman who bore him. and the Father who begot him in a Virgin’s womb. He still loved the disciples although they were nowhere to be seen!  

And with his risen body, he teaches us to receive him, and to be glad of our human bodies which can receive him. Just as I can appreciate a beautiful sunset  because I have eyes to see, and I am glad I have eyes to see; so can I delight in the supreme gift of my human body which can receive the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ. I have no need to change my body, to make it lighter, heavier, taller, shorter, prettier, or healthier. It's fine because it knows the Body and Blood of Jesus.

The Wise Man Job regretted the day he was born, but he was finally reconciled to his human frailty and said,

“Naked I came forth from my mother’s womb,

and naked shall I go back there.

We accept good things from God; should we not accept evil?

The LORD gives and the LORD takes away;

blessed be the name of the LORD!”

It’s all good because God is all Good. Whether we attend a baptism or a funeral; whether we finish our lives at home, or in a hospital, nursing home, or prison; whether our plans have succeeded or failed, our dreams fulfilled or disappointed, whether we spend the holidays with friends and family, or alone, lost and confused – it’s all good. It is all human and when the Lord accepted his flesh from the Virgin, his spirit from the Lord, death from his tormentors, and resurrection from the Father, he promised a complete transformation and recreation of our human bodies.

As Saint Paul said, “He will change our lowly body to conform with his glorified body by the power that enables him also to bring all things into subjection to himself. (Philippians 3:21)

Saturday of the Third Week of Advent

Lectionary: 197

Mary set out in those days and traveled to the hill country in haste to a town of Judah, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth.

 G ood news wants to be shared! Shouted! If she was entrusted with a mystery that could hardly be described or named, it had to be shared, and so Mary set out in haste for Jerusalem and her kinswoman Elizabeth. She had to tell someone and who better than the one whom Gabriel had also mentioned during their brief conversation? 

Seeing the old woman appearing more than fully pregnant -- in her sixth month! -- would confirm the Angel's promise. It was surely not the illusion of a pious, excitable teenage girl; but it wouldn't hurt to have the truth confirmed by one's own eyes. And Elizabeth's wonder must also be celebrated. If Jerusalem knew of the old woman's pregnancy, Galilee should also know. Given the secrets the Angel had revealed, nothing could keep Mary off the road.

And they were secrets. The appearance of an angel and his message are not to be shared with one's young, hysterical peers. As Isaiah said, "Who would believe what we have heard?" Society is eager for stories of out-of-wedlock pregnancy, and they'll fill in all the blanks with salacious details. The moment called for discretion and prudence as well as excitement and rejoicing. 

Because we are profoundly aware of all that is wrong with the world, and equally sure of our own helplessness before the cosmic tragedy, Christians are prone to gloominess. It might be called that dark night when nothing we say or do or attempt seems to make any difference. One of the most talented and accomplished priests I've ever known, toward the end of his life, wondered if he had done anything worth doing! I named some of his achievements but they meant nothing to him. 

But Gabriel's message was "good news of great joy for all the people!" And so "Mary set out in those days and traveled to the hill country in haste to a town of Judah, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth." 

"And Elizabeth, filled with the Holy Spirit," greeted her with the same joy. The visit confirmed everything the Angel had said to Mary and to Zechariah. If his appearance or his message had ever been doubted, Mary's appearance in Elizabeth's house confirmed everything. This was real; this was true; this was certain. As certain as pregnancy, and there's never any doubt about that! 

Despite the calendar's proclamation of December with its wintry chill, Christians hear another message: 

For see, the winter is past,

the rains are over and gone.

The flowers appear on the earth,

the time of pruning the vines has come,

and the song of the dove is heard in our land.

The fig tree puts forth its figs,

and the vines, in bloom, give forth fragrance.

Arise, my beloved, my beautiful one,

and come! (Song of Songs 8:10-13)

Friday of the Third Week of Advent

 Lectionary: 196

Ask for a sign from the LORD, your God; let it be deep as the nether world, or high as the sky!

 T he Prophet Isaiah insistently urged King Ahaz to trust in the Lord rather than Jerusalem's Egyptian allies against the Assyrian invaders. The African empire served only itself whereas the Lord was ready to serve His people. 

The King piously -- hypocritically -- refused and so Isaiah promised a sign deeper than the nether world and far higher than the sky. He promised that a virgin would conceive and bear a child. "When you see this," he might have said, "you will believe in God." 

But the King would not ask; nor would he believe the sign, its meaning, or its importance. His anxiety, pusillanimity, and religious indifference did not permit him to see any further than his fears. He also gives us a perfect example of how not to manage our lives. As it turned out, Ahaz's son Hezekiah pleaded with God who sent a devastating plague against the invaders and the Assyrians failed to capture Jerusalem.

But the Lord used his cowardice to open the way to God's promise and the wonderful sign of the Virgin Mother of God. Although it seems to involve only one woman and one child, our faith sees this pregnancy as more wonderful than an army's retreat from a defenseless city, or all the horses and soldiers of Pharaoh's army drowned in the Red Sea. If all the world's industries simultaneously turned off their poisonous smoke stacks and all the world's vehicles converted to non-polluting fuels, they would not be more wonderful, hopeful, or inspiring signs. 

Daily and many times a day we thank Mary for her eager, gracious response to the Angel. Although she wondered how this could happen, she did not hesitate. If she was startled, she was not afraid; if she could not foresee the future, she had no doubt that God would sustain her. She knew the Lord and would not fear for herself. 

As the United States transitions to a new administration and the hegemony of one party's control of the White House, with a majority in the Senate and House of Representatives, many Americans are fearful while others are optimistic. But optimism is not hope, and fear is never a reliable counselor. As we face the future, we remember the Lord still leads those ready to follow. He can neither deceive nor be deceived. And, like Mary, we are not afraid. 

Thursday of the Third Week of Advent

 Lectionary: 195

But now you will be speechless and unable to talk
until the day these things take place,
because you did not believe my words,
which will be fulfilled at their proper time."

 W e could interpret Gabriel's reply to  Zechariah as a rebuke, and he probably heard it as that. But it's not like the old Jewish priest was unfamiliar with rebukes, or afraid of them. He had lived with the Lord a long time, and he knew the history of his people. He would not hesitate to echo Isaiah's astonished gasp upon seeing a vision of God, 

“Woe is me, I am doomed! For I am a man of unclean lips, living among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!” 

He knew the good man sins seven times a day, but he knew, 

The LORD’s acts of mercy are not exhausted,

his compassion is not spent;

They are renewed each morning—

great is your faithfulness! (Lamentation 3:23)

So an archangel's rebuke was not especially terrifying.  If he was mute 'until he day these things take place," it was a small price to pay for the good news he would share with his wife Elizabeth. 

As we celebrate Advent and prepare like Zechariah and Elizabeth for something wonderful to happen, we can confess our sins and receive the gentle rebuke of an appropriate penance. That setback will be no worse than the agony of childbirth which is rewarded with the joy of the Messiah's birth. 

Wednesday 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....

 T he prophecy in today's first reading from Jeremiah finds it fulfillment in the first line of today's reading from the Gospel of Matthew. The long-awaited day begins as Mary is found with child through the Holy Spirit. Although Mary is expecting because the long expected day has come, it comes as quite a shock to Joseph. 

But his devout love of God and his practice of Justice has prepared him for this; and the same Spirit finds him willing to listen to his dreams. His intuition about her is right; although pregnant she cannot be guilty of infidelity to him or to their God. 

If we learn anything from our faith, it must be to expect the unexpected. When a situation seems hopeless to every reasonable person, we still have hope. We must often wait in the darkness of not knowing -- the mystics call it "A Cloud of Unknowing." We believe the Lord is with us in, and is guiding us through, the darkness. There is nothing wrong with being uncertain so long as our faith in God is certain. 

Joseph heard the word of God and kept it. That is, "he did as the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took his wife into his home." Saint Theresa of Calcutta reminded the world that we are not called to be successful, but to be faithful. 

The military has an interesting expression for that, "need to know." I suppose there are many instances when a soldier or sailor must act on a command without his knowing its precise purpose. Perhaps it has no precise explanation; perhaps the commanding officer is operating on his own experience and intuition and knows this is precisely the right moment for this right action. And there is no time for a carefully thought-out explanation, much less discussion, doubts, or disagreement. This is the moment and the command is Now. 

Joseph could explain neither his dilemma nor his dream to a skeptic, but he knew he was acting rightly. He sets the example for every Christian who must hear the Word of God and act on it. 

Tuesday of the Third Week of Advent

Lectionary: 193

Thus the total number of generations
from Abraham to David
is fourteen generations;
from David to the Babylonian exile, fourteen generations;
from the Babylonian exile to the Christ,
fourteen generations.

 W  e live in and through our history; to lose one's history is to lose one's mind. Every word we use has a history; every thought has its precedents. Unlike God, we create nothing out of nothing; and nothing we create is entirely original. If we are always moving into unfamiliar territory, it may be because we've forgotten where we came from and don't know where we are. 

As the disciples of Jesus announced the Good News they were continually reminded that everything he said and did had its precedents in Jewish history, literature, customs, sayings, songs, and rituals. The Lord's only truly original action was to rise from the dead. The words of scripture had suggested such an event although the Hebrew prophets could not imagine it; and they opened the future to that possibility. 

And so we begin the novena of Advent -- its last nine days -- with a quick summary of Jesus's personal lineage. The Living Word did not float down from the sky; it was not found under a rock. The Word made Flesh was born of Mary, in the house of David. He could not be born of any other family or nation because the God of Abraham, Moses, and David had given His Word that the Messiah King would be born of David's line. He would be called a Son of David. 

He could not be born at any other time; it must be born in the fullness of time of an elected people because the personal salvation of every individual entails the healing, cleansing, and re-defining of human history. Despite Stephen Dedalus' sad remark -- "History is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake." -- history must be consecrated in the same manner as the torn, mangled body of Jesus was transformed, consecrated, and divinized by his Resurrection. 

If that is beyond our imagination that only confirms the wonder of God, the limit of our understanding, and the promise of our hope. 

History begins with the hard facts of reality, and often with sordid memories. There are embarrassing rogues in every family tree. If the present is where God works, the past is a memory of his mercy, justice, and penetrating presence. He has neither forgotten nor abandoned us; he has brought us through enormous, impossible difficulties. Unlike the deist's divine watchmaker, our God has attended every ticktock and hiccup. If the past shows little promise, only God's presence in the present can surprise us with hope for the future. 

But there are promises in Jesus' genealogy. his word to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; plus his promise to David, Bathsheba, and Solomon. They must be fulfilled. The beautiful story of Ruth may seem to end with four chapters but it is not complete until Jesus is born in the fullness of time. 

Saint Matthew's genealogy of Jesus demonstrates the wisdom of God with his list of 42 generations. That is, three periods of fourteen generations from Abraham to David, David to the Babylonian Exile, and the Exile to Joseph. Six times seven weeks of years because each week is consecrated by its first day, the Sabbath. Nothing happens by happenstance in God's world; there is no god called Luck.  

The more we understand of history the more we appreciate the time the Lord gives us to turn away from sin and live by the gospel. If time is running out, it's not over yet. Let everything within you watch and wait, for the Lord our God draws near. 

 

Monday of the Third Week of Advent

Lectionary: 187

Jesus said to them in reply,
“I shall ask you one question, and if you answer it for me,
then I shall tell you by what authority I do these things. 
Where was John’s baptism from?
Was it of heavenly or of human origin?” 

 T he chief priests and the elders of the people confront Jesus with the most difficult of all dilemmas in today's gospel. They cannot tell the truth. Pathological lying confronts simple honesty. Jesus is quite willing to testify to the truth when they ask by what authority he does these things, but they are incapable of recognizing, honoring, hearing, or speaking it. 

We're all presented with difficult situations like that, as when we're asked yes/no questions about a thorny issues which offer no simple answers. I learned a simple question like that in high school, "Do you still beat your wife?" If a married man says yes, he's an awful person; if he says no, he admits he has beaten her occasionally. But if he has never beat her, or even wanted to, he has no option except to challenge the premise of the question. 

In today's gospel, the Lord's opponents do not even discuss among themselves the option of replying with the truth. Perhaps some of them consider John the Baptist a prophet; and others do not. Perhaps, as a group, they've not arrived at a consensus and are not prepared to answer the Lord's question, but they do not discuss which of those three positions they might take. 

They have never seriously wondered if the martyred Baptist was from God. Their only consideration is political and political parties have never been concerned about the truth. This was the American dilemma last month as we considered voting for abortion or racism, transgenderism or guns, libertarian economics or mass migrations. There was no right answer and Pope Francis could only suggest, "Vote for the lesser evil." 

In this part of Saint Matthew's gospel, as we approach the trial, passion, and death of Jesus, the Evangelist describes a series of challenges from the Lord's opponents, including the payment of taxes and questions about marriage. The Lord answers each fraught question with astonishing dexterity until finally, "No one was able to answer him a word, nor from that day on did anyone dare to ask him any more questions."

But that didn't mean they quit opposing him. It simply meant they would try to suppress the truth by other means. 

As we approach the crisis of Christmas and challenging questions about our worship of an infant, we should prepare to answer every reasonable question from every honest person whose faith is weak. But we should also expect irrational opposition and prepare to respond as the Lord directs us, with silence or with testimony.

Third Sunday of Advent

Lectionary: 9

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. 

 W e don't seem to think of God rejoicing over us with gladness, nor of his singing joyfully because of us. We have heard him say of Jesus, "This is my beloved son, with whom I am well pleased!" Perhaps we supposed that he was only satisfied.

But I think pleased is more than satisfied. Pleased seems to entail a degree of surprise as if Jesus had surpassed the standards which had to be merely satisfied. We can say the dinner satisfied us, so that we could survive until breakfast; but to say we were pleased with it suggests we'll remember it in the morning, and for some time afterward. 

Pleased implies pleasure, happiness, and joy; and it's how we hope our God feels -- if we can say that the supreme Lord who created the Universe and all its possible multiverses -- has a sensation similar to our experience of pleasure. But we have read in the Book of Genesis, "God looked at everything he had made, and found it very good." 

If an artist or craftsman creates something and finds it very good, I think we can say they're pleased and happy with it. I've created a few thing -- pictures, poems, and so forth -- and taken pleasure in them months or years later. 

And if this artisan is God, he might even be ecstatic with it. Ecstasy means coming out of oneself. (Ex means out of, and stasis has to do with standing. God was outstanding; he was standing out of himself with the experience of creating. In fact he was so far carried out of himself that he begot the Son and spirated the Holy Spirit even before he created the universe. 

If we look at the sky through a telescope -- or better, a Hubble or James Webb telescope -- we're likely to say, "The Lord got carried away with his creativity. He just about went beyond himself!" if that makes sense when we speak of God. But in fact, the saints and martyrs insist, that does make sense. One of the surest things we can say about God is that all human expectations of limit and containment are blown away by the superabundant generosity, energy, authority, and joy of our God. Everything about God is infinite; an infinity of infinities!  

And when the Lord would share that endless happiness, that brilliance with us, we're so astonished that we think it's darkness. As in a light shining in darkness which the dark cannot comprehend. As in a solitary star shining over Bethlehem which signals the Birth of the Son of God. As in a poor baby in a manger, or a man crucified. It's so brilliant we can see it only with our eyes shut and ears silent and our mind very still, with no more feeling than astonishment or ecstasy. 

Only afterward can we say, through inexplicable tears and sobs, how joyful it is. How wonderful is God's pleasure in the goodness and purity of this son of Mary, son of David, son of God.

Christians find in this joy the true meaning of Christmas, but it's something I learned from watching my parents at Christmas time. I was a teenager at the time and not given to ecstatic joy. Without gifts to give, without interest in getting stuff I didn't need or want, I watched my mother and father get excited over the excitement of my young sisters and brothers. Like their smallest children, they believed in Santa Claus, that he lived at the North Pole, had an enormous toy-making company of elves, and flew about the world on Christmas Eve in a flying, reindeer-driven sleigh! 

On another occasion I watched Dad watching us on the merry-go-round. I said, “Dad, you're not having any fun at all.” 
He said. “Son, I'm having more fun than all of you put together.” 

Christmas is about giving joy and it begins when we give God the pleasure of Jesus’s infinite and perfect love of God. We cannot comprehend such purity; we cannot understand his giving himself as a sacrificial lamb to God. Their joy and ecstatic pleasure are beyond all understanding and yet we give that perfect joy to God as we come to the altar to receive his body and his blood. This is the Sacrifice of the Mass, which he makes for us, and we make with him. 

On this Gaudete Sunday, we celebrate the anticipated Joy of giving until it doesn’t hurt anymore. Saint John (16:21) described our joy like this: 

When a woman is in labor, she is in anguish because her hour has arrived; but when she has given birth to a child, she no longer remembers the pain because of her joy that a child has been born into the world.

On Christmas, we cannot think of ourselves, neither our sorrow nor our sacrifices. We think nothing of our gifts. We can think only of the mercy which allows us to suffer the anguish of labor until Christ is born. 

Memorial of Saint John of the Cross, Priest and Doctor of the Church

 Lectionary: 186

You were destined, it is written, in time to come
to put an end to wrath before the day of the LORD,
To turn back the hearts of fathers toward their sons,
and to re-establish the tribes of Jacob.
Blessed is he who shall have seen you
and who falls asleep in your friendship.

 L ooking forward to Elijah's return, I think, may be like looking forward to one's surgery. We'd like to get it over with; but it's going to be difficult, and probably uncomfortable and awkward -- and it might not help. But we count the days nonetheless, and are ready when that day arrives. 

The disciples, like everyone, wondered what would happen when Elijah returned. They were familiar since their infancy with the story of his astonishing ascension into heaven. Every child saw with a child's vivid imagination the flaming horses and chariot, manned by a six-winged seraph angel. They saw Elisha astounded and fallen to the ground as Elijah calmly stepped into the vehicle and was taken aloft with a roar of thunder. 

They wondered where had he gone, and that he had not technically died. Everyone must die but clearly Elijah had not, and surely people don't die in heaven. So he must return and what will that be like? Malachi explained it all when he prophesied, 

Now I am sending to you

Elijah the prophet,

Before the day of the LORD comes,

the great and terrible day;

He will turn the heart of fathers to their sons,

and the heart of sons to their fathers,

Lest I come and strike

the land with utter destruction. (Malachi 3:23-24)

Elijah was serious business, and the practice of their Jewish religion meant a constant awareness, readiness, and alertness for that great and terrible day. Everyone knows we stand under judgment and the day will come when it is too late to reconcile with one's families, neighbors, and enemies. On that day the LORD himself will settle differences, and it might be with utter destruction. Apocalypse means revelation, and that's a good thing. But Elijah means trouble!  

As they descended Mount Tabor, Jesus explained the ministry of Saint John the Baptist in terms of Elijah. Not only had they failed to recognize Elijah in the leather-clad, locust eating prophet, he had been summarily executed at the whim of a girl. The authorities had disposed of God's  emissary like someone carelessly knocking a grasshopper off the sleeve of his coat. That augured no good for anyone. 

But some people had heard John's call for repentance, Jesus among them. They had considered their ways in the light of their faith and turned back to the Lord with both renewed religious zeal and charitable works of mercy. The disciples had followed up their baptism in the Jordan river by following the Lord on his trek to Jerusalem. They didn't know what to expect, but they hoped as their religion had taught them. 

They hoped as we hope, that this Christmas will signal the coming of something new, of new year of the Lord, 2025. We do not believe the future is determined except by the mercy and justice of God. We do not see a victory for liberals or conservatives, communists or capitalists, racists or egalitarians. Although it's unimaginable, we see a reconciliation of justice and mercy such as we cannot effect. 

And we hope that John's ministry, painful Elijah's, will heal us. 

Memorial of Saint Lucy, Virgin and Martyr

Lectionary: 185

Thus says the LORD, your redeemer,
the Holy One of Israel:
I, the LORD, your God,
teach you what is for your good,
and lead you on the way you should go.

 M easure twice, cut once!" says the wise carpenter. It takes little time to ascertain the precise length of wood that is needed, measuring once, twice, or thrice. Nor does it take long to measure and mark the board or two-by-four several times before cutting it. Once it's been cut, there is no uncutting it. But if you've cut it too short you've wasted valuable lumber, which may take much time to replace. 

Wisdom challenges its own assumptions, especially assumptions like, "I know what is best," and "I know what I need." 

The wise child one day says, "Mommy was right! And I was wrong. Wow." That's when they begin to appreciate the existence of other people. Adults may be willing to do much for a child; they may listen to a child; but they should not obey a child's every demand, or fill their every expectation. 

We love the Bible for it reveals the truth to us, and it proves our foolishness. We call it revelation because we should not assume we know the truth. We have our hunches, knowledge, and experience but our horizons are severely limited by our stature. The tallest person can see only so far. 

[Google AI says, "On a perfectly clear day, from the summit of Mount Everest, one could theoretically see up to 200 miles or more due to its extreme altitude, but factors like atmospheric conditions and air quality often limit the visible distance to significantly less, usually around 100 miles or so." 200 miles does not begin to scope the dimensions of the Earth, much less of all that is knowable.] 

We need the Lord to reveal the truth to us, and we need open, honest minds ready to receive what we may not like, or desire to know. 

I knew a man some years ago who, due to a mild intellectual disability, had never been properly educated. But he was a willing and eager volunteer, but he was often underfoot. When I spoke severely to him one time about a mess he'd made, he not only listened, he asked, "Is there anything else?" 

I was floored. Well actually, there was: he needed a shower. And I needed to learn from his humility. 

In today's first reading, the Lord names himself as "Your Redeemer." That's not an idle title. It's the Lord who is for us and knows our needs better than we do. And we do well to ask, and ask often, "Is there anything else?" 

Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe

 Lectionary: 690A

Then I heard a loud voice in heaven say:
“Now have salvation and power come,
and the Kingdom of our God
and the authority of his Anointed.”

 T he Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe celebrates the advent -- the coming -- of "salvation and power, and the Kingdom of God, and the authority of his Anointed" to North America. It remembers a time before America meant the United States, or migrants and Mexico represented threats to anyone's way of life. 

Guadalupe remembers the promise of peaceful governance of Native Americans and European colonists under the religious influence of a common Catholic faith. Although their histories and cultures were quite different, both peoples could recognize the young, pregnant mestizo who bowed her head before the Lord of all nations. Despite whatever antagonism there was between Europe and North America, she represented a future that was rapidly coming, and about to be born. And she was not afraid of the future. It was as hopeful as the child within her. 

Our Lady of Guadalupe is rightly called the Patroness of All the Americas. As we celebrate this feast we prepare for that day when citizens of the United States will be delighted -- and consider themselves, honored -- to welcome people from every part of the western hemisphere as brothers and sisters in the Lord. Trusting in God's superabundant generosity for those who do not hoard what he provides, we will know at last what it means to be wealthy. 

Wednesday of the Second Week of Advent

 Lectionary: 183

Lift up your eyes on high
and see who has created these things...
Why, O Jacob, do you say,
and declare, O Israel,
"My way is hidden from the LORD,
and my right is disregarded by my God"?
Do you not know
or have you not heard?
The LORD is the eternal God,
creator of the ends of the earth.

 C arl Sagan did his darndest to overcome the faith of millions as he pointed to the "billions and billions" of stars and galaxies. But when we lifted up our eyes on high and saw those things, we saw the glory of Isaiah's "eternal God."

This mystery of infinity was not discovered after we built the Hubble and James Webb telescopes. We have been looking at the stars since the very beginning and trying to count all the stars, and we've yet to come to the end of that. But the wonder of God's infinity wasn't our response to the deep mystery of the sky. 

It came as a revelation, as the voice of the LORD spoke to our hearts. It came as we trekked out of Egypt and across the Arabian peninsula without food or water but were neither hungry nor thirsty. It came as we collected the little that was there and shared it among ourselves and found that no one had too little and no one had too much. 

Now, this is what the LORD has commanded. Gather as much of it as each needs to eat, an omer for each person for as many of you as there are, each of you providing for those in your own tent.” The Israelites did so. Some gathered a large and some a small amount.
But when they measured it out by the omer, the one who had gathered a large amount did not have too much, and the one who had gathered a small amount did not have too little. They gathered as much as each needed to eat. (Exodus 16:16)

It was the experience of our own generosity as we gave to others and insisted, "There's plenty more where that came from" even when we didn't know where it came from. It came from the Lord, and we knew it. And we knew God's infinite capacity for generosity. And that we shared that virtue with God. 

That superabundant generosity is absolutely characteristic of God. We see it in the LORD's infinite love as he begets the Son of God whose authority is endless. And we saw that their love for one another spirates the Holy Spirit. But an infinity of generosity remains to call from nothingness an apparently endless universe -- or multiverse! -- with Mr. Sagan's "billions and billions" of stars and galaxies and black holes and what all! 

And they, as Antoine de Saint-Exupéry suggested in his book, The Little Prince, are guided in their courses by singing choruses of little princes and princesses -- whom we know as angels. And if the Carl Sagans of this world insist there are no angels, we simply ask them who put such a curb on their imagination, and why. 

And still there is an infinity of compassion for us poor sinners, and our wretched behavior does not exhaust his mercy. For he knows each of us, even as he knows every hair on our heads like the count of the sand on the seashore. With endless patience he insists that we sing...

Pied Beauty 

 

Glory be to God for dappled things –

   For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;

      For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;

Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;

   Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough;

      And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;

   Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)

      With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;

He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:

                               Praise him.

                                                                 Gerard Manley Hopkins

Tuesday of the Second Week of Advent

Lectionary: 182

"All flesh is grass,
and all their glory like the flower of the field.
The grass withers, the flower wilts,
when the breath of the LORD blows upon it.
So then, the people is the grass.
Though the grass withers and the flower wilts,
the word of our God stands forever."

 I know of no historian or novelist who has tried to describe the trail of tears from ruined Jerusalem to pagan Babylon. Survivors of the siege in 586 BC were marched into exile as captive slaves of Nebuchadnezzar, the emperor. They would have walked some five hundred miles, encountering a steep descent into the Jordan valley, and the equally steep climb of trans-Jordan, and then marched through the river valleys and plains of the Fertile Crescent. I do not know if they might have followed the more direct desert route across the deserts of Jordan, Saudi Arabia, and Iraq. In any case it was a very long, sad, and arduous journey on foot. Nothing hopeful lie at the end of it.

Perhaps the weary travelers saw vast expanses of grass, such as pioneers found in the Great Plains of North America. It's said that a horseman had to stand atop his saddled horse to see over the high grasses to get a sense of direction. And he would have seen only grass. The enslaved Jews, grieving their lost homeland, walking endlessly toward an uncertain future, must have seen their own lives as brief, pointless and vacant as the grassy steppes. What is the point of this sorrow? Where is it going; when will it end? 

But Isaiah, which had become a communal project of unnamed prophets after the original author died, foresaw a return and rebuilding of the Holy City. The passage would be far easier because the Lord promised: 

Make straight in the wasteland a highway for our God!

Every valley shall be filled in,

every mountain and hill shall be made low;

The rugged land shall be made a plain,

the rough country, a broad valley.

(Then) they will soar on eagles’ wings;

They will run and not grow weary,

walk and not grow faint. 

Their hope defied the reality of the day. It seemed impossible and yet they knew God was with them. He had not abandoned them in their exile. Despite all appearances, he had not been defeated or destroyed by Babylonian gods. In fact, as Isaiah recorded his sacred oath, 

I AM THE LORD, there is no other,

there is no God besides me.

It is I who arm you, though you do not know me,

so that all may know, from the rising of the sun

to its setting, that there is none besides me.

I am the LORD, there is no other.

I form the light, and create the darkness,

I make weal and create woe;

I, the LORD, do all these things.

We live in an American empire today and are subject to its ever changing demands and pointless promises. We remember its origins. If we cannot see its end, perhaps we don't want to. But faith and hope assure us, 

All flesh is grass...

Though the grass withers and the flower wilts,

the word of our God stands forever.

We may believe democracy is the best form of government, and the United States is the most important experiment in democracy, but these beliefs about ideas, ideals, and projects should never displace our faith in a personal God whom we know as the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. 

Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary

National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception
Washington, DC

Lectionary: 689

I will put enmity between you and the woman,
and between your offspring and hers;
he will strike at your head,
while you strike at his heel."

 V isitors to the Chapel at Mount Saint Francis (dedicated in 1925) will see upon entering, two large statues to the left and right of the main altar. They represent Saint Francis of Assisi and the Blessed Mother. This particular image of her is known as the Immaculate Conception. Always, beneath one foot of the Immaculate Conception is a serpent, often with a round fruit in its mouth. The Sinless One is trampling upon every temptation to sin. The image recalls GOD's reassuring word to Eve, "...he will strike at your head, while you strike at his heel."

Feet of Mary Immaculate

However, not many American visitors, blind as we are to symbolism, notice what Saint Francis is trampling beneath his feet, a bag of coins. Money.

As the European economy slowly climbed out of the "Dark Ages", stronger governments overcame highway brigands and travel became safer for merchants, pilgrims, and tourists. Long dead banks revived and metal coin money reappeared. Almost immediately, hard working travelers like Pietro Bernadone could become fabulously wealthy without owning large tracts of land. He had money. Rather than bartering for goods and services, he bought and sold valuable, imported cloth. 

A "middle class" between royalty and poverty appeared. It would be many centuries before the art of managing the Economy would appear, along with some ability to avoid major depressions and expansions. The middle class will always be threatened with extinction, but new forms of government appeared (i.e democracy) to support it. 

Simultaneously, the Holy Spirit called some to rebel against the greed and ambition of the upwardly mobile middle class. As the warrior class had repented of their violence and entered monasteries, inspired children of the middle class entered the mendicant orders of Franciscans, Dominicans, Carmelites, Augustinians, etc. These were quite spontaneous movements beginning in different nations without coordination until the Church normalized their way of life at the Second Council of Lyon.

Francis's feet with despised coins

One of the most important and common characteristics of mendicants was their disavowal of wealth. Unlike the monasteries which owned enormous tracts of land, the friars and their communities would own nothing. Saint Francis, especially, despised money. And so the statue of Saint Francis in our chapel shows him stepping on a bag of coins as if owning money is like listening to the serpent, sinful. 

The Catholic Church has maintained this suspicion about wealth to this day. Despite the reputed "billions" of the Vatican and the thousands of Catholic dioceses throughout the world, it is not a wealthy enterprise. Many of its greatest material assets are frankly priceless; they cannot be sold. They are kept by the Church and out of the hands of wealthy collectors so that everyone can see, appreciate, and "own" them. 

Saint Paul famously warned his disciples Timothy about the danger of owning money:

If we have food and clothing, we shall be content with that. Those who want to be rich are falling into temptation and into a trap and into many foolish and harmful desires, which plunge them into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is the root of all evils, and some people in their desire for it have strayed from the faith and have pierced themselves with many pains.

As we walk with Mary, Saint Francis, and innumerable saints and martyrs through the narrow gate on the rocky road of salvation, we must necessarily own property, use money, accrue debts, and earn credit. But we should be shrewd as serpents lest our heads be crushed beneath the feet of those who walk with the saints.  

Second Sunday of Advent

 Lectionary: 6

Up, Jerusalem! stand upon the heights;
look to the east and see your children
gathered from the east and the west
at the word of the Holy One,
rejoicing that they are remembered by God.
Led away on foot by their enemies they left you: but God will bring them back to you.

 B ecause the Bible began recording stories, songs, rituals, customs, and laws of our people three thousand years ago, it remembers the comings and goings of many people. Human history is an endless story of migration, displacement, and exile. People have fled droughts, fires, floods, earthquakes, famine, disease, and warfare since we first appeared in Africa. Mass migrations, for better or worse, have made us what we are. 

As the Bible tells the story, it all began when an angel with a fiery sword drove Adam and Eve out of paradise. We've never forgotten Eden, that lovely garden; but it's gone without a trace, as if it never were, as if it never happened. 

The Bible remembers the Jews driven by famine from Palestine to Egypt, and back to Palestine from Egypt,. They remember the Assyrian army driving them like cattle out of Israel, and the Babylonian army driving them out of Judah. 

But they have never forgotten God's promise someday to gather all their children from all the nations and bring them home to Jerusalem. The Prophet Baruch said, 

They were led away on foot by their enemies;

but God will bring them back...

They will be borne aloft in glory as on royal thrones.

They will be given all the honors God’s holy people should have. 

However, those who return may be very few, only a remnant. Usually, by the third, fourth, or fifth generation, expatriates have forgotten their language, their customs, and their religion. They have intermarried and adapted to new ways of life; they have little memory of the old country, and no desire to return. If many Americans can say our names are German, French, Irish, or Italian, we don’t know when our ancestors came to America, nor do we speak their language. 

Today, the Church in the United States – baptized and adopted into the people of God –  suffers a similar catastrophe and nurtures a similar hope. We have sadly watched the children we bore, sheltered, clothed, and fed carried off by an unstable culture with strange doctrines, false ideals, and bizarre fantasies. We taught them to pray, but our schools taught them to worship money, power, popularity, and pleasure; and assured them they could forget the faith of their fathers if they studied science, technology, engineering, and math. 

And they become only workers and consumers of an enormous machine known as “The Economy.” While they believe they are a free people, they are, in fact, slaves of their own fears, impulses, and desires, preyed upon by greedy merchants and avaricious politicians. As Saint James said, “They are like the waves of the sea, driven and tossed by the wind… double-minded and unstable in every way.” They do not remember the Lord; they cannot remember his command to “Do This in Memory of Me.” 

Jesus urges us to... 

“Strive to enter through the narrow door, for many, I tell you, will attempt to enter but will not be strong enough. (Luke 13:24)

And Saint John the Baptist describes the way home. It is “a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” Advent invites expatriates of God’s kingdom to come home, especially through the Sacrament of Confession, or Reconciliation. That simple ritual is a most extraordinary sign of God’s particular concern for each of us. The Confession of sins to a priest in the confidentiality of the confessional is a singular privilege that God has given especially to his Catholic people. It is a demonstration of his mercy, a pledge just as real as the black smudges of Ash Wednesday; and more substantial than money in the bank. 

But many people are afraid of the confession of sins. In that regard, the Sacrament is like all of God’s greatest blessings – marriage, priesthood, virgin birth, birth in a stable, poverty, homelessness, martyrdom, crucifixion – to name a few. Penance seems to demand everything we’ve got. We must surrender our lives to God. And that seems like a big deal until you realize your life is not that important, and giving one’s life to God is really no great sacrifice. But it pays enormous dividends.  

The Lord gathers his people as he gathered the shepherds who heard the angels, and the magi who followed the star. We must return to Bethlehem to find the Child in Mary’s arms, and worship him.  No one will be saved by spending more money, building impenetrable walls or more powerful weapons. 

A remnant will be saved who remembers who they are, and where they came from. They will see that the valleys and mountains that once blocked the way home have been filled in and leveled; crooked ways have been made straight; and barren lands are flowing with milk and honey. And they will be, as the Prophet Baruch said, “carried home in glory as on royal thrones.”

Memorial of Saint Ambrose, Bishop and Doctor of the Church

Lectionary: 180

No longer will your Teacher hide himself,
but with your own eyes you shall see your Teacher,
While from behind, a voice shall sound in your ears:
"This is the way; walk in it,"
when you would turn to the right or to the left.

 L ate one Christmas Eve, even as my mother oversaw the bathing of her three boys, my father came into the bathroom and shouted, "Santa Claus is here!" 

Of course, I immediately bolted for the door, but Mom stopped me saying I had to put some clothes on first. As if Santa had never seen a nekkid kid before! Well, by the time I was dressed he was gone. I ran right past the display of toys and stuff to the window -- where I saw nothing. No sleigh, no reindeer, no tracks in the muddy yard. He was gone, and that was as close as I ever came to seeing the Old Man. 

There comes a point when we're not content with the Lord's gifts anymore. We want to know the Giver. We want to hear his voice in our ears, and his clear direction about how we should live our lives. We want communion with God and with his Church. 

For adults, that is the promise of Christmas. We've learned to expect trouble in this world. We've seen that there will be no workers' paradise in Russia or anywhere else. There will always be a few absurdly, obscenely wealthy people while the vast majority struggles to get by. It's the best we can do. I don't expect an end of environmental degradation; all our clever technological innovations cannot keep up with our ever increasing demand for more energy, faster travel, quicker communication, useless information, cheaper entertainment, and more stuff. No one believes we can have it all and heaven too. 

Nor can we imagine how a clever God might satisfy our inordinate demands for more. If some of us have learned to live with less, and even to practice a certain abstemiousness, they still like their little luxuries and feel they have a right to them. 

Some of us realize our hunger and thirst will be satisfied when...

The Lord will give you the bread you need

and the water for which you thirst.

On that day, this nekkid Kentuckian will be satisfied.  (Is 19:20)