The Seventh Day in the Octave of Christmas

Lectionary: 204

In the beginning, was the Word,
    and the Word was with God,
    and the Word was God.
He was in the beginning with God. 
All things came to be through him,
    and without him, nothing came to be.

 T wo years ago, as I pondered my life and meaning in retirement, I turned to T.S. Eliot's Burnt Norton, the first of his Four Quartets:

Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.

Two years later, I am struck by the fourth and fifth lines of Eliot's poem,

If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.

Humans know ourselves only by memories of what we have seen, done, enjoyed, suffered, and survived. If we became like God and knew all time as eternally present; that is, if we could not differentiate the past from the present or the future, heaven would be a miasma of undecipherable impressions. Which is more like hell. 

Kurt Vonnegut explored that idea in his novel, Slaughterhouse-Five. The protagonist, an American Veteran of World War II and a former prisoner-of-war, seems to travel willy-nilly back and forth from the present to the past and into the future. He cannot say in which moment of time he is in, nor what he might expect, or has already experienced and may experience again. 

I was a chaplain in the VA when I reread the novel and recognized the experience of PTSD. Many Combat Veterans suffer flashbacks when they re-experience all of the fear and paralyzing dread of a killzone.

I knew one Veteran who happened to see a Vietnamese person in a grocery store in Kentucky. Although he had married, had children, and suffered little distress in all the years since his deployment, he was suddenly paralyzed, his feet immovable and planted to the floor. His mystified wife had to take him by the arm and lead him out of the store and back home. And eventually to the VA where he began to make sense of it all. In that moment, past, present, and future had suddenly collapsed into one moment of dread. 

As another year passes and we enter 2025, the Lord Jesus personally ushers us into the future. He has lived with us and recalls vividly everything that passed from the moment of creation, through his birth in Bethlehem, and crucifixion on Calvary, and his resurrection on Easter. He clearly remembers the suffering and triumph of our martyrs and the courage, wisdom, genius, and generosity of our saints. 

He remembers our sins, misdeeds, and foolishness also; nothing is forgotten. And if we're paralyzed by fear, shame, grief, or regret, the Lord, like my friend's wife, takes us by the hand and leads us into the healing of tomorrow. 

"Do not be afraid!" Jesus says, as he has said so often. "Set out for the deep!" he might add as we probe deep memories for the reassurance that we can face the future. He has never abandoned us, never forgotten us, never reconsidered his choice of us. He has no regrets about our creation or redemption or the promise he has made. 

As Thomas Dorsey wrote at a moment when he was paralyzed with grief over the death of his young wife and unborn child, Precious Lord, take my hand. Lead me on, let me stand. 

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.

Much is made of the secret years when Jesus lived with Mary and Joseph in Nazareth. There are legends of their travelling the world beyond Judea and Egypt, including Ireland and North America. Anyone can fill that empty space with meaningful stories to entertain the mind and inspire the heart, but Saint Luke gives us the only important information. 

First, that "the boy grew and became strong, filled with wisdom, and the favor of God was upon him." A healthy lad with a curious mind, he learned how to be and act like a man from Joseph, and how to read the complex political situations of their time. In Egypt, they would have paid close attention to the rumors borne by travelers from Jerusalem and Galilee. He watched Joseph closely and learned how to recognize reliable sources and dismiss the wags. 

And, of course, the Word Made Flesh recognized himself as he heard and studied the scriptures in the synagogue. And, guided by the Holy Spirit, no one else could be so familiar with every word of the Bible as he. 

Secondly, after his story of Jesus's lark in the temple at the age of twelve, Saint Luke says he "came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them." Just as his parents had fulfilled all the prescriptions of the Law, when they presented him in the Temple, so the Boy practiced the obedience that everyone should learn. 

I find it interesting that we use the same word, law, to mean the way nature works -- as in gravity, physics, thermodynamics, and fluids. Law describes both God's covenant with the Jews and the rules we make to govern our dealings with one another. If God's law is as solid as natures, "human laws" may be variable and arbitrary. But they are real, in any case.  

As an adult Jesus, for the most part, observed nature's law. But when it was necessary he could heal the sick, raise the dead, or calm a stormy sea with a word of command. Among men he had an amazing capacity for just walking away from trouble. They might be upset with what he said, as they were after his inaugural sermon in Nazareth, but when they wanted to throw him over the cliff he just "passed through the midst of them and went away." They would lay hands on him when the time came, and not before. 

The Letter to the Hebrews added to Saint Luke's account about Jesus's learning of obedience. 

"Son though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered; and when he was made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him."

For many centuries, monks did not make vows of poverty or chastity. Those virtues were subsumed under the vow of obedience. Mendicant orders like Franciscans and Dominicans, added the extra vows in the middle ages. But obedience is nonetheless the queen of the religious' covenant; and describes the Christian's response to the Gospel. 

Americans like to celebrate their freedom without any clear idea of its nature, responsibilities and limits. But freedom is not free and is, in fact, both demanding and jealous. Condemned to be free, we realize that every decision has consequences, some of which are unforeseeable and remote. We might not be able to prevent all the consequences of our decisions, but may be held responsible for them nonetheless. That should give us pause. 

We should also appreciate that the only projects worth our effort are the works of God. They will last forever, while every human effort will be washed away by the chaotic forces of history. Stone pyramids and burial mounds may last a very long time, even until the end of the Earth, but not forever. And so we ask the Lord to "Send forth your Spirit" so that we will invest our time and effort into his everlasting kingdom.  

Jesus proved his credentials to us by his ready obedience to the supreme authority of the Father. In willing, generous, and eager obedience he knew his own worth and the freedom of doing what he wanted to do. Because he did nothing on his own but only what he saw his Father doing. 

I often think of the landowner in his parable who gave the same pay to every worker in his field, regardless of how long they'd worked or how much they suffered in the day's heat. When a mob of disappointed workers challenged him he responded,

What if I wish to give this last one the same as you? Am I not free to do as I wish with my own money? Are you envious because I am generous?’

God's justice is mercy, and his mercy is just. If that sounds autocratic and arbitrary, I have also heard, "Your sins are forgiven!" 

I will never again question his right to do so. 

Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph

Lectionary: 17

For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named.... (Eph 3:14)

 T he pater familias of Roman civilization governed the life of his wife, children, grandchildren, adopted members of the family, employees of the family’s businesses, household servants, and slaves of the family's estates. If he had no capable sons, he might adopt possible heirs of his family and wealth; and he might act as patron to talented artists who promoted his prestigious family. 

Although Saint Paul says nothing about his original family and had no personal wealth, he spoke of Timothy, Titus, and others as his adopted sons, and of himself as their patron and father. He was the pater familias of the churches he established in Corinth, Galatia, and Thessalonica. 

When, in Ephesians 3, he spoke of God as the Father from whom every family in heaven and earth is named, his metaphor was the typical family governed by a pater familias, rather than our more familiar nuclear family of husband, wife, and children. 

As the Father – the pater familias – he urged members of his churches to follow his example, as he said in his first letter to the Corinthians: 

I am writing you this not to shame you, but to admonish you as my beloved children. Even if you should have countless guides to Christ, yet you do not have many fathers, for I became your father in Christ Jesus through the gospel. Therefore, I urge you, be imitators of me. (I Cor 4:14-16)

But he also knew the only true Father is God the Father who was revealed through Jesus, the Son of God. And the Church is the true family of God which provides the model and inspiration for every Christian family. When Paul spoke of his brothers and sisters he referred to members of the church rather than the family he had left behind in Tarsus. We know nothing about them.

Saint Francis used the same language when he spoke of his friars and the women who had followed Saint Clare of Assisi into women's communities. Although he had not set out to found a family or an order, God made him the pater familias of the first, second, and third orders. Every Franciscan remembers that painful, dramatic moment when he disowned his bullying father, Pietro di Bernardone, a prosperous silk merchant; and announced that, from that day forward, God would be his only father. Their separation was final; if they were ever reconciled, his biographers say nothing of it. 

As we celebrate this annual feast of the nuclear family of Joseph, Mary, and Jesus, we do well to reflect on the bonds which must hold every family together. They are more than blood relations. 

Or, to contradict a popular saying, "Water is thicker than blood." The water of our Baptism draws us closer together – is a more binding glue – that gives us deeper, more trustworthy, and more intimate bonds than the biological kinship of an immediate family. 

Jesus predicted as much when he said, 

Do you think that I have come to establish peace on the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division. From now on a household of five will be divided, three against two and two against three; a father will be divided against his son and a son against his father, a mother against her daughter and a daughter against her mother, a mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law.” (Luke 12:51-53)

He really stressed that message with an awful lot of words! 

As I met men and women who practiced the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous I often heard painful, sad stories of people who could not visit their own parents or children. They could not "be home for Christmas" or any other time of year. They might attend family funerals, appearing only in the Church or funeral home, but not at the gatherings before or after. They might hope for a reconciliation but so long as their families were controlled by alcoholism, drug abuse, incest, or violence, they could not go home. 

I was living in Australia when I quit drinking; and I wrote a long letter home, explaining my decision to my parents. My Dad immediately wrote back -- it took two weeks in those days -- assuring me that I had not lost any standing with him or his family. He continued to drink his beer, which he used in moderation as I never had; and we remained close until the end of his life. I was resolute in my decision, and have never regretted it; and neither my family nor my friends have ever challenged or opposed it. 

The holiday season reminds everyone of how important our families are to us. Millions of people risk blizzard conditions and crowded airports to celebrate the bonds of kinship. But many also hope and pray that their holiday excesses will not tear them apart. As we celebrate the Feast of the Holy Family, we remember the "Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named," and the Son who died on a cross for us, his sisters and brothers..

On this weekend between Christmas and the New Year, we celebrate the nuclear family of Joseph, Mary, and Jesus. But we also remember they were not the typical nuclear family, since Jesus was not Saint Joseph’s biological son. He was adopted by the Virgin’s husband, as you and I are adopted into the family of Abraham; and they had no other children.

As the Prophet Isaiah said, 

Listen to me, you who pursue integrity,

who seek the Lord.

Consider the rock you were hewn from,

the quarry from which you were cut.

Consider Abraham your father

and Sarah who gave you birth.

For he was all alone when I called him,

but I blessed and increased him.

Centuries later, Saint Paul would write about the true descendants of Abraham in Roman 9, 

“…it is not the children of the flesh who are the children of God; the children of the promise are counted as descendants.” 

On this Feast of the Holy Family, during the closing hours of 2024, we “kneel before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named.” We pray that the Father of Jesus will be our true pater familias; and that the Water of Baptism is thick; and the Blood of our Eucharist, binding; and that our Faith holds our families more tightly, even than the blood in our veins. 

Feast of the Holy Innocents, martyrs

 Lectionary: 698

My children, I am writing this to you
so that you may not commit sin.
But if anyone does sin, we have an Advocate with the Father,
Jesus Christ the righteous one.
He is expiation for our sins,
and not for our sins only but for those of the whole world.

 F ear makes reasonable people do stupid things. And worse, it feeds on its own exaggerations, driving the formerly-reasonable into foolishness, pigheadedness, and murder. It must do evil, they say, to prevent the evil that might happen. 

The United States invaded Iraq to prevent their use of WMDs ("weapons of mass destruction") although our Intelligence had already determined they had none. It was a pretext for war, driven by the MIC -- the Military Industrial Complex. WMDs were its "justification." 

As if war can be justified. Or wants to be, or should be, justified. We're going to do it anyway, whether we justify it or not. So why do we bother to justify it? I suppose it persuades the gullible who are disinclined to favor the cost and carnage of an unnecessary, futile exercise. "Perhaps they're right." they say, although any fool can see it's only a pretext for war. The "land of the free and the home of the brave" is governed by fear. 

Herod had his reasons for ordering the killing of Bethlehem's boys. He might have told his soldiers; he might have informed the citizenry of Jerusalem. But they knew he was a coward who would kill anything and anyone who made him feel uneasy. If he wasn't killing the boys in Jerusalem, they were content to say nothing. And he would certainly avenge any objections had anyone spoken up. 

Abortion as a means of birth control is a flagrant killing of the innocent and helpless. It is driven by fear of poverty, inadequacy, confusion, and uncertainty. In that respect it is precisely the same as uncalled for invasions and the killing of Holy Innocents. 

The Son of God fearlessly went to Jerusalem to offer himself as an "expiation for our sins, and not for our sins only but for those of the whole world."

This feast reminds us of who Jesus must be. He can be no other than the Son of God, for the horror of this violence can be erased only by a God who...

so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life.

For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him.

Feast of Saint John, Apostle and evangelist

Image of St John from
the Book of Kells

Lectionary: 697

Then the other disciple also went in, the one who had arrived at the tomb first, and he saw and believed.

 S aint John's Gospel has been described as the most sacramental of the four canonical Gospels, and the most political. Through the sacraments and the gospel the faithful recognize the living presence of God in our workaday, political world. 

I think especially of his chapter 11, the reviving of Lazarus. First, we're reminded of the political situation; the Lord had roiled the Holy City in the second chapter by his one-man riot in the temple. He has enemies and is walking into serious trouble as he returns to Bethany and Jerusalem. 

Secondly, his young friend's death and funeral is a sad occasion for everyone, but quite normal. Who expects anything extraordinary or revelatory at a funeral? 

And then, no sooner has he called Lazarus out of the grave than the authorities are informed. They immediately assemble and decide... 

"... that one man should die instead of the people, so that the whole nation may not perish.”

The presence and saving work of God, which we know as word and sacrament, are greeted with lethal hatred. 

The Lord's teaching about the Eucharist is also met with a fatal rejection in the sixth chapter. But the fatal dimension falls on those who desert the Lord when he insists,

"...unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you.

It's often said that there is no "institution narrative" in John's Gospel, because he does not instruct his disciples during the Last Supper to take and eat his body and blood, as he does in the synoptic gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke. But his institution is clearly described with other words and a similar command, 

If I, therefore, the master and teacher, have washed your feet, you ought to wash one another’s feet. I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do.

Whether we are eating his flesh, drinking his blood, or washing one another's feet, we are acting in this world, living in the Lord, and doing sacraments. To belong to a sacramental church, we must be deeply committed and engaged with one another. 

We've all heard people complain about the institutional church. They'll have nothing to do with "organized religion" because: 

1. Not everyone who attends is sincere. 
2. There are many incidents of misbehavior and infidelity. 
3. There are stories of betrayal. 
4. There is much disagreement. 
5. I disagree with the Church about....

The list is endless. No one will ever run out of excuses for excusing themselves from the assembly. 

But if your church has no problems, it's not a church. It's a tyranny overseen by one person, or by one secretive committee which does not betray its internal dynamics. But you can be sure there are serious troubles within that one person. Or the problems within that committee will soon come to light. Everything hidden will come to light. 

And if you still say there are no troubles in your church, you're the problem, and they're letting you get away with it. But that won't last long. 

It's better to belong to a troubled church like that of the apostles. They squabbled, complained, questioned, denied, and betrayed; but when the Lord returned from the dead he found them together. And those who'd fled he retrieved. Because they belonged to him and he would not let them go. 

Within the church we call one another brothers and sisters because the Lord has given us to one another, without asking whether we want them to join us. I had nine brothers and sisters and I am sure my folks never asked me whether I wanted another sibling. (More often than not, they weren't asked either! They wanted the first five; the rest were pure gift.) 

That's how the sacramental church works. It's real; it's complicated, messy, unpredictable, and political. It's not often pretty; and it's always holy. 

Feast of Saint Stephen, first martyr

Lectionary: 696

Stephen, filled with grace and power,
was working great wonders and signs among the people.

 S aint Stephen's story is much longer than today's brief first reading; and is well worth the time to read it. 

Everything we know of him is presented in these 78 verses of Acts 6-8. He is named among the seven deacons in Chapter 6. And no sooner do we learn of his death than we are caught up in the irrepressible spirit of Saint Philip, whose brief story is equally abrupt. Unlike the careers of Saints Peter, John, and Paul, these men appear and disappear, having contributed mightily to our appreciation, love of, and delight in the Holy Spirit. 

The scriptures say nothing about the other deacons, Prochorus, Nicanor, Timon, Parmenas, and Nicholas of Antioch. But if their careers were equally spectacular we can easily imagine the enthusiasm of those early days in the Church. Despite ferocious opposition from the Jewish establishment, 

The word of God continued to spread, and the number of the disciples in Jerusalem increased greatly; even a large group of priests were becoming obedient to the faith. (Acts 6: 7)

Governments, driven by popular demand, have occasionally tried to suppress Christmas. Although Midnight Mass began as a pious practice in the fifth century, the tradition remembers later government efforts in Northern Europe to suppress Catholicism. During the darkest years the faithful gathered at midnight in private homes to celebrate the Mass, with the windows shaded and the singing repressed. If the Feast fell on a weekday, they still had to show up in the morning at the factories and shops regardless. The repression finally ended when merchants discovered the marketing opportunities of Christmas. (Think of Dickens' Christmas Carol and O'Henry's Gift of the Magi.)

The feast of Saint Stephen, celebrated on Boxing Day in Canada and other Commonwealth countries, must remind us of the joyous seriousness of our faith. We rejoice despite the best efforts of anti-religious, post-Christian secularism. Even amid all the idolatry and tawdry commercialism we worship the Lord. 

Opposition to the Word of God will never go away; nor will we. 

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

 Lectionary: 16

In the beginning was the Word,
        and the Word was with God,
        and the Word was God.
    He was in the beginning with God. 
    All things came to be through him,
        and without him nothing came to be.

The story is told of the great French philosopher, Jean Paul Sartre, that he was shopping in a department store, apparently looking at clothing, when he realized there was someone standing close to him. He felt very uncomfortable, particularly because the stranger did not move away. Finally he turned to accost the shopper or sales clerk with a loud “Excuse me,” when he realized it was a mannequin. It was not a person, friend, enemy, or stranger, but a piece of furniture, wearing clothes. 

The philosopher was reminded that his sense of freedom is threatened by other people. They – that is, anyone – is an enemy of his ability to think and feel his own thoughts and feelings without their agreement, disagreement, or criticism. They might even think about him without his being able to know their thoughts, or control them – or worse, they might not think of him at all.  Sartre is remembered for his atheism, and his dictum, “Hell is other people.” 

On Christmas Day we celebrate the birth of another person among us, a man who crowds our world in the most uncomfortable way, and yet his presence is wonderful. For Jesus was with God in the beginning, and remains with God, and is in God, and is God; and wants with all his heart and soul to be with us. 

Born among us and one of our own children, Jesus sees with the eye of God and looks upon his fellow human beings with delight, pity, and compassion. He is the child who adores his father and mother, and loves to be around his uncles, aunts, and cousins. He is the teen who admires his grandparents and asks them about their memories of years gone past. He is the apprentice, eager to learn a trade from the masters and contribute to the well being of others. His feet are on the ground but his head is not in the clouds. He wants nothing more than to be with us, and to give his energies, time, and resources for us. 

His reactions are human and divine. He knows as we all know that “it wasn’t supposed to be this way.” We were created from the mud of this earth to enjoy this entire planet as a worldwide Garden of Eden. But not only have our sins polluted the planet, wreaked havoc on our ecological systems, and caused widespread extinction of species, it has caused endless distress, disease, and oppression among us. We suffer with every form of disability and sickness. 

And so the Son of Mary and Son of God began to heal everyone who came to him. They flocked to him by the hundreds, and then by the thousands. He loved them and he loved to be among them; and he loved to laugh with their renewed joy in being well. 

This Man does not hesitate to stand beside us in our sickness, guilt, and shame; in our poverty or wealth, in good times and in bad. He neither exploits our good fortune nor flees from our misfortunes. 

But we have heard that he is God, and he knows we expect much of God, and that most of our expectations are unrealistic, impossible, and downright nonsense. He cannot do for us whatever we ask, as the Apostles Simon and John once accosted him. (Mark 10:35)  

He also knows that we can become violent toward people who disappoint us, and yet he stays because his love can save us from ourselves and from our violence. If we are uncomfortable when he stands too close, he remains close anyway, and waits for us to turn around and welcome him.

Christmas is the day that we welcome strangers, and the strangest of all is this Lord God who is born among us. What makes him utterly strange and frankly weird is that he is a human being and enjoys being human, and wants to be human, and insists upon it; because that is the only way he can have communion and enjoy solidarity with us. Because we cannot be gods the Son of God chooses to be a brother to each one of us. 

But many people despise their own human weaknesses, vulnerability, illness, and certain death. We hate that we might be wrong, that we often don’t know what we’re talking about. We hate that we must depend on other people, and they’re sometimes unreliable, and they sometimes let us down; and we hate to admit that we also let others down. 

This man is even stranger for persistently choosing to be human when others want him to be God, as when Satan tempted him in the wilderness, as when a mob demanded that he judge a woman caught in adultery, as when his accusers said he heals by the power of Beelzebub, as when they mocked him and said, “He saved others; he cannot save himself.” 

There are many times when we wish he would stop being so human and start acting more like God. Don’t you see everything that's wrong with the world? Why don’t you do something? There are wars, murders, genocide – and you do nothing about it except hang on a cross. How is that supposed to help? 

He knows but cannot explain. There is nothing in human language or thought that would make sense of God’s wisdom or goodness; we can only see, trust, and believe as he saw, trusted, and believed. 

Obedient to his human nature and his heavenly Father, he chose to be as weak and helpless as any man or woman who is trapped, imprisoned, handcuffed, bound, or nailed to a cross. Even as he felt the unforgiving wood of the cross, he preferred to die like any man rather than to be God. 

We come to Bethlehem to find our God in the form of a helpless human baby. We come to Mass to find the God-Man who stays with us in the form of bread and wine. We come to the cross to find a man dying for the love of God and for our salvation. 

And we are grateful that he is here, and has called us to be here where he is. We want to be with him tonight, and he wants to be with us.

Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Advent Mass in the Morning

Lectionary: 200

You, my child, shall be called the prophet of the Most High, 
for you will go before the Lord to prepare his way, 
to give his people knowledge of salvation 
by the forgiveness of their sins.

 T he world likes to remind Christians of their sins, a trait which they -- the world -- shares with our preachers. The Hebrew prophets from Moses to John the Baptist led the way as they loudly condemned Jerusalem and its citizens for their neglect of impoverished widows, homeless orphans, and displaced aliens. The rabbis courageously preserved the prophetic words, and the Church continues to contemplate and celebrate them. 

Yes, we are sinful people; but we are also saved from our sins by the mercy of God. He has delivered us because he wanted us for his own. We can sing with the Penitent David, "He rescued me because he loves me." 

Few Catholics boast of their practice of confessing their sins to a priest, but it is a sure sign of God's particular mercy for those who attend the Sacrament. If everyone can walk into a Catholic Church on Sunday morning and take the Sacrament as if they have a right to it, some actually prepare by frequently confessing their sins. 

Fools readily boast of their accomplishments, wealth, physical strength, success, popularity, or whatever. Some are adept at creating boasts out of nothing worth mentioning. Saint Paul boasted of his weakness, having suffered not only the hardships of travel but the violent opposition of Jews, gentiles, and some Christians. But he finally declared, 

"...may I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world." (Gal 3:14)

As we practice the Sacrament of Penance, Catholics are profoundly aware of the cross of our sins. These habits, attitudes, and practices. which we may have learned from others, burden our every step. With Saint Paul, we willingly admit in the privacy of the Reconciliation Room, as we face a priest, 

I am carnal, sold into slavery to sin. What I do, I do not understand. For I do not do what I want, but I do what I hate. (Romans 7:14-15)

But we also look forward to that day of freedom when, like our Immaculate Mother, we will enjoy complete freedom from sin. Neither the thought nor the temptation will have any attraction for us. 

In the meanwhile, we can pray with the great poet and Episcopal priest,

A Hymn to God the Father

By John Donne

Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun,

         Which was my sin, though it were done before?

Wilt thou forgive that sin, through which I run,

         And do run still, though still I do deplore?

                When thou hast done, thou hast not done,

                        For I have more.

Wilt thou forgive that sin which I have won

         Others to sin, and made my sin their door?

Wilt thou forgive that sin which I did shun

         A year or two, but wallow'd in, a score?

                When thou hast done, thou hast not done,

                        For I have more.

I have a sin of fear, that when I have spun

         My last thread, I shall perish on the shore;

But swear by thyself, that at my death thy Son

         Shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore;

                And, having done that, thou hast done;

                        I fear no more.

Monday of the Fourth Week of Advent

 Lectionary: 199

Then fear came upon all their neighbors,
and all these matters were discussed
throughout the hill country of Judea.

 T he Church teaches us hopeful fear of the Lord from childhood on, as we learn to make the sign of the cross upon entering the Church, and genuflecting, and speaking quietly if we must. There are special places like churches and cemeteries where we behave differently. Every child of ten should know that. 

And we learn from that lesson to discern the presence of God in fearful situations. That fear may be called faith. Upon learning of an impending disaster, a sobering diagnosis, or sudden change in one's fortune, we tell ourselves that "God is here."

I remember a situation which, being a young adult with limited experience of life, I found comical at the time. As I rode in the van with Dad at the helm, Mom beside him, and the ten of us in the back, as Dad was turning right off the highway, we heard the rumble of warning treads. They were something new to Kentucky's highways.
Dad said something in alarm about the old second-hand vehicle; and Mom immediately said something like, "It's okay, God will see us through." I knew what the sound meant -- with my vast experience of travel! -- but my folks did not. 

I look back now, fifty years later, and remember with gratitude this young couple's habitual trust in God. If I knew about warning tracks I didn't know what they had learned through many years of paycheck to paycheck poverty. 

Saint Luke describes the neighbors' reaction to the birth of John the Baptist as fear. They knew that God had a hand in the barren woman's pregnancy, Zechariah's mysterious silence, and the sudden freeing of his tongue. Only the child's prophetic parents could imagine what it might mean, as we shall hear tomorrow when Zechariah sings, 

“Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel;
        for he has come to his people and set them free.

We should anticipate Christmas with fear of the Lord. Call it reverence, devotion, or piety if you like; but it's demanding, immediate, and not to be deferred or ignored. God is here!  

Something more important than me -- my feelings, needs, desires, or understanding -- is happening. We don't know what it means but we hope that...

when the Son of Man comes he will find faith on the earth. Luke 18:8

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.