The Nativity of the Lord (Christmas) Mass at Dawn

 Lectionary: 15

When the kindness and generous love
of God our savior appeared,
not because of any righteous deeds we had done
but because of his mercy,
He saved us through the bath of rebirth
and renewal by the Holy Spirit....

Poor Scrooge spent a sleepless night with three unwelcome visitors: the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future. Despite his habitual crankiness, he found the past charming; the present, not so nice; and the future, terrifying. That silent spectre offered the inevitable consequences of his own choices:  isolation, loneliness, despair, and death. 

The ghost of the past reminded him of the love, companionship, and joy he'd once known when he worked with the delightful Mr. Fezziwig. The old miser had once been a boy with a promising, carefree future. Christmas Present forced his gaze upon the world he had lost. He found himself outside the circle of family, friendship, and belonging. He belonged nowhere, and was welcomed nowhere. 

The future showed him a tombstone with a hole in the ground, emptied by grave robbers of whatever treasures he might have owned. The rogues were strangers to Scrooge; and he, to them. Although he had once been loved, he would be mourned by no one. 

Every year, the novelist Charles Dickens reminds us of a joyous past, present choices, and a grim future. We enjoy evoking past Christmases. We use Advent wreaths to recall the ages before Christ. Medieval music, paintings, and creches evoke Bethlehem. And 19th century sleigh rides, cottages, and rustic villages remind us of a not-so-distant past. We dream of a white Christmas though few Americans have ever seen one, and almost no one has  ridden in a one-horse open sleigh. Every year we concoct some new decoration, song, food, or drink, thinking it might belong to Christmas customs of the future. 

But we cannot see the future. The world may imagine space exploration, artificial intelligence, robotic slaves, and weapons of doomsday violence; but as each year passes today’s fantasies become last year's nonsense. Despite our Earth's reliable winter solstice, we cannot envision a future Christmas. And so we evoke the past, and silently admit we’ll never be that happy again. 

Christians are not haunted by the ghosts of the past, present, or future because we know the Lord walks with us every step of the way. As God said to Moses in the Sinai desert: See, I am sending an angel before you, to guard you on the way and bring you to the place I have prepared.”

He called us out of the slavery of our sins; he has given us the freedom of obedience, and the promise of everlasting life. The present can be bleak; and the future may look ominous, until we hear the Word of God:

See, I am doing something new! 

Now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?

In the wilderness I make a way,

in the wasteland, rivers. (Isaiah 43:19)

Saint Augustine recalled the Lord’s mission and teaching,

"He promised eternal salvation, everlasting happiness with the angels, an immortal inheritance, endless glory, and after resurrection from the dead no further fear of dying....

But he also reminded us that we are still on the way. We are still subject to judgment; we have not yet arrived. He will come   

"...to exact now what he had asked for before, to separate those deserving his anger from those deserving his mercy, to execute his threats against the wicked, and to reward the just as he had promised.

Advent has taught us to believe in God’s promises and never surrender our hope. On this Christmas Day we remember the words of the first Christmas carol, the one that Mary sang: 

...God shows might with his arm, 

disperses the arrogant of mind and heart, 

throws down rulers from their thrones, 

lifts up the lowly; 

and fills the hungry with good things, 

while the rich are sent away empty.  Luke 1: 51-53

Wednesday of the Fourth Week of Advent Mass in the Morning

O Emmanuel, our King and Giver of Law:
come to save us, Lord our God!

 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.
In the tender compassion of our God
the dawn from on high shall break upon us...

Mary, in one medieval chant, is called "the dawn," while Christ is "the perfect day." With that song ringing in our ears and hearts, perhaps we should recognize John the Baptist as the cock that wakes us at dawn and directs our attention to the rising sun. 

The rooster crow might not be as delightful to hear as Mary's song; and many despise his raucous roar. But we're nonetheless grateful that he stirs us out of our slumber. And especially for rousing us from the sleep of sin and death to the waking life of grace, freedom, courage, and generosity. 

This rooster gives God's people "knowledge of salvation by the forgiveness of their sins," for there can be no freedom in sin. Despite its attractive allure, its premises are as dependable as a crumbling foundation; and its promises, as empty as broken cisterns. 

We looked for other pathways to freedom; and, when offered the narrow way of penance, hoped it wasn't necessary. It appeared dark, forbidding, and downright scary. Even the bravest of warriors caviled at its demands. How could they enter eternal life without their weapons? 

But God the Father insisted and God the Son took our empty hands, even as the Spirit said, "This is the way."

No longer will your Teacher hide himself,

but with your own eyes you shall see your Teacher,

And your ears shall hear a word behind you:

“This is the way; walk in it,”

when you would turn to the right or the left. (Is 30:20-21)

Childbearing, I suppose, is not unlike penance. Both can be intimidating and both bring new life. We thank God for the narrow gate of Christmas as we wrap our faith in swaddling clothes and worship him. 

Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Advent

Lectionary: 199

Yes, he is coming, says the LORD of hosts.
But who will endure the day of his coming?
And who can stand when he appears?
For he is like the refiner’s fire,
or like the fuller’s lye.
He will sit refining and purifying silver,
and he will purify the sons of Levi,
Refining them like gold or like silver
that they may offer due sacrifice to the LORD.

Malachi assures us during these days of Advent as he assured his contemporaries long before the Birth of the Messiah, "Yes, he is coming!" But he also reminds us that the Day will challenge everyone, and particularly those who believe -- or think they believe -- in the mercy of God. 

You might be surprised. You might not know what to expect. You might be deeply disappointed. "Who will endure the day of his coming?" 

in her book, A Wrinkle in Time, on the planet Camazotz, the time-travelling children of Madeleine L'Engle watch inhabitants continually, mindlessly building a city of dystopian, enforced conformity. They apparently expect something like our "City of God" although, once it's built, it will know nothing of God. L'Enge's children, of course, see as any child does, the futility of their frenetic work. 

Malachi reminds us that our troubles might not end with the appearance of the Savior. There may be a period of severe testing, similar to the refining process of gold or silver. The slag and dross in our hearts will be purged, and many of our precious things will be forgotten. Remember the fate of Gollum who sank into the fiery abyss, he could not let go of his Precious. 

Nor should we expect to bargain for the precious things we hold most dear, thinking that surely God must agree that, "This is priceless, I must have it!" 

If any one comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.

Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple.

Which of you wishing to construct a tower does not first sit down and calculate the cost to see if there is enough for its completion? (Luke 14:26-28)

I have seen grandparents compromise their faith when their adult children suggested they might cut them off from their grandchildren. It's very hard at Christmas time.

As we study the Cross of Christ, gazing upon it as Saint Clare urges us, the Spirit gently teaches us to surrender everything to God:

Come to me.... 

Take my yoke upon you, 

learn from me, 

for I am meek and humble of heart. 

You will find rest for yourselves.

For my yoke is easy; and my burden, light. 

Monday of the Fourth Week of Advent

O King of All the Nations
and Keystone of the Church
come and save man, whom you formed from the dust!

Lectionary: 198

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord;
my spirit rejoices in God my savior.
for he has looked upon his lowly servant.
From this day all generations will call me blessed:
the Almighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his Name.

As a young man who had only recently been shown his vocation, Francis wrote "A Prayer before the Crucifix." He asked for God's help as he pioneered a mendicant way of life: 

Most high, glorious God,

enlighten the darkness

of my heart and give me, Lord,

a correct faith, certain hope,

perfect charity, sense and knowledge,

so that I may carry out

Your holy and true command.

However, within a short time, he did not write any prayers about himself. He was rapt in the wonder and beauty of God, as we find in his praises of God. 

We find the same pattern in Mary's Magnificat. Only in the first two verses does she allude to herself: she confesses that she must praise God, and then she expresses her amazement that she will be remembered as most blessed among women. But then she disappears from her song. She can sing only of God's goodness, and especially of his care for the least among us. 

Saint Luke tells us that her Son frequently withdrew to prayer, and we can well imagine what happened when he did so. 

• Luke 5:15-16: The report about him spread all the more, and great crowds assembled to listen to him and to be cured of their ailments, but he would withdraw to deserted places to pray."
• Luke 6:12: "In those days he departed to the mountain to pray, and he spent the night in prayer to God."
• Luke 9:18: Once when Jesus was praying in solitude, and the disciples were with him, he asked them, “Who do the crowds say that I am?”
• Luke 9:28-29: About eight days after he said this, he took Peter, John, and James and went up the mountain to pray. While he was praying his face changed in appearance and his clothing became dazzling white.
• Luke 22:39-46: Jesus prayed intensely in Gethsemane before His arrest. 

Mary and Jesus set the pattern for us. As we begin every Mass we remember our sins and ask God's forgiveness. From that moment, we have better things to do than worry about our guilt or innocence. We must listen to his Word; and then we must enter Communion with the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Faith has assured us of God's particular concern for each of us, and with that assurance our attention turns to the worship of God. There is only one exception, that solitary moment of self-awareness when we pray, "O Lord, I am not worthy...."

We might watch to see the progression of our private prayers. Do they proceed from myself and my worries to God's praises? We can do so without judgment, for there are times when our emotions are so riled up they will not be solaced by any amount of time in prayer. That's okay! In those moments we can surrender our helplessness to God and say, "Here I am. This is the best I can do today."

And then we can notice those other days when our souls rest with Mary and all the Saints in God's presence. Our minds may wander, but we're not paying much attention to our minds. If we're asked what we were thinking about while we prayed, we won't remember. Whatever it was, it wasn't important. And then we thank God for that calm; it is a foretaste of that peace which the world cannot give. 

Fourth Sunday of Advent

O Radiant Dawn,
splendor of eternal light, sun of justice:
come and shine on those who dwell in darkness and in the
shadow of death.

Lectionary: 10

Through him we have received the grace of apostleship,

to bring about the obedience of faith,

for the sake of his name, among all the Gentiles,

among whom are you also, who are called to belong to Jesus Christ….

We We don’t often hear in American conversation an expression like the “obedience of faith.” Nor does obedience appear among the three theological virtues, seven virtues, or nine fruits of the Spirit. It is, however, the foundation of all religious life. The Church discovered a critical need for obedience when some hyper-religious monks and hermits, attempting to live by the Gospel more strictly, demonstrated outlandish and dangerous practices which no one should imitate. Eventually the best candidates for sanctity gathered into monasteries, elected leaders, created written rules, and – to avoid unnecessary disagreement – practiced silence. They gave their abbots and abbesses absolute authority to direct their activities; and they tried to keep it simple. When I entered religious life, not as a hermit or monk but as a friar, I entered an American community that said little about obedience because everyone thought they knew what obedience is. It was like the relationship of children to their parents, students to teachers, and enlisted men to officers. When told to do something, you should do it and ask only questions that might clarify precisely what you should do. You didn’t need to know why you should do it, and it was better not to ask. But, I also found, there was a lot of rule-stretching and gamesmanship among apparently devout souls. You or your parents remember the question of eating meat on Friday. We don’t eat chicken, pork, beef, whales,horses, cats, or dogs but we do eat fish, frogs, crawfish, turtles, alligators, and mussels. Why they’re not meat has never been explained. Now imagine a monastery with far more rules about fasting and food; even more gamesmanship and rule-stretching. It was religious, but not spiritual. In that Church, the best rules of thumb are, “If you don’t want to know the answer, don’t ask the question.” And, “It’s easier to get forgiveness than permission.” So what is this “obedience of faith?” Saint Paul says he is bringing about the obedience of faith for the sake of the Holy Name of Jesus. Today’s gospel recalls Saint Joseph’s obedience of faith when the Angel Gabriel spoke to him in a dream. We know he had some questions about his betrothed wife Mary. She was “found with child” before they lived together. But the angel insisted, “...do not be afraid to take Mary, your wife into your home. For it is through the Holy Spirit that this child has been conceived in her. She will bear a son and you are to name him Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins." It was only a dream but Joseph knew it had come by way of the Holy Spirit, just as Mary had become with child by way of the Holy Spirit, and he obeyed. As Saint Matthew says, When Joseph awoke, he did as the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took his wife into his home. When the same Gabriel appeared to Mary, she was astonished and asked a question – “How can this be since I have no relations with a man?” – but she did not question the authority of God or the word of His messenger. I don’t believe Mary and Joseph’s obedience is quite the same as we Americans like to do it. They did not suppose they could obey God’s word by stretching the rules, parsing sentences, or gamesmanship. And they could ask questions for clarification, deeper understanding, and greater appreciation. They harbored no resentment about the imposition of God’s authority or the Angel’s abrupt message. If anything, they were delighted that the Messiah, who would save his people from their sins, would soon be born. And they should be his parents, regardless of the unheard of manner of his conception. Their child Jesus learned obedience from what he suffered, and set a standard far beyond that of Mary and Joseph. He became obedient even unto death, even death on a cross. It was later in life when I began to understand the virtue of obedience. It has to do with the Spirit of God, the Spirit of the Church and the Franciscan Order, and the Spirit of God's law. It is never enough, and never satisfying, just to follow the rules or do it by the book. We have to bring two attitudes into our obedience. First, we must bring a severe skepticism about what we like, prefer, or want. Just because I want it doesn’t make it good; just because I feel it doesn’t make it true. If anything, I should think long and hard before I do anything I want to do. And I should ask, “Is this good thing what God wants me to do?” Saint Ignatius of Loyola reminded us, the devil tempts good people with good things. That’s how he persuades us to ignore God. We think we know what is good without even asking God. Adam and Eve wanted to be like God, and so they ate the forbidden fruit. It’s true that God wanted them to be like himself; he created them in his own image; but disobedience could not make them godlike. Neither the Son of God nor the Spirit of God disobey God the Father; neither should those created in the image of God. And secondly, we must conform our desires to God’s will and then obey with enthusiasm. When Saint Francis finally saw what God wanted of him – which was to own nothing, travel homelessly from place to place, wear no shoes and carry no money – he shouted, “This is what I want, this is what I seek, this is what I desire with all my heart." From that moment, he never looked back. When Gabriel told Mary about the old woman’s pregnancy, she didn’t take that as a bit of heavenly gossip. It meant something; it meant go to Jerusalem and see this marvelous work of God, and share with her the dawn of a new age in human history. And she went without hesitation. She didn’t even ask, “How safe is it for a young woman to venture out on the highway?” She just went. Catholics practice, by American standards, a severe form of obedience. We don’t miss Mass on Sunday because we should be there; we’re told to be there; and we want to be there. We’re told what to believe, and we’re told to study Catholic doctrines with reflection, prayer, and contemplation until we understand how beautiful and wonderful they are. Even as the skeptics are asking ignorant, irrelevant questions about our beliefs, and then accusing us of being simple and naive; we are thanking God for revealing mysteries that were hidden before the coming of the Messiah. We come to Christmas and Bethlehem with the obedience of faith. We come willingly, with enthusiasm, neither counting the costs nor predicting the consequences. No one can imagine the good he has in store for us, but we’re sure it will be far beyond anything we can comprehend or describe. And it will be wonderful.

Saturday of the Third Week of Advent

O Key of David
Opening the gates of God's eternal kingdom
Come and free the prisoners of darkness.

Lectionary: 196

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

The Gospels describe many signs of God's sovereign and benevolent presence. I think of several in the New Testament that are as deep as the nether world and high as the sky: the Virgin birth of Jesus, the return of Lazarus to his family, the passion and death of Jesus, his Resurrection, and the gift of the Holy Spirit. Two more restorations -- the young man of Naim to his widowed mother, and his daughter to Jairus and her mother -- make seven! But we could add even more, like the Transfiguration and the Last Supper. 

But God's mighty works are never like those which the Pharisees demanded of Jesus. They wanted to see spectacles -- Skyrockets in flight! Bombs bursting air! -- or something equally inane. God's mighty works are saving works. We experience them in our own lives when we confess our sins, admit we were wrong, apologize, and atone for our wrongdoing. We feel them moving within us when we speak the truth to a hostile audience. In those moments we often feel a rush of freedom in knowing, believing, and speaking the truth about God.  Even old folks will know that The Lord has restored our youth! 

With Advent and Christmas we celebrate the rebirth of hope as we hear again, "Turn away from sin and live by the Gospel."

Friday of the Third Week of Advent

O Root of Jesse's stem,
Sign of God's Love for all His People
Come and Save us without Delay!

Lectionary: 195

Both were righteous in the eyes of God,
observing all the commandments
and ordinances of the Lord blamelessly.
But they had no child, because Elizabeth was barren
and both were advanced in years.

As Saint Luke tells the story, Christmas begins with a devout, childless couple. The grandparents I know look forward to sharing the holiday with their grandchildren. Kids overcome the natural reluctance of old age and restore glee to their life. Zechariah and Elizabeth could not expect that pleasure. 

But they were devout and found satisfaction and joy -- perhaps even pleasure -- in the rites of their Jewish faith. When they learn that God has heard their prayers and shown them mercy, Elizabeth expresses grateful satisfaction in what God has done: 

“So has the Lord done for me at a time when he has seen fit

to take away my disgrace before others.”

John the Baptist, their child, "will drink neither wine nor strong drink," meaning that he is a Nazirite from birth. This vocation appears twice in the writings of Saint Luke. Saint Paul took a vow and had his hair cut, apparently as a temporary Nazirite at Cenchreae. But there were also  lifelong vow -- like the judges Samson and Samuel -- who were dedicated by their parents from birth. 

Nazirites in the Bible, like the consecrated religious of the Catholic Church, were called to assure all God's people of His abiding presence. Their very appearance at gatherings of the Church invoke the holiness, mercy, and righteousness of God.

The Catholic Church, in Roman and Orthodox rites, have remembered Mary as a kind of feminine Nazirite, although there were no Jewish custom of consecrating baby girls. Her marriage to Joseph was celibate. (See Josephite Marriage.)  

And so the expected boys, John and Jesus --though Jesus was not a Nazirite as he attested when he spoke of his own eating and drinking -- were introduced into just, devout homes which reflected the abiding presence of God in our world. Saint Luke's couples represent God's call to holiness to married couples. Their stories lend credence to the Sacrament of Marriage. It is far more than a human institution; it reflects the glory and beauty of God. Every couple who has ever endured the agonizing birth of a child from a woman's body has been astonished by the miraculous sign. 

As the oldest of ten, I remember the miracle of birth differently. Mom would be gone for a few days and then come home with another baby. There was a new, demanding presence in the house; and the watchword was "Shh, the baby's asleep!" If a two year old, four year old, or six year old wanted to squeal, they had to do it outside. We were learning already of the sacredness of human life and its imposition on our rambunctiousness. 

With only days left before we celebrate the Birth of the Infant, we do well to observe a Christmas silence that leads us to the altar where we find Zechariah offering incense, Mary giving birth, and Jesus lifted up before God. 

 

 

Thursday of the Third Week of Advent

O Leader of the House of Israel,
giver of the Law to Moses on Sinai:
come to rescue us with your mighty power!

Lectionary: 194

Therefore, the days will come, says the LORD,
when they shall no longer say, “As the LORD lives,
who brought the children of Israel out of the land of Egypt”;
but rather, "As the LORD lives,
who brought the descendants of the house of Israel
up from the land of the north”–
and from all the lands to which I banished them;
they shall again live on their own land.

In today's first reading, we hear the Prophet Jeremiah offering his desolate disciples a shred of hope for the future. The present in Jerusalem, as the Babylonians siege the city, breach its walls, and reduce the city with its famous temple to cinder, is very bleak. 

But "the days will come, says the Lord!" 

The prophet reminds his people of what they know, have always known, and must never forget: "...the Lord brought the children of Israel out of the land of Egypt." 

Without a knowledge and love of the past, no one can face the future, especially when the present is so awful and the immediate future looks worse. The people of Jerusalem must remember that they carried little into the wilderness as they escaped Egypt, and yet the Lord sustained them for forty years. 

I led you for forty years in the wilderness. Your clothes did not fall from you in tatters nor your sandals from your feet;  it was not bread that you ate, nor wine or beer that you drank—so that you might know that I, the LORD, am your God. (Deut 29:4-5)

The Babylonian exile was several centuries before Jesus and almost twenty-five since our time. But we do not forget how the Lord sustained the Jews, our spiritual ancestors, and brought them back to Judea to restore the ruined city. More importantly, we have to stand in amazement at the continuing presence of Jewish people in the world. No other nation, tribe, or people can describe such a history of persecution, annihilation, and genocide and still praise the God of their ancestors. No one can tell how many cities, nations, and peoples have flourished and disappeared without a trace since the first humans migrated from Africa. And yet the Jews survive and continue to contribute to the well being of humankind. If anyone would see a mighty work of God they need look no further. 

Their hope is our hope as we wait for the Second Coming of Christ. Many people listen to today's news and worry obsessively. They would do better to turn off whichever communication they're using, and open a line of prayer to God. The rosary is a good start; the Mass is better. Silent visits to an open church, or withdrawing to one's private room of prayer is good. To pray is to be immersed in the history of God's people and rooted in the Word which abides forever. 

Joseph, a righteous man, prayed often; and that is why he knew the voice of God and the truth about Mary when Gabriel spoke to him. He knew Abraham, Moses, and David; and that God would not abandon his people. With that assurance he was more pleased than surprised to learn of the birth of the Messiah. 

When Joseph awoke,

he did as the angel of the Lord had commanded him

and took his wife into his home.

 

Wednesday of the Third Week of Advent

 

O Wisdom of our God Most High,
guiding creation with power and love:
come to teach us the path of knowledge!

Lectionary: 193

The book of the generation of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham: Abraham begot Isaac. And Isaac begot Jacob. And Jacob begot Judas and his brethren. (Douay-Rheims version)

Dear Reader, please bear with my preference for the word begot. When I was in school, we were taught to prefer the indicative mood over the subjunctive. And I don't know how a man passively becomes the father of anyone, except by adopting someone who is already begotten.

Begetting is the very active business of one who intends, with his wife, to generate children. And in the case of Saint Matthew's ancestry of Jesus, the faithful recognize the deliberate activity of God the Father in the series of fathers who begot sons. This is not a good time in America for emasculating men and their responsibility as husbands, fathers, and begetters of children. 

Saint Matthew's extensive genealogy leads us into a deeper experience of Advent. We cannot ignore the encroaching darkness as each day grows shorter. We feel the chill of winter coming over the land and our helplessness before its relentless progress. We need a God who will deliver us from a cold , evil darkness; and He must act soon as our situation worsens daily. 

Saint Matthew's genealogy reassures us with its deliberate cadence and structure. Something, a mighty work of God, is about to happen! 

There are forty-two fathers named, and the list is divided into three ages. First, there is the memory of Abraham and his son Isaac; who begot Jacob, the father of twelve sons. Fourteen generations are named. It's a familiar story to everyone and it draws our attention away from the danger of the present moment. The first fourteen ends with the story of David, who begot Solomon. It is a story of increasing glory and power, reminding us of our fervent hope that God might restore our former greatness.

"All nations will gather together there to honor the name of the LORD at Jerusalem, and they will no longer stubbornly follow their wicked heart." (Jeremiah 3:17)

Matthew's next fourteen recall the sad story of the sins of our fathers, and their persistent, worsening infidelity. How could that story not end in an unspeakable tragedy as Jerusalem was repeatedly assaulted and finally collapsed under the Babylonian armies? 

And then there are fourteen generations of obscurity, of unknown fathers who remembered God's promises and begot unknown sons. But we know this story is going somewhere; and, had we seen the pattern, we might have expected the last generation to reveal a mighty work of God. 

Finally, in a most wonderful way, Joseph becomes the father of Jesus when he obeys God's command to,

...take Mary your wife into your home. For it is through the holy Spirit that this child has been conceived in her. (Matt 1:20)

Throughout this account of 41 men, the Greek word has been egennēsen, an active verb meaning begat. Coming to Joseph, the 42nd father, we read its passive form, egennēthē, referring to Mary. The text says: "...Joseph, husband of Mary, out of whom was born Jesus."

Despite our sad history of sin, despite the violence and irrationality that is sometimes associated with begetting, our God has never abandoned us. He has never stopped acting in human history. Nor will he.

We have only to be patient, and make our hearts firm, because the coming of the Lord is at hand. (James 5:8-9)

Tuesday of the Third Week of Advent

Lectionary: 188

Which of the two did his father’s will?” 
They answered, “The first.” 
Jesus said to them, “Amen, I say to you,
tax collectors and prostitutes
are entering the Kingdom of God before you. 

Saint John was born, as his father Zechariah said,

...to give his people knowledge of salvation through the forgiveness of their sins....

Always, the first days of Advent remind us of God's invitation to turn away from sin and live by the Gospel. There is no other way to prepare for the birth of our savior. No one can be delivered who does not admit the need for deliverance from their sins. A boy who will not open his mouth cannot be fed. 

We all know people who cannot admit they were wrong about anything, neither simple errors of calculation nor personal wrongdoing. They rely on denials, excuses, rebuttals, and personal attacks to defend themselves from the hard truth that they were wrong. I heard of one fellow who was promised his freedom if he would submit to therapy for his pathological desires. (This was during those idealistic days when people hoped pedophilia might respond to treatment.) 

He would not have to endure the humiliation and potential abuse of prison inmates. He stood mute and gave no indication he would ever speak, leaving the judge no choice but to sentence the son of good parents, husband of a faithful wife, and father of several children to ten years. 

It's not that hard to admit I have done wrong. It may come easier to children when they are caught in foolishness or a lie, but the Gospel insistently reminds us that everyone, regardless of their age, must become childlike to enter the Kingdom of God. And so we enter the privacy of the confessional to admit to God, to another person , and to oneself, "I did wrong, I have sinned." 

There is freedom there, an astonishing freedom that feels like power. "I can do this!" one might say, despite a conviction that it was impossible. "I can say this; I can admit it; and walk free! How about that!

"And I can trust the God who always knew what I would do, was doing, and had done, to forgive me as I turned back to him. I can join the crowd of tax collectors and sinners, and take the place reserved for me at the Lord's table." 

Prepared at last for the Kingdom, we will hear tomorrow's Gospel, 

"Of her was born Jesus who is called the Christ." 

Monday of the Third Week of Advent

Lectionary: 187

The utterance of one who hears what God says,
and knows what the Most High knows,
Of one who sees what the Almighty sees,
enraptured, and with eyes unveiled:
How goodly are your tents, O Jacob;
your encampments, O Israel!

Balaam was some kind of rascal. Apparently, he was an opportunistic prophet of the pagan sort, who made a living by offering blessings to those who paid well. He could also curse your enemies for a price. 

However, when he was hired to curse the Israelites as they passed through the wilderness on the way to the Promised Land, he was unexpectedly used by the God of Israel to bless God's people. He had not intended to do that; but every time he opened his mouth, a blessing came out, much to the disappointment of his employer. It's a comical story augmented by his talking ass who was also used by God to warn him what was about to  happen. 

Unworthily blessed -- as we all are -- Balaam saw for a moment as God sees. It was an amazing and wonderful sight; and he could not contain himself when he opened his mouth:

How goodly are your tents, O Jacob;

your encampments, O Israel!

They are like gardens beside a stream,

like the cedars planted by the LORD.

His wells shall yield free-flowing waters,

he shall have the sea within reach;

His king shall rise higher,

and his royalty shall be exalted.

Many centuries later, the Lord will remind his disciples about a similar experience:

But blessed are your eyes, because they see, and your ears, because they hear.

Amen, I say to you, many prophets and righteous people longed to see what you see but did not see it, and to hear what you hear but did not hear it. (Mt 13:16)

Advent prepares us for Christmas by purifying our eyes so that we see as God sees and hear as God hears. We will recognize nonsense and we will comprehend more deeply the beauty and holiness of this season. We will appreciate the invitation to go into silence and darkness, and wait there for the star of which Balaam spoke, the star which the Magi saw. 

This will require more than a simple change of perspective; it will be more like a metamorphosis, a death and rebirth from incomprehension to delight, from indifference to gratitude. We have been promised an experience much as the world promises experiences, but the world cannot comprehend this one. They cannot see the God of Heaven and Earth in any human being, much less a baby born to homeless migrants. They cannot hear a man's dying prayer that they be forgiven as an unexpected, undeserved blessing. It's all nonsense to them, and they have more pressing concerns and less satisfying delights. 

Fool though he was, Balaam was wise enough to let himself be used by God. We should be so blessed. And we pray that we will be.

Third (Gaudate) Sunday of Advent

Lectionary: 7

Be patient, brothers and sisters,
until the coming of the Lord.
See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth,
being patient with it
until it receives the early and the late rains.
You too must be patient.

From the little I know of history, democracies and consumers are remarkably impatient. They might do well enough when the future is clear and destinations are in sight; but, those purposes achieved, their future becomes less clear; and for that reason their goals, less attainable. The United States built a powerful nation with a confident belief in Manifest Destiny; and even when the economy collapsed during the Great Depression, they recovered and then survived World War II as the most powerful nation on earth.

The future looked good as they sought to initiate the entire world and every society into capitalistic democracy. Unfortunately, there were a host of false assumptions in that package: the Earth cannot provide infinite resources for an insatiable human race; not everyone wants equality with the poorest of the poor; and sin in a million forms persistently sabotages even the most noble projects. The Lord's announcement of the coming Kingdom of God has never gone down well with consumer capitalists who want what they want when they want it. They might ask, "What sacrifices will I have to make? How much will it cost?” And, "If God’s kingdom is coming, why isn't it here already?” The Church, the Gospel, and the Lord disturb our contented, capitalistic mediocrity. We should want more. We should want peace, prosperity, and security not only for ourselves and all nations; but also for our children and grandchildren into infinity and beyond! The Gospel, the Lord, and the Catholic Church teach us patience; and remind us that the Kingdom of God is not of this world, and will never be seen in this world. Nothing on this side of death will ever satisfy us. Our desires are endless; our hunger, insatiable; our restlessness is perpetual; and nothing that we build lasts very long. The Season of Advent teaches us to wait on the Lord. It reminds us of our sins and offers hope for God’s mercy; and Guadate Sunday reminds us to rejoice in the Lord. As Saint Paul said, “Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I say, rejoice! Everyone should see how generous you are.” The word gaudete is an imperative Latin word meaning, “Rejoice!” It is a command and expects our ready, eager compliance. We should do as we’re told because the virtue of hope without joy is a sham; it is not the real thing. Those who complain all the time, who always want and expect better, who are never satisfied with good enough because their dreams are neither realized nor realistic: know nothing of hope. Hope sees the future with neither the eyes of the mind nor the imagination, but with the heart. We know in our hearts that the Lord will restore justice when mercy governs everything we do. We cannot even imagine a government that is both just and merciful. If we were to create such a world it would have no people; for people are sinful, and neither just nor merciful. When God reigns over the nations and in our hearts, we will know what justice and mercy look like. We will enjoy peace, prosperity, and security, with opportunity for everyone to contribute generously to the wellbeing of everyone else. On that day every race and language, every nation, tribe, and ethnic group; and women as well as men, will receive the dignity and respect they deserve as children of God. We will say to strangers, “Welcome to this country!” in one breath; and with the next breath, “I too have just arrived!” That is our hope and because God has promised it we have no doubt. We take God at his word and rejoice because it will certainly happen. When the magi left Jerusalem, Saint Matthew says, “...they were overjoyed at seeing the star!” They knew they were on the right track again; and that they would find the Child in Bethlehem. Gaudete Sunday is our star; it assures us that God’s word is eternal and our hope is not in vain. We are on the right track .We can rejoice like the magi. When the risen Lord appeared and showed his disciples the fatal wounds on his hands and feet, Saint John says, “The disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.” They saw the Kingdom of God in his risen body; and we see it in the Eucharistic body of Christ. In a time of persecution Saint Peter reassured the anxious and insecure when he wrote,

In this you rejoice, although now for a little while you may have to suffer through various trials, so that the genuineness of your faith, more precious than gold that is perishable even though tested by fire, may prove to be for praise, glory, and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.

Although you have not seen him you love him; even though you do not see him now you believe in him, and you rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy, as you attain the goal of [your] faith, the salvation of your souls.

We are Catholics in a capitalist society but we should not be consumers who expect to get what they want when they want it. Happiness that comes only when we get what we want is not worth the trouble. Disciples of Jesus enjoy even now, and in this world, the promise that God has given us. That hope assures our hearts and teaches us how to please God. That is a joy which surpasses understanding, and a peace the world cannot give.

We have heard today the encouragement of Saint James,

Be patient, brothers and sisters,

until the coming of the Lord.

See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth,

being patient with it

until it receives the early and the late rains.

You too must be patient.