2005

In recent years there has been a lively controversy about the secularization of Christmas.  For the sake of being politically correct, many people speak of winter holidays instead of Christmas. In some circles, saying, “Merry Christmas” has become forbidden speech. Whether one regards this debate as being silly or serious, it does raise an important question: what do we celebrate on December 25th?

We tend to romanticize the story of Christmas, focusing on a baby born in a stable 2000 years ago, greeted by shepherds and angels. Consequently, we could overlook what God had in mind that night. I believe the real message of Christmas is summed up in what happened not in Bethlehem, but in Nazareth, when the angel, Gabriel, appeared to Mary the first time. To paraphrase his message, he told her, “You shall bear a son and name him Jesus and he shall be nicknamed Emmanuel, which means ‘God with us.’”

In other words, the message of Christmas is that God deeply desires to be with us. To appreciate God’s passion for us, I would like to share a true story I read years ago of what happened one Christmas Day to a family as they traveled from San Francisco back home to Los Angeles. Along the way, they stopped for lunch at a restaurant that was nearly deserted. They were the only family in the place, definitely, the only family with any children.

While they sat, waiting for their meal to be served, the one-year-old son, Erik, squealed with glee, “Hi there,” pounding his fat baby hands on the high metal chair. His face was alive with excitement. His grin showed his bare gums.  As he giggled, his mother noticed the source of his merriment.

Across the restaurant, near the check out counter, there sat an old man in a tattered, dirty, greasy rag of a coat, with baggy pants, a worn shirt and threadbare shoes, and a face like none other with gums as bare as Erik’s. “Hi there, baby. Hi there, big boy. I see ya, buster.” He said.  Erik’s parents looked at each other, wondering, “What shall we do now?”

Erik continued to laugh and answer “Hi there,” to every line the old man said to him. The guy was obviously drunk and disturbing. Erik’s parents were embarrassed. Even their six-year old son asked, “Why is that old man talking so loud?”

As they were leaving the restaurant after paying the bill, the mother prayed, “Lord, just let me get out of here before that bum speaks to me or Erik.”  Apparently the Lord and Erik had other plans. As she drew close to the old man, the mother tried to sidestep him. As she did so, Erik leaned over, reaching out with both arms in a baby’s pick me up position.  As she tried to balance Erik, the mother came eye to eye with the old man.

His eyes sent the message, “Would you let me hold your baby?” Before she could say anything, Erik propelled himself from her arms to the old man. Suddenly a very old man and a very young baby consummated their love relationship.

Erik laid his tiny head on the old man’s ragged shoulder. Meantime, the old man closed his eyes. As she watched, the mother could see the old man’s tears. His aged hands, full of grime, gently cradled the baby and stroked his back. After cradling Erik in his arms for a moment, he then pried the child from his chest, unwillingly and longingly as though he was in pain. Handing Erik back to his mother, he said, “God bless you, Ma’am. You’ve given me my Christmas gift.”

Leaving the restaurant, the mother found herself crying and holding tightly onto Erik. And saying to herself as she walked toward the car, “My God, forgive me. Forgive me.”

Simply put, in this story, the bum represents us and Erik is God yearning for us ragged bums with our tattered lives, our tattered hurts, our tattered relationships, and our tattered sins.  Like Erik, God is determined to hug the least likely among us. Through thick and thin, as the expression goes, God wants to be with us. Are we yearning for God as much as the bum did for Erik?

If God is not with us and if God has not embraced our tattered lives, then we are lost. There is no hope and there is no light, only darkness and despair. If we won’t allow God to hug us, then we are here out of fruitless hope, pressured routine or empty sentimentality.  But if we are here because of love, God’s unconditional love, then we have caught the meaning of Christmas. Emmanuel, God with us.

What we celebrate on December 25 is the reality that God is with us, not just today, but every day of our lives. For us to realize that, we must do what we can to bring the light of Christ to others in our midst doing our share to dispel the darkness of sin with love, compassion, mercy and a willingness to forgive. God’s presence and love will be experienced when we endeavor to follow Paul’s advice to Titus: reject godless ways and worldly desires, striving instead to live justly, temperately, and devoutly.

What we celebrate, my friends, is the opportunity to know God personally and intimately. May you have a beautiful Christmas, blessed with joy and love beyond your expectations as you celebrate God’s present to you of his presence in your life.

Maintaining a car is no cheap proposition. Oil changes aren’t too bad, but those occasional lube jobs can be a bit costly to someone on a limited income, yet they are necessary routine expenses if a car is to be kept in optimum condition. They are bargains compared to replacing the timing belt. As one friend learned recently, failing to replace a timing belt in a timely manner can destroy an engine beyond repair. Maintaining our bodies likewise is a necessary investment if we are to remain healthy. Any doctor will tell you the need for a good diet, exercise, and adequate sleep if you want to be healthy. Ignore any of these and sooner or later you could pay the price with a serious illness or an accident. What is true for the well-being of our bodies and cars is true for our souls as well. These readings tell us that repentance is as important for the well-being of our souls as a lube job would be for a car or a good diet for the body. Isaiah calls the Israelites to repentance. “Make straight in the wasteland a highway to our God!” Peter tells his listeners, “All should come to repentance.” John the Baptist appears in the desert with the same message, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. Those who heard him firsthand responded by acknowledging their sins. I wouldn’t be surprised if John’s call to repentance doesn’t move a number of you one bit. You might be thinking, “Father, we’re not bad people. Would we even be here listening to you if we were?”

According to US Catholic, there has been a real shift in many Catholics’ attitude toward sin and the sacrament of reconciliation. Nearly half of all those interviewed had never or rarely celebrated the sacrament. They saw no need to do so or they had a litany of excuses. Perhaps it was a matter of convenience. “Father, I am busy on Saturdays.” Another excuse was, “Father, I am not a sinner.” In reply, I would have to say, “Excuse me? You mean to say that you aren’t human?” One trait we all share is that we sin, some more than others. Some of us may be in a state of denial, not seeing a certain act as sinful. Others downplay its harmful potential. “It is just a little sin, Father.” We shouldn’t kid ourselves about the harmful effects of sin in our lives anymore than we would ignore the harmful effects of smoking. A cigarette by itself won’t do much harm but added up over a period of time, cigarettes do pose a grave danger to one’s health. The same could be said for the accumulation of our sins. When left unchecked, they pose a grave danger to our relationship with God and others. Last week, I described small sins like dust particles. The sins of good people are dusty kinds of sin, rarely noticed without a closer look: complacency, smugness, procrastination, envy, taking people for granted, self-preoccupation, chronic complaining, pettiness, rudeness, ingratitude, and laziness.

Those sinful conditions are in need of repentance, much like any other sin for they can keep the presence of God remote to our experience. In biblical times, people knew that they had violated divine laws. Today, people are not so sure that right and wrong exist or that we are responsible for our actions. Sin seems to be a foreign word in our secular culture. It has no meaning for some beyond “something that some people think is bad.” We devote two Sundays each advent to John the Baptist and his call to repentance for one very obvious reason. If we are to truly receive Jesus Christ into our hearts, then first they must be changed and that only happens through repentance. That is best done by celebrating what I call the forgotten sacrament, reconciliation. In his name, Jesus has given power to priests to forgive sins. Sadly, this is one gift that many of us ignore, much like a Christmas present that we don’t appreciate or don’t know how to use. So like the forgotten present tucked away in a closet, we don’t bother to make use of this divine gift.

In case you didn’t know, every sin confessed to a priest remains a secret. We call this the seal of confession. A priest has to guard that secret and usually does by erasing it from his memory. What matters is not how often one celebrates this sacrament but how well. Take time to examine your conscience. Do some soul searching to remind you of your sins. When you come, tell the priest how long it has been since you have been to confession, and then share with him your sins. The sacrament was not designed by God to punish us but to offer us comfort. Reconciliation is an incredible opportunity for us to grow closer to God by wiping clean whatever it is that hinders us from fully knowing his divine love. For those who prefer to confess anonymously, I urge you to either visit a neighboring parish or come to our Advent reconciliation service on Wednesday, December 14th at 7 PM when Fr. Powell from Oak Harbor will be here. Come on this evening and “prepare the way of the Lord. Make straight in the wasteland a highway for our God!”

Years ago I attended a seminar in Bellingham. I forget what the topic was, but I never forgot the speaker’s opening line. He made the rather bold claim that there are only two statements using the verb, “must,” that are true. He then asked us to name them. I spoke up and said, “What goes up must come down.” Throwing his keys up in the air to demonstrate the point, he agreed. Others offered their ideas but one by one he refuted them. Finally, someone said, “You must breathe.” “Not necessarily,” the speaker replied, “But if I quit breathing, what would happen to me?” We then realized that the other true statement is we must die. That is one reality we cannot escape.

Someday we will all die, but as Jesus notes, we do not know when. This passage from Mark’s gospel is seen by many as his parable on the second coming of Christ but our odds of witnessing that event in our lifetime is rather slim. The lesson Jesus shares becomes more practical when we keep in mind that some day our lives will end and when that day comes, will Jesus find us “sleeping” or being watchful?

It is easy for us to be lulled into a routine that can draw us away from being watchful in the manner that Jesus is calling us to be, that is, living each day as though the next sunrise we see may be our last.

Be on guard is Mark’s Advent message, but it is a message that the world we live in tends to ignore. How ready are you to die? I suspect a fair number of us would beg for a reprieve. Not so for one man, named Foster Walker, who walked into a store while a hold up was taking place. The gunman pointed his pistol at him and demanded his money. Walker said, “Go ahead and shoot. I just got through reading my Bible and I’ve already said my prayers.” The robber was dumbfounded and Walker just walked away.

I don’t know if I would have been courageous had I been in his shoes yet that is what Jesus is telling us to do. Prepare yourself. Be alert. Be watchful. Be ready to cross that threshold for you and I do not know when he will come. This Sunday I want to help you capture that sense of urgency that Mark is presenting in the gospel. Because we live in a “feel good” culture, we cannot imagine how people in biblical times felt about meeting God. For them, the thought of meeting God caused awe. They recognized a plain fact that many of us ignore about ourselves. Namely, we are sinners. We have distanced ourselves from God, even telling him that he is not welcomed in certain parts of our lives. Be honest with yourself. Just how important is God in the course of any given day?

The odds are, you and I have not turned away from God in dramatic ways. We may not have committed adultery or abortion, or denied Jesus or renounced our faith. Still, we have done smaller things that when added up; they could amount to a subtle denial of God in our lives. I am thinking of the small sins we commit that can have enormous consequences: the little lies, the resentments that fester, the unchecked temper, impulsive decisions, a certain laziness, a lack of courage to stand up for what you believe in. Alone, these sins are like dust particles. Hardly noticeable, but when left unchecked, they can leave behind a dirty sight. As CS Lewis said, “The surest road to hell is the gradual one.”

Face it, we are creatures of habit and quite likely some of our habits are not all that healthy. When it comes to our physical well being, doctors urge us not to smoke, watch what we eat and to exercise more. For some of us, that means breaking old habits that would otherwise kill us.

Taking on new healthy habits, however, doesn’t come easy. The same could be said for our spiritual well being. Many of us have become creatures of habit with our faith. Over the years, the dust of routine has been falling silently. Perhaps we are only going through the motions, taking part in rituals that have somehow lost freshness and meaning. We don’t hear the gospel anymore, as though it goes in one ear and out the other. How meaningful is our relationship with God?

Advent calls us to wake up and shake off the dust from our routine and let Christ come alive in our lives once more. We should reflect back on the past year and evaluate our daily habits and routines and ask ourselves if they have drawn us closer to God or away from God. There is no reason why we cannot make New Year’s resolutions right now, for this weekend marks the start of a new liturgical year. We should ask ourselves what we can do to make our relationship with God even more intimate than it has been, and then resolve to make that our new habit.

Each of us is the gatekeeper of the house of our souls. This is why Jesus is warning us to watch out for his coming at the end of the world or at the end of our lives, whichever comes first. He is warning us that his coming could catch us off guard. Since our remaining time is precious and limited, he is urging us to begin living in such a way that if he came tonight, we would be ready and prepared.

This could be your last Advent. What I say to you, I say to all: be watchful! Be alert! The moment God has in store for your divine encounter may come when you least expect, but when it does, may you be ready!

Whenever I took a class in school, the end of the course usually meant a final exam. Some finals left me uneasy, especially if the subject had been difficult, like physics or philosophy, so while studying, I would wonder, “What sort of questions will the professor ask? Do I understand everything that matters? Can I bluff my way if need be?” Alas, studying didn’t always insure a passing grade, for sometimes I really didn’t grasp what the professor considered relevant.

This weekend, the Church celebrates the end of another year, the liturgical year, with the feast of Christ the King. This somber gospel passage  suggests that every person who has ever lived will be given this final exam  to determine their eternal fate.

Think back over the past twelve months. We have been on a pilgrimage with Jesus, listening to his many lessons on just what the kingdom of  heaven is all about. What did you learn? Have you learned what really  matters?

Ideally, we have learned what Christ expects of us as his followers. With  this parable, he is giving us a sneak preview of what will be on the final  exam of life. The Church calls them the corporal works of mercy; clothing  the naked, welcoming the stranger, visiting the imprisoned, giving drink to the thirsty, feeding the hungry, and caring for the sick, The golden thread woven through all of this is love.

One might think that good works then is all that we need to pass this final exam for our salvation, but that suggests we can “earn” our way into  heaven and we can’t. After all, heaven is God’s gift to us; a gift that we  can freely accept or reject. Faith, grace and the sacraments are also essential to our salvation, but our response to that invitation is made evident by our deeds or lack of deeds.

The Christian writer, Frederick Buechner, put it this way. “Many an atheist is a believer without knowing it. Just as many a believer is an atheist without knowing it. You can sincerely believe there is no God and live as though  there is one. You can sincerely believe there is a God and live as though there is not.” So, are we living the faith we profess?

In today’s gospel, Jesus calls us to see Christ in others, to serve others because in doing so, we serve Christ, to respect and honor others because  they possess the very life and dignity of Christ. In doing for others what we would do for Christ, we can transform our homes, and communities, our churches and workplaces into the kingdom of God where the peace and justice of Christ will truly reign.

Even the saints were sometimes slow in learning this lesson. By her own admission, it was only after she had been a nun for twenty years that St. Teresa of Avila experienced a true conversion to Jesus. Thereafter, she spent her energy in the service of others, fully aware that, as this parable implies, God is counting on us. In one of her prayers, she wrote, “Christ has no body on earth but yours, no hands but yours, no feet but yours. Yours are the eyes through which he is to look out; Christ’s compassion to the world. Yours are the feet with which he is to go about doing good. Yours the hands with which he is to bless now.”

St. Teresa understood that if the mission of Jesus Christ is to be  accomplished between now and his Second Coming, then it must be done with your hands and mine, with your eyes and mine, with your feet and mine. At the heart of this gospel challenge is the fact that each of us is personally responsible and will be held accountable when, at life’s final audit, we meet our saving Lord and brother, face to face.

In the cathedral in Lubeck, Germany, there is an engraving that reads, “Thus speaks Christ our Lord to us, you call me master and obey me not; you call me light and see me not; you call me the way and walk me not; you call me the life and live me not; you call me wise and follow me not;  you call me fair and love me not; you call me rich and ask me not; you call me eternal and see me not. If I condemn thee, blame me not.” That is the wakeup call I hear in this gospel. The outcome of our judgment is ultimately in our hands.

Those who did not feed him, give him water, did not welcome him, did not clothe him, and did not care for him will be sent off to eternal punishment. The grade we get at our judgment does not depend on how religious we are, or how well we know our faith, but on how well we live our faith. That was the constant lesson Jesus pointed out to his listeners then and that is his lesson for us still. With the image of sheep and goats, he cautions that those who are strong on doctrine but short on ethics will be in for a surprise when they discover belatedly that they didn’t learn everything that was really relevant in life.

Speaking of surprises, CS Lewis had this to say. “When you get to heaven, there will be three surprises. First, we will be surprised by the people that  we find there, many of whom we surely had not expected to see. The  second surprise is that we will be surprised by the people who are absent—the ones we expected to see but who are not there. The third surprise, of course, will be that we’re there.”

Should we be surprised if we are there? Not if we do our homework, for together, love, faith, and good works provide us with the lessons we need for a passing grade on the most important final exam we will ever take.

The whole point of this lengthy gospel parable is that Jesus expects us to do something for the salvation of the world. What we do is determined by our own talents, not only our God-given abilities, as the word suggests, but also our treasures. Historically, talents were units of money in biblical times. Eventually, the word came to mean those abilities within us that  enable us to earn money, such as those that enable the artist to create art that sells.

This gospel passage is a wake up call. Are we using our talents responsibly? Not just those skills and natural abilities we have, but also our financial resources. God gives us both. We are all blessed to some degree, some more than others, as were the servants in today’s parable.

Some of you have greater wealth than others in our midst who can barely make ends meet. Still, there is not a single person here who is utterly destitute.

How we use our talents doesn’t depend on the balance in our checking account, but on how readily we trust that God will be there to take care of us in our need. So long as there is an element of fear, we remain reluctant, as was the third servant, to use what we have responsibly.

How responsible have we been when it comes to building up the kingdom of God? I suspect a fair number of “would be” disciples in our midst take the same minimalist approach as the reluctant servant did when it comes to handling their talents. For whatever reason, they are unwilling to invest
what they have to build up the kingdom of God. Some may argue that the parish doesn’t need “my hard earned money.”

Or “I have nothing worthwhile to contribute,” or “What I can afford to give of my treasure and talent wouldn’t make any difference anyway.”

I beg to differ. What you give would make a big difference not only to the parish but also to you.

I can see why some give little or nothing to the parish. I read recently that 49% of American families don’t pay their bills on time, 65% don’t do a good job of staying out of debt, 65% don’t balance their checkbooks, 82% don’t adequately save for their future needs, and that poor financial management is a significant cause for divorces.

It seems that many people struggle with stewardship, not only when it comes to supporting their parish, but also when it comes to their personal finances as well.

Good stewardship is crucial to our spiritual and emotional well being. All of us are called to a spirit of generosity with our gifts of treasure and talent.

One who doesn’t share is known as a miser, and as Charles Dickens made clear in his classic, The Christmas Carol, a miser is not a happy person. Conversely, we all know people who share generously of their resources. They are usually happy and at peace with themselves. Happiness comes from sharing, from being generous, and from using our finances for the sake of something greater than one’s self, for example, building up the kingdom of God.

We often give to a need, and we do so generously, but something few of us realize is our need to give. I speak on stewardship, not for the sake of this parish, but primarily for the sake of its parishioners. Winston Churchill once said, “We make a living by what we get; we make a life by what we give.”

Instead of approaching life with a “me-first” mentality, Jesus often urges us to live life with an attitude of gratitude. And we do that best by living a life of stewardship. The first step would be making a pledge. Think of it as a planned gift to be given each week. Like the other essentials in your family budget, such as food, mortgage payments, and utilities, this gift shouldn’t be seen as an after thought, but as a priority.

Secondly, give proportionately, that is, in light of how you have been blessed. Instead of giving the same amount of money as you did last year, give the same percentage of your income. Consider using the biblical notion of tithing.

Many people give five percent to the parish and five percent to other charities, such as the Annual Catholic Appeal. Make your gift sacrificial. It then becomes a gift that you are proud to give as a present to the Lord in gratitude for all that you have received. If five percent of your income is too much of a sacrifice to make now, then think about giving 2% or 4% to the parish.

The servant who buried his master’s money in the ground condemned himself with his own words, for he knew that he would be held accountable. “I knew that you were a demanding person.” He was punished, not because of how he managed the funds but because he did not take his responsibilities seriously enough.

Hopefully we are taking our responsibilities seriously. By virtue of our baptism we are expected to build up the kingdom of God by using our  talents and treasures. Live a life of stewardship and someday you will hear those beautiful words, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”