2018

200 years ago the much loved hymn, Silent Night, composed by a priest, was first performed in a church in a small Austrian village on Christmas Eve, 1818. Since then, it has been translated into at least 300 languages for its message is universally appealing. The song makes us mindful that the night of Jesus’ birth was both silent and holy. I can imagine the setting as one traditionally believed to be in a cave, dimly lit by candles, giving Mary and Joseph enough light to dispel the darkness of that silent night.

Recently, many of us have been without electricity, thus left either in the dark or with limited lighting, perhaps even using candles to light our space. One parishioner related to me last Saturday that as she was sipping coffee and meditating amidst a sea of candles in her home that morning she noticed the absence of that light when a candle burnt out.

While it only takes the flame of one candle or the beam of one flashlight to dispel the darkness we found ourselves in this past week, the amount of light was certainly limited and so we were relieved and grateful when power was finally restored and all the lights came back on and life was “back to normal.”

As that favorite hymn suggests, the night Jesus was born was silent and holy. His presence transformed that night, moving shepherds to leave their fields and quake at the sight of him. These shepherds cared for the sheep that would be later used for sacrifices in the holy Temple. Commemorating his birth prompts us to come and likewise quake at the sight of him as well.

Just as we appreciate every bit of light, have you ever savored every bit of silent time you are blessed to have with the Lord, just as the shepherds had that night?
Or every moment of holiness that you have been blessed with? If not, perhaps you have been seduced by the greatest lie in the history of Christianity: that holiness is not possible. But keep in mind, this child came into the world with the mission to save us from the evil one and to make us holy. He is continually calling us to holiness that evolves from spending silent time in prayer with him.

Our relationship with Jesus is like any relationship in our lives. What we gain from this relationship depends on what we are willing to give. Think of the many friendships you have: members of your family, other relatives, close friends, acquaintances, classmates presently or past, neighbors, colleagues at work. Notice that the degree you relate to anyone of them varies from person to person.

The depth of your relationship pays off with close friends far more than in the case of casual friends, doesn’t it? Those whom we are close to command our frequent attention, while our acquaintances and distant relatives might be friends we only hear from once a year with a Christmas card.

Now, contemplate the depth of your friendship with this new- born babe, Jesus the Christ, who has come into the world to give you the opportunity to experience everlasting life. He came into the world on this silent holy night to invite us into an intimate relationship with him that would render us holy.

Might you be judging this relationship with Jesus to be a casual one that demands little of your attention, as little as infrequently coming to Mass or are you judging yourself as being blessed with a relationship that you judged to be very close? However you grade your friendship with Jesus outside of this worship time, know that this new born king yearns for you to become even more holy then ever and thus be a light on his behalf to others.

God is calling all of us to holiness but acceptance of that invitation need not be overwhelming. Just as every journey begins with that first step, so the trek toward holiness begins with that first step. If prayer is not part of your daily routine, I invite you to take a minimum of two minutes out of each morning, perhaps before you get out of bed, in silence and solitude, wrap yourself in gratitude before the Lord, thanking God for the gift of life and a new day. It is in silence that we come to know God and ourselves better.

Consider that time you spend with God a holy moment. As the day goes on, you undoubtedly will interact with many people. How you do is another invitation to holiness, offering you the opportunity to relate to those you encounter with love, compassion, thoughtfulness, just as Jesus would. Our many acts done in that manner truly bring light into the lives of others, dispelling whatever darkness, such as anger or hurt there may have been. Every burst of light we bring to others is another moment of holiness.

What you do during the day doesn’t make who you are, but who you are determines the kind of things you do. If you are convinced that you cannot be holy, then you are apt to do selfish things, even hateful things. But if you know that you are a child of God, full of dignity and worth, then you will do God-like things. You will create many moments of holiness.

My wish this Christmas for you is this: to be holy and be happy. Not picture-card saints, but normal saints, people, like you and me who had their faults and sins, yet humbly sought forgiveness and endeavored to have moments of holiness in their lives. They knew that holiness was the path to joy and peace. Merry Christmas!

Despite its penitential overtones with shades of purple, Advent is really meant to be a time of joy; at least that is what both Zephaniah and Paul are telling us. But joyful doesn’t mean the same thing as jolly. Joy speaks of pleasure that arises from a sense of well being or satisfaction. For some of us, that is easier said than done.

Anyone seeking joy, especially in this upcoming Christmas should ask the same question we find in the Gospel, “What should we do?” Christians seeking to live a good and decent life ought to ponder that question because our faith is not just a matter of prayer; it is also lived out in what we do.

One of my favorite storytellers, Fr. Anthony deMello offers his insight withthis fitting story.

A man said to the master, “I am in desperate need of help or I will go crazy. We’re living in a single room; my wife, my children and my in-laws. So, our nerves are on edge, we yell and scream at one another. The room is a hell.”

“Do you promise to do whatever I tell you?” asked the master gravely. “I swear I shall do anything,” he replied.

“Very well. How many animals do you have?” the master asked. “A cow, a goat and six chickens,” the man said.

“Take them all into the room with you. Then come back after a week.” The disciple was stunned. But he promised to obey! So he took the animals into his house. A week later he came back, a pitiful figure, moaning, “I’m a nervous wreck. The dirt! The stench! The noise! We’re all on the verge of madness!”

“Go back,” said the master, “and put the animals out.” The man ran all the way home. He came back the following day, his eyes sparkling with joy. “How sweet life is! The animals are out. The home is a paradise, so quiet, clean and roomy!”

Advent is a time for more than looking at the shape of our homes; it is also a time for looking at our lives and preparing for what is coming, a time for what I would call attitude adjustment. In the midst of our preparation, we should ask ourselves that same question we heard thrice in the gospel.

What should we do? Notice that each time the question was posed to John, he responded with a different answer. To the crowds, he essentially said, “Share what you have with those in need.” To the tax collectors, he told them to be honest and stop collecting more than was prescribed by the law. To the soldiers, he warned them not to falsely accuse anyone and be satisfied with their wages. Once again, the gospel provides us with a timeless question with timeless answers.

So, what should we do? When we consider the situation of our desperate friend who came to the master seeking help because of his crowded life, we can see that his living situation did not change from what it was originally to where it ended up. There was the same group, living in the same house as there had been to start with.

What changed was the man’s perception of life. After having lived with the additional animals, dirt, stench and noise, he realized that his original situation was no so bad after all. In fact, he found tremendous peace and joy, realizing how greatly blessed he was.

So what should we do? John is challenging his listeners to go beyond casual charity so ask yourself, “When was the last time you were inspired to change your life in a practical and charitable way?” Keep in mind that God has blessed us with life and given us all that we need to nurture that life. Life need not be seen as luring us to get more and more just because our consumer-oriented society demands it.

Behind that drive we assume is the inner quest for joy yet John’s observation suggest that joy can be found not in the pursuit of more than we already possess but in a greater appreciation of what we already have. That makes sense for joy and happiness cannot be found in our hearts if anxiety, selfishness, and ingratitude reside there as well.

So what should we do? We should slow down and smell the roses as the saying goes. Then, patiently and carefully we should see what life is all about. Just think of the treasures we have received from our generous God: the freedom and good health, for example, to gather here for worship. There are many people elsewhere who cannot do that.

When selfishness is replaced by selflessness; when confidence shows anxiety the door; when inattention to God is turned to prayer; when ingratitude is changed to thanksgiving, then joy and peace come to stand guard in our hearts. Bringing happiness to others increases your chances of being happy and joyful. Yes, we should, as Paul suggest, shout for joy. We should rejoice in the Lord always. I say it again, rejoice for we have much to be thankful for!

If joy is what we want in our lives, I am certain that John would tell us that there is no better way for us to find it than to love tenderly, act justly, and walk humbly. Be mindful of others and the joy you seek will be yours in this lifetime and the next.

Last week, I ran across an article on the subject of nones. Have you heard of them? They are those people who check off the box, “none,” when it comes to religious preferences. This reminded me of a parody of the Night Before Christmas, which describes those who make little time for Jesus in their lives.

‘Twas the night before Jesus came and all through the house
not a creature was praying, not one in the house.
Their bibles were lain on the shelf without care,
in hopes that Jesus would not come there.

The children were dressing to crawl into bed,
not once ever kneeling or bowing a head;
And mom in her rocker with baby on her lap,
was watching the late show while I took a nap.

When out of the east there rose such a clatter,
I sprang to my feet to see what was the matter;
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
threw open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The light of his face made me cover my head,
it was Jesus returning, just like he said.
And though I possessed worldly wisdom and wealth,
I cried when I saw him in spite of myself.

In the Book of Life, which he held in his hand,
was written the name of every saved man.
He spoke not a word as he searched for my name.
When he said, “It’s not here!” my head hung in shame.

The people whose names had been written with love,
He gathered to take to his Father above.
With those who were ready He rose without a sound,
while all the rest were left standing around.

I fell to my knees, but it was too late;
I waited too long and thus sealed my fate.
I stood and cried as they rose out of sight.
Oh, if only I had been ready tonight.

In the words of this poem the meaning is clear,
the coming of Jesus is drawing quite near.
There’s only one life and when the last name is called,
we’ll find that the Bible was true after all.

With great excitement many who do follow Jesus are awaiting his return. As though this news is too good to be true. Amidst the immensity of all creation, God’s son took on human flesh, became one with us, was born of a virgin who was conceived without sin, mingled in our midst, died for us, then rose from the dead. Now we await his return as the Son of Man.

Meanwhile every Advent as we await his return, we hear the same message from John the Baptist, challenging us to “Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths. Every valley shall be filled and every mountain and hill shall be made low. The winding roads shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth.” John comes with a message of hope, telling us, “and all shall see the salvation of God.” What awesome news! This is God’s dream for all humanity to help us build a better world. God wants to save us but for that to happen, we need to heed John’s directives, so what is he asking us to do?

John is urging us to think of what we need to let go of that stands in the way between God and us. Is anything blocking you from having an intimate relationship with Jesus Christ? What, if anything, is hindering you from savoring the gift of peace that God so generously offers us in the person of his son, Jesus, through the Mass, the Eucharist, the scriptures, and the tenets of our faith?

John the Baptist urges us to fill our valleys and level our mountains, not literally with bulldozers but with attention to what fosters our relationship with Christ and others. The valleys he speaks of are created by kind words never spoken, compassionate deeds left undone, bread not shared, prayers not said, neighbors not welcomed, the poor ignored, deeds and words unforgiven, or expressions of a person’s love that have gone unnoticed or unappreciated.

John challenges us to level our mountains of pride, arrogance, blind ambition, unbridled selfishness, domineering attitudes, all of which preclude us from experiencing and sharing God’s gift of love. He calls on us to smooth our rough ways of anger, impatience, intolerance, prejudice, racism, bigotry, and favoritism that leaves anyone feeling excluded. Heeding John’s call to repentance could result in some of the best Christmas presents that you and others could hope to receive.

Undoubtedly, you have a wish list of what you would like for Christmas, a thing or two that you want to add to your worldly possessions.As many Christmas carols suggest, joy is what many of us are really seeking in life, especially during this time of the year. Might joy be on your wish list? Years ago, a British theologian, Evelyn Underhill, made this observation about joy that I imagine John the Baptist would agree with. “This is the secret of joy. We shall no longer strive for our own way; but commit ourselves, easily and simply, to God’s way, acquiesce in his will and in doing so, find our peace.” To truly prepare for the coming of Christ, the Prince of Peace, accost that which prevents you from acting justly, walking humbly, and loving tenderly. Then see for yourself that Jesus is indeed quite near!

Today we celebrate Jesus Christ as king of the ages. Oddly enough, we do not encounter Jesus in a very majestic setting in this gospel passage. Instead, he appears to be on trial, but actually Pilate is the one on trial and so are we. In his last remark to Pilate, Jesus points out, “Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” Do we?

Listening to the voice of Jesus has guided the conscience of many through out the centuries since Jesus spoke those words. One who listened was Private Joseph Schultz, a loyal, young German patrol soldier on duty in Yugoslavia shortly after Germany invaded it during WW II.

One day the sergeant called out Schultz and seven other soldiers. They thought they were going on a routine patrol, as they hitched up their rifles. Soon they came to a hill, still not knowing what their mission would be.

Eight Yugoslavs stood on the brow of that hill. Before long, the soldiers realized what their mission was. They lined up. The sergeant barked out, “Ready!” and they lifted their rifles. “Aim!” and they got their sights. Suddenly in the silence that prevailed, there was the thud of a rifle butt hitting the ground.

The sergeant and the seven other soldiers watched as Private Schultz walked toward the eight Yugoslavs. His sergeant ordered him to come back, but he pretended not to hear. Instead, he walked the fifty paces to the mound of the hill, and joined hands with the eight Yugoslavians. There was a moment of silence, then the sergeant yelled, “Fire!” And Private Schultz died, mingling his blood with those innocent men and women. Found on his body was an excerpt from St. Paul, “Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices in the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres.”

As always, the gospel comes back to haunt us. Light and darkness, right and wrong, principle or compromise, Pilate or Jesus. Each day, the words of Jesus should echo in the ears of every Christian. “For this I was born and I came into the world, to testify to the truth.” That is what we are here for, isn’t it? As his followers, are we testifying to the truth?

Alas, judging by the shape the world is in, not everyone, not even every Christian, is listening to Jesus’ voice and upholding the truth. Instead, many people follow the example of Pilate, choosing instead to ignore the truth and compromise their principles. If we belong to the truth, then we would never compromise what it means to be committed to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

The Catechism of the Church tells us what we must do in good conscience. “The duty of Christians impels them to act as witnesses of the gospel and of the obligations that flow from it. Witness is an act of justice that establishes the truth or makes it known.”

By the way we live our lives, we declare where our loyalties lie. Do our values resonate with those spelled out throughout the Gospels and the teachings of our faith? For example, Jesus tells us to extend forgiveness, love, service to the less fortunate, compassion to the sick, and to respect all life. The Church provides a contemporary ring by challenging us to welcome immigrants and oppose euthanasia, abortion, and capital punishment.

“My kingdom doesn’t belong to this world,” Jesus said. So where is it? His kingdom exists wherever people embody Jesus’ manner of acting and relating to one another. With his own life, Jesus demonstrated how to put such values into practice. Down through the centuries, saints, like Private Schultz, have imitated his example and so do we when we truly listen to his voice. As our eternal King, he is deserving of our service.

But let’s not kid ourselves. It isn’t easy in this culture of ours to stand apart from the American dream, portrayed by the entertainment industry, political movements, the courts, to name a few, which often promote causes that run contrary to the message of the gospel and the voice of Jesus Christ.

Our attitude about sin has changed significantly in the past few decades. Consequently, we find ourselves struggling between what we value as Christians and the contemporary wisdom of our times. Each time we ignore the truth of the Gospel; we compromise our values as Pilate did. When we convince ourselves that something that is wrong in the sight of God is OK, then we are not listening to Jesus.

Those who are strangers to his truth fail to see the evil of sin. They think that God’s moral absolutes are negotiable when in fact they are not.

In the spiritual exercises of St. Ignatius, there is a meditation entitled the Two Banners. On one side is the banner of pride, self-indulgence, and comfort. Does that sound familiar? It is the banner of Satan. On the other side is the banner of humility, sacrifice, and self-denial, the standard of Christ the King. When all is said and done, there is only one banner we can march under: Satan or Christ the King. As I said earlier, by the way we live, we declare where our loyalties lie. So, which banner are you marching under?

If Jesus Christ is your king, then for your sake, listen to him!

In the gospel passage, Jesus heals ten lepers. There’s nothing trivial about this gift. To be cured of this dreaded disease is the same as being freed from prison. Now that they are clean, these ten former lepers can return home to be reunited with their family and loved ones. You’d think that all ten would have come back to Jesus filled with much gratitude for what happened, but only one of them did.

So Jesus asked, “Were not all ten made whole?” he doesn’t answer the question for us, but I would venture to say no, the absent nine were not made whole. Oh, they may have been cured of their leprosy but something was missing. To be a whole person is to acknowledge that we are dependent on one another and on God for our well-being.

Throughout its history, our nation has celebrated the simple truth that we owe much to God and for this we are grateful. In 1789, George Washington urged that a day of public thanksgiving and prayer be observed so that we could render “our sincere and humble thanks for his kind care and protection to the people of this country.”

Another president made this observation, “We have been the recipients of the choicest bounties of heaven; we have been preserved these many years in peace and prosperity; we have grown in numbers, wealth and power as no other nation has ever grown.

“But we have forgotten God. We have forgotten the gracious hand which preserved us in peace and multiplied and enriched and strengthened us, and we have vainly imagined, in the deceitfulness of our hearts, that all these blessings were produced by some superior wisdom and virtue of our own. Intoxicated with unbroken success, we have become too self-sufficient to feel the necessity of redeeming and preserving grace, too proud to pray to the God who has made us.”

That president was Abraham Lincoln. With those words, he proclaimed Thanksgiving Day as a national holiday to be celebrated on the last Thursday of November, which our country has done since 1863.

On a day that is largely given over to turkey and dressing, eating and drinking, family and football, we have gathered here this morning to hear the word of God and share in the bread of life, to celebrate the Eucharist, which in Greek, means “Thanksgiving.” No one compels us to be here, but we come, knowing in our hearts and minds and even our gut that it is right and fitting always and everywhere to give thanks to God for all that we have been given.

For some of us the words may not come easy or be spoken with the same vigor and enthusiasm as expressed in these readings. We may have had a year of disappointments and hardships. We may have known the testiness, ill will and peevishness of people from whom we had hoped for love and understanding. We may have tasted illness and death yet no matter what, we know deep in our hearts that God is there even in our driest moments. God never promised us success or happiness or ease. God promises instead to be present to us in our winters, our deserts, our failures, in every moment of our lives.

Expressing our gratitude need not be elaborate; simply to say the words is often sufficient to convey our indebtedness to the donor, whose action usually leaves us richer. If we don’t express them, what message does that send to the giver? If we don’t hear them, are we left thinking that the recipient doesn’t appreciate what we have done? And if we feel slighted, imagine how God may feel for all that we have been given. Unexpressed gratitude is like winking at someone in the dark. You know how you feel about them, but they don’t.

Thank you. Two simple words yet they convey so much, don’t they?

On this day, I especially want to say thank you for the many ways you strive to make our parish a vibrant faith community, so in closing, I say, “Thank you and thank God.”