Homilies

Unlike most Sunday readings, which we hear only every three years, the beautiful message of Epiphany is repeated every year on this feast. The passage from Isaiah envisions the nations streaming toward a restored Jerusalem, bearing gifts and proclaiming God’s praises; the psalm heralds God’s choice of a king who will manifest justice and peace to all nations and is concerned about the poor. The gospel relates the wonderful story of wise men, sages, from the east who are led by a star to come and worship this newborn king. They were the first Gentiles to seek and recognize Jesus; in so doing, they foreshadow the way Gentiles would flock to Christian communities in the early Church, bearing their own gifts of time, treasure and talent.

We opened our liturgy with the beloved hymn, We Three Kings, but most likely these men were not kings, rather, they were stargazers. They had heard about the messiah of Israel and led by a star, they came looking for him on a journey that took years. However, the messiah they expected was not the messiah they encountered. The messiah they found was a toddler tucked away in a small house in Bethlehem, not a powerful warrior intent on politically liberating his people. Nonetheless, they saw this child as the king of Israel and did him homage, giving him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Since only three gifts were mentioned, we assume there were only three wise men.

The good news of these readings, indeed of this feast, is that Jesus, the king of glory, has now been revealed to all the nations, not just to the chosen people of Israel. This Jewish child named Jesus has significance for all the peoples of the world, not just Jews. As we heard moments ago, “All kings shall pay him homage, all nations shall serve him.” Alas, after 2000 years, most of humanity has yet to hear, much less appreciate the good news of our newborn king. Consequently, many have yet to bring their gifts to him.

All the readings for today’s feast underscore the welcome God extends to all peoples. The psalm sings of how every nation on earth will adore God’s anointed one. The letter to the Ephesians emphasizes that “the Gentiles are members of the same body and copartners in the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel.” There are no second-class members in God’s community. All are equal.

While God’s will for universal salvation seems obvious to us, really embracing it, really integrating it into our hearts is as challenging as it gets. We may all believe that everyone is created in God’s image and loved and cherished by God. Still, we might check ourselves for any inclination to marginalize others. Who do we tend to dismiss or disregard? While we might easily say God loves everyone, is that really how we feel?

Paul’s insistence on equal status for the Gentiles reveals the struggles of the early Christian communities to make this a reality. While the challenge in welcoming Gentiles has long been overcome, others still face us today. What welcome is given to people of different races? Or to peoples from foreign countries or those with a different socio-economic status? Or to those of a different sexual orientation? This feast invites us to ponder the reality of prejudice in our lives. Facing our prejudices and working to dismantle them is a difficult task that is easier said than done. It takes a lifetime, but it is possible to do so with the help of the Spirit.

Every year, the week following Epiphany is designated by our conference of bishops as National Migration Week; our bishops invite us to reflect on the kind of welcome we provide to the many undocumented immigrants who live and work in our country, often doing service jobs that few others want to do and to the many refugees at our borders seeking a better and safer life for their families and an escape from the political turmoil in their native lands. Just as many Jewish Christians struggled to accept Gentiles into their community, many of us struggle to accept these “outsiders,” who like the magi bear gifts of immeasurable value for our communities.

Epiphany means the act of showing something. God used this moment to reveal his Son first to the Magi, then to the whole world. Are we likewise revealing Jesus to the world around us by what we say and do?

Today’s feast challenges us to be both seekers and guides, to be disciples who seek and find Christ, and then show others the way. The same child whose light brought such joy to the magi, now offers his mercy and love to every person. Through us, every day, Christ feeds multitudes; he heals, teaches and guides countless peoples. Through simple acts of kindness or international coordinated efforts, the world encounters through the Christian community the tangible presence of Christ in our midst.

To celebrate Epiphany is to celebrate the revelation of the star seen by the magi, the light of Christ, to the whole world. People of every race, culture and nation are called to follow that star. We are called to be one with each other in faith, hope and love, without suppressing our diversity or differences. We are called to rejoice that our church is Catholic, that is, universal; a composite of cultures and nations that despite their differences is led by the light of Christ. If we follow the magi, always seeking the Lord and his ways, then we will be wise women and wise men.

Days ago on Christmas, we celebrated the birth of Jesus, the Word of God, as a human being. He entered our world as part of a family, so now we celebrate something we have in common with him. All of us grew up in a family. Typically, that included parents and for most of us siblings. For some, however, parents and or siblings may be missing, yet they too grew up in some manner of a family setting, perhaps being raised by grandparents or other relatives.

Each of the readings today speaks to the importance of families, those units that shape us throughout our lives from infancy onward. Sirach provides a beautiful reflection on care and concern for one’s parents and Paul urges us to bear with one another, forgive one another, love one another, and to be thankful. Today’s gospel portrays Joseph as a model of a caring and watchful spouse and parent.

We know that family life is complicated. This isn’t just a modern reality. Throughout scripture, we can read much about heartache, lies, cheating, and the like as much as we read about love, fidelity, and steadfastness. No family is perfect and all families are made up of imperfect people.

Most of us think of the holy family of Joseph, Mary and Jesus as being the ideal one, clean and lovely with halos reflecting a sanctity no other family could possibly achieve. Not so, this family had its share of struggles and hard times, perhaps even more so than your family ever did. As we heard in the gospel, fearing for their safety, Joseph flees to Egypt to avoid the wrath of King Herod and provide a safe haven for Mary and Jesus. When Herod died, he returned to Israel, not to his hometown of Bethlehem, but to Nazareth.

Look in the dictionary and you will find that holy and ideal do not mean the same. While no family is likely to be ideal, that is perfect, every family has the potential to be holy. When the Bible says “holy,” it means “separate” or “different.” The word implies striving to be healthy and whole in a world where much is unhealthy and fragmented. The English phrase, ‘hale and hearty’ sums up true holiness.

“Holiness,” according to Catholic author, Mitch Finley, “includes such concepts as humor and laughter, compassion and understanding, and the capacity to forgive and be forgiven, to love and be loved. That’s holiness.

“Holy families are not free from conflict, nor do they never hurt one another. Holiness in families, rather, comes from learning to forgive and to be reconciled, and learning to face our problems and to do something about them.

“In family life, holy means striving to surrender to God’s light within us when the darkness around us seems overwhelming. It means struggling day after day to bring creative order…if only a bit of it…to the chaos of our lives. When we work at cultivating forgiveness, reconciliation and community, we embody God’s holy will in the context of family life. A family embodies holiness by striving to be ‘hale and hearty,’ not by trying to be ‘perfect’ according to a set of otherworldly standards.”

Celebrating this feast invites us to look at the holy family as a real family, an earthly family, not some pious, out of this world type of family. As a family, they understood the anxieties and sorrows, the ups and downs of family life. By real, I mean respecting, encouraging, affirming, and loving.

Think of any family as a garden and whatever is planted there will grow. Planting these four values in your family will bring forth a harvest of an abundant family life. Respect one another, encourage one another, affirm one another and love one another. As any gardener knows, there exists the law of the fallow field. If nothing positive is planted in the garden, it will revert to weeds. In other words, we have to continually plant each growing season exactly what it is we are expected to grow. Think of the qualities that Paul mentions in our second reading: compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. If nothing of value is planted, then nothing of value will be harvested.

So I offer these suggestions for your family garden. A family needs time, attention, and cultivation; sunshine of laughter and affirmation; the rains of difficulties, tense moments of anxiety, and serious discussions on important matters; areas of hardness to be turned over like bitterness, envy, anger, and unforgiven hurts.

In your family garden, I urge you to plant seventeen rows. Five rows of Ps: perseverance, politeness, praise, prayer, and peacemaking.  Four rows of Let us: Let us be faithful in word and deed; let us be unselfish with our resources; let us be loyal; let us love one another. Three rows of squash: squash gossip, squash negative criticism, and squash indifference. And five rows of turn ups: turn up on time for school events, turn up for family gatherings, turn up with a better attitude, turn up with new ideas and the determination to carry them out, and turn up with a smile.

Plant and nurture these value seeds in your family garden in the coming year and you will bring to a bountiful harvest a real family as well as a holy family. You can imitate the holy family very nicely by tending to your family garden and raising your family uncommonly well.

The news lately has reported that the extreme cold in the east caused havoc for many travelers endeavoring to spend Christmas with loved ones. Despite the rain and chill, we have been rather blessed weather-wise. Perhaps some of you may be yearning for a white Christmas but I imagine many travelers back east would wish otherwise!

Every winter I am drawn to one of my favorite poems, Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost. Drawn by the beauty of a gentle snow fall, much like we get nearly every winter here on Whidbey Island, the rider wants to sit still, watch and listen, even if his horse thinks it queer to stop without a farmhouse near…but he knows that he must move on. “The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep.”

Someone is relying on him to keep his word. We live in an age when promises in politics, business, even relationships evaporate as quickly as a snowflake hitting a warm window- pane. Christmas on the other hand reminds us of a promise God kept long ago to liberate us from the darkness of sin.

Two thousand years ago, like a great star, Jesus came down from heaven and lit up the darkness of our world. As John tells us in the opening verses of his gospel, “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness had not overcome it.” To this day, the darkness of sin has not managed to turn off the light of God’s love in our midst, despite the pervasiveness of evil, hate and cruelty and the high cost many followers have paid as martyrs sharing the light of Christ with others.

The Christmas image many of us have of Jesus is that of a light shining in the darkness, which is why festive lights of many colors decorate trees and our landscape. This image has meant a world of difference for some people when they are feeling very much alone in their world of darkness.

The image of light dispelling the darkness took on special meaning for Victor Frankl when he was incarcerated in a Nazi Concentration Camp. Early one morning, he and other prisoners were digging in the cold hard ground. In his book, Man’s Search for Meaning, he writes, “The dawn was gray around us; gray was the sky above; gray the snow in the pale light of dawn; gray the rags in which my fellow prisoners were clad, and gray their faces…I struggled to find a reason for my suffering, my slow dying.”

As he struggled in the miserable cold, Frankl became totally convinced that there was a reason, even when none made sense. Then he described what happened next, “At that moment a light was lit in a distant farmhouse, which stood on the horizon as if it were painted there, in the midst of the miserable gray.”

At that moment, a line, which we heard moments ago in the Gospel came to mind, “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness had never put it out.” That experience gave Frankl hope, changing his entire prison life, whereas before all he had experienced was despair.

When Jesus entered our darkened world, so did hope. Until he came, countless people found themselves struggling to find reason for their suffering, for their slow death. Once Jesus shared the Good news of God’s love, mercy and compassion, people could see that there was an antidote for their suffering, even if they could not still see why the world is filled with so much pain. They learned by his example that they could make a difference in an indifferent world.

Every Christmas we recall this moment in time but we also celebrate an ongoing reality that Jesus is born into the world through us for Christmas is God’s invitation for each one of us to be for our world what Jesus was for his world: a beam of light in the midst of darkness, a ray of hope in the midst of despair. God’s word takes on flesh through us: our love, our sharing, our forgiveness and caring for one another.

Like the woods on a snowy evening, Christmas is a time when we want to sit still, watch and listen for nothing is ordinary at this moment. But like the rider, we know that we must move on. Before long, our lives will be back to normal. With our usual busy schedules, we could easily forget what Christmas was all about.

However, if we want to rid our world of its darkness, then we have promises to keep ourselves, namely promises to bring the light of Christ to others in our midst yet promises that some of us are not inclined to keep, convinced that whatever we do wouldn’t make much difference anyway. But they do make a difference for someone. Another of Robert Frost’s lasting lines comes to mind here. In the Road Not Taken, he wrote, “Two roads diverge in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.”

Jesus comes at Christmas, inviting us to take the road less traveled by, the path paved by the convictions of countless Christians who have gone before us, doing what they could to dispel the darkness of our world with the light of Christ. To the extent that we heed the invitation of Christmas, to that extent will the world receive the gifts of Christmas: peace on earth and goodwill toward all. God is counting on us to make that real, not just today, but everyday of our lives.

 

As Advent draws to a close, Matthew tells us, “Joseph, her husband, since he was a righteousman, yet unwilling to expose Mary to shame, decided to divorce her quietly.” He could legally have had Mary stoned to death for presumably she was no longer a virgin. Jewish law back then called for such punishment.  Being righteous, Joseph was compelled instead to spare Mary any public humiliation and divorce her quietly but an angel’s appearance changed all that.  

The angel told Joseph, “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.” The angel’s challenge to Joseph to do what was right brings to mind an article by an American essayist, Ardis Whitman, entitled, “The Courage to Trust.” He tells how he once found himself sitting next to Martin Luther King, Jr. on a flight. On the opposite side was a middle-aged man also from the south.

During the flight, Mr. Whitman and Dr. King talked about many things, including the improved racial relations between blacks and whites. The middle-aged man was obviously listening to their conversation but he said nothing. Finally he broke his silence and observed, “My children will have no trouble accepting these things. I have learned to accept them, but my father, he will never accept them.”

Dr. King turned to him and said compassionately, “Your father is doing what he believes is right.” Moved by that remark, the man replied, “Thank you for thinking that of my father.” Mr. Whitman went on to say that Dr. King had the wonderful ability to trust that even his enemies in their hearts had the desire to do what is right.

I share this story because I think it gets to the heart of today’s readings.  Often we are motivated to do what we believe is right. Even King Ahaz felt that way when he told Isaiah, “I will not tempt the Lord!” Instead of commending this wayward king, Isaiah instead bemoans, “Is it not enough for you to weary people, must you also weary my God?” Might we be doing the same thing when we are reluctant to trust God, trust others, or even trust ourselves?

Ideally what we think is right enables us to be righteous, that is, to be morally upright without guilt or sin. In biblical times, if a groom learned that his bride was not a virgin, he could have her stoned to death. That punishment was legally called for, but was it morally right? Joseph thought otherwise so he instead planned to divorce Mary quietly until the angel told him to take her as his wife. If there was one thing he and Mary needed then and there, it was trust.  

Mary had to trust that what she consented to was right. She was a virgin yet she was bearing a child conceived in her womb by the Holy Spirit. When she shared the news of her pregnancy with Joseph, Mary had to trust that he would not accuse her of adultery and have her stoned to death. Joseph had to trust what the angel told him and receive Mary into his home as his wife. Because Mary, Joseph and God trusted one another, the Son of God was born in Bethlehem to bring us salvation. Not only must we trust God as both Mary and Joseph did, but we must learn to trust others just as they did.

In that same article, Mr. Whitman recalled an event from his childhood when he went to the circus. There the trapeze performers thrilled him, as they swung back and forth high in the air, catching each other at the last minute. As he watched, he asked his mother, “Aren’t they scared?” Before she could reply, a man in the row in front of her turned and said, “They aren’t scared. They trust each other.” Someone else then said, “That man should know. He used to perform on the high wire himself.” Yes, we must trust one another yet the world we live in is a fearful place. If you are fearful, imagine the angel speaking to you, “do not be afraid.” To increase our capacity to trust, we need faith in ourselves.

The most difficult trust of all is learning to trust ourselves and in our own goodness and value as persons. The dictionary defines trust as “confident hope.”  Unlike Mary and Joseph, that is what Ahaz lacked. Trusting in our own value as a member of the community. Trusting that God has made us for some special purpose. An atmosphere of trust is as necessary as air or water to human life. When we find ourselves at odds with the Church regarding God’s ways, might we no longer be trusting God to know what is best for us? Have we the confident hope that God cares about us?

Fr. John Powell in his book, Through Seasons of the Heart, writes, “God sends each person into this world with a special message to deliver, with a special song to sing, with a special act of love to bestow.” I recall my mother telling me much the same thing when I was growing up. They were right. No one else can speak our special message. No one else can sing our special song. No one else can bestow our special act of love. If we don’t, then a part of God’s plan will go unfulfilled. A part of God’s glory goes unseen. Imagine where we would be today if Mary or Joseph had chosen not to sing their songs of trust.

Young or old, rich or poor, everyone here has a mission to help build up God’s kingdom. Not only must we believe that God made us for a special purpose, we must trust that God will help us achieve that purpose. Ahaz abandoned his trust in God and in himself. Dare we weary our God or have we the courage to ultimately trust that God indeed is with us when we follow his ways?

“Be patient, brothers and sisters, until the coming of the Lord,” James pleads. Patient? For any of us who had to wait for the ferry, there are times when we are not patient. When the need arises to be patient, I am mindful of a prayer by St. Theresa of Avila. “Lord, I want patience and I want it now!”

In the opening scene of the gospel, we find John the Baptist in prison and he doesn’t sound too patient. Was he impatient because his cousin, Jesus, hadn’t rescued him? After all, Jesus claimed, quoting the prophet Isaiah, that he was sent “to proclaim liberty to captives.”

Perhaps John the Baptist expected the kingdom of God to come very soon, liberating Israel from the oppressive Romans. Since that wasn’t happening, he sent his disciples to inquire, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?” In other words, are you the Messiah or not? In reply, Jesus paraphrases the passage from Isaiah that we just heard, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, and the dead are raised, and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them. And blessed is the one who takes no offense at me.”

Yes, blessed is that person who is not offended by what Jesus does and has done. Yet how often have we wondered that same question posed by John, “Are you the one who is to come?” Are you the one who is going to supposedly save the world? If so, why is the world still such a mess?

Any one of us might be wondering, Lord, do you see how many are suffering from refugees at the Rio Grande to children huddled in bombed out buildings in Gaza and Syria? From communities destroyed by forest fires to villages in Africa decimated by diseases? Do you see that too many young people are dying too soon from violence, war, illness or addictions? People offer any number of reasons why there is still suffering in our world. Some even question if God exists while others contend that God doesn’t care. You could say that they have taken offense at Jesus.

“The one who is to come” was one of the many titles for the Messiah. At that time Israel was alive with the hope and anticipation that the Messiah would soon come and free them from the oppression they suffered from. History tells us that the Messiah was not to be a political liberator.

Who are we looking for in our Messiah? John the Baptist, even while he was in his mother’s womb, recognized Jesus as the Messiah but even he, in the darkness of his prison, had doubts and needed reassurance that Jesus was indeed the Messiah sent by God. There may be times in our lives when our faith is growing weak; our hope is dying, and our charity running low. In such moments, we need not despair. Even John the Baptist had troubled times. We should turn to Christ, not because we expect him to magically make everything better, but because he can renew our faith.

As James tells us, until the day comes when God takes us to our heavenly dwelling, we have to wait patiently with faith. Some lose patience and faith, thus they look elsewhere for a new savior. Granted, my friends, bad things will happen to good people so long as we have free will, but there is no other answer to life’s ups and downs as far as I know. It is in Christ, our Messiah, that we can find our lasting joy.

As I said, James urges us to be patient, reminding us that the coming of the Lord is at hand. To us, 2000 years may seem like an eternity but when you consider the age of the universe, that span of time is like a second to God.

In the meantime, we must take up Isaiah’s dream and perform works of mercy as Christ did. There are still poor to be fed, the sick to be visited, sinners to be admonished and offenses to be forgiven. When we continue Christ’s ministry in this way, not only will we find him alive and still at work, but we can also share his hands and voice and heart with a world in desperate need of encountering the Lord.

This gospel passage poses the problem of our acceptance or rejection of the person of Jesus as our Messiah. John’s question is just as relevant today for us as it was then. Is Jesus the Messiah we are looking for? The season of Advent is a good and opportune time to assess what impact and influence Jesus has on our behavior and values.

 

Psalm 146, which we heard today, reminds us of God’s vision for our world, that the oppressed will experience justice and the hungry will be fed. Captives will be set free and all will experience a better world.

 

That is the mission and vision of Catholic Community Services. I now invite Brady to come and share with us how we can all be engaged in their vision for a better world.