Homilies

For many people, January can be a dismal month. Gray skies and bitter winds don’t lift our spirits. Our mailboxes no longer bulge with cheery Christmas cards. Instead they are likely filled with credit card bills. We know that to be a Christian means to hope, but it’s hard to do that in January.
To break my winter blue January mood, I looked at the calendar and I am uplifted by a significant date we will soon celebrate, namely the 90thbirthday of Martin Luther King, Jr., a prophet, who like Isaiah, could not remain silent.

Dr. King never moaned about the fact that the wine of freedom was drying up in America. He instead believed deeply in the power of God’s grace not only to change water into wine, but to also change hearts of stone into hearts of flesh and love. His dream of making a great nation even greater stirred us to change then and even now.

On a summer day in 1963, he shared his dream. “I say to you today, my friends, that even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed…we hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.

“I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

“I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

“I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places shall be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord will be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.”

Fifty-six years later, that dream has yet to be fully realized. Much progress has been made since Dr. King first shared his dream. Gone are the ravages of segregation that once colored the Deep South yet blatant tolerance of racism still linger in our country that color the attitudes of many.

We follow a Lord who changes things: water into wine, bread into his body, old ways into new life, January into hope. But how does he do it? Through you and me, that’s how.

We heard the last words spoken by Mary recorded in scripture moments ago when she told the servers, “Do whatever he tells you.” Those words are directed, in a true sense, to every Christian who ever lived or will live.

Imagine God asking you, “Are you listening to my Son?” or “Are you doing what my Son told you to do?” What might you say? Perhaps we would defend ourselves, “But Jesus told us many things to do. What particular teaching do you have in mind God?”

God would likely reply, “I have in mind two teachings that my son, Jesus, repeated over and over. Love one another as I love you and forgive one another as I forgive you.”

We are quite familiar with these nuggets of Jesus’ teaching: to love one another as God loves us and to forgive one another, yet often do we make them our priority in life? In a world torn apart by anger, hatred, and conflict, we have the privilege of being living signs of a love that can bridge all divisions and heal all wounds.
Let me give you this math quiz: 5+2 equals what? 7×7 equals how much? One nickel and one dime add up to what? Pretty simple math, huh? Conventional math is one thing, but what about determining the value of God’s math?

In gospel math, for example, 5 + 2 adds up to 5,000, when someone willingly gave up all they had, 5 loaves and 2 fish, that were then blessed, broken, and shared among a group of 5,000 gathered in Jesus’ name on a grassy hillside.

Seven times seven is the measure of unlimited forgiveness and unfailing reconciliation; always seeking out the lost, finding a place for the rejected, healing the hurt and the wounded, welcoming the stranger or back the prodigal.

A single nickel and dime, when given out of the same love and sacrifice as the poor widow demonstrated once with her mite in the temple equals eternity in the Kingdom of God.

Christ comes to change the bottom line, the equations, the trends, the standards by which we live our lives, the way we deal with one another, the factors that go into the decisions we make, the things we value and seek for ourselves.

In Christ, the “watered down wine” of rationalized self-centeredness is replaced with the “new wine” of compassion and gratitude for the life God has given us, namely, the “new wine” of honor and respect for every human being as a child of God, regardless of their race, gender, ethnicity, place of birth, and those in a womb yet to be born, the “new wine” of justice, mercy, and peace for every human being as a child of God, which Dr. King dreamed would be the hope shared someday by all peoples, providing them with the same hope God generously offers us in this lifetime and the next.

David Whyte, a local renowned poet, wrote a poem, entitled Old Interior Angel, which tells the story of a strong confident young man hiking in the Himalayas who comes to a broken footbridge, dangling hundreds of feet above a rocky stream. The cables were snapped and the wooden planks tumbled together uselessly. Clearly, he could go no further. He sits down and tries to talk himself into approaching the trembling, ruined bridge, but cannot bring himself to cross. Admitting defeat, he decides to turn back.

Just as he is about to leave, an old mountain woman, bent and barefoot, bearing an enormous basket balanced on her back, comes along, collecting dung for fuel along the path. Seeing the young man, she smiles and offers the traditional greeting, “Namaste, I greet the God in you.” (na-ma-stay)

The young man bows in response, but before he looks up again, she is gone, walking ahead straight across the crumbling bridge that seemed to him so impassable. Without thinking, swept in the wake of her courage and trust, he says, “Namaste,” and follows her across.

I like that poem because of the beauty and wisdom it contains. But I also like it for another reason. It helps me understand something very important about today’s feast.

When I read the gospels carefully and prayerfully, I find myself wondering at times, “Why did Jesus wait so long to begin his ministry? Why didn’t he begin preaching in his twenties instead of waiting until he was thirty? Didn’t he know the whole world was crying out to hear what he had to say? What was Jesus waiting for?

The answer to that question is simple, yet important. Jesus was waiting for John the Baptist to first call the people to repentance. To better understand even that scenario, I ran across an insight on the Jews that was new to me.

Until John the Baptist appeared proclaiming his message of repentance, no Jew ever thought of being baptized. Jews practiced baptism, but only for converts, that is, people who became Jews. William Barclay explains, “No Jew ever conceived that he, a member of God’s chosen people, could ever need baptism. Baptism was for sinners, and no Jew ever conceived of himself as a sinner shut out from God.

“Now for the first time in their national history, the Jews realized their own sin and their own need for God. Never before had there been such a unique national movement of penitence and of search for God. This was the very moment for which Jesus had been waiting. Men and women were conscious of their sin and conscious of their need for God.”

The Holy Spirit had at last awakened the Jews to an awareness of God’s intimate presence in their midst and Jesus now knew this was the time for him to venture forth and proclaim a gospel of repentance. At his baptism, Jesus bridged the gap between God and humanity, enabling us to know God intimately.

How then does this event apply to us in this time and place? Perhaps the lesson for us is this: Jesus cannot begin to act in our lives and transform us until, like the people of ancient Israel, we are ready to let him do so. Nor can Jesus do anything to make us ready. Only we can do that.

And the way we make ourselves ready to let Jesus work in us is to recognize that we cannot travel through life alone. We must first admit to our need for Jesus in our daily lives. When we reach that point, Jesus can then act in our lives to transform us into what God made us to be.

In the gospel, we heard that the Holy Spirit descended upon Jesus as he emerged from his baptism. When the heavens opened, God came into their midst and into ours. That same Spirit descends and rests upon us at our baptism, enabling us to know God intimately. It is what the people of the Himalayas call “Namaste,” which means the God in us. The spirit, Namaste, speaks to us in the deepest and most hidden parts of our hearts of the love and compassion of God. It is the very life of God animating us and leading us; it is the well spring of grace and wisdom, of courage and perseverance, enabling us to become people of justice, peace, compassion and goodness that out of love God created us to be.

I long thought this feast was an odd way to close out the Christmas season; after all, Jesus is now an adult, but now I see why. If the message we heard at Christmas, summed up by the angels as peace on earth and good will toward all, is to be manifested in the coming year, it can only happen through us. And that can’t be done unless we freely choose to do what we can, individually and collectively as a faith community, to heed God’s call to justice, knowing that God is in us to empower us for this holy undertaking.

The season of Christmas closes with this Mass but we are by no means finished with Christmas. There is much to be done to complete the great poem of Jesus’ birth. The good news spoken by angels continues to unfold as we venture in the year ahead to heal the sick, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, welcome the stranger either in our midst or seeking to migrate here, liberate the imprisoned, and bring peace to others. And we can do so for Namaste, God is in us.

As we continue our celebration of Christmas, we observe the feast of Epiphany, God’s desire to reveal his son, Jesus, to all peoples. Not much is known about the Magi. The gospel tells us they came from the east searching for the newborn king of the Jews, bearing gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. We don’t even know how many wise men came but the facts aren’t important. What matters to us is what happened.

At his birth, Jesus was revealed to the Jews. He was born to be their Messiah. God could have ended the story then and there but fortunately for us, God intended the gift of his son to be shared with more than the children of Abraham. The good news of Epiphany is that God would reveal his son to anyone who sincerely searches for him.

That is what the Magi did. They came from afar searching for him. They told Herod, “We saw his star at its rising and have come to do him homage.” Distance and time did not stop them from seeking what really mattered to them.

Seeking God is what people of faith continually do. They know static faith cannot endure for long. Those who don’t seek to enrich their faith risk losing what faith they have. A teacher at a Catholic school once admitted, “To tell the truth, I feel like a hypocrite. I’m not sure I believe everything the Church teaches. I go to Mass but my mind wanders and I’m not into it. I have my doubts about lots of things, about faith, about religion, about the church.”

I suspect that teacher struggled more with a lukewarm spirituality than hypocrisy. Real hypocrisy refers to those who deliberately do not practice what they preach. Herod was a hypocrite. He had no intention of ever paying homage to Jesus. Hypocrites are good at lip service.
Seekers, on the other hand, practice what they preach, although perhaps not with much conviction. Such a person, maybe for the sake of their children or social pressure, keeps saying prayers and going to Mass, but struggles with the faith, or may simply be going through the motions.

They may feel like hypocrites but more likely they have lost sight of what really matters on one’s life journey. Like the Magi of the gospel, they are following a star, but at times that star is not so visible, just as it wasn’t always visible for the Magi. Recall that when the Magi left Herod’s presence, the star that had been guiding them reappeared. While they were with Herod, surrounded by the glamour of his worldly ways and possessions, the star could not be seen.

When we surround ourselves with the glitter of power, lust, materialism, and sin, we are bound to lose sight of the star of the Lord. But when we tune out these deceptive distracting lights, then the Lord can and will make himself known to us, just as he did to the Magi ages ago.

We believe that the Magi were either astronomers or astrologers. They were men supposedly from Persia who studied the stars. For centuries, navigators charted their course at sea with the help of constellations and especially, a certain star located at the end of the Little Dipper, found in the northern skies, known as the North Star. Unlike the many other stars that fill up the night sky, the North Star does not move. It remains directly above the North Pole. That is why this star is so important to navigators; it remains steadfast.

What star are we using to guide us on our spiritual journey? Do we navigate through our lives by the stars of socially acceptable wisdom and sensibilities, that is, stars that change, and eventually flame out of the sky altogether? Or do we fix our lives on the steadfast eternal star of peace, mercy, love, compassion and justice, namely Jesus Christ?

Like the Magi, true seekers come to pay him homage. They come to worship him, not to be entertained. They come to offer God something of themselves, their time, their hearts, their love, their talents, their treasure, and their prayers. And having offered what gifts they bring, they move on with their journey, as did the Magi, returning home by a different route. That is, they leave this space, changed by their encounter with Christ. Not only do they seek to better know the Lord through scripture, prayer and study, they reveal God’s love through holy moments to those around them.

True seekers do encounter Christ and are apt to change their ways because of that. When we leave here and return to our usual routine, can we let go of the distractions, those other stars that do little or nothing to enrich our relationship with Jesus the Christ? Of course we can by setting spiritual goals to ensure that we take time daily to listen intently to God through prayer, scripture reflection, or meditation.

The Epiphany of Christ invites us to travel with him in the year ahead to listen with open hearts to his message of forgiveness and compassion, allowing him to guide us on our daily journey until our rebirth in heaven. This is an opportune time for us to examine our attitudes and priorities.If we want the Lord to be our guiding star, a good New Year’s resolution to make would be to search for God’s presence each day through prayer and scripture; then strive to fill our day with holy moments that make us and others conscious of God in our surroundings.

As many Christmas cards boldly proclaim, “Wise men still seek him.” Follow his star and you won’t get lost.

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.