The lowly and pure will see the Lord

Homily: Presentation of the Lord – Cycle A

My friends, it is true that the Mass we celebrate, while remaining a work that we do here on earth and in time, is nonetheless something that transcends time.  When we come together to celebrate the Mass, we are truly experiencing the fullness of the Communion of Saints: that is, the Saints in heaven, the faithful in purgatory, and us here on earth.  Because of this we know that, when we celebrate the Mass, the past, the present, and the future all merge into one.  In a way, this is why the Mass is celebrated the same basic way every day and everywhere, because what we’re doing is something eternal, something unchanging.

Our Liturgical Calendar is meant to accentuate that.  While the Mass is indeed eternal, it doesn’t change the fact that we live in time and so at different parts of the year we take time to emphasize different seasons; which highlight different aspects of salvation history and our journey as disciples of Jesus Christ here on earth.  Thus, when we are following the Liturgical Year, we are really entering into “God’s Time” in the midst of worldly time.

A “happy coincidence” this year is throwing a bit of a wrench into all of that, however.  This weekend, we celebrate the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord.  It is the feast in which we celebrate the consecration of Jesus in the Temple as the first-born son of Joseph and Mary.  Traditionally, it was the feast that marked the close of the Christmas Season; falling, as it does, 40 days after Christmas.  Since the revision of the Liturgical Calendar after the Second Vatican Council, however, it no longer serves that purpose (the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord now marks its close).  Nonetheless, we still celebrate this feast.  But, unless you come to daily Mass throughout the year, you probably wouldn’t know much about it as we only celebrate it on Sunday when February 2nd actually falls on Sunday (like this year; thus, the “happy coincidence”).

So here we are, three weeks into Ordinary Time and reflection on Jesus’ public ministry as an adult, and the calendar throws us a curve ball hurtling us back into a reflection on Jesus’ infancy, on which we placed so much focus in Christmas time.  I think that even the most “die-hard” fans of Christmas would be hard-pressed not to feel a little off-kilter by this jump.  Nonetheless, I think that this feast does still have some important things to say to us here today.

First is a reminder that Jesus took on the “full-experience” of humanity.  Mary and Joseph were observant Jews.  This meant that they were careful to follow the precepts that the Law of Moses had laid out for them.  Thus, they observed the prescribed time of purification after the birth of Jesus (for coming into contact with blood and other bodily fluids made them ritually impure).  Then they brought the infant Jesus to the Temple to be consecrated to the Lord.

Now, with all of the work that angels were doing up to and immediately after the birth of Jesus, it seems to me that it would have been just as easy for one to send a message to Mary or Joseph (in a dream, perhaps) that it wasn’t necessary for them to fulfill the precepts of the Law for Jesus because he was the Son of God and thus was exempt from them.  That didn’t happen, however; which I think is another example that shows us that Jesus didn’t come to help us escape from all of the trappings of our humanity, but rather to redeem it all: that is, to make all that we do and experience in this world profitable for our salvation.  This is why the author of the Letter to the Hebrews can say: “Therefore, [Jesus] had to become like his brothers and sisters in every way, that he might be a merciful and faithful high priest before God to expiate the sins of the people.”

Jesus was showing us that it is exactly through our humanity that we will come to our salvation!  In other words, following the way that God has marked out for us is the path to purification and holiness—and, thus, readiness to receive God’s gift of grace—and so we should not be too quick to cast off the rules and guidelines that the Church gives us.  They are the roadmap to our salvation!

The second thing of which this feast reminds us today is that Jesus reveals himself to those who are lowly.  Notice that in Luke’s account of the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple it wasn’t the High Priest who recognized Jesus for who he was, but rather an unknown man and a poor widow.  Simeon, we are told, was a righteous and devout man.  “Pious” is another word we could use for him; and by “pious” we don’t mean someone who puts on a “religious show”, but rather someone who truly understands his place and what he was called to do, and who, thus, fulfills that duty faithfully.  As a reward for this, we are told, the “Holy Spirit was upon him” and thus he was given the grace to recognize Jesus as the Promised One of the Lord.

Anna, we are told, was a prophetess who, having been widowed at a young age, spent the remainder of her years in the Temple, fasting and praying—that is, offering her life in sacrifice to God.  When she saw the child, she, too, was given the grace of recognizing him; and she went off to do the thing that prophetesses do best, she went around telling of the child to “all who were awaiting the redemption of Jerusalem.”

Both Anna and Simeon were waiting in anticipation for the Holy One of the Lord: God’s anointed one who would redeem the people of Israel.  In other words, they were living Advent!  And when they saw him, they rejoiced to finally have seen the one that they had long waited for.  And so, in a way, we celebrate today another Epiphany!  (Is anyone not confused about what Liturgical Season it is yet?)  But what a great reminder this is that we ought to be living Advent all year long!  Jesus has come and he will come again, but if we are consumed by our worldly pursuits (even if those pursuits are religious ones), instead of living in anticipation of his coming, then we may miss him when he appears again in our midst.  To do this, we must be lowly: that is, living upright and devout lives, in which Jesus is always an integral part, and ready to greet him when he appears.

And that brings us to our last reminder: that only the pure will enter the presence of God.  You know, Mary and Joseph needed to complete the ritual of purification before they entered the Temple.  We, too, need to purify ourselves so as to be ready to stand in God’s presence when he appears.  This purification is the work of Ordinary Time.  It is the hard work brought forth by Christ.  Because to pursue the righteousness brought forth by Jesus is to stand in the refiner’s fire—the fire of which the prophet Malachi spoke—which purifies precious metals of impurities and makes them fit for their honored uses.  It is a hard work, but it is the work that purifies us and makes us ready to receive Jesus when he returns.

And so, perhaps our celebration of this feast today isn’t such an odd coincidence after all.  Perhaps it is exactly the reminder that we needed now that the energy of the new year has died down a bit.  Perhaps, then, we can take this opportunity to give ourselves a fresh perspective on our work of growing in discipleship during Ordinary Time.  If so, then let us not be sad at the work that lies ahead of us, because, as Simeon expressed as he held the infant Jesus, “God’s Word has been fulfilled.”  In other words, our success is guaranteed, for God has said so, as long as we give ourselves to the work.

Let us, then, give ourselves over to this work so that we, too, can proclaim the fulfillment of God’s promises to us, like Simeon did, and also proclaim the joy of having encountered him, like Anna: the encounter we experience in sacrament here in this Eucharist.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – February 1st & 2nd, 2020

The obedience of faith

Homily: 4^th Sunday of Advent – Cycle A

Although it may not be the first thing that you think of when you think of a king/queen, every king/queen is called to be a servant.  What I mean by that is this: the authority that a king/queen possesses is given to him/her so as to govern the people of the kingdom in such a way that they might flourish.  We all know, however, the old saying that “power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely” and so we all know how often kings/queens are corrupted by the power that they wield and seek to have their people serve them, instead.  Nonetheless, this doesn’t change the fact that the role of the king/queen is to serve; and if they serve well, then they rightfully receive the honor and homage of the people.

Still further, throughout history being a king/queen almost always included a religious component.  Royal lineage was often seen to have been appointed by God and royalty have often held positions of authority in religious matters.  This continues today.  For example, the Queen of England is also the head of the Church of England.  As such, she must be not only a servant of the people, but also a model for religious piety and practice.  To do otherwise would discredit the Crown and the religion that she leads.  Sure, the Archbishop of Canterbury is the de facto head of the Church of England, but the Monarch of England still stands as the model for all.

This, of course, was true of the ancient Israelites, which gives color to our first reading today.  The brevity of this reading gives rise to the thought that the Church included it primarily to recount for us the source of the prophecy of the virgin birth (which is very important, obviously), but the broader story also provides us with some insight and so I’m going to incorporate some of it here.

Ahaz was not a good king.  I don’t know whether he was a good guy, but he wasn’t a good king.  He let being a king get to his head.  If we remember back to the prophet Samuel, when the Israelites demanded that he anoint a king for them (for they had never yet had their own king), he first rebuked them for suggesting that they didn’t already have a king (for the Lord God was their king) and then he predicted that most of the kings that they would have would be corrupt or weak (or both) and that the people would suffer because of it.  The people insisted, anyway, and God instructed Samuel to anoint a king for them.  Many hundreds of years later, Samuel’s predictions would come true and Ahaz was one of those weak kings who let being a king get to his head.

Ahaz forgot that he was king so as to serve the people for their flourishing.  He also forgot that the true King of the Israelite people was God.  And so, when God allowed the insanely powerful Assyrian army to amass themselves against the Israelites (because the Israelites had fallen away from faithfulness to God under the rule of Ahaz), Ahaz sought a worldly solution to the problem (he was brokering and alliance with the Egyptians).

Isaiah brings him God’s message that said, “The Assyrians are here as a punishment for your lack of faithfulness; but surrender to them and I won’t let them destroy the city or kill you.”  Ahaz didn’t like that answer because he didn’t trust God and thought that he needed to rely on himself.  Isaiah clapped back and said, “No, for reals: God is going to take care of you. He’ll give you a sign, anything you ask for.  Just ask him.”  Ahaz, not wanting the sign because he wanted to make his alliance with Egypt, invokes some false piety and says, “oh no, it would be improper to put the Lord to the test.”  Isaiah, frustrated for God, responds that God will give him a sign, anyway, and predicts the virgin birth of a son who will be “Emmanuel - God with us” for the people.

In the end, Ahaz would make his alliance with Egypt and the Assyrians would conquer him anyway.  He would die, Jerusalem (including the temple) would be destroyed, and the people would be exiled for 70 years.  Ahaz, as the king and religious leader of God’s people, refused to get behind God’s plan and the people suffered.  And the sign that God called for wouldn’t be seen until hundreds of years later.  By refusing to acknowledge God as the one King, and by refusing to be an example of right religion, God’s plans for his people were disrupted.

In contrast we heard of the “annunciation” to Joseph in today’s Gospel reading.  Joseph was a man with no worldly power.  He was a laborer in a small town in a seemingly inconsequential region of the world.  Yet, he was a righteous man: which means that he was just and followed God’s law closely.  We hear also that he was merciful, for although he knew that he couldn’t take Mary into his home after the discovery of her pregnancy, he decided to divorce her quietly so that she wouldn’t have to suffer any more indignation than what she would already suffer by being a single mother in that culture.  For Joseph, God was Lord; and when he heard the message of the angel that told him to do something that every righteous and merciful bone in his body told him not to do, he obeyed.  Through his obedience, God’s plan for mankind was finally fulfilled.  Joseph placed himself, in the state of life and situation that he was in, completely at God’s service, and God’s good will for mankind was fulfilled.  In this way, Joseph was a much better king than Ahaz.

My friends, I’m certain I will surprise no one here when I say that there is a lot more Ahaz than Joseph in our world today.  In other words, there’s a lot more people—especially those in authority—who refuse to acknowledge that there is an authority higher than themselves to which we owe obedience.  For this reason, the kingdom of God is disappearing among us.  Sure, there is still plenty of goodness among us, but it’s dwindling into smaller and smaller pockets of our public life.  While it is important that we recognize that and seek to put in authority persons who recognize God as the ultimate authority and seek to obey him, it is just as important to recognize that there is probably more of Ahaz than Joseph in each one of us.  I mean, isn’t it true that we each want to be Lord of our own lives and, thus, act like we know better when God asks something uncomfortable of us (for example, surrendering to forgiveness of someone who has hurt us)?  Because of this, just like king Ahaz, much of God’s will doesn’t manifest itself among us.  Friends, we do not get to lament the state of society without asking ourselves how we have each played a small or large part of it becoming as it is by our refusals to allow God to be Lord of our lives.

On this fourth Sunday of Advent, therefore, we are reminded that, as we prepare to celebrate the anniversary of Christ’s birth among us (and the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy!), we are preparing also for the coming of our King.  And so, the question comes to us, “Have I given my preparations over to Him (like Joseph)?  Or am I expecting that he will make my plans successful, in spite of what he may want (like Ahaz)?”  In other words, “Am I the king/queen and expect, thus, God to serve me?  Or do I see myself as a servant before the true King?”  My brothers and sisters, I charge you to reflect on these questions over these last days of Advent: for judgment will be merciless on those who made themselves king, but full of mercy for those who acknowledged the true King and sought to serve him.

Friends, the true King is coming.  May he find us ready to honor him with our obedience of faith so that his will for bringing forth the full flourishing of his kingdom might be known in our time.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – December 21^st & 22^nd, 2019

Don't give up on waiting

Homily: 3rd Sunday of Advent – Cycle A

Is it Christmas?  No.  There, I’ve just given you every small detail of the website whose sole purpose seems to be to answer that question.  The website’s address is isitchristmas.com and when you go to the site all that you see is a big fat NO in your face.  I’m not sure what happens on that website on Christmas, but my guess is that it’ll either say “Yes”, which is boring, or it will invade my computer with a virus, rob my identity, and cause my computer to self-destruct, which would be much more exciting, for sure, but not the kind of exciting that I’m looking for.

You know that we’re a little bit crazy about Christmas when there are websites whose sole purpose is to remind us that it isn’t Christmas yet.  And I think that this is a sign that, frankly, we just don’t get it.  Every year, it seems, we demonstrate that we are so impatient for our self-indulgent winter holiday celebrations that we can’t wait even the three to four weeks of Advent before we start indulging.  I intentionally use the phrase “winter holiday” here because, at least in my experience, these almost never have anything to do with Christ and his coming among us in our human nature (except, perhaps, as a “pious excuse” for having them).  The fact that “winter holiday” decorations come down on December 26^th is evidence enough that our celebrations were over long before the event itself arrived.

You may call me “Scrooge” for thinking like this, but I tell you this comes from a deep place of concern.  You see, I’ve read the Scriptures (it’s kind of a necessity of this vocation) and I’ve read about what happens to folks who give up on waiting for God.  Let’s go back to the book of Exodus.  There, in chapter 24, God calls Moses up onto Mount Sinai (the mountain of the covenant) in order to give him the Ten Commandments.  Moses goes up and spends 40 days and 40 nights on the mountain.

Then, we hear that the people got anxious waiting for Moses to return and so demand that Aaron (Moses’ brother and the guy who was left in charge while Moses was gone) build them an idol to worship.  Aaron ceded to their demands and fashioned a golden calf before which the Israelites bowed in worship and then feasted: eating and drinking in excess and otherwise celebrating with great revelry long before Moses returned with the Ten Commandments.  God alerted Moses to this and said that he would slay them right then and there.  Moses intervened, however, and God relented.  Moses then went down the mountain to find what God had described and himself became enraged.  He called forth the Israelites who had not worshiped the idol nor had engaged in revelry and had them punish those who had done those things by putting them to death.  The passage ends with this somber verse: “Thus the Lord smote the people for having had Aaron make the calf for them.”  The Israelites refused to wait and instead gave into self-indulgence: for this they were severely punished.

Advent, my brothers and sisters, reminds us that we are in a time of waiting, and that this waiting is not aimless; rather, we are waiting the return of Jesus.  And not just Jesus our friend who has been away for a while (as joyous as that homecoming would be), but Jesus, our King, who will come with judgment and to usher in the fullness of his kingdom in which right order is finally reestablished through all of creation.  Those who are found in faithful preparation will be like the sheep Jesus describes in the parable of Matthew 25, to whom he says “Come, you who are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.”  To those who are found to have given up on waiting, that is, to have given up on their faithful preparation for his coming, the King will say, “Depart from me, you accursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.”  I hope now that you can see why I am so concerned that we have given up on waiting.

In the Letter from Saint James, from which we heard in the second reading, he instructs us: “Be patient, brothers and sisters, until the coming of the Lord... Make your hearts firm, because the coming of the Lord is at hand... Behold, the Judge is standing before the gates. Take as an example of hardship and patience … the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord.”  Saint James is exhorting us not to give up on waiting, because our King’s advent, that is, his coming, is closer than we think.  Friends, by dutifully waiting to celebrate until the day of the Nativity of Christ, December 25^th, we remind ourselves that we must dutifully wait and prepare for Christ our King’s imminent return.  We do this both internally, by repenting of our sins and turning again to the Way that Christ has shown us, and externally, by doing the works of mercy and, thus, producing the signs that the King who is to come has indeed already come.  Friends, everything else is secondary.

In our Gospel reading today, we heard how John the Baptist, imprisoned by King Herod, sends his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?”  Jesus, with great love for his dear relative and friend, sends them back with this instruction: “Go and tell John what you hear and see...” that is, that the signs of the Messiah of which Isaiah prophesied—blind who now see, lame who now walk, lepers who are cleansed, deaf who now hear, and the dead who now live—these were now happening through him.

If someone asked any of us today: "Is Jesus the one who was to come, or should we look for another?" what would we say?  Could we say, "Yes! Look, the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised"?  Perhaps you might say, “No, but Jesus isn’t here with us to make those things happen.”  True, but didn’t Jesus say to his disciples, “Whoever believes in me will do the works that I do, and will do greater ones than these”?  My friends, we must say "yes", that Jesus is the one who was to come, but we must also manifest the works of the kingdom, that is, the works of mercy, among us so as to declare that he is still to come again.  Otherwise, even the John the Baptists of the world—that is, persons of great faith—may give into doubt and fall away before the time of his coming.

You know, the prophet Isaiah, John the Baptist, the apostle James, and those of their time never asked the question “Is it Christmas?”  They, rather, were concerned with a greater question: “Is it Advent?”  In other words, “Is it the Coming of the one who is to come?”  For the prophet Isaiah and John the Baptist the answer would have been a single “Yes”, for they would not live to look for the second coming (in this world, anyway).  For the apostle James, however, and for every Christian for the last 2000 years, the answer is “Yes and yes”: meaning, “Yes, the one for whom we looked to come has come” and “Yes, it is he for whom we are preparing to come again”.

My brothers and sisters, the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus our King that we encounter in the form of bread and wine from this altar is the bridge between these two “yeses”.  As we encounter Him today in this Mass, let us ask for the strength to wait and to faithfully prepare for his second coming, so that we might be welcomed into the fullness of His kingdom to rejoice with Mary and the saints for all eternity.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – December 14^th & 15^th, 2019

Repent and be ready to receive the King

Homily: 2^nd Sunday of Advent – Cycle A

Friends, last week, if you were here and heard my homily, you heard me say that what we celebrate in Advent is really a continuation of our celebration of Christ the King, just from a different perspective.  I said that while the Feast of Christ the King acknowledges and celebrates that the Divine Son of God united himself with our human nature so as to establish God’s definitive kingdom here on earth, the season of Advent spurs us to remember that this very same king will one day return in all of his glory to take his kingdom back unto himself.  Jesus’ exhortation to “stay awake” because we will know neither the day nor the hour on which he will return is our urgent Advent message: for Christ himself said that on that day (the day of the coming of the Son of Man) “one will be taken, and one will be left...” meaning, “one will be lifted up into glory and one will be left to descend into eternal death.  Jesus gives no indication as to who will be lifted up and who will be left except to imply this: that those who were prepared for that day will be lifted into heaven, while those who failed to make preparations will be left behind.  I thus exhorted us to make our Christmas preparations more about preparing for and hailing the coming of Christ our King so that this day will not catch us unaware and, thus, left behind.

This Sunday we continue to focus on Christ the King.  In the reading from the book of the prophet Isaiah, we hear just what kind of king Christ will be.  The kings of the world would nearly always rely on fighting wars and making a name for themselves by great military victories and then would use their power and influence over others to take advantage of them.  And this was not just for the wicked pagan kings.  No, we need look no farther than the great Israelite king, King David, to see that this pattern holds.  On the feast of Christ the King, we heard how the Israelites acknowledged that David deserved to be king because of the great victories that he won.  Later we would see how he would use his power and influence to take advantage of his people when he committed adultery with Bathsheba and then compounded his sin by trying to cover it up: ultimately making it so that Bathsheba’s husband Uriah was killed on the battlefield so that David could take Bathsheba for his wife.  David, of course, humbled himself before God and sought forgiveness, but it nonetheless illustrates the pattern that even the best worldly kings tend to fall into.

Isaiah paints a different picture of the king who is to come.  This king will be a king upon whom the spirit of the Lord will rest, making him wise and just beyond any other king the world has seen.  He will not use force to rule over peoples; rather, the wise words that come from his mouth shall be the power by which he will slay his enemies.  Nor will he take advantage of the people; rather, he will judge the poor with justice and do right for all peoples throughout the land.  Under this king, there shall be unprecedented peace and harmony; and not just among people, but throughout nature: for the wolf shall be the guest of the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid...  In other words, this is the king who will restore right order to the universe, the king who will lead us back to the Garden of Eden.

We see that Christ, indeed, is this king by his ministry recorded for us in the Gospels.  How many times did he confound the scribes and the Pharisees by disarming the traps they had set for him by his wise responses?  And how about the Roman rulers, too?  John’s gospel records how Jesus’ words confounded Pontius Pilate and left him literally washing his hands of Jesus because he could not withstand the power of his words.  And how many times did his disciples seek to retaliate with violence only to have Jesus rebuke them for seeking to use worldly means of gaining power?  Jesus was just in his public ministry, treating everyone equally and favoring no one.  And his miracles—especially his miracles of healing—show that he came to restore right order to the universe so as to lead us back into Eden: that is, the kingdom of God.

Friends, this is the Christ—the great King—whose first coming we are preparing to celebrate and whose imminent return we are called to anticipate.  Both of these demand that we listen to John the Baptist who calls us today to prepare through repentance.  Why repentance?  Because when the King comes he will look to have his kingdom in order, with his subjects doing the work he gave them in the manner that he instructed them to do it.  Now I know that, as persons who live in a free society—one that was founded in response to throwing off the rule of a monarch—it may be difficult for us to live as subjects of a king who has absolute authority over us.  Nonetheless, that is what we are called to do and that is what Jesus expects of us when he returns.

Remember, however, that his is not the king/queen of England, but rather the great king who the prophet Isaiah foretold would come, and so we should not be afraid to make ourselves subjects of this king.  In fact, we should have a healthy fear of not submitting ourselves to this king and his order, because, as John the Baptist relates, He is coming with his winnowing fan in his hand to clear his threshing floor; gathering his wheat into his barn and throwing the chaff into an unquenchable fire.  The wheat are those who have subjected themselves to his authority and the chaff are those who haven’t.  The wheat, therefore, will be taken up into glory on the last day and the chaff will be left to descend into everlasting death.

Our task of preparation, therefore, is one in which we examine ourselves—soberly, yet seriously—and ask ourselves, “In what ways am I denying to be a faithful subject of my king?”  The answers to these questions are what we call “sins”: ways in which we have denied to act as faithful subjects of our king.  Then, having identified those things, we must make a positive decision to turn from those ways and subject ourselves to him with our whole hearts, minds, bodies, and strength once again.  This starts with a good sacramental confession and continues through changed behaviors and attitudes.  The former is simple enough to complete (there are many opportunities for one to make a confession every week).  The latter, however, will take a good amount of work.  You’ll know that you’ve done it, however, when you’ve detached yourselves from your wants and desires and seek rather to know and to do what God wants: which is to spread the good news of Jesus and to relieve suffering wherever you are able.  My friends, this is true repentance, and this is the way that we are called to prepare for the coming of Christ our King.

Last week I warned you all about a specter running around called “The Christmas Spirit” that convinces people to believe in a domesticated Christmas: a Christmas that’s all about family reunions, meals, and shared gifts.  This, I argued, is a false spirit, because the true Spirit of Christmas is the one that leads us to prepare for and to hail the coming of Christ our King.  This week, we see clearly who is this king for whom we are preparing and the way for us to prepare for him to come.  My brothers and sisters let us earnestly take up this work of repentance with great hope in our hearts: for Christ our King loves us and longs for the day when he will return to take us up into his glory.  This Eucharist, in which his advent is made present to us even now, is the guarantee of this truth.  Let us, then, not be afraid: for his kingdom of justice and peace awaits us.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – December 8^th, 2019

Preparing to hail the King

Homily: 1^st Sunday of Advent – Cycle A

Friends, hot on the heels of our celebration of Christ the King, we come to the first Sunday of Advent.  Instead of hearing readings that turn our focus to the Christ Child (perhaps as we’d prefer they’d do), we hear readings that remind us of Christ’s kingship.  And this is totally appropriate since the beginning of our new liturgical year is never a “reset”, but always a “continuation”.  Our declaration last week that Jesus Christ is Lord and King of the Universe necessarily leads us right into the truth that he is yet to come again, and our readings remind us of this.

In our first reading from the prophet Isaiah, we hear the prophecy of how the Lord will come to establish Mount Zion, the hill on which Jerusalem was built, as the “highest” mountain.  As we know, the city of Jerusalem is nowhere near the highest point of anything.  In the symbolic language of the prophets, however, the cities of the greatest prominence—from which the greatest rulers rule—are the ones built on the highest mountains and so Isaiah declares that God will come to establish Mount Zion as the highest mountain so that Jerusalem will be considered the greatest of cities from which the greatest of rulers, the Lord, will rule over all the earth.

This is an obvious allusion to Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, whom Isaiah didn’t know, but nonetheless foretold, and who would, by his death and resurrection on Mount Zion, establish himself as king.  In doing so, he will draw all nations to himself; because, in himself, he has become Mount Zion, established as the highest mountain (for we read in the Gospel of John that Jesus says, “...when I am lifted from the earth, I will draw all people to myself.” ~ John 12:32).  Then we hear Isaiah say, “Many peoples shall come and say: ‘Come, let us climb the Lord’s mountain, to the house of the God of Jacob, that he may instruct us in his ways, and we may walk in his paths.’”  Is this not the embodiment of who Jesus is?  The one to whom all peoples go up to be instructed in his ways so as to walk in his paths?  And yet Isaiah continues: “For from Zion shall go forth instruction, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.”  In Jesus Christ we see this, too, happening.  Carried first by his apostles and then by the faithful throughout the generations, this instruction has gone out into the world.

Bishop Robert Barron, in a recent podcast reflecting on the feast of Christ the King, reminds us that this was the whole purpose of Christ’s coming: that is, to establish a kingdom that unifies the world.  And this is a real kingdom, with Christ as the king, and with the law of God as the universal rule for all peoples everywhere.  In other words, Christ didn’t come to teach us how to be nice people and then to sacrifice himself for our sins only to return to heaven and leave us alone—as if, as he ascended, he could be heard saying, “Now you better behave, because I’m not going to come down their again and save you!”  No, Christ came to establish the definitive kingdom of God under his own kingship.  This is what we celebrate on the feast of Christ the King.  That he will return in all of his glory to take his kingdom unto himself is what the season of Advent spurs us to remember.

This remembering, however, is never static.  In other words, we’re not meant to go “Oh yeah,” and then continue as if nothing is different.  Rather, this remembering is meant to spur us into action: for we are the ones who have gone up to Christ to receive instruction so as to walk in his paths, and we are the ones who are sent to go forth from Christ into the world with this instruction.  And why?  To prepare for the final uniting of all into the one kingdom of heaven.  And so, how do we prepare?

We prepare by first recognizing that this world is covered in darkness: a darkness that only the light of Christ can penetrate and illuminate.  It is fitting, then, that we celebrate this season at the time of year in which the days are filled with the least amount of daylight.  Advent calls us to recognize this darkness and enter into it, so that we can know what is truly the light of Christ and what is the false light that the world puts forth to distract us.

Frankly, I just don’t see how we can do this if we have already filled our lives with winter holiday lights and festivities.  At the end of the prophecy that we heard in today’s reading, Isaiah exhorts the children of Israel to “walk in the light of the Lord”, and Saint Paul, in the second reading from the Letter to the Romans, exhorts them to “throw off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light”.  Friends, I declare that this is all but impossible for us if we have already decked out our homes with false lights and festivities that have little to do with preparing for Christ’s coming.  We should, rather, be examining ourselves—going into the darkness of our inner selves—to see if we are truly prepared to meet Christ our King and to be judged by him.

Therefore, I exhort you to leave off the lights and festivities this Advent and instead “seek first the kingdom of God”.  For, as Christ himself reminded us in today’s Gospel reading, we do not know the day when Christ will come.  Rather, it will catch us unaware, going about, as it were, our daily business.  Those who are ready for the judgment will be taken up into the kingdom, and those who aren’t will be left behind.  You know, it is really unfortunate that there are so many teachers in the Church today who will argue for universal salvation: that is, that ultimately everyone will be saved.  Unfortunate because it is not biblical.  The biblical teaching is that there are many who will be lost to eternal punishment: most of whom, I would guess, will be lost because they didn’t take care to be ready for the day that the Lord called them to judgment.  And this for me is very distressing, which is why I am preaching this to you today.

You know, there’s a specter running around called “The Christmas Spirit” that convinces people to believe in a domesticated Christmas: a Christmas that’s all about family reunions, meals, and shared gifts.  This, I argue, is a false spirit.  False because Christ himself cannot be domesticated.  The true Spirit of Christmas is the one that leads us to prepare for and hail the coming of Christ the King: a king more powerful than all the rulers of this world, a king who will judge between nations and impose terms on many peoples, a king who can, once and for all, lead people to beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks, a king who can bring true and lasting peace through justice by uniting all peoples into one kingdom.  Friends, if your “Christmas Spirit” isn’t a spirit that prepares for and hails this king, then I say to you again: it is a false spirit.

The question, therefore, that this first Sunday of Advent poses to all of us is this: “Where is Christ the King in my preparations for and celebrations of Advent?”  If you struggle to find him there, then perhaps you’ll ask yourself, “What, then, am I preparing for?”  Let us all challenge ourselves to discern in prayer at least one way that we can turn this time of Advent and Christmas into a preparation for and a hailing of the coming of Christ the King.  Perhaps we’ll take up a work of mercy, or spend an hour in adoration each week, or read the scriptures a little each day (especially if that means turning off TV, steaming services, or social media), or any number of things.  Making a good and thorough examination of conscience and sacramental reconciliation is probably one of the best ways to put Christ the King into your preparations.  Whatever you discern, be intentional.  Write it down and make concrete plans to do it.  Share those plans with a friend and keep each other accountable to it.  In this way you will keep yourself awake for the day of the Lord’s coming, which may be very soon, and you will be ready to join the multitudes who sing with the Psalmist: “Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord.”

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – December 1^st, 2019

Rejoice! God makes the ordinary extraordinary.

Homily: 3rd Sunday of Advent – Cycle C

St Peter’s Basilica in Rome is arguably the most famous church in the world.  And it’s enormous.  Inside it’s 614 feet long.  In fact, when you enter the doors and stand at the end of its full length and look at the floor, you’ll see that there are markings there indicating its size in comparison to other major churches throughout the world, verifying that quite possibly it is the largest church in the world.  The ceiling of the main nave is 145 feet high, and the inside of the dome itself soars to 385 feet.  It’s built in the form of a cross and, just to give you a better idea of its size, I would bet that our church—which is not small, by any means—would fit multiple times in one of the side naves of St. Peter’s.  Like I said, it’s enormous.

Of course, it is adorned with everything that high Renaissance art could throw at it, which you might think would be overwhelming when you first walk in there.  On the contrary, though, there is an incredible sense of balance and proportionality to it all.  As I walked through there for the first time I just tried to take it all in.  After spending some time in there, however, I started to approach different objects—certain statues, altars, side chapels, etc.—to take a closer look; and when I did I was amazed at the size of each thing.  Not only is the Basilica itself huge, everything in it is huge, too!

Standing in the midst of this extraordinariness, it’s easy to forget why it’s even there at all.  St. Peter’s Basilica was built over an ancient necropolis (a “city cemetery”) on Rome’s Vatican Hill.  This ancient burial ground was very close to one of the places where Romans held sporting events, gladiator fights, and where they sometimes executed criminals.  That Roman entertainment complex (which they called “circuses”) was where Saint Peter was crucified and that nearby necropolis was where Saint Peter was buried.  It’s amazing to think that such an extraordinary basilica was constructed because of someone so ordinary: a fisherman from Galilee, a remote outpost of the Roman Empire.  That’s like saying we were going to build a basilica to honor a line worker from Indiana Packers up in Delphi: on the surface, there doesn’t seem to be any merit for it.

The basilica wasn’t built because of Peter’s merit alone, however.  That would be a hard case to sell.  He often said the wrong thing, at the wrong time, and Jesus had to correct him.  He confessed that he would die with Jesus, but then fled when Jesus was arrested.  Worse yet, he denied knowing Jesus three times when he was threatened with arrest for knowing him.  No, the basilica wasn’t built over his grave because of his own merits.  He was an ordinary fisherman from Galilee through and through.  The basilica was built over his grave, rather, because of the extraordinary things that God accomplished through his ordinariness.  In other words, it was built to honor the ordinary that God had made extraordinary.  And so, we see that, with God, it all starts with the ordinary.

In the Gospel reading last week we heard how people were coming to John the Baptist, responding to his call for a “baptism of repentance” in which they would renounce their sins and then be ritually washed so as to be cleansed from the ritual impurity that their sins caused.  Today, we heard how many of these people, having turned away from their sins, sought advice from John about what they should do now that they had been cleansed.  Perhaps they thought that he would invite them to join him in his ascetic way of life, abandoning their work and wealth to live in extreme conditions.  Perhaps they thought that this kind of extraordinary act would be necessary to complete their cleansing.  What they heard, however, wasn’t very extraordinary at all.  John said to them: “Whatever you’re doing, do it right. And if you have the chance to help somebody in need, do it.”  These were very ordinary things.  Nevertheless, John knew that these things would prepare them for the extraordinary transformation that Christ would soon bring.

This transformation is much more dramatic than the words of the Gospel convey on the surface.  What John described was fantastical.  His baptism was an ordinary baptism: a cleansing with water.  Imagine having just experienced that kind of baptism and then to hear him say that the one who will come after him—the one who would be mightier than him—will baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire!  It would have been shocking and incomprehensible to his hearers.   Yet what he was saying to them was, "Do these ordinary things and you'll be ready for this extraordinary experience.”

It’s not hard, sometimes, however, when we’re not sure what the next steps are, to think that we have to do extraordinary things.  For example: a couple of years ago my family decided to come to Logansport to visit me for Christmas.  I had never hosted my whole family before so I wasn’t sure how to prepare.  I started worrying that I would have to do all of these extraordinary things to prepare for their arrival.  I soon realized, however, that I had to start with ordinary things: I had to make sure that the house was clean and that it was neatly appointed with festive things.  After that, I just had to keep doing what I had been doing and wait for them to come.  In the end having them there was a great experience! Extraordinary in every way.

I worry that we sometimes act this way with God.  We think that we have to do extraordinary things to get his attention.  And that, if we don’t feel like we can do those things (or, perhaps, we’re just not motivated to do those things), we decide to do nothing at all.  Yet, as we see throughout the Scriptures and in the lives of the Saints, God wants to meet us in the ordinary: and then to make our ordinary extraordinary.

My brothers and sisters, the most extraordinary event in the history of the world was the birth of Jesus, the divine person who took on our ordinary human flesh in order to save us from sin and death forever.  He has already worked an extraordinary transformation in each of us through baptism; and he is coming again to complete our transformation to be like him in glory.  Thus, we don't need to be extraordinary ourselves. Rather, we can find joy in the ordinary—the work-a-day here and now—because of the extraordinary that God has promised to make with it.

So, what should we do?  Focus on the basics: Repent.  Seek the baptism of repentance by turning away from whatever sin in which you may be caught and be cleansed by making a good confession before Christmas.  Then, do the work you were given to do in justice and in truth.  In other words, pray, share your blessings with the poor, and do your daily work with integrity.  Finally, wait in joyful expectation of the one who has already come, who is still with us, and who will come to us again.  In these ways, my brothers and sisters—that is, in our faithful obedience to the ordinary—we will be prepared for that day when God will transform our ordinary to be unbelievably extraordinary.   Therefore, as Saint Paul exhorts us today, let us “rejoice in the Lord always.  I say it again: rejoice!”  For the Lord is truly near.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – December 16th, 2018

Make straight the way of God within...

Homily: 2^nd Sunday of Advent – Cycle C

          Having grown up in a suburban area southwest of Chicago, I’ve come to appreciate much of the wide open spaces that I’ve often encountered since living here in Indiana.  I mean, we had parks and other open spaces where I grew up, but nothing like the expansive farms of corn, wheat, and soybeans like we enjoy here in north-central Indiana.  And, as I drive through different areas of the state, I enjoy taking in these great open spaces that go on for as far as I can see and which often make me wonder about just how much more there is that I don’t see.

          Having grown up here in the Midwest, however, where the land is mostly flat, I am unable to appreciate what it means to live in the midst of mountains and valleys.  Only by way of vacations or other short trips have I experienced what it means to have to drive over or around a mountain to get to the next town or city or to have to climb down into the valley in order to find the road that will take you to the market.  As a result, I am unable to truly appreciate the difficulties associated with living in areas like these.  A Haitian proverb, speaking about the reality of the terrain in Haiti, but also about the difficulties they experience in their lives, says this: “Beyond the mountains, there are more mountains.”  Perhaps many of you are in the same boat as me and unable to appreciate the difficulties of living in such areas.  Thus, our ability to appreciate what the prophets speak about in today’s readings is, perhaps, somewhat limited as well.

          In the first reading, from the prophet Baruch, we find the people of Jerusalem in mourning for their children who have been exiled by foreign invaders.  As such, they have clothed themselves in the traditional garb of mourners.  The prophet has come to announce that, by God’s mercy, the children of Jerusalem are about to return and so he joyfully announces that the inhabitants of Jerusalem are to throw off their garments of mourning and are to put on festival clothing.  Then, they are to go to the highest place and look off in the distance.  What they will find is that every mountain has been flattened and every valley has been filled in in order to make a straight and wide way for the triumphant return of their children, thus signaling a bright future for their nation.

          For those of you who may have lived among mountains, I suspect that this image of mountains that have been flattened and valleys that have been filled in would seem to be very vivid as you imagine what life could have been like had the same happened in the area in which you lived.  Those of us who have spent most of our lives in Indiana, however, are probably more apt to focus on that image of a wide, flat space, and what that would look like from a high place (though it wouldn’t have to be too high around here).  Imagine how incredible it would be to see a whole nation of people traversing some of these expansive farmlands as if they were returning to their homeland.  Well, perhaps you’re not impressed, but nevertheless it is exactly these Scriptural images that the Church gives us this week in order to help us understand what God is calling us to do during this Advent.

          What we see in that first reading is that the prophet is calling for two movements: one, that the people must first prepare themselves, removing their garments of mourning and putting on festival garments, and two, that the way must be prepared for the one who is coming, making it level and smooth.

          Then, in the Gospel reading, John the Baptist turns this call inward as he calls the people to a “baptism of repentance.”  As the herald of Jesus, the Messiah who was about to reveal himself, John was calling the people to prepare not only by outward appearances, but also by inward dispositions as well: thus making their hearts ready to receive the Messiah for whom they had long waited.

          A line from one of my favorite Advent hymns states: “make straight the way of God within.”  John was calling the people to prepare the way for the Messiah to enter into their hearts.  Thus, it was not enough to cleanse their hearts from sin by a baptism in the Jordan River, but rather they also needed to prepare a way for the Messiah to enter into their hearts by true repentance: that is, by truly changing their lives and leaving behind their sinful ways.

          My brothers and sisters, we recall John the Baptist’s words today in order to remind us that God calls each of us to prepare our hearts to receive him.  God wants to come to us and to dwell in us and to lead us to our heavenly homeland, and, although we have already been baptized by water and the Spirit in the Sacrament of Baptism, we are still constantly in need of a “baptism of repentance” like the one John called for in the Gospel reading: for when we examine our hearts we discover that the way into them is neither straight nor smooth; rather it is obstructed by ‘mountains of sin’ and ‘valleys of despair’ and self-pity.  Far from being straight and wide, the way into our hearts is narrow as it twists and turns around these mountains and valleys: a result of rationalizing our behavior instead of correcting it.

          Our Advent task, therefore, is to knock down the mountains of sin and fill in the valleys of despair and self-pity, thus straightening the way for God into our hearts.  The best way that we can do this is to return to the Sacrament of Reconciliation, for it is there that we can face the mountains that our sins have erected between ourselves and God as well as the ever-widening valleys of despair caused by our broken relationships with those around us.  And then we can watch as the power of God’s grace flattens the mountains and fills in the valleys, thus making the way between us smooth and easy to pass.  (Hmm, what a Christmas gift that would be: reconciliation with God and one another…)

          You know, it’s a shame for us that we are unable to celebrate the feast day of St. Juan Diego this year, since today, his feast day, falls on a Sunday.  It’s a shame for us because he can be for us a great example of one who, with the help of God’s grace, was able to flatten the mountains of doubt and fill in the valleys of fear in order to bring Our Lady’s message to the Bishop in Tenochtitlan, thus making the way smooth for Christ to enter the hearts of millions of people in Mexico and beyond.  Perhaps, in that same spirit, we, too, could “make straight the way of God within” and do the same right here in Indiana.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette IN – December 8^th & 9^th, 2018

Are you tired? Let go!

Homily: 1st Sunday of Advent – Cycle C

I don’t know about all of you, but I am pretty tired.  I’ve been here for five months now and have found that pastoring a parish of this size—one that is also the Cathedral, and all of the trappings that come with that—is a lot of work.  And I mean that in the very literal, scientific sense: for work is energy expended over time and I know that I have been expending a lot of energy over extended periods of time in the last five months.

I would guess that it’s pretty safe to say, however, that I’m not the only one who is feeling this way.  Let me ask, how many here have a new baby?  How many of you have more than one kid under 7 years old at home?  How many have moved sometime this year?  How many have either lost or switched jobs?    And how many of you are working and going to school at the same time?  How many of you have lost a loved one recently?  How many of us are dealing with emotional turmoil from the scandals in the Church?  I’m guessing that this covers most everyone here.  But, even if I didn’t mention part of your situation, I suspect that all of us could identify some things in our lives that are causing us to expend a great deal of energy: either just to keep up with our lives or, perhaps, to cope with the stress of transitioning into something new in our lives.  Regardless of what it is, all of us can probably admit that we are feeling a bit worn down by it all: that we, too, are tired.

As a result, I think that a lot of us hope that we could come here and hear a word of comfort.  Perhaps we’ve come here hoping that the Gospel reading for the day would be something like: “Well done, good and faithful servant, come share in your master’s joy.”  Instead, we walk into this season of Advent and are greeted with an exhortation from Saint Paul saying, “The good that you’ve already been doing, you should do more!”  Then, on top of that, Christ tells us to “be vigilant at all times,” that is, not to take a break.  And, as if that wasn’t enough, he prefaces that statement by saying, “You know, everything is actually going to get a lot worse before it gets better!”  Thus, when we hear Christ’s instruction to us—“Beware that your hearts do not become drowsy…”—it really doesn’t seem all that helpful.  And what we come to realize is that our hearts, indeed, have become drowsy.

In many ways, however, we are not unlike the ancient Israelites.  For centuries, they waited for the Messiah—the one promised them by God who would redeem them and free them from all of their oppressors.  Yet, their hearts had become drowsy from waiting as they endured exile away from their homeland, and then occupation of their homeland by foreign invaders after their return.  And so, even though God had sent them prophets throughout these times to remind them of his promises—like the prophet Jeremiah, from who we heard in the first reading today—many of the Israelites still failed to see in Jesus the coming of the One for whom they had longed ///

Perhaps to us it seems as if Christ’s return is also long delayed.  And perhaps, therefore, we’ve allowed our focus to drift away from our eternal destiny, our anticipation of his coming to become dulled, and our discipline in prayer and good works to lapse.  In other words, perhaps we, too, have allowed our hearts to become drowsy from the anxieties, the worries, the stresses of our daily lives.  We’ve lost sight of the goal, it seems, and, thus, feel a bit lost.

At the end of each calendar year, we all somewhat instinctively assess where we’ve been throughout the year.  For some, this is a time of great anxiety as we look back at what we desired to accomplish in the last year and see what remains undone.  For others, the stress comes from seeing how, though great efforts were made, circumstances meant that there was little to show for it.  Still for others, it is a time of despair when we see that, through fear or lack of self-confidence, another year has passed and we have not made any moves to improve a difficult situation in our lives.

This is why the Church, in her wisdom, guided by the Holy Spirit, gives us this season of Advent at the end of the calendar year.  She knows how easy it is to get bogged down by the work of daily living and so She offers us this season as a “wake-up call” and a reminder to us that the promise of Christ’s second coming—the promise that there is something greater yet to come—is still before us.  Advent, therefore, is the great season of detachment: of letting go of those things that tie us to this world and its anxieties, lest we be caught off-guard, cowering in fear after the days of tribulation, when Christ will come.  It is also the season of remembering that we can never accomplish our fulfillment alone: for Christ came to us specifically because we could not effect our salvation on our own.  Rather, we needed the help of Another—who is God made man, born in a cave outside of Jerusalem.

Brothers and sisters, our Christian faith tells us that we have been made for greatness and that our work in this life is to strive for that greatness always.  It also reminds us, however, that our ability to reach the heights of that greatness is limited and that we can never achieve it on our own.  Advent is the season in which we are reminded to rejoice, regardless; because in Advent—which, literally translated, means “the arrival”—we remember that God himself has come, in our human nature, in order to overcome our weaknesses, and that God himself will come again to fulfill his promise to end our anxieties and to draw us into himself: the place of our eternal rest.

And so, my brothers and sisters, if your hearts have become drowsy, then let this be your wake-up call.  Because our hope, Jesus Christ our Savior, is coming—and has already come—to relieve us and to lead us home.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – December 1^st & 2^nd, 2018

Abandon fear and celebrate Christ!

Homily: 4^th Sunday of Advent – Cycle B

          Because of the way that marriages were arranged in the Ancient Near East, it is generally believed that Mary was around fourteen or fifteen years old when the angel Gabriel appeared to her and told her that she was going to be pregnant.  Think back for a moment, whether you are male or female, to when you were fourteen or fifteen years old.  I’m guessing that almost all of you here, while perhaps thinking that you might someday get married, were not yet promised in marriage; and certainly were not facing the prospect of having a baby.

          No, you were probably living like ordinary teenagers: going to school, playing sports or being involved in clubs and activities, and maybe working a part-time job.  “Going steady” or dating someone might have been the closest you had gotten to the idea of marriage and having a baby.  Imagine, then what it would have felt like to have been promised in marriage and then to receive a message that you would have a baby.  I’m guessing that, for most of you this would have been quite a scary prospect.  Yet, that’s what Mary had to deal with when she was, at most, fifteen years old.

          But that wasn’t all, however, because the angel continued to say that the child that would be born from her would be conceived by the Holy Spirit and that he would be a great king that would rule over the Jewish people forever.  You have to remember that at that time the Romans occupied what we know today as the Holy Land.  And at the time the Romans did not look kindly on anyone who had aspirations of being a king.  The king, for them, was Caesar and anyone else claiming to be a king was a revolutionary.  About thirty-three years later, we would see what the Romans would do to a man who was accused of being a revolutionary when they crucified Jesus.  Mary knew this and so the prospect that this son—the one for whom she wasn’t ready, remember—would be hailed as a king in the line of David, the great Jewish king, would have frightened her even more.

          Still further, Mary was a virgin and, although young, she knew what happened to women who were caught being unfaithful to their husbands (even if they hadn’t begun to live together formally with their husbands): those women were killed!  Thus, the prospect of becoming pregnant by someone other than Joseph (her husband to whom she had been promised)—something that she wouldn’t be able to hide from him and which would make it appear that she had been unfaithful to him—not only ran the risk of ruining her relationship with him, but also put her life in jeopardy!

          And so, added to the prospect of being, at most, fifteen and pregnant, Mary had to face all of this… and what did she say?  She said, “I’m confused, but I have faith in God.  And so, if this message is truly from God, then let it be done to me according to your word.”  Mary did not let all of the bad things that could happen stop her from agreeing to follow God’s will for her life.  Rather, she chose to say “yes” because she believed that God was trustworthy.

          Today, of course, God is not calling any of you to conceive a child by the Holy Spirit who will be a controversial leader of nations; but he has called you.  He has called you to take responsibility to be a Christian in today’s world.  This calling, of course, has its own dangers.  The world is very hostile to the values that are essential to being a Christian: piety, temperance, chastity, modesty, purity, obedience, and faithfulness (just to name a few), and so it is a fearful thing to accept this calling.  Nevertheless, God has called each of you to take this responsibility (and it is a responsibility—that is, something that demands a response from you); and not just for yourself, but rather to be a witness to others, too.

          King David recognized that God had been very good to him, giving him victory over his enemies (before he was king) and over the enemies of his people.  As he settled to reign over the people of Judah, he wanted to do something good for God: something that would show God his appreciation for all that God had done for him.  Therefore, he proposed to build God a temple: a fitting house to honor God’s presence among them.  Through the prophet Nathan, however, God revealed that he would have nothing of it.  God was not to be “repaid”, if you will, by David, but rather determined to finish his work with him.

          God, therefore, revealed to David that not only would David not build a house for him, but that God would make David into a house: a kingdom that would last forever.  In doing so, God revealed something important: that he, who had been with David throughout all of his trials, would remain with him to continue to guide and strengthen him, until his final days and even beyond them, as he would guide and protect David’s descendants for generations to come.  In this we see God’s promise to those whom he has called: that if he calls us to a responsibility, then we can trust that he will be with us as we seek to follow his will.

          Of course, some of that support comes in the form of the people who surround us here today.  By being here, we are all promising to support each other as we make the choice to take responsibility for being a Christian in today’s world.  Our task is to help each other make the right choices in our lives and in our relationships and to pray for each other and with each other, so that each of us will have the best chance to fulfill this calling that God has given to us.  This, in a sense, is the work we are all trying to renew in our lives during this Advent season: that, as we prepare to celebrate the coming of our Lord, we do so by making sure that we are fulfilling this calling to Christian discipleship that we have all received.

          Sometimes, however, the hardest part is saying “yes” to God.  At fifteen years old, Mary was able to do so because she believed that God was trustworthy and because he proved that he was.  My brothers and sisters, no matter how old each of us is today, God is asking us to say “yes”, also.  Let us not be afraid to say “yes” to God, for he is a Father who loves us and who is very proud of us; and he will never leave us alone.  Let us not be afraid, because with the help of Mary and the saints, and with the help of our brothers and sisters here, each of us will fulfill God’s will for our lives: our happiness.  The happiness that, in some sense, we experience when we celebrate the great feast of Christ’s birth, and which is available to us when we receive him, even now, from this altar.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – December 23^rd & 24^th, 2017