Day-by-Day

Christmas is over.

In today's Gospel, Jesus is eight days old.

He's been presented in the temple; Simeon and Anna have made their prophesies.

We're told that the Holy Family returns to Nazareth.

That Jesus grew and became strong, filled with wisdom;

And the favor of God was upon him.

We'll hear very little of Jesus' life for the next thirty years.

Matthew tells briefly of the family's flight into Egypt.

Luke gives us one more quick peek.

We hear that every year the family visited the temple in Jerusalem.

And that when Jesus was twelve years old he was “lost” in the temple.

After three days, Mary and Joseph found him there, talking with the scholars.

They returned to Nazareth, and Jesus was obedient to his parents.

That's it.

No other Gospel details for thirty years.

Jesus—the Son of God, God Himself—living among us.

But no report on what he was doing.

Just that he was growing in body, strength, wisdom and God's favor.

Those many years are referred to as Jesus' hidden life.

What are we to make of those years?

Why wasn't more about those early years revealed to us?

Did he do nothing noteworthy?

Actually, that lack of note is the message to us.

The ordinary day-to-day routine of that hidden life is the lesson for us.

Jesus spent all those years—well into adulthood—living that simple life.

The son of a humble but righteous carpenter in a small obscure town.

Perhaps a humble carpenter himself.

Perhaps later living with and supporting his widowed mother.

By living those hidden life years, Jesus sanctified our own ordinary human lives.

We don't need to be famous, we don't need to perform mighty deeds.

We need only do what it takes, day-to-day, to grow in wisdom and in God's favor.

6th Day in Octave of Christmas

Lk 2:36-40      Read this Scripture @usccb.org

What Then Will This Child Be?

What then will this child be?

It’s a time of new beginnings—Great Expecations.

There are particularly wondrous circumstances surrounding John’s birth.

The biblical foretelling of his coming.

The angelic announcement.

God's intervention to send a child despite seemingly impossible physical circumstances.

The great mission.

Even as we read of John's birth, we’ve already shifted our attention to Jesus’ birth.

An even more wondrous—most wondrous—event.

Shifted our attention just as John would want us to do.

But we have a few more hours before we begin our Christmas celebration.

A few more hours for Advent preparation.

And today’s question is a good one to contemplate.

It’s a question we raise when each child is born.

It’s a question that was raised when we were born.

What then will this child be?

We may think that question’s already been answered

With regard to ourselves.

We’ve been around for quite some time.

But no matter how many decades we’ve logged.

We’re still God’s children.

None of us here have yet finished our journey.

None of us are yet fully refined silver or gold.

We can almost certainly find a way to change or improve.

And we still have time.

We all have a constant opportunity to make a new beginning.

But this is a particularly good time each year to ask ourselves,

About ourselves,

What then will this child be?

Advent -- December 23

Lk 1:57-66      Read this Scripture @usccb.org

Quiet Listening

Does God actually speak to us—individually, personally?

Does he send angels to bring us his messages?

The Scriptures contain many accounts of those Divine communications.

We have two of them today.

We hear that the Lord spoke to Nathan.

And gave him a message for David.

A message assuring that God would raise a new king from David's heirs.

God saying of that new king, I will be a father to him, and he shall be a son to me.

And then in our Annunciation Gospel we hear of the coming fulfillment of that assurance.

The angel Gabriel was sent from God … to Mary.

To tell her that God has chosen her to give birth to a holy child, the Son of God.

Mary had a real conversation with Gabriel.

And in the end, she accepted God's call—

May it be done to me according to your word.

In still other Scripture passages angels bring messages from God to Joseph in his dreams.

And God and his angels also talk with Abraham and Moses and many lesser Bible characters.

But how about us ordinary non-biblical folks.

Does God really talk to us?

When we're awake? When we're asleep? Through his messengers?

Yes, he does.

We've all had those experiences.

That inner voice speaking to us—guiding us.

We may have to question whose voice that really is.

It could sometimes just be our own voice.

It takes practice in listening.

But we can develop our ear for recognizing God's voice.

We can also test the message.

Is it consistent with what we know of God's law and God's goodness?

If not, we know it's not God's voice or God's message.

If we have any doubts that God does indeed speaks to us, our own stories can help assure us.

My own favorite personal story has some relation to today's Annunciation Gospel.

Fifteen years ago I was trying to decide whether to apply to the deacon program.

I'd been carrying the forms around in my briefcase for days--filled out and ready to mail.

Now the deadline had come.
The application had to be postmarked that day or I'd have to wait another two years to apply.

In those days I was the server at the 8:00 daily Mass.

And as I walked to Church that morning I was praying/thinking:

God give me some guidance here.

Give me some message—some sign—let me know for sure if I should mail in this application.

Usually, I was the first one into the sacristy.

But that morning there was already a priest waiting.

A priest I didn't recognize.

Father Begg was scheduled for the Mass, so I figured this was maybe a friend of his.

We chatted a bit, but didn't introduce ourselves.

We looked at the historic scenes painted on the sacristy windows.

One showed the ships, the Ark and the Dove, that brought the first settlers to Maryland.

The priest mentioned that the day before, on the Feast of the Annunciation,

He had blessed the replicas of those ships in Baltimore Harbor.

Our lector came into the sacristy to help with setting up for the Mass.

Being more polite (or at least less preoccupied) than I, she said Hi father, I'm Elsa.

He responded, Good morning, I'm Fr Keeler.

I went about setting up the altar.

When I came back to the sacristy, Fr Begg had arrived and they were both vested.

The bells began to ring and we lined up to go out to the altar.

At that instant, Fr Keeler pulled a scarlet skullcap from his briefcase and set it on his head.

And I immediately began thinking:

Ah, Fr Keeler is Cardinal Keeler from Baltimore—maybe this is the sign I'm asking for.

God sent me a cardinal for morning Mass.

But then again, I've served with Cardinals Hickey and McCarrick and other Bishops before.

A cardinal showing up today is certainly a surprise and uncommon, but it's not unheard of.

Maybe it's not a sign at all.

So I started the Mass sitting right here, distracted, paying no attention.

Totally engrossed in my mental debate over whether Cardinal Keeler was a sign.

Suddenly I realized that Fr Begg was standing right in front of me, starting his homily.

I'd automatically stood up at the Alleluia, and it was time to sit down and tune-in to the Mass.

Fr Begg gave one of his famously brief-but-powerful weekday homilies.

     Yesterday was the Feast of the Annunciation.

     Just a week ago we had the Feast of St Joseph, the patron of our parish.

     And in a few weeks we'll have Good Friday.

     The key figures in those holy days are Mary and Joseph and Jesus.

     Besides being members of the Holy Family, 
     What did these three people have most in common.

     They all listened to God's call—and did what he called them to do.

     When are you going to do what God is calling you to do?

There it was—my unmistakable sign.

Fr Begg, messenger from God.

So, that's my story of the personal message that was most clearly sent to me from God.

The one that assures me that God does speak to us personally.

What's your story?

We can all find personal stories—maybe more or less dramatic—of God speaking to us.

In these final days of Advent, let's recall and reflect on the times God has spoken to us.

At the time maybe we didn't fully appreciate what happened.
Maybe we wrote it off as just our own thought, or as some coincidence.

Let's also step up our active communication with God.

Devote much of that time to listening rather than speaking.

Contemplate, meditate, praise, petition and give thanks.
And then follow that with some quiet listening.

Honing our ability to recognize his messages.

And most importantly, building our confidence in the messages.
And our commitment to act on those messages.

Sunday, 4th Week of  Advent

Lk 1:26-38      Read this Scripture @usccb.org

Time for Action!

There’s always room for improvement.

But improvement requires change.

And generally, we don’t really want change.

When things are going well, or even when they're not.

We adapt to the status quo.

We’re just comfortable enough.

We’re complacent.

We need to feel a certain level of discomfort before we’re ready for change.

It may be that things get suddenly worse.

Or it may be that we finally realize how bad things are.

Or how much better things could be.

That’s true today, and it was true 2000 years ago.

Jesus has some harsh words for the Elders and Pharisees in today’s Gospel.

They’re complacent--too comfortable in their current conditions.

They’re self satisfied.

They’re certain that they’re better than the tax collectors and the prostitutes.

They don’t want to listen to John the Baptist telling them to get ready for God's coming.

And they don’t want to listen to Jesus shake things up

The Good News today is that Jesus shows enormous patience with them.

Even when they won’t listen to him.

Even when they’re actively working against him.

He does use harsh words.

But at the same time, he continues to urge them to change.

To be like that first son; to improve; to convert.
He criticizes them for dragging their feet:

Tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the Kingdom of God before you.

But he doesn’t give up on them and condemn them.

His very words show that there is still hope for them.

He doesn’t tell them tax collectors and prostitutes are entering and you can’t.

He says tax collectors and prostitutes are entering before you.

We’re not so unlike the Elders and Pharisees in today’s Gospel.

To some extent, we’re all in the rut of our daily routine.

To some extent, we’re all complacent.

So we have this Advent season to help us break out of our ruts.

We have John the Baptist, still urging us to prepare for God's coming.

And Jesus, still urging us to hear God's will and to act on it.

As we prepare to celebrate his first coming at Christmas,

We more importantly prepare to meet him at his next coming.

The final judgment, or more likely our own particular judgment.

Surely each of us can find something more we can do to prepare.
To make things better, do better, be better.

There’s always room for improvement.

Tuesday, 3rd Week of  Advent

Mt 21:28-32      Read this Scripture @usccb.org

More Than Many Sparrows

A look at the news makes it clear that the world can be a very cruel place.

Those of us here can be thankful for the relative safety and freedom we enjoy.

Not so for those in war torn countries.

They're surrounded by the brutality of soldiers being maimed and killed.

Worse yet, innocent citizens are tortured and killed.

Hostages are taken and killed.

Imagine what it would be like to be one of those innocent citizens.

Constant fear for your own safety, but even more, your family's safety.

Absolutely powerless to resist the forces that threaten you.

But maybe you can tell yourself there's hope.

The bomb may not fall on your house.

The attackers might leave your family alone.

You don't know when the time will come.

You can hope that, somehow, it will never come.

What must it be like to be one of those innocent hostages?

Totally at the mercy of men who have shown that they grant no mercy.

Maybe you can hope for a rescue.

But rescue attempts are not often tried and even less often successful.

Can you still hope when you're kneeling in the sand.

And your captor's leaning over you with his knife?

In a sense, that's the position of the sheep gone astray in today's Gospel.

The lost sheep is defenseless, hopeless—doomed.

Strayed away from the safety of the nurturing community.

Most importantly, strayed away from the protection of the shepherd.

And there are hungry wolves.

Two thousand years ago, that was the state of mankind.

Mankind gone astray—lost and not found.

Powerless and unable to help ourselves.

We were doomed.

The gates of Heaven were closed to us.

We needed someone to give us comfort.

Someone to come in power to rescue and save us.

And he did.

He didn't save us from every sorrow of the world.

He did more than that—he saved us from our exile.

Surely this is the most glorious thing that ever happened for us sheep.

An occasion for our greatest hope and joy and celebration.

And yet, in Jesus' story today he doesn't even mention the joy of the lost sheep at being found.

Instead, he dwells on the joy of the Shepherd at finding the sheep.

And that slant reveals the overwhelmingly-Good-News message for today.

It gives us some idea of our true worth.

Of how highly God values us.

It gives us great cause for enduring hope—for ourselves and for those we love.

When we stray, God himself seeks us out and rejoices at our return.

He does not want even one of us to be lost.

Tuesday, 2nd Week of  Advent

Mt 18:12-14      Read this Scripture @usccb.org

Hope Big

This past Sunday was the beginning of Advent, the start of our new liturgical year.

Fr. Gene's homily reminded us that it's a time to focus on all facets of Jesus’ coming.

That made me think.

It's not just a time to remember his historic coming 2000 years ago.

It’s a time to appreciate his coming to us every day in the Eucharist, and in other people.

A time to prepare for meeting him at the end of our days.

A time to consider the afterlife.

Many of us are cradle Catholics.

Born into Catholic families.

Even if our family was not the most religious family.

Our families, intentionally or not, passed on some basic Catholic beliefs.

And we went to church; we heard bible stories.

Many of us went to Catholic school.

From our earliest days we were exposed to Catholic teachings.

Others brought up in non-Catholic Christian homes received similar basic teachings.

Still others, brought up in Jewish and Muslim homes, received somewhat similar basic teachings.

There is one God, there is life after death.

Even Hindus and Buddhists and other religions share some basic teachings.

There is a higher power, and there is life after death.

Not all, but most agree on that.

But then there are the atheists and the agnostics.

And others who simply don’t believe there is an afterlife.

Most of us here have believed in an afterlife since we were children.

We may have questioned it.

We can’t fully comprehend it.

We certainly can’t prove it to others.

Sometimes, we might even consider there’s a possibility we could be wrong.

But deep down, we firmly believe it’s true.

That belief is part of who we are—actually a large part.

What must it be like to live without that belief?

To deeply believe that this life is all there is.

Or to allow for only a slight possibility that there might be an afterlife.

I’ve known some very good people who claim to believe there is no afterlife.

People who care deeply for their fellow humans and are committed to helping those in need.

Great humanists.

But greatly missing out on deeper meaning to their lives.

Maybe they’re just afraid to hope big.

Maybe they’re just too wise and learned.

Not fortunate like us who received the revelation when we were more childlike.

When we were, in fact, children.

Maybe the Son has just not yet chosen to reveal it to them.

We, like the apostles are truly blessed; we see and hear what others can only long for.

Where would we be without that gift?

Tuesday, 1st Week of  Advent

Lk 10:21-24      Read this Scripture @usccb.org