St. Joseph Church (Cottleville)
Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph
December 28, 2008 - 12:15 p.m.
Gen 15:1-6; 21:1-3
Heb 11:8, 11-12, 17-19
Lk 2:22-40
I haven’t really spent any time shopping these past few days, but I’m guessing most of the stores have taken down their Christmas decorations and are returning quickly to business as usual. The Christmas music has disappeared from the radio stations that started playing it the day after Halloween, and many will soon be taking down the Christmas lights they spent long hours putting up not too long ago. But the beautiful thing for us as Catholics is that for us the celebration has just begun. The Church gives us an entire liturgical season to reflect upon the mystery of the Incarnation. She gives us a whole series of feasts that get at the meaning of this one event. And so today we come to the Feast of the Holy Family. We reflect upon the mystery of Christmas, of the birth of God as a man, from the context in which it all took place – a human family.
God became part of an ordinary human family. Today’s Gospel tells us that their life was not one of luxury and comfort. The Jewish law demanded that a woman offer a lamb and a turtledove as a sacrifice for her purification after childbirth. A lamb was a very costly sacrifice, and so the law allowed for an “Offering of the Poor.” Those who could not afford a lamb were given permission to bring another turtledove in its place. This is what Mary and Joseph brought to the Temple.
Mary, Joseph, and their child lived as any other Jewish family would have in their day. Jesus was raised as any Jewish boy would have been. His parents taught Him the history of their people. We can imagine St. Joseph taking his son outside their home in Nazareth and telling Jesus to look up at the stars. He would have told Him that when Abraham looked upon those same stars, he saw one lit for Jesus, for He was one of those innumerable children of Abraham, a child of the covenant. Jesus would have learned the trade of carpentry from St. Joseph. Our Lady certainly cared tenderly for her Son and also cared for the home, tireless spending herself out of love for her husband and her son. This family knew the great joys of life together, and it knew many trials and sufferings.
Today we look upon this ordinary human family, and we call it the Holy Family. It was holy not because of any amazing deeds performed but because God Himself dwelt in their home in the flesh. It was holy because a man and woman welcomed the Son of God into their home and spent the entirety of their lives with Him as their primary love. Because Jesus Christ dwelt in that Nazareth home with Mary and Joseph, their seemingly ordinary life became extraordinary. It became holy.
And so it is for us. Whether we live in a home of mother, father, and 12 children, alone as a widow, or anything in between, Jesus Christ wants to dwell in our homes. He wants to make our seemingly ordinary lives into something extraordinary. He wants to make our humble lives into something beautiful for His Father. This is yet another wondrous truth of the Christmas mystery. Every little thing we do, if we do it out of love for God and neighbor, becomes a source of sanctification for us. It is from our participation in Holy Mass that we gain the grace we need to live in God’s presence throughout the week. But holiness doesn’t merely mean coming to Mass every Sunday. What we do here at Mass on Sunday should extend into our homes throughout the week. Just as we begin Mass by recognizing our sinfulness, so in our families we should always be ready to forgive. Just as we listen to stories of salvation history in the Mass readings, so in our families we share our own experiences and listen to the other members of our family as they share theirs. At Mass we offer bread and wine to God the Father to be consecrated into the flesh and blood of His Son. In our homes, we should offer all of our joys and our sufferings to Him. Just as Christ gives Himself to us in Holy Communion, so should we be willing to give of ourselves totally out of love to the other members of our family.
Our homes, then, should be domestic churches. Christ should be welcome in our homes. All it takes is simple, ordinary things – praying together as a family before meals or praying the Rosary together. It means doing basic household chores – sweeping, dusting, dishes, trash – with great love for God and for the other members of our family. Every part of our home, every part of family life can be holy. The kitchen counter, the computer desk, the dining room table – all of these can become the altars of our homes, places where we offer our lives to God.
St. Therese of Lisieux knew this lesson well. The history of our Church has given us many heroic saints, saints like Thomas Aquinas, who wrote volumes of brilliant theology, saints like Maximilian Kolbe, who gave his life in a concentration camp so another could live. The list could go on. Therese desired to do something heroic. She wanted to be a missionary, an apostle, a martyr, but she died at the age of 24 after an obscure life in the convent. Almost immediately after her death, however, her fame spread as people began entrusting their prayers to her. It was because of her “Little Way.” Her life has taught us that holiness isn’t achieved from great, heroic deeds but from offering simple, ordinary things to the Lord with great love. Just this past year her parents were beatified, as the Church came to recognize her holiness of life as the fruit of her parents’ holiness. They are a modern example of a holy family, of the special grace of family life alive still in our world.
May we pour out our hearts to our Lord today around this holy altar. Then, when we return home, may we offer Him our home as His dwelling. It is only when we ask Him to sanctify our families and our homes that we will begin to see a transformation of all of society, because society is built on the family. As the family goes, so goes the world. Let us welcome Christ into our families and homes anew this Christmas and so do our part to transform the culture of death into the civilization of life and of love.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Fiat: Let it be!
St. Joseph Church (Cottleville)
Fourth Sunday of Advent
December 20-21, 2008 - 5:00 p.m. & 7:00 a.m.
2 Sm 7:1-5, 8b-12, 14a, 16
Ps 89
Rom 16:25-27
Lk 1:26-38
On the previous two Sundays, we heard about St. John the Baptist’s mission of preparing the way for Christ. Today the Church directs our minds and hearts to the Blessed Virgin Mary, in whose womb our Lord was conceived at the Annunciation. It is interesting to compare the announcement of John’s birth to his father, Zechariah, and the announcement of Christ’s birth to His mother, Mary. The accounts of these two annunciations seem very similar. Holy fear came over both of them when they encountered the archangel, Gabriel. In each case, the angel spoke of wondrous deeds the child would do. Both of them asked how it was possible for what Gabriel had said to come about – Zechariah because of his and Elizabeth’s advanced age, Mary because she was a virgin. But there is one striking difference we can’t ignore. Zechariah is admonished. The angel takes away his ability to speak. Mary, on the other hand, is praised. “Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with you! . . . You have found favor with God.”
If both had questioned the angel’s words, asking how it was possible for his words to be fulfilled, why was Zechariah punished and Mary exalted? The answer isn’t clear from a superficial view of these annunciations. We must look deeper, to the interior attitudes of these two children of Israel. Although each had questioned the angel’s words, the attitude underlying their questions were radically different. Zechariah, it seems, was a skeptic. He questioned the angel because he doubted what had been proclaimed to him. We can almost hear him saying to the angel, “I don’t believe you. This is impossible. Don’t you see how old I am?” Mary, on the other hand, must have asked her question in faith. Hers was a marveling in wonder and awe at what had been said to her. We could paraphrase her words as well: “How can this be? What a wondrous thing the Lord wants to work in me, for I am yet a virgin.” Zechariah responds to the angel with pride and doubt, Mary in humility and faith.
Zechariah falls in line with all of humanity from the first man and woman, from the time of the fall. The sin of Adam and Eve was one of pride and doubt. They succumbed to the serpent’s suggestion that God was hiding something from them, that He had something great that He was keeping from them, that they would have to snatch for it themselves. So it was that they doubted God’s love and His goodness and in pride they disobeyed the one law they had been given and ate from the tree of knowledge of good and evil.
Mary stands in utter contrast, and it is for this reason that she is so exalted by the angel and for all generations afterward. Unlike Adam and Eve, unlike Zechariah, she has complete faith that God has her best interests in mind. She believes that by sending her His angel, God the Father is not trying to deceive her but instead to give her every good gift. Zechariah had been struck dumb by his doubt. In faith, on the other hand, Mary is able to speak the most important words spoken in the history of creation: “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.”
In the 2nd century, St. Irenaeus expressed very beautifully what Mary’s words meant. “The knot of Eve’s disobedience,” he says, “was untied by Mary’s obedience: what the virgin Eve bound through her disbelief, Mary loosened by her faith” (Adv. haeres.). The Catechism also states this truth beautifully: “In the faith of this humble handmaid, the Gift of God found the acceptance he had awaited from the beginning of time” (2617). After millennia of pride and doubt, God the Father, in the fullness of time, finally received the humble and faith-filled consent of one of His creatures.
We often call these history-changing words of Mary her fiat. Fiat is a Latin word. It means, “Let it be done.” This sums up the attitude of Mary in response to the will of God: “Let it be.” Mary spoke her fiat first to the Archangel Gabriel. Yet her heart spoke it again and again throughout her life to God. Even before Gabriel came to her, her life was spotless. She constantly said to God in her heart, “Fiat. Let it be.” And after the birth of Christ, she would have to speak this word again and again. As she raised the Christ-child in her home at Nazareth: Fiat. When it came time for Him to leave her so that He could begin His public ministry: Fiat. Most of all, when she watched her only Son die in agony on the cross, when her own heart was pierced: Fiat.
One modern-day saint who knew this fiat well was Blessed Teresa of Calcutta. It wasn’t until after she died that Mother Teresa’s profound interior life became well-known. Her mission of caring for the poor was firmly rooted and made sense only in the context of her deep life of prayer. So committed was she to doing the Lord’s will in her life that she took a fourth vow when she became a religious sister. Like all consecrated women, she took vows of poverty chastity and obedience. But she sought an even more radical union with Christ, so she took a private fourth vow. She describes it in this way: “I made a vow to God, binding under [pain of] mortal sin, to give God anything that He may ask, ‘Not to refuse Him anything’” (Come, Be My Light, 28). This is Mary’s fiat bearing fruit in our own time. Mother Teresa suffered much. Not only did she live in material poverty but also in spiritual poverty, with very few consolations from the Lord. And yet, throughout her life, she never went back on her vow to refuse the Lord nothing.
As Christmas draws near again this year, may our own refrain be the same. Let us say with our Blessed Mother, let us say with Blessed Teresa, “Fiat: let it be done to me according to your word, O Lord.” We must strive to renew this promise each day. We must strive each day to hand over to the Lord whatever it is that we cling to, whatever it is that we keep from Him out of pride and doubt. It can be any number of things: a teaching of the Church we can’t seem to accept, a burdensome illness we struggle to embrace, a call to make a difficult decision. Whatever we cling to, whatever we are afraid of, let us beg the Lord to give us the grace this Christmas to hand it over to Him. To speak, in union with our Lady, those words that summarize the entire Christian life: “Fiat: Let it be.” A simple warning: This word of humility and faith will likely not make our lives easier. In fact, when we submit our wills to God’s will, He often asks things of us that we would not choose for ourselves. At the same time, however, even pain and suffering become beautiful burdens, because they are carried in union with Christ, and it is that union that will lead us on the sure path to life eternal, to the vision of His glory, and to the fullness of communion with all the angels and saints in the never-ending banquet of the kingdom of heaven.
Fourth Sunday of Advent
December 20-21, 2008 - 5:00 p.m. & 7:00 a.m.
2 Sm 7:1-5, 8b-12, 14a, 16
Ps 89
Rom 16:25-27
Lk 1:26-38
On the previous two Sundays, we heard about St. John the Baptist’s mission of preparing the way for Christ. Today the Church directs our minds and hearts to the Blessed Virgin Mary, in whose womb our Lord was conceived at the Annunciation. It is interesting to compare the announcement of John’s birth to his father, Zechariah, and the announcement of Christ’s birth to His mother, Mary. The accounts of these two annunciations seem very similar. Holy fear came over both of them when they encountered the archangel, Gabriel. In each case, the angel spoke of wondrous deeds the child would do. Both of them asked how it was possible for what Gabriel had said to come about – Zechariah because of his and Elizabeth’s advanced age, Mary because she was a virgin. But there is one striking difference we can’t ignore. Zechariah is admonished. The angel takes away his ability to speak. Mary, on the other hand, is praised. “Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with you! . . . You have found favor with God.”
If both had questioned the angel’s words, asking how it was possible for his words to be fulfilled, why was Zechariah punished and Mary exalted? The answer isn’t clear from a superficial view of these annunciations. We must look deeper, to the interior attitudes of these two children of Israel. Although each had questioned the angel’s words, the attitude underlying their questions were radically different. Zechariah, it seems, was a skeptic. He questioned the angel because he doubted what had been proclaimed to him. We can almost hear him saying to the angel, “I don’t believe you. This is impossible. Don’t you see how old I am?” Mary, on the other hand, must have asked her question in faith. Hers was a marveling in wonder and awe at what had been said to her. We could paraphrase her words as well: “How can this be? What a wondrous thing the Lord wants to work in me, for I am yet a virgin.” Zechariah responds to the angel with pride and doubt, Mary in humility and faith.
Zechariah falls in line with all of humanity from the first man and woman, from the time of the fall. The sin of Adam and Eve was one of pride and doubt. They succumbed to the serpent’s suggestion that God was hiding something from them, that He had something great that He was keeping from them, that they would have to snatch for it themselves. So it was that they doubted God’s love and His goodness and in pride they disobeyed the one law they had been given and ate from the tree of knowledge of good and evil.
Mary stands in utter contrast, and it is for this reason that she is so exalted by the angel and for all generations afterward. Unlike Adam and Eve, unlike Zechariah, she has complete faith that God has her best interests in mind. She believes that by sending her His angel, God the Father is not trying to deceive her but instead to give her every good gift. Zechariah had been struck dumb by his doubt. In faith, on the other hand, Mary is able to speak the most important words spoken in the history of creation: “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.”
In the 2nd century, St. Irenaeus expressed very beautifully what Mary’s words meant. “The knot of Eve’s disobedience,” he says, “was untied by Mary’s obedience: what the virgin Eve bound through her disbelief, Mary loosened by her faith” (Adv. haeres.). The Catechism also states this truth beautifully: “In the faith of this humble handmaid, the Gift of God found the acceptance he had awaited from the beginning of time” (2617). After millennia of pride and doubt, God the Father, in the fullness of time, finally received the humble and faith-filled consent of one of His creatures.
We often call these history-changing words of Mary her fiat. Fiat is a Latin word. It means, “Let it be done.” This sums up the attitude of Mary in response to the will of God: “Let it be.” Mary spoke her fiat first to the Archangel Gabriel. Yet her heart spoke it again and again throughout her life to God. Even before Gabriel came to her, her life was spotless. She constantly said to God in her heart, “Fiat. Let it be.” And after the birth of Christ, she would have to speak this word again and again. As she raised the Christ-child in her home at Nazareth: Fiat. When it came time for Him to leave her so that He could begin His public ministry: Fiat. Most of all, when she watched her only Son die in agony on the cross, when her own heart was pierced: Fiat.
One modern-day saint who knew this fiat well was Blessed Teresa of Calcutta. It wasn’t until after she died that Mother Teresa’s profound interior life became well-known. Her mission of caring for the poor was firmly rooted and made sense only in the context of her deep life of prayer. So committed was she to doing the Lord’s will in her life that she took a fourth vow when she became a religious sister. Like all consecrated women, she took vows of poverty chastity and obedience. But she sought an even more radical union with Christ, so she took a private fourth vow. She describes it in this way: “I made a vow to God, binding under [pain of] mortal sin, to give God anything that He may ask, ‘Not to refuse Him anything’” (Come, Be My Light, 28). This is Mary’s fiat bearing fruit in our own time. Mother Teresa suffered much. Not only did she live in material poverty but also in spiritual poverty, with very few consolations from the Lord. And yet, throughout her life, she never went back on her vow to refuse the Lord nothing.
As Christmas draws near again this year, may our own refrain be the same. Let us say with our Blessed Mother, let us say with Blessed Teresa, “Fiat: let it be done to me according to your word, O Lord.” We must strive to renew this promise each day. We must strive each day to hand over to the Lord whatever it is that we cling to, whatever it is that we keep from Him out of pride and doubt. It can be any number of things: a teaching of the Church we can’t seem to accept, a burdensome illness we struggle to embrace, a call to make a difficult decision. Whatever we cling to, whatever we are afraid of, let us beg the Lord to give us the grace this Christmas to hand it over to Him. To speak, in union with our Lady, those words that summarize the entire Christian life: “Fiat: Let it be.” A simple warning: This word of humility and faith will likely not make our lives easier. In fact, when we submit our wills to God’s will, He often asks things of us that we would not choose for ourselves. At the same time, however, even pain and suffering become beautiful burdens, because they are carried in union with Christ, and it is that union that will lead us on the sure path to life eternal, to the vision of His glory, and to the fullness of communion with all the angels and saints in the never-ending banquet of the kingdom of heaven.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Humble John
St. Joseph Church (Cottleville)
Third Sunday of Advent
December 14, 2008 - 12:15 p.m.
Is 61:1-2a, 10-11
Lk 1 (Response)
1 Thes 5:16-24
John 1:6-8, 19-28
St. John the Baptist sure must have drawn a lot of attention to himself! Last week we heard how he appeared in the desert, seemingly out of nowhere, clothed in camel’s hair and a leather belt, eating locusts and wild honey. Today he calls himself a voice crying out. Obviously we’d all be a bit taken aback if we ran into someone like that today, but I doubt it was a common sight 2000 years ago either.
Yet despite all of these things that seem like idiosyncrasies, things that would attract attention to themselves, John the Baptist was a perfect model of humility. These things weren’t meant to draw attention to himself. His entire being and his sole purpose in life was to point the way to Christ. He got the attention of a lot of people. Crowds flocked to him to be baptized. We hear in today’s gospel how even the priests and Levites went out to him to ask who he was. Yet, whenever these crowds came to him, he always pointed their attention elsewhere. The gospel tells us, “He was not the light, but came to testify to the light.” And he says himself, “There is one coming after me, whose sandal strap I am not worthy to untie.” John understood, he had a clear picture of what was about to take place in their midst, and he called people’s attention to it. And because he had directed his entire life to proclaiming the coming of the Messiah, he recognized Him when He finally came.
John the Baptist is one of the most prominent figures of this Advent season. The Church holds him out to us as a saint we need to emulate. Obviously we’re not all supposed to go walking around in camel’s hair munching on locusts. What the Church is calling us to is the same humility. To be humble means to recognize that I am nothing without God, that everything I have and am is a gift from Him. It means so arranging our lives that we draw our attention and the attention of others not to ourselves but to God alone.
If we’re going to orient our lives radically towards Him, we need only ask a very simple question: where is He? The answer is just as simple. We know that the greatest treasure our Lord has left to His Church is His own abiding presence in the Holy Eucharist. That’s what draws us here Sunday after Sunday. We come because we know that He will be present here, that He will accept our own humble offering of ourselves and join it to His offering of Himself to the Father. We come because we need to grace He gives us in Holy Communion, when He gives us nothing short of Himself.
Our parish is blessed in a particular way by the Eucharistic adoration chapel in our church. The chapel is open 24 hours a day from 7:00 on Monday morning until 7:45 on Saturday morning. Our Lord waits there, exposed in the monstrance for our adoration, day and night. He waits to welcome anyone who would come to spend even just a few moments with Him. I would like to suggest this as a very simple practice we can adopt to foster this important virtue of humility in ourselves, a way to more perfectly direct our entire lives towards Jesus Christ. If we truly believe that Christ is present in the Eucharist, and if we truly believe that our lives are meaningless if they’re not totally directed towards Him, we should have a longing to spend time in His presence. We should crave the peace that comes to us from Christ in the Eucharist. Time in adoration is a simple way to fulfill St. Paul’s exhortation to pray always. Perhaps today, we could each reflect upon our lives. Perhaps we could make a commitment to spend some time with our Lord each week in adoration. It doesn’t have to be long. If an hour or a half hour seems like too much, give Him a few minutes. A stable was good enough for Him when He came among us the first time. If all you have to give Him now is a stable, He’ll take it.
If we find it in ourselves to make this commitment, the commitment to orient our lives more fully to our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament, we will not regret it. Our lives will begin to become more meaningful. In adoration we will come to know our God more perfectly, and so we will recognize Him more easily. We will recognize Him when we hear the priest say to us at Mass: “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world.” We will recognize that at that moment He wants to give Himself to us totally, to be consumed by us that He might totally consume us. We will recognize Him when we meet Him in disguise throughout our day – in a spouse, a child, a sibling, in a coworker, a classmate, in the poor man who asks for a meal, in the unborn child who cries out for life.
It is one of the great paradoxes of Christianity that in humbling ourselves before the Lord we will find ourselves exalted by Him. St. Luke tells us that John was filled with the Holy Spirit. Our Lord Himself says that no one greater has ever been born. The same sorts of things will happen for us when we make Christ our all in all. We will be able to repeat confidently with the prophet Isaiah:
“The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me. . . . He has clothed me with a robe of salvation and wrapped me in a mantle of justice, like a bridegroom adorned with a diadem, like a bride bedecked with her jewels.”
As we turn now to this holy altar, let us beg Him for the grace of humility – the grace to kneel humbly before Him in adoration. So may we open ourselves to be clothed with that robe and wrapped in that mantle, to welcome Him more fully into the stable of our hearts this Christmas and every day of our lives.
Third Sunday of Advent
December 14, 2008 - 12:15 p.m.
Is 61:1-2a, 10-11
Lk 1 (Response)
1 Thes 5:16-24
John 1:6-8, 19-28
St. John the Baptist sure must have drawn a lot of attention to himself! Last week we heard how he appeared in the desert, seemingly out of nowhere, clothed in camel’s hair and a leather belt, eating locusts and wild honey. Today he calls himself a voice crying out. Obviously we’d all be a bit taken aback if we ran into someone like that today, but I doubt it was a common sight 2000 years ago either.
Yet despite all of these things that seem like idiosyncrasies, things that would attract attention to themselves, John the Baptist was a perfect model of humility. These things weren’t meant to draw attention to himself. His entire being and his sole purpose in life was to point the way to Christ. He got the attention of a lot of people. Crowds flocked to him to be baptized. We hear in today’s gospel how even the priests and Levites went out to him to ask who he was. Yet, whenever these crowds came to him, he always pointed their attention elsewhere. The gospel tells us, “He was not the light, but came to testify to the light.” And he says himself, “There is one coming after me, whose sandal strap I am not worthy to untie.” John understood, he had a clear picture of what was about to take place in their midst, and he called people’s attention to it. And because he had directed his entire life to proclaiming the coming of the Messiah, he recognized Him when He finally came.
John the Baptist is one of the most prominent figures of this Advent season. The Church holds him out to us as a saint we need to emulate. Obviously we’re not all supposed to go walking around in camel’s hair munching on locusts. What the Church is calling us to is the same humility. To be humble means to recognize that I am nothing without God, that everything I have and am is a gift from Him. It means so arranging our lives that we draw our attention and the attention of others not to ourselves but to God alone.
If we’re going to orient our lives radically towards Him, we need only ask a very simple question: where is He? The answer is just as simple. We know that the greatest treasure our Lord has left to His Church is His own abiding presence in the Holy Eucharist. That’s what draws us here Sunday after Sunday. We come because we know that He will be present here, that He will accept our own humble offering of ourselves and join it to His offering of Himself to the Father. We come because we need to grace He gives us in Holy Communion, when He gives us nothing short of Himself.
Our parish is blessed in a particular way by the Eucharistic adoration chapel in our church. The chapel is open 24 hours a day from 7:00 on Monday morning until 7:45 on Saturday morning. Our Lord waits there, exposed in the monstrance for our adoration, day and night. He waits to welcome anyone who would come to spend even just a few moments with Him. I would like to suggest this as a very simple practice we can adopt to foster this important virtue of humility in ourselves, a way to more perfectly direct our entire lives towards Jesus Christ. If we truly believe that Christ is present in the Eucharist, and if we truly believe that our lives are meaningless if they’re not totally directed towards Him, we should have a longing to spend time in His presence. We should crave the peace that comes to us from Christ in the Eucharist. Time in adoration is a simple way to fulfill St. Paul’s exhortation to pray always. Perhaps today, we could each reflect upon our lives. Perhaps we could make a commitment to spend some time with our Lord each week in adoration. It doesn’t have to be long. If an hour or a half hour seems like too much, give Him a few minutes. A stable was good enough for Him when He came among us the first time. If all you have to give Him now is a stable, He’ll take it.
If we find it in ourselves to make this commitment, the commitment to orient our lives more fully to our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament, we will not regret it. Our lives will begin to become more meaningful. In adoration we will come to know our God more perfectly, and so we will recognize Him more easily. We will recognize Him when we hear the priest say to us at Mass: “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world.” We will recognize that at that moment He wants to give Himself to us totally, to be consumed by us that He might totally consume us. We will recognize Him when we meet Him in disguise throughout our day – in a spouse, a child, a sibling, in a coworker, a classmate, in the poor man who asks for a meal, in the unborn child who cries out for life.
It is one of the great paradoxes of Christianity that in humbling ourselves before the Lord we will find ourselves exalted by Him. St. Luke tells us that John was filled with the Holy Spirit. Our Lord Himself says that no one greater has ever been born. The same sorts of things will happen for us when we make Christ our all in all. We will be able to repeat confidently with the prophet Isaiah:
“The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me. . . . He has clothed me with a robe of salvation and wrapped me in a mantle of justice, like a bridegroom adorned with a diadem, like a bride bedecked with her jewels.”
As we turn now to this holy altar, let us beg Him for the grace of humility – the grace to kneel humbly before Him in adoration. So may we open ourselves to be clothed with that robe and wrapped in that mantle, to welcome Him more fully into the stable of our hearts this Christmas and every day of our lives.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
"That is Heaven for me!"
St. Joseph Church (Cottleville)
Second Sunday of Advent
December 6-7, 2008 - 5:00 p.m. & 7:00 a.m.
Is 40:1-5, 9-11
Ps 85
2 Pt 3:8-14
Mk 1:1-8
Do you ever feel worn down by life? Do you ever get so caught up in the daily routine, the monotonous succession of one day after another, that life seems to lose any sense of meaning? Does one day ever begin to look like all the others, to the point that you wonder what it’s all really about? Life can become that way for us. We can get so caught up in our daily responsibilities that we lose any sense of newness, of meaning. Even some of the saints felt this way about life. St. Therese of Lisieux, for example, used to speak of her life on earth as her exile. She longed to be freed from this life to begin to enjoy the eternal bliss that she believed awaited her in heaven. Sometimes our lives too can seem like an exile. They can seem like a lifeless desert.
I think the Jews at the time of this prophecy of Isaiah must have felt themselves to be in a dry, dead desert. They had been in exile in Babylon for 60 years. They had become accustomed to the passing of the days in that foreign land, and perhaps they began to lose hope that even a drop of water would come along to soften the parched land of their lives. In the midst of that situation, the voice of Isaiah cried out: “In the desert prepare the way of the LORD! . . . Here is your God! He comes with power. . . Like a shepherd he feeds his flock.”
I think the Jews at the time of today’s Gospel reading must have felt themselves to be in the midst of a desert. They were familiar with all the prophecies that a messiah would come to free them from the great burdens of life. Yet it had been 300 years since a prophet had said anything. For 300 years it seemed that God had been silent. In the midst of that longing for a word from God arose St. John the Baptist, the last and the greatest of the prophets. He cried out in the midst of that desert: “One mightier than I is coming after me. . . . he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”
I think we Christians today often feel ourselves to be in a desert. 2500 years ago, Isaiah’s prophecy came true, and the Jews were freed from bondage and allowed to return to their own land. 2000 years ago John the Baptist’s prophecy was fulfilled when the Son of God took human flesh and walked the face of the earth for 33 years. But 2000 years ago that same man promised that He would return. He assured us that He would come one final time to bring an end to sin, to all suffering and death, to bring life, peace, and happiness. He promised to shower the desert of our lives with living water.
That was 2000 years ago…and still we wait. Still we sin. Still we suffer. Still we die. Perhaps we begin to wonder if the stories of the Gospels are simply that – stories. Why has it taken our Lord so long to fulfill His promise to end suffering and death, to give happiness and life? This Advent season reminds us of His promise, and it calls us to hope. It calls us to remember that the words of the prophet Isaiah were fulfilled, that the words of John the Baptist were fulfilled. If the words of the prophets were fulfilled, how can the words of the God Himself not also be fulfilled?
And so we wait, in the midst of the desert. But we have something far greater than the Jews at the time of Isaiah, than the Jews at the time of the Baptist. Our Shepherd, though hidden and often silent, has not forgotten His flock. He carries us in His arms, leads us with care. Indeed, He feeds us. He has left us refreshment as we make our way through this desert towards Him. He has left us the true bread from heaven, the Holy Eucharist. If our hearts feel like a desert, if our lives seem monotonous and meaningless, if we are longing for our thirst to be quenched, we don’t have to wait for the glorious second coming of our Lord. He feeds us here and now, every week, every day. This may not be the ultimate fulfillment of all of His promises, yet Christ is as present in the Blessed Sacrament as He will be at the end of time. The only difference is that He remains hidden to our senses in the Eucharist, under the appearance of bread and wine. Nevertheless, the same Lord we hope to live with for all eternity in heaven lives now in the tabernacle of our church, and He lives in our hearts when we receive Him in Holy Communion. Whatever weighs on our hearts, whatever makes our lives seem like a desert, we can bring to Him in this wondrous Sacrament. He will refresh us. He will certainly sustain us as we make our way to Him.
This Advent, we can all prepare a way for the Lord in the desert, the desert of our hearts. We can prepare that way for Him by receiving Him worthily and reverently each week in Holy Communion. He is truly refreshment for tired souls. In the Holy Eucharist He gives us a foretaste of eternal glory. St. Therese of Lisieux suffered much during her short “exile” on earth. But she never lost sight of the fact that she wasn’t alone in that exile, never lost sight of the fact that Christ would sustain her on the road to eternal life. She died at the tender age of 24 on September 30, 1897. A year before her death, on June 7, 1896, she wrote a poem I would like to quote from to conclude. May these words remind us that Christ is indeed near, that the oasis for which we long in the midst of our life’s desert is no further than the nearest tabernacle:
To bear the exile of this valley of tears
I need the glance of my Divine Savior.
This glance full of love has revealed its charms to me.
It has made sense of the happiness of Heaven.
My Jesus smiles at me when I sigh to Him.
Then I no longer feel my trial of faith.
My God’s glance, His ravishing smile,
That is Heaven for me!
Heaven for me is hidden in a little Host
Where Jesus, my Spouse, is veiled for love.
I go to that Divine Furnace to draw out life,
And there my Sweet Savior listens to me night and day.
“Oh! What a happy moment when in Your tenderness
You come, my Beloved, to transform me into Yourself.
That union of love, that ineffable intoxication,
That is Heaven for me!
Second Sunday of Advent
December 6-7, 2008 - 5:00 p.m. & 7:00 a.m.
Is 40:1-5, 9-11
Ps 85
2 Pt 3:8-14
Mk 1:1-8
Do you ever feel worn down by life? Do you ever get so caught up in the daily routine, the monotonous succession of one day after another, that life seems to lose any sense of meaning? Does one day ever begin to look like all the others, to the point that you wonder what it’s all really about? Life can become that way for us. We can get so caught up in our daily responsibilities that we lose any sense of newness, of meaning. Even some of the saints felt this way about life. St. Therese of Lisieux, for example, used to speak of her life on earth as her exile. She longed to be freed from this life to begin to enjoy the eternal bliss that she believed awaited her in heaven. Sometimes our lives too can seem like an exile. They can seem like a lifeless desert.
I think the Jews at the time of this prophecy of Isaiah must have felt themselves to be in a dry, dead desert. They had been in exile in Babylon for 60 years. They had become accustomed to the passing of the days in that foreign land, and perhaps they began to lose hope that even a drop of water would come along to soften the parched land of their lives. In the midst of that situation, the voice of Isaiah cried out: “In the desert prepare the way of the LORD! . . . Here is your God! He comes with power. . . Like a shepherd he feeds his flock.”
I think the Jews at the time of today’s Gospel reading must have felt themselves to be in the midst of a desert. They were familiar with all the prophecies that a messiah would come to free them from the great burdens of life. Yet it had been 300 years since a prophet had said anything. For 300 years it seemed that God had been silent. In the midst of that longing for a word from God arose St. John the Baptist, the last and the greatest of the prophets. He cried out in the midst of that desert: “One mightier than I is coming after me. . . . he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”
I think we Christians today often feel ourselves to be in a desert. 2500 years ago, Isaiah’s prophecy came true, and the Jews were freed from bondage and allowed to return to their own land. 2000 years ago John the Baptist’s prophecy was fulfilled when the Son of God took human flesh and walked the face of the earth for 33 years. But 2000 years ago that same man promised that He would return. He assured us that He would come one final time to bring an end to sin, to all suffering and death, to bring life, peace, and happiness. He promised to shower the desert of our lives with living water.
That was 2000 years ago…and still we wait. Still we sin. Still we suffer. Still we die. Perhaps we begin to wonder if the stories of the Gospels are simply that – stories. Why has it taken our Lord so long to fulfill His promise to end suffering and death, to give happiness and life? This Advent season reminds us of His promise, and it calls us to hope. It calls us to remember that the words of the prophet Isaiah were fulfilled, that the words of John the Baptist were fulfilled. If the words of the prophets were fulfilled, how can the words of the God Himself not also be fulfilled?
And so we wait, in the midst of the desert. But we have something far greater than the Jews at the time of Isaiah, than the Jews at the time of the Baptist. Our Shepherd, though hidden and often silent, has not forgotten His flock. He carries us in His arms, leads us with care. Indeed, He feeds us. He has left us refreshment as we make our way through this desert towards Him. He has left us the true bread from heaven, the Holy Eucharist. If our hearts feel like a desert, if our lives seem monotonous and meaningless, if we are longing for our thirst to be quenched, we don’t have to wait for the glorious second coming of our Lord. He feeds us here and now, every week, every day. This may not be the ultimate fulfillment of all of His promises, yet Christ is as present in the Blessed Sacrament as He will be at the end of time. The only difference is that He remains hidden to our senses in the Eucharist, under the appearance of bread and wine. Nevertheless, the same Lord we hope to live with for all eternity in heaven lives now in the tabernacle of our church, and He lives in our hearts when we receive Him in Holy Communion. Whatever weighs on our hearts, whatever makes our lives seem like a desert, we can bring to Him in this wondrous Sacrament. He will refresh us. He will certainly sustain us as we make our way to Him.
This Advent, we can all prepare a way for the Lord in the desert, the desert of our hearts. We can prepare that way for Him by receiving Him worthily and reverently each week in Holy Communion. He is truly refreshment for tired souls. In the Holy Eucharist He gives us a foretaste of eternal glory. St. Therese of Lisieux suffered much during her short “exile” on earth. But she never lost sight of the fact that she wasn’t alone in that exile, never lost sight of the fact that Christ would sustain her on the road to eternal life. She died at the tender age of 24 on September 30, 1897. A year before her death, on June 7, 1896, she wrote a poem I would like to quote from to conclude. May these words remind us that Christ is indeed near, that the oasis for which we long in the midst of our life’s desert is no further than the nearest tabernacle:
To bear the exile of this valley of tears
I need the glance of my Divine Savior.
This glance full of love has revealed its charms to me.
It has made sense of the happiness of Heaven.
My Jesus smiles at me when I sigh to Him.
Then I no longer feel my trial of faith.
My God’s glance, His ravishing smile,
That is Heaven for me!
Heaven for me is hidden in a little Host
Where Jesus, my Spouse, is veiled for love.
I go to that Divine Furnace to draw out life,
And there my Sweet Savior listens to me night and day.
“Oh! What a happy moment when in Your tenderness
You come, my Beloved, to transform me into Yourself.
That union of love, that ineffable intoxication,
That is Heaven for me!
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Christ, the Guest of our Hearts
St. Joseph Church (Cottleville)
First Sunday of Advent
November 30, 2008 - 8:45 & 10:30 a.m.
Is 63:16b-17, 19b; 64:2-7
Ps 80
1 Cor 1:3-9
Mk 13:33-37
I can remember as a child how excited my siblings and I would get when Advent came. It meant that Christmas was just around the corner. Of course, we loved Christmas most of all because it meant presents left for us under the Christmas tree and a long break from school, but there were other things that were wonderful about Christmas. One of my favorite parts was that it meant that Grandma would be coming to our house on Christmas Eve to go with us to Mass and then have pizza for dinner. It was always special when Grandma came over because she would usually bring a treat for us. It was also exciting because we lived in south city and Grandma was coming all the way from “the County!”
But there was one thing I dreaded about Grandma coming over. It meant that for a number of days before Christmas my mother would be nagging me over and over to clean my room, and we’d each have assigned chores for cleaning other parts of the house. I could never understand why the house had to be clean for her. She had raised three children herself, so surely a messy house would have been no surprise. But my mother insisted that when we have guests our home should be clean and presentable.
I tell this story this morning, at the beginning of Advent, because this season which we begin today is a time of preparation for a guest who is coming. Of course the guest we are expecting at the end of these four weeks is none other than the Son of God Himself. The word Advent means “arrival” or “coming.” And His coming is twofold. At Christmas we will recall how He first came among us in a very humble, hidden way, as a tiny, poor infant lying in a manger. The readings today remind us of His second coming, His return at the end of time, when He will come not in a hidden way but in glory to bring the Kingdom of God to perfection.
I think about what it would have been like for my family if we knew Grandma was coming but we didn’t know what day she would arrive. I’m sure my mother would tell us that we had to keep our rooms clean every day, so that our home was ready when Grandma finally arrived. It’s the same way with our souls. Jesus Christ wants to be the guest of our souls when He comes, and so we must prepare our souls for His coming. We must make ourselves ready to welcome Him. We don’t know when He will come again, but we do know that He will come. And we know that already He comes to dwell in our hearts as a foretaste in Holy Communion.
Jesus Christ is a very special kind of guest, because He doesn’t expect us to make ourselves ready by ourselves. He wants to come in and clean out our hearts for us. He wants to be the one to ready our souls for His coming. It would be as if Grandma had come over the day before Christmas Eve to help us clean the house so it was ready when she came the next day. Christ does this cleaning above all in the Sacrament of Penance.
This Wednesday evening in Church this sacrament will be offered for anyone who would like to receive it. What a wonderful way to prepare ourselves for the celebration of Christmas, to come to Christ even now and humbly ask Him to forgive us our sins. I’m sure He would be especially pleased if people came to the sacrament who had been away from it for a long time, even for many years. If you have been away from the sacrament for some time, it may seem like a frightening prospect, but all you need do is simply tell the priest it has been awhile and that you might need some help knowing what to say and when to say it. I’m sure he’d be happy to assist you. How wonderful it would be if the lines at the confessionals of our church this Wednesday and on these four Saturdays of Advent were so long that our priests would have to schedule more times for confession for all those seeking to receive God’s mercy.
Sometimes, when the Church exhorts us to go to confession, she can seem like a nagging mother. Sometimes people wonder why the Church insists that we confess our sins to a priest rather than going directly to God Himself. She does so for two reasons. First, we believe that this is the only ordinary way for serious sins to be forgiven. We believe that Christ entrusted the forgiveness of sins to priests when He breathed the Holy Spirit upon His apostles and told them, “Whose sins you forgive are forgiven.” When a man is ordained a priest, He receives the power to act in the person of Christ. So, when we go to confession, we are really going directly to Christ, who is present in the priest. It is Christ who hears our confession and Christ who absolves us from our sins. This is why the priest is bound by the seal of confession never to repeat what he hears there, because it is not he who has heard it but Christ.
The second reason the Church calls us to confess our sins to a priest in this sacrament is because, as a good mother, she knows that as human beings we need to receive God’s grace in a tangible way. We need to hear the words of forgiveness spoken directly to us, to hear them with our own bodily ears. We need the certainty that comes from personal, individual attention. Pope John Paul II expressed this beautifully when he wrote:
“Although human beings live through a network of relationships and communities, the uniqueness of each person can never be lost in a shapeless mass. This explains the deep echo in our souls when we hear ourselves called by name. When we realize that we are known and accepted as we are, with our most individual traits, we feel truly alive. . . .
“Here the Good Shepherd, through the presence and voice of the priest, approaches each man and woman, entering into a personal dialogue which involves listening, counsel, comfort, and forgiveness. The love of God is such that it can focus upon each individual without overlooking the rest. All who receive sacramental absolution ought to be able to feel the warmth of this personal attention” (2002 Holy Thursday Letter, 9).
May this Advent be a time of true preparation for us. Amidst the hustle and bustle of shopping and preparing our homes for the celebration of Christmas, may we not forget to prepare our hearts as well. May we not forget to give our Lord a gift as well – a gift that cannot be bought at Walmart or Lowe’s or the jeweler – the gift of a pure heart, open to Him, ready to receive Him. If we give Him that gift, we can be sure that He will give us in return the greatest gift possible, the gift of Himself, dwelling forever in our hearts, and the gift of eternal life on the day of His Advent when we meet Him coming in glory. On that day, He will welcome us as His guest in the banquet of His kingdom for all eternity.
First Sunday of Advent
November 30, 2008 - 8:45 & 10:30 a.m.
Is 63:16b-17, 19b; 64:2-7
Ps 80
1 Cor 1:3-9
Mk 13:33-37
I can remember as a child how excited my siblings and I would get when Advent came. It meant that Christmas was just around the corner. Of course, we loved Christmas most of all because it meant presents left for us under the Christmas tree and a long break from school, but there were other things that were wonderful about Christmas. One of my favorite parts was that it meant that Grandma would be coming to our house on Christmas Eve to go with us to Mass and then have pizza for dinner. It was always special when Grandma came over because she would usually bring a treat for us. It was also exciting because we lived in south city and Grandma was coming all the way from “the County!”
But there was one thing I dreaded about Grandma coming over. It meant that for a number of days before Christmas my mother would be nagging me over and over to clean my room, and we’d each have assigned chores for cleaning other parts of the house. I could never understand why the house had to be clean for her. She had raised three children herself, so surely a messy house would have been no surprise. But my mother insisted that when we have guests our home should be clean and presentable.
I tell this story this morning, at the beginning of Advent, because this season which we begin today is a time of preparation for a guest who is coming. Of course the guest we are expecting at the end of these four weeks is none other than the Son of God Himself. The word Advent means “arrival” or “coming.” And His coming is twofold. At Christmas we will recall how He first came among us in a very humble, hidden way, as a tiny, poor infant lying in a manger. The readings today remind us of His second coming, His return at the end of time, when He will come not in a hidden way but in glory to bring the Kingdom of God to perfection.
I think about what it would have been like for my family if we knew Grandma was coming but we didn’t know what day she would arrive. I’m sure my mother would tell us that we had to keep our rooms clean every day, so that our home was ready when Grandma finally arrived. It’s the same way with our souls. Jesus Christ wants to be the guest of our souls when He comes, and so we must prepare our souls for His coming. We must make ourselves ready to welcome Him. We don’t know when He will come again, but we do know that He will come. And we know that already He comes to dwell in our hearts as a foretaste in Holy Communion.
Jesus Christ is a very special kind of guest, because He doesn’t expect us to make ourselves ready by ourselves. He wants to come in and clean out our hearts for us. He wants to be the one to ready our souls for His coming. It would be as if Grandma had come over the day before Christmas Eve to help us clean the house so it was ready when she came the next day. Christ does this cleaning above all in the Sacrament of Penance.
This Wednesday evening in Church this sacrament will be offered for anyone who would like to receive it. What a wonderful way to prepare ourselves for the celebration of Christmas, to come to Christ even now and humbly ask Him to forgive us our sins. I’m sure He would be especially pleased if people came to the sacrament who had been away from it for a long time, even for many years. If you have been away from the sacrament for some time, it may seem like a frightening prospect, but all you need do is simply tell the priest it has been awhile and that you might need some help knowing what to say and when to say it. I’m sure he’d be happy to assist you. How wonderful it would be if the lines at the confessionals of our church this Wednesday and on these four Saturdays of Advent were so long that our priests would have to schedule more times for confession for all those seeking to receive God’s mercy.
Sometimes, when the Church exhorts us to go to confession, she can seem like a nagging mother. Sometimes people wonder why the Church insists that we confess our sins to a priest rather than going directly to God Himself. She does so for two reasons. First, we believe that this is the only ordinary way for serious sins to be forgiven. We believe that Christ entrusted the forgiveness of sins to priests when He breathed the Holy Spirit upon His apostles and told them, “Whose sins you forgive are forgiven.” When a man is ordained a priest, He receives the power to act in the person of Christ. So, when we go to confession, we are really going directly to Christ, who is present in the priest. It is Christ who hears our confession and Christ who absolves us from our sins. This is why the priest is bound by the seal of confession never to repeat what he hears there, because it is not he who has heard it but Christ.
The second reason the Church calls us to confess our sins to a priest in this sacrament is because, as a good mother, she knows that as human beings we need to receive God’s grace in a tangible way. We need to hear the words of forgiveness spoken directly to us, to hear them with our own bodily ears. We need the certainty that comes from personal, individual attention. Pope John Paul II expressed this beautifully when he wrote:
“Although human beings live through a network of relationships and communities, the uniqueness of each person can never be lost in a shapeless mass. This explains the deep echo in our souls when we hear ourselves called by name. When we realize that we are known and accepted as we are, with our most individual traits, we feel truly alive. . . .
“Here the Good Shepherd, through the presence and voice of the priest, approaches each man and woman, entering into a personal dialogue which involves listening, counsel, comfort, and forgiveness. The love of God is such that it can focus upon each individual without overlooking the rest. All who receive sacramental absolution ought to be able to feel the warmth of this personal attention” (2002 Holy Thursday Letter, 9).
May this Advent be a time of true preparation for us. Amidst the hustle and bustle of shopping and preparing our homes for the celebration of Christmas, may we not forget to prepare our hearts as well. May we not forget to give our Lord a gift as well – a gift that cannot be bought at Walmart or Lowe’s or the jeweler – the gift of a pure heart, open to Him, ready to receive Him. If we give Him that gift, we can be sure that He will give us in return the greatest gift possible, the gift of Himself, dwelling forever in our hearts, and the gift of eternal life on the day of His Advent when we meet Him coming in glory. On that day, He will welcome us as His guest in the banquet of His kingdom for all eternity.
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