Homily: 4th Sunday of Advent - Year A

Readings: Is 7:10-14 | Ps 24 | Rom 1:1-7 | Mt 1:18-24

_________________________

With Christmas just around the corner, I find myself thinking of my children and grandchildren, and how they view Christmas as a time of surprises. As a child, I was the same, and it doesn’t take much to carry me back to my own childhood. These days I can hardly remember what I did last week, but recall everything from 70 years ago. 

In my family the surprises began after Mass on the first Sunday of Advent. Mom would hang up advent calendars, and for the next four weeks, each morning we’d get to open one of the little windows and be surprised by what was behind it. I suppose it was a far simpler time; perhaps we were simpler children back then.

We lived in New York, so we prayed for surprise snowfalls. How great it was to wake up to a world transformed by a thick white blanket.

Every year Dad surprised us with a huge Christmas tree, anywhere from 12 to 18 feet high. We had a circular stairway, so we had a place that could handle a large tree. But a tree like that was expensive, so Dad would wait until about a week before Christmas when the dealers would sell it at half price. Every year, just when we thought we’d never get a tree, Dad would arrive with an enormous tree tied to the roof of the Oldsmobile.

Mom decorated the house with all sorts of wonderful things. Many had been in the family for generations. It was always the same, but a surprise, nonetheless.

And I can still remember my surprise when my parents decided I was old enough to attend Midnight Mass. I was probably seven or eight years old, but that first year I fell asleep in the pew during Monsignor Deagan’s Christmas homily.

Of course, there was Christmas morning, and the opening of the presents…and not just our own. We loved watching our parents’ surprise as they opened the remarkably useless gifts we had given them.

Yes, Christmas has always been a time of surprises, and rightly so, because the Incarnation itself was God’s surprise gift to humanity. We see this manifested in the Old Testament in some of the earliest hints, the prophecies, of a Messiah. 

Today's first reading is a perfect example. There we encounter King Ahaz, not one of Judah’s better kings, for he always chose political expediency over faith in God. The prophet Isaiah, more than a little upset with Ahaz, tossed this gem of a prophecy at him and us:

“…the virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall name him Emmanuel.”

Talk about surprises! A virgin bearing a son! What did the people think of that? We don’t know, but we can guess. And that name: Emmanuel! God is with us! What could that mean?

We find out when we turn to our Gospel passage and encounter Matthew’s wonderful narrative, as St. Joseph ponders how to handle this rather inconvenient situation regarding Mary’s pregnancy.

In those days a Jewish marriage consisted of three elements: engagement, betrothal, and marriage. Marital relations were not permitted until marriage. Joseph and Mary were still betrothed, a period that often lasted a year, so Mary’s pregnancy was a problem. If exposed, the punishment for her would be severe. So, Joseph, this “righteous” man, decided to divorce her quietly. 

And that’s when God steps in and sends an angel to explain it all to Joseph and command him:

"Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary your wife into your home. For it is through the Holy Spirit that this child has been conceived in her. She will bear a son and you are to name him Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins."

Three brief sentences that tell Joseph all he needs to know. And what a surprise that must have been. But it’s a surprise of fulfillment. To ensure we understand that this child, this Son of Mary and the Holy Spirit, is the promised Messiah, Matthew repeats God’s prophecy to Isaiah:

“Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel.”

And Joseph?

“He did as the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took his wife into his home.”

Joseph, this Son of David, is called to be like a father to this child of God. As usual, Paul says it best; like all of us, Joseph is:

“...called to be holy…called to belong to Jesus Christ.”

As a righteous man of faith, Joseph obeys. And in doing so epitomizes the words of St. Paul to the Romans: Joseph defines “the obedience of faith.” I think sometimes we forget that our faith calls us to obedience. If you and I claim to believe, but don’t obey God’s Word, then, at best, our faith is shallow and weak and joyless, overshadowed by shame and regret.

Indeed, the joy of Christmas begins with Emmanuel, God’s great surprise to the world: “God is with us.” He becomes one of us. He takes on our humanity. It’s God’s terrible desire to "be with us," to be part of the human condition: God with us in our entirety. With this, He gives our bodies a divine dignity…and that, sisters and brothers, should give us great joy.

Sadly, in today’s world far too many people live joyless lives. As I've discovered in my years of ministry, the most joyless of these are not the poor, but those who are among the most affluent. Having so much, they can’t understand why they aren’t happy.

Back in the seventies the wife of a friend just upped and left him and their children, saying that she had to “find herself.” There was a lot of that going on back then – and it’s still going on today – men and women leaving their families in search of something else, presumably something better.

I’ve always found that a bit odd – people going off in search of themselves, when what they really seek is right there in front of them and within them. They search for meaning but look in all the wrong places.

St. Teresa of Avila, whose works are certainly worth reading, made a point of teaching that it is only in the search for God that we can uncover and discover our own true selves. As Christians, we believe no one can encounter himself until and unless he encounters Jesus Christ.

But who is this Jesus? Is He God? Is He man? Is He both? Do we accept or reject Him as the Way, the Truth, and the Life? Do we acknowledge Jesus as Emmanuel, the Incarnate Word of God? Our answers determine both our entire worldview and how we view ourselves; for once we accept Jesus for who He is, those identity crises disappear.

When we find ourselves through Jesus, and in Jesus, He becomes the very center of our being. It’s then we begin to experience the distance between who we are and who we’re called to be. And who exactly are we called to be? 

Paul tells us, just as he told the Romans: We “are called to belong to Jesus Christ…called to be holy.” Why? Because “we have received the grace of apostleship.” 

Yes, indeed, like the apostles, we have been called and sent. But sent to do what? Listen to the liturgy. In a few moments Father will pray these words in today’s Preface to the Eucharistic Payer:

“It is by His gift that already we rejoice…so that He may find us watchful in prayer and exultant in His praise.”

Are we doing that? As individuals, as a Catholic community here at St. Vincent de Paul, are we “watchful in prayer and exultant in His praise?”

So many around us have yet to know the deep joy of becoming whole in Christ. A few years ago, Pope Francis wrote,

“The joy of the Gospel fills the hearts and lives of all who encounter Jesus.”

We can encounter Jesus because the Messiah has already come. And yet we still wait, don’t we? Jesus is present and working through His Body, the Church, and He will come again in glory, but He must still come more fully into each of our lives. 

Jesus heals. Jesus cleanses. Jesus forgives. Jesus brings back to life that which was dead. Jesus brings good news to those who despair.

Do we share our joy, and live our Christian vocation as St. Joseph did, living the “obedience of faith?” We’re called to prepare the way for Jesus to come into our hearts and the hearts of others, so they, too, may "experience the joy of salvation", the healing, wholeness and holiness we all long for and which alone give real meaning to our lives. 

What will be the message others receive about your life and mine? Do our lives bring hope to others? Will our lives, our voices, open their ears to the Word of God? Do we offer them the light of Christ, the light of hope that helps the spiritually blind see, the light that reveals the presence of God’s salvation in our lives? Will you and I carry Jesus to the ostracized, the cast-offs, the forgotten?

Go to the nursing homes, the soup kitchens and food pantries, the shelters. Go to your neighbors, the ones who are alone, who are ill and forgotten. Bring hope where there is despair. Bring the good news to those who hear so much bad news. Put all that is hurting, stained, and impoverished, and lay it at Our Lord’s feet. He’ll pick it up, so nothing will come between us and Jesus Christ.

Only the love of Christ brings true healing. This is our vocation: to be healers and prophets, to pave the way for Jesus Christ in the world…like a continual Advent. Advent and Christmas are a time of surprising gifts. Include Emmanuel, Jesus Christ, among the gifts you take to others.

Blessed are those who are not disappointed in us.

Homily: Tuesday, 3rd Week of Advent, Year 1

Readings: Zep 3:1-2,9-13; Ps 34; Mt 21:28-32

________________

Many years ago – I think, at the time, I was probably 11 or 12 years old – I got into a discussion with my dad about Larry, a friend of mine who had lied about selling me a bicycle.

It was an old, beat-up bike, but Larry promised to sell it to me for $5. I had the money, thanks to my paper route, and planned to fix it up the bike and use it just to tool around town. So, I told Larry I’d buy it and went home to get the money.”

When I returned to pay him and pick up the bike, he said he didn’t have it anymore. He just shrugged his shoulders and said, “Someone else gave me $7 so I sold it to him.”

Naturally, I was upset, and I said something like, “Hey, you promised me.”

He just said, “Yeah, big deal.” So, I just went home, really angry about the whole thing.

Later, while I was talking to my dad about what had happened, the doorbell rang. When I answered it, Larry was standing there.

He just said, “Hey, you were right. I did promise you the bike. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sold it to someone else. Are we still friends?”

“Yeah,” I said. And Larry went home.

When my dad asked if I’d forgiven Larry, and I told him “Yes,” he went on to tell me something I’ve never forgotten.

“Son, you’ll meet a lot of people who will say one thing and do exactly what they say. And that’s fine, but only if what they say and do is good.

“But the better person is the one who may say and do the wrong thing, but then ends up doing what is right…like your friend, Larry.

“Of course, you’re not going to get that bike,” he said, “but you’ll still have your friendship with Larry…and that’s much more important.”

This little childhood event popped into my aging brain yesterday when I re-read today’s passages from Matthew and the prophet Zephania.

I realized how difficult that must have been for Larry – to walk down to my house, admit he’d been wrong, and apologize.

It was a humbling thing that Larry did. In fact, he really echoed Zephaniah’s call to be a “people humble and lowly.” Hard to do, isn’t it? To be openly humble…

Yes, it’s never easy to accept our faults and to admit them openly. But that acceptance always leads us closer to God,

Because with it, we come to realize that God’s will for us is always better, more perfect, than our will, which so often is just flat-out wrong.

I also think admitting and accepting the truth about ourselves keeps us honest. It’s hard to lie to yourself when the truth is staring you right in the face.

After describing the two sons in His parable, how did Jesus put it to the chief priests and elders?

“…which of the two did his Father’s will?”

And they got it right, didn’t they? “The first,” they said. The one who did what was right. Yes, they understood the moral theological question Jesus had asked them.

But they failed to apply it to their own lives.

As Jesus reminded them, those with the courage and humility to change their minds – even the worst of sinners – who admit their faults and acknowledge their complete dependence on God...It is they who will enter the Kingdom of Heaven.

And so I guess the lesson for us is to stop lying to ourselves and to others, to say and do what is open and good, so we can experience the peace God wants for us.

Over the years I’ve lost track of my childhood friend, Larry, but I expect he went on to lead a good life. I hope we can renew our friendship in the Kingdom.

Homily: Tuesday, 1st Week of Advent - Year 2

Readings Is 11:1-10; Psalm 72; Lk 10:21-24

_________________________

I’m going to get a little nostalgic this morning. I’m not sure why. I suppose it’s just that time of the year. It's Advent, a glorious, hopeful season I've always enjoyed.

When I was a child, my family would begin each day of Advent by opening the particular day on the Advent calendar. My dad had bought a bunch of Advent calendars in Germany, because they made especially nice, picturesque versions.

Mom or Dad would then open the big family Bible, the one with all the neat etchings by Gustave Doré, and read a Gospel passage, along with a passage from a prophet – always relating to the coming of the birth of Jesus. We had to pay attention because we’d usually be asked what we thought of the readings. Fortunately, as the younger son I wasn’t expected to come up with anything very interesting.

Then we’d pray for those who suffered – family, friends, and others, even those we didn’t know. After breakfast, Dad would go off to work and we’d get ready for school, at least until Christmas vacation began. It was a special and comfortable morning routine, different and longer than our brief family prayer during the rest of the year. Yes, indeed, Advent was special.

This all comes to mind whenever I read the passage from Isaiah we just heard.

After my dad read to us about lions and lambs, and wolves and leopards and goats, I recall him telling us how wonderful the world will be when Jesus returns. “He will come and judge the world,” Dad told us. Then Mom joined in and told us we must always be good, so we are not punished, at least not too severely.

When I asked her what God did to the bad people, she merely said:

“God will handle that, because only He knows what’s in their hearts. And we must always remember that God loves everyone. Never forget that.”

I also recall her comment about the last part of today’s Gospel passage, when Jesus instructed the disciples privately:

"Blessed are the eyes that see what you see. For I say to you, many prophets and kings desired to see what you see, but did not see it, and to hear what you hear, but did not hear it."

She told us that we are just like the disciples who saw Jesus every day, and are blessed just as they were. When my brother asked her what she meant because we don’t see Jesus like they did. “Isn’t He in heaven?” he asked her,

“Yes,” she said. “But He’s also right here with us. We see Him at Communion time at Mass when we receive Him and He is within each of us. He’s present in the host, just as present as He was to the Apostles as they walked and talked and ate with Him.

“He’s also present in everyone we meet, especially those who are poor or suffering. He told us that, and we must never forget it:

‘…whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.’ (Mt 25:40)

“So, we must always help those in need.

“Jesus is with us always,” she said, “and we're with Him when we are with each other because He is in all who love Him, all who go to Him, all who seek Him. So, you see, we see Jesus every day.”

It’s amazing, isn’t it? Here I am in my 80s and those lessons learned are still with me. Although I’ve forgotten many of those mornings we spent together as a family, I can’t explain why some were forgotten, while others are as vivid as they were when I was physically there as a child. Perhaps God lets me recall what I need to hear in my life now.

Take some time this Advent to look back on your life to recall the truths you learned as a child. Most are among the most basic and therefore most important truths of our faith. As faithful adults, those are the things we tend to share with children. I think it’s good for us to recall them; after all, God reminds us that the Father, through the Holy Spirit, has “revealed them to the childlike.”

I know they’ve helped me, especially when I’ve had to face difficult times and even difficult people.

God love you.

Homily: Tuesday, 34th Week in Ordinary Time - Year 1

Readings: Dn 2:31-45; Dn 3:57-61; Lk 21:5-11

If you were in Manhattan, standing down near Wall Street, at Christmas in the year 2000, and someone said to you:

“Do you see those twin towers? A year from now both those buildings will be gone. There will not be a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down."

You’d probably think he was crazy, or perhaps that he’d just made a terrorist threat. So, you can imagine what the people of Jerusalem thought of Jesus’ comments about the Temple. After all, even then it was one of the wonders of the known world.

This magnificent, glorious building had been under construction for 40 years, since the days of Herod the Great. The great buildings of the ancients tended to last for centuries, so the Temple wasn’t going anywhere.

Of course they were wrong, and 40 years later, Titus, a Roman general, not only destroyed the Temple but went on to destroy much of the city, killing thousands, and enslaving many others.

As you’d expect the locals asked Jesus when it would happen, but He answered not by describing the end of the Temple, but the end of the world. Nations and kingdoms at war, utter destruction, along with earthquakes, plagues, and famines. Sounds pretty bad, and I expect it will be.

In our reading from Daniel, God had already used the prophet to interpret the dream of King Nebuchadnezzar. Daniel describes a series of world empires, from the kingdoms of his time all the way to the end times. This dream confirms that God’s kingdom will endure and never be destroyed.

T. S. Eliot, who’s probably my favorite poet, once wrote, “In my end is my beginning.” It’s a statement I’ve been known to include in cemetery committal services, especially when a grieving family is so overwhelmed by the end of a loved one’s life.

I’ve always liked that statement because it so concisely reflects an important truth of our Christian faith. Yes, indeed, the end of this life is only the beginning of an eternal life. A lot of people, including many Christians, seem to forget this and get all wrapped up in fear as they worry about the approach of the end of the world. 

As for me, I learned long ago that I have absolutely no impact on the end of all things. Believe it or not, God did not delegate that power to me, or to anyone else. Not only that, I also haven’t a clue as to when it will all happen.

And yet, like the people of Jerusalem, or ancient kings like Nebuchadnezzar, so many want to know about the end that God has revealed is coming. Yes, so many, focused on the end, should rather be looking toward the beginning,

Now I’m no prophet, but given the demographics of our parish, I suspect very few of us will see the end of the world. But every one of us will see the end of his or her world and experience the beginning of the next.

If you think about it, Jesus Christ was all about beginnings for He brought the world something wonderfully new. Perhaps St. Paul said it best. Tucked away in his 2^nd Letter to the Corinthians, he wrote:

“If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation” (2 Corinthians 5:17).

Yes, brothers and sisters, because we are in Christ, we are new creations, always on a continual journey of conversion to new beginnings.  

Next Sunday, with Advent, we begin a new liturgical year. So, let’s look forward to that, and yes, as we spend these last few days aware of our mortality, we can also celebrate the truth that God is totally in charge of every aspect of His Creation. There’s no reason to fear.

Indeed, God has given us work to do: to bring others to Jesus Christ and His Church. And believe me, these days they are brought to the Church by seeing Christians loving their enemies, seeing us joyful in suffering, patient in adversity, forgiving of injuries, and showing comfort and compassion to the hopeless and the helpless. This, brothers and sisters, is our calling.

And if we’re not doing it, let’s begin.