Stupidity Running Wild

Boy, when the world goes crazy it tends to take a lot of folks along with it. 

For example, did you hear what John Kerry — former U.S. Senator from the Peoples Republic of Massachusetts and former Secretary of State under the incompetent Barack Obama — said today in response to the Russian invasion of Ukraine? His words have to be the dumbest thing said by anyone today, and believe me, stupidity has been rampant. 

Anyway, Kerry, the cowardly medal hunter of the Mekong Delta, stated that “I hope that President Putin will help us stay on track with respect to what we need to do for the climate.” Can you believe it? He hopes not that Putin will reverse his horrendous aggression against Ukraine and its people, but that the ex-KGB Russian dictator will concern himself with imaginary global warming and the supposed effects of what is now euphemistically called “climate change.” 

The problem, of course, is that Mr. Kerry works for our president as his “special presidential envoy for climate.” The fact that he could make such idiotic comments and still keep his job, probably indicates the president agrees with him. Although given the president’s limited awareness of his surroundings, his special envoy’s comments might have escaped his attention. And I suspect none of his aides and advisors will fill him in.

President Putin has not only taken command of the invasion, but has also effectively taken command of NATO. If his words are taken literally, he seemingly threatened NATO with potential nuclear war if they do anything to oppose him. Other than issuing a bunch of weak sanctions, NATO and President Biden seem to have caved and realized they really don’t want to do anything that might lead to an escalation. After all, for decades the European members of NATO have relied on the deterrence provided largely by U.S. military power, while cutting their own defense budgets to the bone. Perhaps it’s time, as former President Trump made clear, for the Europeans to actually spend some Euros to defend themselves. 

It’s all about will, folks. Putin has shown he has the will to act, and I expect the Ukrainians to demonstrate their own will to defend themselves. Sadly, it is the United States and it’s traditional allies who seem to lack the will to resist in any meaningful way. The next few days and weeks should be interesting.

I also noticed that the Biden sanctions did not directly affect President Putin and his personal fortune of hundreds of millions of dollars scattered throughout many global financial institutions. Why not? Nor did Biden sanction the Russian central bank or use the Swiss bank sanction, the financial nuclear option. And remarkably, we are still buying oil and gas from Russia, and the administration plans no change to this. Could our president actually fear this tinpot dictator? Who knows? Maybe we should ask Hunter, who according to the president is the smartest man he knows.

Putin, Biden and their “Plans”

I see the Ukraine-Russian “crisis” as the catalyst for some really cool conspiracy theories. And I’ll admit, I’ve probably considered most of them, at least for a time. But given what’s been going on in Moscow and Washington — sadly, the EU nations are really irrelevant when it comes to serious matters — it’s apparent our president is totally clueless. 

Vladimir Putin is obviously in control of the entire event and all its weirdness, something that has led our president to talk a lot but do absolutely nothing. Yes, President Biden has moved a few additional troops into NATO nations, something that generated a laugh or two over vodka at the Putin dacha in Sochi on the Black Sea. And President Biden has threatened all kinds of things, seemingly horrendous sanctions, but none will be implemented unless and until Putin acts…maybe. And yet, at the same time, our president is not actively considering the implementation of the most effective sanctions, things like cutting off Russian banks from access to the West’s banking system or the closure of the Nord Stream 2 natural gas pipeline. In truth, the best sanctions would be for Europeans to cut themselves off from Russian oil and gas, but that’s highly unlikely. 

The very idea of preventative sanctions — i.e., sanctions to punish in advance of hostile actions, and the only kind that actually prevent — against someone who is threatening another country seems to be far beyond our president’s strategic thinking. Had I been in charge — something for which the American people have been happily spared — I would have left our advisors and trainers in western Ukraine, and wouldn’t have evacuated our embassy in Kiev. Their very presence would have given Putin pause. Of course, after the Afghanistan debacle, who knows? The administration apparently doesn’t care if Americans are slaughtered and is too cowardly to respond to attacks on American troops and civilians. I would also never reveal what we we intend to do or what we would never do. 

So, what’s the latest conspiracy theory? It’s that Biden and Putin are in cahoots. You see, according to this theory, Putin has all kinds of garbage on Joe Biden, some from his own security services and some from his new friends in China. It’s the kind of garbage that, at the very least, would evict Biden from the White House and, at worst, would send him and his not so very smart son to prison. What’s the scheme? Briefly, to do what they’ve already done. To make a very big deal out of this supposed invasion of Ukraine, but then…nothing. This way, Putin is able to get some desirable concessions from the feckless Europeans while President Biden promotes himself as the hero who single-handedly stopped the invasion of Ukraine. Interestingly, should Putin decide to invade anyway, he will likely avoid debilitating sanctions and make our president look rather foolish. For Putin, whatever he does is a win-win.

What a world! And just imagine what the Chinese are thinking, and planning, and will actually do.

God Turns All to Good

45 years ago, I was a Naval officer aboard a ship in the Philippines when I got the word that my mom was near death. The cancer she had battled for so long would finally take her. My commanding officer granted me emergency leave and I somehow managed to make it back to the states in near record time. The trip from halfway around the world involved a series of flights aboard several military and civilian aircraft. Arriving at Boston's Logan Airport, I was met by my dad and brother who drove me straight to the hospital in Hyannis on Cape Cod. 

My first look at Mom as I entered her room told me she wouldn't be with us much longer. Her words merely confirmed this. She looked up at me and said, "Okay, Lord, now I can die."

We spent some time together in prayer but at one point she said, "Dana, I've learned that everything is a gift. Even this horrid disease is a gift because it has taught me so much." 

Of course, as a 30-something Navy pilot, I didn't have a clue. How could she say that? A gift? No, this was a tragedy! Still in her sixties, she had suffered too much for far too long. I simply didn't understand what she meant and didn't try to grasp her meaning.

It took some time, actually a couple of decades, for her words to make sense to me. Sometimes that's how God works in our lives. He waits until we are properly disposed to understand His Word and then He reveals it to us in ways we can accept. In my case it came thanks to many others who, like Mom, were seriously ill and facing death. Their attitudes and words mirrored Mom's, forcing me to seek understanding. 

And then, one day, I read a letter by one of my favorite writers, Flannery O'Connor. Throughout her adult life, O'Connor had suffered from Lupis, a disease that would ultimately take her at the age of 39. Referring to her illness, O'Connor wrote these words to a friend:

"I have never been anywhere but sick. In a sense sickness is a place, a very instructive place, and it's always a place where there's no company, where nobody can follow. Sickness before death is a very appropriate thing and I think those who don't have it miss one of God's mercies." [The Habit of Being, p. 163]

"...one of God's mercies." One senses that O'Connor, too, realized all is a gift for those who strive to accept God's will for them. 

This morning I was reminded of this again. Listening to the news, we were told that Rush Limbaugh died a year ago today. As the news show briefly covered this anniversary of his death, they showed a video of Limbaugh, apparently just days before he died. Speaking to his nationwide audience, it seemed as if he were consoling them as he said:

"There's good in everything that happens, if you look for it."

Yes, indeed, we encounter many examples of people who came to realize and accept the goodness in so much the world considers bad. Of course, St. Paul said it best, didn't he?

"We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to His purpose" [Romans 8:28].

God's peace...

Homily: Saturday, 5th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: 1 Kgs 12:26-32;13:33-34 • Ps 106 • Mk 8:1-10

Mark’s Gospel has often been described as a Passion narrative with a long introduction. And that introduction moves right along.

Mark also offers us the story of the disciples and their often confused response to Jesus’ call. Moved by the Spirit, the twelve attach themselves to Jesus with little understanding of His teachings or what His call to discipleship really entails. It’s a story, then, of spiritual growth, of gradual formation, a time when the Spirit plants seed after seed in the hearts of these friends and followers of Jesus.

Like every seed planted by the Spirit, these sprout and bloom according to His schedule, not ours. The Spirit can move quickly indeed, or He can lead us to the truth over a lifetime. And it’s our response that makes all the difference. We see signs of this in today’s Gospel passage.

4,000 people, a huge crowd, have been with Jesus for three days, and have eaten nothing. But we hear no complaints from the crowd, for in their hunger for Truth they have been fed with the Word. They seem satisfied. For them it has been three days of contemplative prayer, for what is contemplative prayer but placing oneself in Jesus’ presence and listening, listening to the Word so He can alter one’s very being.

It’s also a time of fasting. But in his compassion, Jesus knows once He leaves them, their fast will end, and they will return to the world hungry. They will need to be restored so they can carry the Word to their homes, into their everyday lives where they can live from faith.

Jesus turns to His disciples and simply states a truth: “They have nothing to eat.”

“How can we get bread in the desert?” they ask.

They have not yet understood that He is the Bread of Life, that wherever Jesus is, there is Bread. Yes, Jesus is the Eucharist, a gift He will institute at the Last Supper – the bread, His Body – the wine, His Blood – the gift of His Presence until the end of the age. But as yet they don’t know this.

Have they so soon forgotten His earlier feeding of the 5,000? Miracle upon miracle, healing upon healing, and yet they ask: “How can we get bread in the desert?” Does Jesus answer their question? No. Instead, He asks the disciples another. “How many loaves have you?”

This, brothers and sisters, is a moment of grace and the loaves are its image. Grace is present because Jesus is present. It flows outward from Him to all who are open to receive it. But grace can never be a private possession. It must be passed on, flow from one to another.

Yes, how many loaves do you disciples have? How much faith do you have? Do you have enough? Are you instruments of grace?

“Seven,” is their one-word reply. Does it point to the Spirit’s seven gifts they will receive at Pentecost when the full meaning of their discipleship is revealed? Perhaps so.

Jesus takes the loaves, but He takes nothing without thanking the Father. He gives thanks for the disciples’ bread, bread meant for them and for Him, but now destined for thousands. He breaks the bread, as He will break Himself in the Eucharist, and hands the bread to His disciples. They, in turn, distribute the bread; doing the miraculous, as the Bread received from the Church carries His miraculous Presence into the world.

Here we see the Church in the process of becoming, for the Bread it is given, the Eucharist – it, too, is blessed, broken, and multiplied. Jesus, through the work of the Holy Spirit, offers Himself, but His disciples carry Him into the world.

Jesus also blesses a few small fish so the people can eat an ordinary meal, the same kind of meal the disciples would eat with the Lord. This meal, this everyday experience, becomes for the people an extraordinary, miraculous experience. Were those few small fish a sign, a reminder that Simon Peter and the others must soon abandon their boats, their nets, their lives and become fishers of men?

Did the disciples learn this day that when they give all that they have – even if it’s only seven loaves and a few fish – God will multiply it a thousand fold?

And what about you and me?

Can we abandon everything in our lives that is keeping us from true discipleship?

Can we, too, hand the loaves and fish of our lives to the Lord and let Him bless, break and multiply them – so we can carry Him into the world?

Will you let God work His miracles in the everyday ordinariness of your life, so you can be an instrument of His grace?

We are all called, dear friends.

 

Homily: Conversion of St. Paul

Readings: Acts 22:3-16; Ps 117; Mk 16:15-18                          

The call to conversion by Jesus can come at the most inopportune times. Recall how Peter and Andrew, James and John were working hard at their profession as fishermen when Jesus showed up and called them away.

“Follow me and I’ll make you fishers of men” [Mk 1:17].

They probably didn’t have a clue about what this would mean for them, but they followed, nonetheless.

Then there was Matthew, the tax-collector. He had a sweet deal going, collecting taxes for the Romans, and pocketing plenty of cash for himself. But Jesus comes along and simply says, “Follow me!”, and Matthew drops everything [Mk 2:14].

Imagine what their friends and relatives thought. You’re doing what? With whom? And you’re leaving everything behind…your business, your family, everything?

Called by Jesus these practical, down-to-earth men willingly gave up everything for something they did not yet understand. Yes, Jesus wasn’t just some itinerant preacher. Obviously, there was something very different about Him, something beyond normal human experience.

Imagine, too, what the future apostles thought when John the Baptist pointed out Jesus to them: "Behold! The Lamb of God!" [Jn 1:29] Behold the sacrificial lamb, the one who will give His life for the world. Jesus was something more than special. He was, as Peter would later profess, “The Christ, the Son of the Living God!” [Mt 16:16]

But not everyone agreed. One was a young Jew named Saul. He was a Pharisee, a Jew of the tribe of Benjamin, a native of the cosmopolitan city of Tarsus in the region of Celicia in Asia Minor. As Paul later described it, Tarsus was “no mean city” [Acts 21:39].

Yes, indeed, Saul was no peasant. Paul’s family was apparently distinguished enough that the emperor had made them Roman citizens, a rare honor. And for his fellow Jews, he had the prestige of being schooled by the famous and learned Gamaliel.

As a Pharisee, now in Jerusalem, Saul had no patience for the new and dangerous sect that worshiped this Jesus of Nazareth as Messiah and Son of God. What a blasphemy! This Jesus could be only a false Messiah, for He had been crucified as a criminal, and had preached such foolishness as the brotherhood of Jew and Gentile.

Certain of himself and his mission, arrest warrants in hand, Saul was on his way to Damascus, 135 miles distant, to root out the followers of this Jesus and bring them back in chains for prosecution. But it is here, along this road to Damascus, that Jesus calls him. 

Knocked to the ground, blinded, overwhelmed by the voice of God, Saul is accused of persecuting Jesus Himself. But Jesus has plans for Saul. Renamed Paul, he is in God’s own words, “His chosen instrument.” This zealous Jew will now carry Jesus, the living and incarnate Word of God, to the world, to both Jew and Gentile.

Paul’s calling might have been exceptional in manner, but it was really no different from the calling of every Christian. For, just like Paul, we are all called to follow Jesus in holiness, to enter into an ongoing conversion; and like Paul it is our response that makes the difference. We are all called to the apostolate, to be apostles of Jesus Christ, to be the ones who are sent.

God’s voice comes to us all, that inner voice that brings both a calm acceptance and a restlessness to obey. It speaks to us in the words of the prophet, revealing all that God wants of us, dispelling uncertainty and fear, calling us to respond with our entire being.

Can we abandon ourselves, our autonomy? Can we accept that we too are called, we too are chosen to do, to give, to speak, to pass on to others all that He has given us, done for us? Can we make this our prayer? “What would you have me do, Lord? Tell me and I will do it.”

As Pope Paul VI preached: “…it becomes a need to hasten, to work, to do everything one can to spread the Kingdom of God, to save other souls, to save all souls."

Of course, God gives us a choice. But how did St. Paul put it?

“Christ Jesus has made me his own” [Phil 3:12].

That’s right, like Paul we belong to Jesus Christ now. To turn away from that would be foolishness indeed.

More News Brought to Light

Our faith is truly under attack, not just here in the good ol' USA, but throughout the world. I don't have to search for examples of this, for these attacks are not only evident but also celebrated by those who despise Christ and His Church. These misguided people wrongly think that by attacking Jesus Christ, they will somehow destroy Him. Such attitudes do nothing but underscore their tacit disbelief. Here are just a few stories that highlight this.

Abortion Industry Discretely Targets Black Babies.  In recent years, the abortion industry (aka, Planned Parenthood) has tried to separate itself from its founder, Margaret Sanger, a notorious racist who planned and hoped for the destruction of the "lesser races" and came up with a diabolical plan to accomplish this. But with the rise of cancel culture, Sanger's racism could cause Planned Parenthood some problems, so it seemed best to downplay her involvement as perhaps the founder of the industry. 

Sanger's plans, though, have never really been discarded. For decades Planned Parenthood has targeted minority communities, and they continue to do so. CURE, the Center for Urban Renewal and Education, is a wonderful organization that has investigated the abortion industry's attack on our nation's Black communities.

As a recent press conference, leaders of CURE and a number of other organizations devoted to helping minorities thrive, focused on the Abortion industry's targeting of minority communities. Quite simply, the industry hasn't left Margaret Sanger behind but has actually increased its attack on Black women and Black babies. The percentage of abortions obtained by minority women, particularly Black women, continues to increase, making them "disproportionately, the leading consumer of abortion service." Black women account for more than 1/3 of abortions although they make up only 15% of the childbearing population.

And this wholesale murder, this genocide, of the unborn is supported by the vast majority of Democrat politicians.

Canada Attacks Christian Belief. That's a nice way of saying it. About a week ago, the Canadian Senate and House of Commons unanimously approved a ban on what it called "conversion therapy." In truth, though, it condemns Christian doctrine on the sinfulness of homosexuality and so-called transgenderism, and "ism" that does not exists in reality. The legislation also threatens pastors with up to five years imprisonment if they actually are faithful to the Gospel.

These Canadian pastors aren't preaching hell and brimstone. In fact, like Pastor David Lynn, of Christ Forgiveness Ministries, they're preaching a theology of love, of forgiveness, or mercy. And as they preach, as they share the Gospel, they receive nothing but hate from those who can't stand to hear any criticism of their sinful way of life. "We hate nobody..." Pastor Lynn explained as he described the enduring love of God.

Pastor Lynn was, of course, arrested as he preached the Gospel publicly in Toronto. Even though surrounded and physically assaulted by the crowd of LGBTQ+ whatevers, he was the one arrested.

One result of this has been the outpouring of support by thousands of American pastors who preached last Sunday on the immorality of the homosexual and transexual lifestyles. Unfortunately, I have yet to find an article in praise of Catholic pastors preaching similar homilies. That's the subject of another post...perhaps soon.

A Catholic University Denies Church Teaching. Isn't it interesting that so many universities and colleges love to claim and proclaim their Catholic identity, presumably to placate Catholic parents who will foot the exorbitant education bill, and yet regularly deny major aspects of the Catholic Church's magisterial teaching? It's just a wild guess, but I suspect 75% of so-called Catholic institutions of higher education are really not Catholic. 

The latest school to hit the headlines is DePaul University in (where else) Chicago. DePaul advertises itself as the nation's largest Catholic university. On the "Mission Page" of its website. DePaul declares:

"Guided by an ethic of Vincentian personalism and professionalism, DePaul compassionately upholds the dignity of all members of its diverse, multi-faith, and inclusive community."

As someone who has read many of St. Vicent de Paul's homilies, studied his life, and ministers in a parish blessed with his name, I'm not all that certain the saint would grasp what "Vincentian personalism and professionalism" actually means.

On its home page the school also states that "Chicago is Our Classroom, The World is Our Focus," a motto that (despite its strange capitalization) seems to ignore its supposedly Catholic foundation.

And then, under a heading proclaiming the school's "commitment to Anti-Discrimination," we encounter the following:

"DePaul University does not discriminate on the basis of race, color, ethnicity, religion, sex, gender, gender identity, sexual orientation, national origin, age, marital status, pregnancy, parental status, family relationship status, physical or mental disability, military status, genetic information or other status protected by local, state, or federal law in matters of admissions, employment, housing, scholarships, loans, athletics and other school-administered programs. Individuals who believe they have been subjected to discrimination, harassment or retaliation are encouraged to report what happened."

Heavens! What a list of potential bases for discrimination! Although some are a bit confusing. Why both sex and gender? In fact, why gender at all? I'm pretty sure sex is what separates male from female, and I have always considered gender to be a grammatical term; you know: feminine, masculine, or neuter nouns. Ah, well, the more things change...

DePaul University, however, has determined that sex comes in many more forms than the obvious two that have served humanity well since pre-historic times.  The university's web-based Campus Connect system was established to aid communication among students, faculty, and staff. Since January 4, "In addition to the Legal Gender, students may now also include a gender identity." Here are the choices: male, female, intersex, non-binary, transgender male, transgender female, cisgender, unspecified, and "I do not wish to self-identify." 

Having these options is especially important at DePaul since the university's student government has declared misgendering an "act of violence," a rather unique way to define violence.

The Church, of course, teaches the existence of only two sexes: male and female. And so, from the perspective of DePaul University's students, who seem to set the policies, the Catholic Church is committing repeated acts of violence. Maybe it would be best if the school just dropped its Catholic identity so prospective students (and their parents) understood that they were about to pay thousands of dollars to be educated by idiots.

That's enough...I'm tired.

Homily: Thursday, 2nd Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: 1 Sm 18:6-9; 19:1-7; Ps 56; Mk 3:7-12

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Today we are blessed to celebrate the lives of two 3^rd-century martyrs. St. Fabian was a layman, who was elected as Bishop of Rome. (To my knowledge, he is unrelated to the 1950s teen idol of the same name.) But, in the event any of you are planning such a career change, realize Canon Law no longer permits this. Interestingly, though, Fabian’s body now rests in the Basilica of St. Sebastian, whom we also celebrate today.

Sebastian is probably best known for having been pierced by multiple arrows. Surprisingly, he managed to survive this, only to be clubbed to death later. There’s a certain irony in the fact that he is the patron saint of archers.

St. Sebastian

It's good for us today to remember the courage of these martyrs, who are such wonderful examples of lives well lived, of lives offered up for God’s glory.

Back in my other life, a life not always so well lived – a life before the diaconate and before The Villages – because of my work, I would often be asked to speak at corporate management meetings, or at industry conventions, usually on subjects related to management or customer focus.

I’ll admit, it was nice to receive a warm response, even the occasional standing ovation, and realize what I had to say struck a chord with the audience. But to keep me humble, someone would often come up to me afterwards, very upset about something I had said.

I was perhaps a bit like Saul in today's passage from 1^st Samuel, a man who sought accolades and resented anything negative…and I'd often argue with those who disagreed with me.

It took me quite a while to realize I could never please everyone. It also took me a while to understand that those who came to me upset simply wanted someone to listen to them.

Instead of just dismissing them, I began to listen. And in that listening, and in the questioning that usually followed, I learned that sometimes these “great thoughts of mine” might not always lead to success when put into practice.

Yes, I learned that some of what I believed about the subjects on which many thought I was an expert needed to be adjusted a bit. It was humbling, but in the listening, I think I became better at what I did.

I thought of this other life of mine as I read today’s Gospel passage. And how the crowds must have moved Jesus. And how very different He is from us, how different from me. Unlike me, Jesus is not concerned about Himself. His focus is entirely on those who have come to Him.

We see Jesus followed and surrounded by huge crowds, so large that the disciples worried the crowds would crush Him. When I spoke to an audience, it was to a gathering of like-minded people, and I usually knew what they wanted to hear. They weren’t hard to please. But Jesus was surrounded by huge crowds of such different minded people.

Oh, the Pharisees and Scribes were always there, despising Him, listening in, hoping to trap Him.

The Twelve were there, too, probably acting a bit officious, and basking a little in His reflected glory.

Many came to Him hoping for cures. They came themselves or they brought those who suffered, those who wanted only to touch Him. And so, He heals them.

But these crowds weren’t just Jews. No, Mark says they came from Tyre and Sidon, and from beyond the Jordan…that’s Gentile country. Yes, the Word had gotten around, hadn’t it? The Word. Even among the Gentiles. They, too, just sought healing, longed to hear a Word that might bring some hope into their confused and often desperate lives.

But someone else was there too. Some who came were possessed by evil spirits.

They fell down before Jesus and cried out, “You are the Son of God!” [Mk 3:11] Jesus ordered them to keep silent. He knew their cry wasn’t a confession of faith; rather it was an attempt to turn aside the threatening power of Jesus by using His exact name.

Jesus also knew the crowds weren’t ready to receive this revelation of the Messianic Secret. Their understanding was still superficial. They came for their own needs, not for discipleship. They came to receive, but not yet to give. But notice, Jesus never turned them away. They had needs only He could satisfy, and His mercy and His compassion brought physical and spiritual healing into their lives.

His warning to the spirits, though, came from the very nature of His mission. God became man so that man might share in divine life, an incredible thing in itself. But scandal and folly result from the means by which He accomplishes His mission: the glory of the Cross. To reveal His mission before its time would drive away many whom He wished to save.

His purpose, then, through His self-revelation, is to save folks like me – folks like you – from our self-delusions of grandeur.

Brothers and sisters, we can’t save ourselves, for salvation comes only from love – from God’s love and from our willingness to love God and each other.

It comes from carrying our own cross in union with the crucified Christ.

Homily: Saturday, 1st Week in Ordinary Time - Year 2

Readings: 1 Sam 9:1-4,17-19; 10:1 Ps 21; Mk 2:13-17

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In Rome, not far from the touristy Piazza Navona, is the church of San Luigi dei Francesi (St. Louis of the French). In one of its side chapels are several paintings by Caravaggio depicting events in the life of St. Matthew. They’re all masterpieces but one is especially wonderful: “The Call of Matthew.”

Caravaggio: The Call of Mattthew

The painting depicts the same scene Mark describes in today’s Gospel passage: the call of Levi, the tax collector, a man you and I know better as Matthew. Caravaggio depicts an indoor scene, with Matthew seated at his money table, surrounded by a group of his well-dressed associates. Unlike these others, Jesus is barefoot, as if His simplicity and holiness separate Him from everyone else in the scene. Peter stands beside Jesus.

Although the room is rather dark, a beam of light appears to extend from Jesus, who is pointing directly at Matthew. And Matthew? Seated there with a questioning look on his face, he points his finger as well, but at himself, as if to say, “Who me? You’re calling me?” We seem to sense that Matthew was surprised by this call from our Lord.

Jesus had just called four fisherman -- Simon, Andrew, James and John – and I suspect they, too, were skeptical of this latest choice, the tax collector. After all, the people had nothing but contempt for tax collectors, who not only worked for the despised Roman rulers, but were also known for enriching themselves through a form of legal extortion.

But isn’t it remarkable? Matthew didn’t hesitate. Indeed, he responded immediately. As Mark tells us, “He got up and followed Jesus.” How different from the call of the future King Saul we heard in today’s reading from 1^st Samuel. Matthew and Saul both respond to God’s call, and both will stray. But one repents in faith and becomes apostle and evangelist, while the other continues in his obstinate rejection of God’s will.

Mark then takes us to Matthew’s house, where Jesus and the disciples join the tax collectors and others for a meal. The Pharisees, of course are scandalized that Jesus, this reputed holy man, would associate with these public sinners. But those who consider themselves holier than others are always scandalized, aren’t they?

How does Jesus respond?

“Those who are well do not need a physician, but the sick do. I did not come to call the righteous but sinners” [Mk 2:39].

Indeed, you and I should love and cherish these words because we’re the sinners he’s talking about. How did Paul put it to the Romans: 

“…for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” [Rom 3:23]. 

Six months ago, I had my semi-annual meeting with my physician, a man I think the world of. He informed me that, despite my age and all my aches and pains, I was doing OK, and was probably good for another six months as long as I do as he tells me. Hopeful reassurance indeed. I guess I’ll find out next week when I meet with him once more.

But in Jesus we have a divine physician who promises us, not six months of health, but eternal life.

Brothers and sisters, that He came to call sinners should fill us with hope. As Jesus reminds us, to be a sinner is to be sick, sick spiritually. It’s an illness for which only He has the cure. But we’re called to celebrate that cure and to carry it to others.

Sometimes, though, as a Church, I think we spend an awful lot of our time and resources preaching and teaching and evangelizing the already converted – to the righteous, as Jesus called them.

Now, I know we can’t ignore those who are faithfully following the Way. But how present are we to others, to those who really need to hear the Gospel message? How present are we to those locked in their sinfulness?

It’s easy to fall into the trap of the Pharisees and avoid those who have drifted far away from God, those who believe they have no hope because they’ve never heard God’s saving Word or experienced His healing touch.

Maybe that’s what you and I should do today, shine a little beam of light, the promise of salvation, on another trapped in darkness.

Unmasking

Yesterday I noticed our president complained that a third of Americans apparently never wear masks. The irony, of course, is that this percentage almost exactly reflects national support for his job performance. I suspect, however, this is a mere coincidence since most of the maskless are probably not avid supporters of the president. 

Anyway, this estimate of mask deniers — I can’t call it a fact because it comes from the White House — apparently made President Biden angry enough to label all these maskless citizens “unpatriotic.” It would seem I am counted among them even though I cannot claim to never wear a mask. I must occasionally hide behind one of those irritating face coverings that really accomplish very little. Because of my ministry as a deacon, I am required by my parish to wear a mask when I am distributing Holy Communion at Mass. And, believe me, I always do so…except when I forget. I am also required to don a mask whenever I visit patients in a nursing home or rehab facility. But other than these rare mask mandates, I refuse to wear a mask. I don’t believe I’ve ever shopped at a store or eaten at a restaurant that requires masks. But that’s me.

Of course, as Dear Diane reminded me, masks are not only uncomfortable but also severely disrupt her ability to breathe. But most importantly, like me she doesn’t believe they really accomplish much. I think she also said something about masks messing up her hair, but here I might have misheard her.

To ensure there’s no misunderstanding, Diane and I are, as they say, “fully vaccinated.” We have no problem with vaccinations or boosters, and even wade through the deepening flow of decrees pouring out of the mouths of the national health heavies, even though their announcements are often contradictory, inexplicable, and unintelligible. As they like to remind us, “Just following the science.”

The truth too many seem to ignore is that science, as always, is a moving target. In truth, very little science can with any certainly be called “settled.” We clever, little human creatures keep expanding our knowledge of the universe in which God has placed us, thereby redefining our earlier assumptions and tossing aside the theories of the past. Real science demands real debate and valid, repeatable experimentation. It is never achieved by mere fiat, regardless of the stature of the scientist.

Even more troubling, understanding the science that relates to our actions often takes quite a while. For example, I suspect it may take years before we fully grasp the effects of forcing children to wear masks in school. Parents and honest teachers have already spoken out about the obvious problems affecting the social and intellectual development of children because of masks, not to mention the failures of “remote learning.”

But there are other issues, deeper societal, moral, and spiritual issues, related to hiding the faces of humanity. How can we enjoy the blessing of God’s face when we hide ours not only from each other but also from God? Every day I extend these words of blessing to others — a blessing God gave Moses and Aaron [Num 6:24-26]:

The LORD bless you and keep you: 
The LORD make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you: 
The LORD lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace. 

I could go on, but the other day I read a wonderful essay on The Federalist website. Written by Maureen Mullarkey, it beautifully addresses the importance of showing our faces. It’s well worth a read, so here’s the link:

What Hiding Our Faces Tells Js about the Condition of Our Souls

Keep smiling, friends, and let the world see your smile.

Faith over fear…always.

P.S. -- A brief addendum to the above. Today (Jan 15) I visited Maureen Mullarkey's web log -- Studio Matters -- as well as her website -- Maureen Mullarkey -- and encourage you to do so as well. She is an artist of some renown, an art critic, and regular contributor to major publications. I have no doubt read some of her articles and essays in the past, but simply didn't make the connection because of the ongoing loss of my aging memory cells. That's the good thing about aging -- I always have a ready excuse for my failings.

God's peace.

Memories of Wounded Wombats

A brief memory...

Years and years ago -- actually during my senior year of high school -- I was introduced to the writings of H. H. Munro (1870-1916), who wrote under the penname Saki. A wonderful writer of very funny stories, Munro lived far too short a life. During World War One he enlisted in the British Army as an ordinary trooper, even though he was already in his mid-forties and certainly would have been offered an officer's commission. Sadly, like so many of the UK's most promising young men, Munro did not survive the war. He died in November 1916 after being shot by a German sniper during the Battle of Ancre.

Anyway, my initial introduction to Munro's work back in 1961 consisted primarily of his stories featuring a rather odd, young Edwardian named Reginald. I went on to read almost everything Munro wrote, but especially loved the Reginald stories. Reginald was a clever, affected, witty, and sometimes heartless young man who nevertheless caused me to laugh out loud as I turned the pages of Munro's brief stories.

I can't say why, but occasionally, very occasionally, certain phrases become cemented into my rather unreliable memory. Among these is a phrase that appeared in a Munro story, Reginald's Rubaiyat. For some reason, the phrase -- "Where the wounded wombats wail" -- simply never left my regularly accessible brain cells. I suppose its retention stems from the oddity of it all. At the time, I realized only that a wombat was some sort of strange Australian marsupial, but I couldn't have described this odd critter even under torture. In truth, I know little more about wombats today.

But if you need an occasional laugh -- and these days, who doesn't? -- read Saki's stories. As a New Year's gift, I thought I'd share the following opening words of the brief story mentioned above, describing a typical event in young Reginald's life, as he injects wounded wombats into a less than promising poem.

The other day (confided Reginald), when I was killing time in the bathroom and making bad resolutions for the New Year, it occurred to me that I would like to be a poet. The chief qualification, I understand, is that you must be born. Well, I hunted up my birth certificate, and found that I was all right on that score, and then I got to work on a Hymn to the New Year, which struck me as having possibilities. It suggested extremely unusual things to absolutely unlikely people, which I believe is the art of first-class catering in any department. Quite the best verse in it went something like this —

“Have you heard the groan of a gravelled grouse,
Or the snarl of a snaffled snail
(Husband or mother, like me, or spouse),
Have you lain a-creep in the darkened house
Where the wounded wombats wail?”

What does it all mean? Your guess is as good as mine...or Reginald's.

Happy New Year to my small but select group of loyal readers...

End of the Year - Just News

So much of what I read or view or hear in the news I simply ignore. Very little affects me directly, and even when it does, I find I can't do much about it. But then I encounter that which either gladdens or saddens and decide it's worth repeating. What follows are just a couple of news items that struck me in these final days of 2021. 

Richard Marcinko, R.I.P.  A truly remarkable man, Dick Marcinko left this world on Christmas Day at the age of 81. I am certain that a lot of people in present-day America did not like Dick Marcinko. In fact, I suspect he was (and still is) quietly hated by many of our military's senior leadership, much of the media, politicians of both sides, and certainly by the "woke" crowd that hates everything American. Dick, you see, was a full-blown, 100%, all-American, warrior. He despised those who despised America and devoted much of his life to protecting this country from the very worst of these. If he had one major fault, he was perhaps too much of a warrior, the kind of man who tended to ignore politically inspired "rules of engagement" when it came to both training and real warfare.

A Pennsylvania native, Dick enlisted in the Navy at 18 and eventually earned a commission. He held a B.A. in international relations from Auburn and a M.A. in political science from the U. S. Naval Postgraduate School in Monterey, CA. In fact, that's where I met Dick, as I made my own way through the school's postgraduate degree program. As I recall, we first met at the bar in the Officers Club. When he heard I was a helicopter pilot, he spent a half-hour questioning and instructing me on how helicopters could be best used to support special operators. Of course, he was a Navy SEAL and had spent some serious, heroic, almost legendary time in Vietnam. Anyway, that bar-stool meeting was the first of two rather brief encounters with this man. I never ran into him again, although I did exchange a couple of emails with him maybe ten years ago. 

The above photos show Dick as I knew him (center) as rogue warrior (left) and as long retired hero (right).

Perhaps Dick's greatest accomplishment was the establishment of SEAL Team Six. At the time the Navy had only two SEAL teams, but Dick thought it would confuse the Soviets, causing them to invest time and effort looking for non-existent teams three, four, and five. SEAL Team Six was designed to be the Navy's top counterterrorism unit and Dick commanded the unit during its first three years, from 1980 to 1983. 

Later he was given the task of testing the Navy's ability to detect and withstand terrorist infiltration at its most secure bases. His unit, called Red Cell, was composed of a handful of SEALS and a Recon Marine, but they were remarkably successful penetrating target bases and commands. This work and Red Cell's somewhat questionable tactics (not unlike the tactics terrorists would use) identified serious weaknesses in many commands. It also made Dick some powerful enemies within the Department of Defense, among them my first Commanding Officer, by then a Vice Admiral. He has since died, so I won't mention his name, but will say he always seemed to care more about his own career than the welfare of those under his command. After Dick retired as a Commander in 1989, he was charged with defrauding the federal government, eventually convicted, and served 15 months in federal prison. I've always believed Dick was railroaded because he made so many senior officers look absolutely foolish and incompetent. Here's a link to a request for a presidential pardon. It's worth reading: Petition: Presidential Pardon for Commander Richard Marcinko

None of this slowed Dick down, and as a civilian he wrote many best sellers, including his autobiography and several novels. He was also CEO of a private security firm, Red Cell International. In 2011, just a few weeks after Osama bin Laden was killed by SEAL Team Six, Dick was honored at an Alabama Sports Festival in Birmingham and answered a few questions. He gave some interesting responses: Marcinko Answers Questions

Despite Dick's faults, I salute him and thank him for all he did for this country.

The Perils of Nationalized Healthcare. Here's a horrible story that clearly depicts what a nation can expect once it turns its healthcare over to government bureaucrats and fiscal freaks whose primary concern has little to do with actual healthcare. It offers us a clear example of the culture of death in action. 

During the pandemic, the National Health Service (NHS) of the United Kingdom attempted to give special needs children, including those with learning disabilities, do not resuscitate notices (DNRs). Adults with learning disabilities and mental illnesses had also received such notices. DNRs tell healthcare workers to withhold special treatment that would keep an ill patient alive. Most often it's the elderly or those suffering from terminal diseases who will sign a DNR. But in the UK, the NHS policy states: "You must be told that a DNR-CPR form will be/has been completed for you, but a doctor does not need your consent." 

Isn't that wonderfully, bureaucratically deadly. Of course, applying DNRs to children with learning disabilities during a pandemic would make things a lot easier (and less costly) for the NHS. If they get COVID, forget the therapeutics and simply let them die. And as several parents discovered, when their children with learning disabilities were asked if they wanted a DNR, most children had no idea what it meant and accepted it. The lesson for us all: If we ultimately opt for government-run healthcare, this is what we can expect to encounter.

Archaeologists Stunned: Ancients Were Smarter Than They thought. I've always been amazed by archaeologists, historians, theologians, and other certifiably intelligent folks who seem to believe that today's human beings are much more intelligent than those who came before. It's really a form of temporal bias or prejudice resulting, I suppose, from scientific and technological advances that result from the advance of knowledge. They seem to think these advances somehow appeared spontaneously in modern times and did not result from the dedicated efforts of many very bright people of the past who built on the work of their predecessors over the centuries.

Yesterday I read an article describing the surprise of archaeologists who finally realized the meaning of a Babylonian artifact, known as Plimpton 322. First unearthed in 1894, it was sold to a collector, and later (in the 1930s) given to Columbia University. In 1945 researchers realized it contained what are called Pythagorean Triples, but then everyone simply forgot about it. This year, when an Australian scholar, Dr. Daniel Mansfield, was given access he quickly realized the importance of the artifact. In his words it provided "Evidence ancient Babylonians were far more advanced than we thought." He went on to describe it as the "most interesting, most sophisticated mathematical document from the ancient world."

Yes, indeed, those ancients were actually pretty bright, and it seems the Mesopotamians had a surprisingly sophisticated understanding of Pythagorean Triples. The Babylonians, then, understood the geometry of right triangles and rectangles a thousand years before the Greek philosopher and mathematician Pythagoras came up with his theorem in the 5th-century B.C. The artifact, probably used as a device to assist in the art of surveying, shows that the ancients were avid appliers of science and mathematics. It makes us wonder how many similar advances were made by the ancients, but will never be known.

I've heard architects denigrate the architectural wonders of the ancient world, calling them primitive constructions. Such comments always lead me to question how many modern buildings, like the pyramids of ancient Egypt, will still be standing after 4,000 years. In the same way I find the plays of Shakespeare, the poetry of the Psalms, or the novels of Jane Austen far better than today's imitators. Too often today so-called educators excise the past from the education of the young, depriving them of the knowledge and wisdom of those who came before us.  As Isaac Newton wisely stated, "If I have seen further than others, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants."

Happy New Year.

Homily: 6th day within the Octave of the Nativity (December 30)

Readings: 1 Jn 2:3-11; Ps 96; Lk 2:22-35

____________________ 

Christmas, of course, reminds us that Jesus chose to enter into the world just as helpless as you and I once were. He didn’t place Himself above us. He entered directly into the human story, sharing our humanity, our flesh and blood, and our physical mortality. Although a divine person, He accepted everything that came with His humanity, all the messiness, all the ordinariness, all its limitations. It was by accepting these limitations that He could “advance in wisdom and age and favor before God and man.” [Lk 1:52]

In today’s Gospel passage Luke reminds us of both the humanity and divinity of our Lord.

According to Jewish law, a firstborn son belonged to God. And so, 40 days after his birth, parents would present their son in the Temple, in effect, buying him back with a sacrifice of turtledoves or pigeons. On that day, the new mother would also be ritually purified. Indeed, the feast was originally known as the feast of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin.

Here we see the Holy Family, a Jewish family, living under God’s Law, doing as the Law prescribed. You see, Jesus’ mission is rooted in God’s revelation, expressed in the Law and the Prophets. It’s there, in the Old Testament, that God’s plan of salvation is first revealed; a plan fulfilled and brought to completion by the Incarnation.

As Mary and Joseph enter the Temple to fulfil the law, they’re greeted by two people, Simeon and Anna, who amaze them with what they reveal. Like many of us here today, these two were very senior citizens. Yesterday, we heard what Simeon had to say, but in today’s passage Luke turns to Anna, whom he calls a prophetess, one who speaks for God.

At 84 Anna had lived in the Temple since becoming a widow at a young age. And so, for decades she “worshipped day and night with fasting and prayer.” [Lk 2:37]. She is, in fact, the patron saint of widows.

Like Simeon, Anna is filled with the Holy Spirit, and coming forward she gives thanks to God for the child, Jesus. Luke goes on to tell us she “spoke about the child to all who were awaiting the redemption of Jerusalem.” [Lk 2:38].

We see the birth of Christ revealed by very different kinds of witnesses, each in a different way: the shepherds, led by an angel; the Magi, guided by a star; and Elizabeth, Simeon, Anna inspired by the Holy Spirit. God chooses whomever He wishes to do great things; for the Spirit, though them, reveals Jesus Christ to the world.

The Spirit works in us as well, providing opportunities to take God’s love to others, an evangelization that begins right in our own families where holiness is first nurtured. In the midst of the chaos and messiness in our families there are glimpses of God’s presence, moments of grace when God reaches deep into the clutter of our lives and hands us a present we never expected.

When my mother died, our elder daughter, 6-years-old at the time, told Diane, “Don’t cry, Mommy. Grandma is with Jesus now, happy in heaven.” 

In moments like this God ignores the barriers and debris we place between ourselves and our redemption, reminding us we are called to holiness. In those moments, sticky hands are transformed into instruments of grace. Stories of the playground and classroom, or the words of a child to her mother become words of wisdom. In those moments, ordinary events take on new meaning and the dinner table becomes an altar.

These elusive, often sudden, and unexpected, moments are rarely captured on film or video. Sometimes, as with Mary and Joseph, they came in the form of words that amaze. Yes, Mary knew her Son was special. What had the angel revealed to her?

“He will be great and will be called Son of the Most High…the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God.” [Lk 1:32,35]

But to hear this and more in the Temple from Simeon and Anna…this too was something Mary would long ponder and cherish. Here we encounter an event that strikes a chord in all new parents who wonder and worry about the future of their child.

A story for every mother who looked into the face of her newborn, the face of innocence, and prayed that God would help her raise that child to holiness.

A story to remind us that as parents, along with the joys, we will experience disappointment, sorrow, sometimes great tragedy…but in the midst of it all we encounter Emmanuel, God with us.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph – pray for us.

Homily: Christmas Vigil - Year C

Readings: Is 62:1-5; Psalm 89; Acts 13:16-17,22-25; Mt 1:1-25

____________________

People often wonder why the Church includes this Gospel passage, this rather long genealogy, in tonight’s liturgy. It does seem like a strange selection, doesn’t it? All those names scattered across the generations from Abraham to Moses, then on to David and Solomon, then to the traumatic exile of God’s People in Babylon, and finally to Joseph and Mary and Jesus Himself.

Yes indeed, it might seem a bit odd to have us listen to all those names on the night we celebrate the birth of our Savior. After all, isn’t the name of Jesus enough? Isn’t it enough to know that Jesus is the Son of God? Is it really necessary to tell us about these human ancestors spread out over the centuries from the time of Abraham?

Actually, yes! It is.

You see, Matthew is simply saying, “Welcome to God’s family! -- because Jesus’s family is also our family.” Tonight, we not only celebrate Jesus’ birth, but we also celebrate our own spiritual roots, deep roots that stretch back nearly 4,000 years to Abraham, our father in faith.

You can trace that spiritual lineage from the priest (or deacon) who baptized you, through the bishop who ordained him, all the way back to the apostles and to Jesus Himself. And then you need only turn to these opening verses of Matthew’s Gospel and follow the path all the way back to Abraham.

And do you know something else? You and I share these roots. That’s right – we all have that same family tree. What a gift this is! It’s one of the key messages of the Gospel, a message that takes us deeply into those spiritual roots, and binds us in a living connection with Jesus Christ Himself.

Each of the four Gospels begins by telling us who Jesus is, but each tells us in a different way.

Mark, in his usual Sergeant Friday, just-the-facts-Ma’am approach, wastes neither time nor words and identifies Jesus from the beginning: 

“The beginning of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God…” [Mk 1:1]

Luke's a bit more subtle. He takes half a chapter before he finally gets to Jesus, and then he lets the Archangel Gabriel do th honors:

“Therefore the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God' [Lk 1:35].

And John? He echoes the opening words of the Book of Genesis and proclaims the eternal divinity of the Logos, of Jesus, the creative Word of God.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” [Jn 1:1].

But Matthew is different. Writing to a Jewish audience, he offers them a very Jewish family tree of Jesus Christ, true God and true man. He begins by proclaiming:

“The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham” [Mt 1:1].

Any Jew would recognize these titles, for they are Messianic titles. At the very start, Matthew is declaring Jesus to be the Messiah, the chosen one. Then, filled with the Spirit, he presents us with a family tree, one generation after another…right here in the very first verses of the New Testament. It’s as if God can’t wait to tell us all about His family.

Realize first that Matthew didn’t intend his genealogy to be complete. And his Jewish readers would know this too. No, Matthew wants to make a point. He wants his readers to understand and accept Jesus’s messianic roots. And so, he divides his genealogy into three sections of 14 names, or 6 sections, each with 7 names.

To the Jew 7 and 14 symbolized completion or perfection. Matthew, then, completes his genealogy with the first and only name in the 7^th group of 7: the name of Jesus. For a Jew this was as perfect as you could get.

Although some of these names may sound a bit strange to us, they’re all real people and offer a glimpse into the entire history of God’s Chosen People. As we run through that list of names we encounter every aspect of human life, and not just the good parts, but also murder, treachery, incest, adultery, prostitution…

We also meet five women, something rarely encountered in ancient genealogies. The last of these is Mary herself, but the first four – Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Bathsheba – are all Gentiles: 2 Canaanites, a Moabite, and a Hittite. Yes, Jesus’s family wasn’t so purely Jewish, was it? Those Gentiles among His ancestors highlight the fact that He came from all of us, and for all of us. How did Isaiah put it?

"Nations shall behold your vindication, and all the kings your glory; you shall be called by a new name, pronounced by the mouth of the Lord" [Is 62:2.

Yes, it’s a global family, but it’s also a family of sinners.

Tamar disguised herself as a prostitute to fool her father-in-law, Judah, and ending up giving birth to his twin sons.

Rahab was a prostitute, and yet become a faithful woman who served the God of Israel.

And Bathsheba? King David watched her bathing from his rooftop, invited her in, seduced her, and had her husband killed, so he could marry her. Solomon, their son, started right with God, but then joined his many wives in worshipping idols.

Some members, like Mary and Joseph, are extraordinary; others, Ruth and Josiah, are faithful; some, like Manasseh and Rehoboam, are despicable; others, like Eliud and Azor, are anonymous, nondescript, men about which we know nothing.

Welcome to my family, Jesus tells us, welcome to my world. It’s the world we encounter when we open the Bible and realize how forgiving our God is. Jesus’s family is a human family and like most human families, has its share of saints and sinners. And from this, we learn that God’s plan was accomplished through them all, and that He continues to work through us, His people.

Notice, too, the genealogy relates father to son, father to son, father to son…except at the very end. Matthew completes the genealogy with the words:

“Jacob the father of Joseph, the husband of Mary. Of her was born Jesus who is called the Christ.” [Mt 1:16]

For Matthew doesn’t declare Joseph to be the father of Jesus. Jesus, the Christ, is born of Mary, the virgin, with God as His Father. Again, what a gift – to be members of God’s eternal family!

Indeed, what a gift all of Revelation is! Do you realize how blessed we are to be Catholic Christians? What we believe and how we worship are not things we’ve concocted. For Christianity is really a revelation rather than a religion. Christianity is God’s Word and Work, not something we came up with. It’s not a collection of man’s feeble attempts to placate some higher power. It comes totally from God Himself.

We believe God revealed Himself through the many generations Matthew enumerates in his genealogy. It’s a Revelation that runs from Abraham to Moses to David through all the prophets and eventually to Jesus Himself – Who is the fulfillment of it all. It’s a revelation that reaches its climax in the Incarnation when Mary gives birth, as Matthew describes it, to “Jesus, who is called the Christ.”

You see, brothers and sisters, it’s all a gift. As St. Paul asked the Corinthians:

"What do you possess that you have not received?" [1 Cor 4:7]

The answer, of course, is “Nothing!”

And right there at the top of the list of God’s gifts, is that which we receive through our Baptism: the gift of adoption. We became sons and daughters of the Father, part of the Family of God.

And so, we join Jesus on that family tree described by Matthew. We are heirs and inherit the fruit of God’s promises made to Abraham and to those who followed him. But as members of God’s family, we must behave as any good son or daughter would behave. We must live in a way that honors the father, in a way that doesn’t dishonor the family.

Another great gift that comes out of this adoption is the privilege of eating at the table of the Family of God.  We can take part in the Eucharistic Feast, the Mass. And what a gift this is! For here, at this altar, Jesus Christ, gives Himself to us, body and blood, soul and divinity, and allows us, the members of His family, to join Him in the most intimate way imaginable.

Here, as we come forward to receive the Body and Blood of Christ, we also join each other in a unique Communion in which the Church is most completely herself. Eucharist – the word itself means thanksgiving – is like a great family dinner, Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners all rolled into one… and yet far more wonderful and fulfilling.

Brothers and sisters, we are sons and daughters of God!  These roots are deeper, stronger, and longer lasting than any human family roots. Indeed, they’re so strong they’ll carry us all the way to eternal life.

And so tonight, as we rejoice in the birth of our Savior, let us also rejoice that our names are written in heaven, as members of the family of Jesus Christ.

"Come, Lord Jesus!" [Rev 22:20]