Author: patcamerino

(The “instructions” for this homily state: “Sit down after reading the Gospel and silently recite three “Our Fathers” before returning to the ambo and beginning today’s homily!)

Ok … the question is: how did you feel while waiting for the homily to begin? Yes, I made you wait before beginning today’s homily. It really wasn’t that long. It was the length of time for me to pray the Our Father three times: about a minute, about the length of time for a single commercial on television. (If there is such a thing as a single commercial on television!)

So, how did you feel? Were you puzzled? You knew, of course, that someone was scheduled to give the homily. But who was it? Or were you anxious? Did you say to yourself: Has someone goofed? Or were you annoyed? Did you mutter to yourself … or the person next to you: Why can’t they get on with it? Time’s going by and I have a lot to do? Or were you accepting of the situation? Did you make use of the relative peace and quiet to let the words of the gospel sink in?

As you realize, today marks the beginning of the Advent season for the new liturgical year. We speak of Advent as being a time of waiting – waiting for Christmas and the celebration of the birth of the Christ-child. We also realize that Advent is the time to remind us that what we should really be waiting for is the Return of the Risen Christ, the Second Coming of our Lord. And so, at the outset of this period of liturgical waiting, I wanted you to experience the condition of waiting, even if it lasted for less than sixty seconds. I wanted you to see how you are personally attuned to either active waiting – or passive waiting.

Few of us enjoy “passive” waiting. It makes many of us “up tight.” It’s probably a result of our American culture and our training. We are trained to be “active” waiters: to do something, anything, while we are waiting. Waiting, after all, is that interval of transition between the present and the future; from the certainty of the present to the uncertainty of the future.

The difficulty we have in waiting might be even harder today – when the present, itself, contains great economic uncertainty and we wait for improvements – or for even greater disasters in the days and months to come. There are even some who see, in our current crises, a view of the end-days of the world, itself. For some, this is a time for fear that great harm will come to us. For others, it is a time for courage that safety and salvation are on the horizon.

The feelings we experience today are no different than those of the Israelites in the time of Isaiah. The Israelites had just returned from the dark days of the Babylonian captivity to a Jerusalem where the Temple had been destroyed. They hoped that the Messiah would come in great power and might to destroy their enemies and restore the glory of Israel. They proclaimed, in the words of Isaiah we heard a few minutes ago: “Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down, with the mountains quaking before you, while you wrought awesome deeds … such as they had not heard of from of old.”

Yet others heard Isaiah’s concluding words: “… O Lord, you are our father; we are the clay, and you are the potter: we are the work of your hands.” They remembered that the loving Father, the creating potter, does not destroy what he has made; but rather shapes his creation into beautiful and useful vessels into which may be poured the gifts of water and wine. They are the ones who realize that the Lord, our father, does not bring about change through destruction but by the loving reworking of the clay. Yes, we realize that change is always present. We also realize that Advent is always present … that our Lord will come again.

In today’s Gospel we heard the words spoken by Jesus the Christ, who reminds us that the Master will, indeed, return, but no one will know the hour of his return. Today, on this first Sunday of Advent, we again hear his instruction: “Be watchful! Be alert! You do not know when the time will come.” He then goes on and gives his disciples further instructions. He tells them that they should be active waiters, and not passive ones. That when the master leaves his home “… he places his servants in charge, each with his own work …”

Jesus, it seems, realizes it is difficult to wait passively. Instead, we need to wait actively. The question then becomes: how should I wait actively? Most of our training for active waiting has been to use distractions to give the appearance of being in control. Each of us, it seems, wants to be in control of the situation of waiting, even though “waiting” is that time when we are not in control. Waiting is precisely the time when I am not able to control the outcome.

Just what are the usual distractions that accompany our waiting? What are the false controls we attempt to use in our lives? A major one for many of us is – noise. We get home from work and turn on the television, not to watch a program but to have background noise. We get home from work and turn on the television … not to watch a program but to have background noise. We get in the car and turn on the radio. We jog with an I-pod plugged into our ears. We wait in line at the grocery store, and we listen to someone else on our cell phone. We use noise as a distraction while we wait for “reality” to catch up with us.

We also use “virtual reality” as a distraction while we wait; although a better name for it might be “violence.” We watch newscasts and are fascinated with the destruction brought on by earthquakes, storms, crashes and crimes. We are amused by the antics of “James Bond” or of “World Wrestling Entertainment.” Our children pass the time with the distraction of video games and computer surfing.

Despite our current economic limits, some try to gain a false control through the distraction of consumerism. We are encouraged to buy the latest electronic gadgets: Blackberries for surfing the web as well as for taking photos. We are urged to replace our old-fashioned TV with an HDTV that will function after February 2009.

We tend to use all of these distractions (and others) to give us the appearance of being in control as our world goes spinning outward with ever increasing centrifugal force. Our secular world wants us to actively wait for the future with the distractions afforded by noise, violence and consumerism.

However, for Christians who recognize that our real future is the Advent of our Lord, the Return of the Master, there are other ways to wait actively for his Coming. In place of the distraction of noise, there is the silence in which we hear the voice of God and the whispered needs of others. In place of the distraction of violence, there is the tranquility found in the presence of God, in the presence of those we love, and who love us. In place of the distraction of consumerism, there is the simplicity of a lifestyle that allows us to share God’s gifts with others. In place of the distraction of doing busywork and being torn apart, there is the focusing and knitting together of our lives through reflection, meditation and contemplation.

Yes, Advent is a time of waiting, a time for active waiting, but an active waiting devoid of secular distractions. Advent is a time for preparation for the return of our Master. Advent is a time to recognize, once more, that as much as each of us wants to be in control, only the Lord, who is the potter of our clay-filled lives, is really in control. Advent allows us the time to be watchful; to be alert for the changes in our lives and the coming of our Lord. And most importantly, as we begin this Advent, we once again have the opportunity to realize that Advent is not just a season, not merely four weeks in the liturgical year – but rather Advent is our Way of Life.

^{First Sunday of Advent: November 29, 1999; revised: November 30,2008
Is 63:16b-17, 19b:64:2b-7; 1 Cor 1:3-9; Mk 13: 33-37}

Today’s question is both philosophical and practical. It’s a question each of us wishes to avoid, yet we know it must be answered. It’s this: How do you prepare for the unexpected? The “unexpected.” If you don’t expect it, how can you prepare for it? Preparation, itself, suggests you know what’s going to happen and you can do something to affect the outcome.

Six decades ago this weekend, something few expected, happened. December 7, 1941. On a quiet Sunday morning, at a place called Pearl Harbor, an unexpected attack occurred; and we found ourselves at war – a terrible war that began with death from the skies and ended with the total destruction of two cities by two bombs.

Some two thousand years ago, a different kind of unexpected event occurred, an event we celebrate on December 8th of each year. We call this event “the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary.” It’s an event brought about by God in preparation for his incarnation, for the birth of his only Son.

Once again, we are concerned with preparing for the unexpected. Once again we have choices between death and life. For some, the choices have national and international consequences. For the rest of us, we have our own daily decisions to be made about the unexpected. For you see … none of us can know what the next moment brings. For each of us, the “unexpected” is the only thing we can expect.

Although we seldom admit it, we really do not have as much control over our lives, and the lives of others, as we may want to think we have. For some of us, this realization comes when we spoke certain vows to the person we love more deeply than any other human being. Some of us have said: “… I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health.” When those words are spoken, each lover expects there will be only “good times.” But those of us who have lived a while realize there are “bad times” as well – and that the “unexpected” can occur. It’s then that the remaining vows take effect: “… I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.”

Some twenty-seven centuries ago, the prophet Isaiah spoke other words of love to the Israelites who had been held captive in Babylon. “Comfort, give comfort to my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem … here comes with power the Lord God … like a shepherd he feeds his flock, in his arms he gathers the lambs, carrying them in his bosom, and leading the ewes with care.”

Yes, after years of being held captive, the unexpected was about to occur. King Cyrus was about to release the Israelites voluntarily from bondage. They’d be able to return to their homeland – like a flock led by a shepherd who had not deserted them. And for a time, events went well for those who made it safely back to Jerusalem. But once more, unexpected events occurred, and the people found they were again controlled by those who did not acknowledge the power of their Lord God. Once more they sought release from bondage.

However, there was one who realized that the true bondage holding them, was not a foreign power but rather their own sinfulness, their own turning away from the Lord God. A new prophet appeared in the Judean desert. He proclaimed a path of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. He urged those who listened to him … to change their ways … to return to the Lord God … to follow another who would, indeed, lead them back to the Lord God. As a sign of their change of heart, this prophet poured purifying water over them.

But this prophet, clothed in camel’s hair, who fed on locusts and wild honey, knew that the “one who was to come” would be greater than any mere prophet. The one whom John the Baptist expected would offer the forgiveness of God through a baptism by the Holy Spirit and not by mere water.

And the expected Messiah did come. He taught. And he suffered as Isaiah had foretold. But then – the unexpected again happened. This Messiah, this Anointed One of God, God’s own Chosen One, not only suffered. He was crucified, died, was buried and rose again. His friends who had followed him had now expected he would remain with them, the Kingdom about which he spoke would be fulfilled in their presence. Yet once more, the unexpected happened. He left them. He left them, but with a promise he would return. He would come again.

Peter, his closest companion, believed him. Peter agreed he did not know the time nor the place of the return of the Christ, the anointed one. But Peter did know that “new heavens and a new earth” would come. Peter also, knew that time, itself, did not matter. After all, for the Lord, there is no earthly time. For Christ, “… one day is like a thousand years and a thousand years is like one day.” Thus, the Lord can afford to be patient with us: … to wait for us to change … to become true to his teachings … for us to realize that we have been forgiven … that our future is to be with God.

Yes, in human terms, we have a mere two weeks to prepare for the celebration of the Incarnation of our God, the celebration of his Coming to us as a babe in a manger. But, in divine terms, we have as much time as each of us needs to prepare for the expected return of the One who never really left us.

A few minutes ago, I asked how we are to prepare for the unexpected: those events over which we have no real control. However, a more important question also concerns another event over which we have no control, but one that is our greatest expectation. Using the words of Mark that we heard a few minutes ago: How are we to prepare for … “the beginning of the gospel, the good news, of Jesus Christ, the Son of God?”

^{Second Sunday of Advent: December 8, 2002
Is 40:1-5,9-11; 2 Pet 3:8-14; Mt 1:1-8}

My question for you today is about the Bible, specifically, the New Testament. My question is also about “questions.” My question is this: in the New Testament, what are the two major questions that are asked?

Now a lot of questions were asked in the gospels, as well as in the letters of Paul and the other apostles. So how could there be only two major questions? Well, I believe there are only two major questions and that all other questions are related to them. Just as there are the two greatest commandments, and all other commandments are related to them. In the same way, I believe there are two primary questions asked in the New Testament.

The first question was asked by Jesus of his disciples: “Who do you say I am?” And the second was asked in today’s gospel by the priests and Levites and those sent by the pharisees. It’s the question they asked John the Baptist: “who are you?”

I believe the answers to these two questions define all Christians when they are applied to each one of us. Each one of us is asked by Jesus: “Who do you say I am.” And each one of us is asked by others in the world, as well as by Jesus, himself: “Who are you?” It is our responses to these questions that shape our relationship to Jesus and to all others. They also shape our replies to all of the other questions found in the Bible, questions about truth, about sinners, about salvation.

In other homilies, we’ve examined the first question which Jesus asked us. So, today, let’s take a closer look at the response of John the Baptist to the second question: “Who are you?” Evidently, his questioners wondered if he were the messiah who had come to bring them salvation, since John’s first answer was: “I am not the messiah.”

Is this the response you and I give? Or – are there those among us who act as if they are, indeed, the “messiah.” Those who have a so-called, “messiah complex.” Who are out to save the world by their own power. Who speak and behave as if everything depended upon their own actions. Who do not recognize that everything they really accomplish depends, not upon themselves, but upon their cooperation with God – and upon the proper use of the talents and gifts God has bestowed upon them.

And if I agree with John the Baptist that I am not the “messiah,” what about his next responses: “No, I am not Elijah.” I am not the one who is to appear before the Messiah comes. “No, I am not even the prophet,” the one promised by Moses to return before the Messiah appears.

Do we agree with John the Baptist in our response to the question, “who are you?” – that we are neither the messiah nor those who precede him in power? Do we agree we are, instead, only the messenger, the voice who cries out to others to prepare the way of the Lord? Are we among those who do not blow their own trumpet, but rather announce to others that the Lord, himself, is among us?

In response to the question, “who are you?” can I say, “I am a Christian, a follower of Christ.” And if I say I am, then what do I mean by it? Am I one who puts into practice the instructions Saint Paul gave to the Thessalonians in today’s second reading? In his letter, which is said to be the first one Paul wrote to any of the communities he founded, he gave instructions on how to be a Christian. He wrote: “rejoice always, never cease praying, render constant thanks … such is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”

According to Paul, a Christian is one who rejoices, always; one who prays, always; one who gives thanks, always. Christians are those who allow the Holy Spirit to enter their lives, yet at the same time, are not deceived by those who claim to be their guides but, in reality, are false friends.

Paul instructs us: “test everything, retain what is good. Avoid any semblance of evil.” In other words, he says we should not only avoid sin, but avoid what, in the old-time church, were called: “The near occasions of sin.” He urges us to examine everything that impacts upon our lives as Christians and not to get near those events or behaviors which would tend to lead us astray.

And to what end? Why are we joy-filled, always? Why do we pray, always? Why do we give thanks, always? Perhaps it is because we have truly heard the message of Jesus who, at the very beginning of his public ministry, quoted the words proclaimed in today’s first reading from the prophet, Isaiah: “the spirt of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me; he has sent me to bring glad tidings to the lowly, to heal the brokenhearted. To proclaim liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners, to announce a year of favor from the Lord…” and when Jesus finished reading these words he added: “and today they have been fulfilled in your hearing.”

Jesus, himself, has given us the answer to the question: “Who are you?” He has told us that: … we are the brokenhearted who have been healed … we are the captives who have been set free … we are the ones who have received a year of favor from the Lord.

We are also told something else in the words from Isaiah: I am the bridegroom; I am the bride. Who is more joy-filled, who is more thankful than a bride and a groom on their wedding day? This is who we are meant to be as we celebrate the first coming of the Christ Child and await the Second Coming of the man called the Anointed One of God, the Messiah.

As we make our responses to the questions: “Who do you say I am?” and “Who are you?” we need to recall the concluding prayer Saint Paul sent to the Thessalonians twenty centuries ago: “May the God of peace make you perfect in holiness. May you be preserved whole and entire … spirit, soul, and body … irreproachable at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. He who calls us … is trust-worthy, therefore he will do it.”

^{Third Sunday in Advent: December 15, 1996
Is 61: 1-2a, 10-11; 1 Thess 5:16-24; Jn 1: 6-8, 19-20}

Well, here we are – in the final count-down. Do I really need to remind you Christmas is only a week away? My question for today could be a very simple one: have you finished all of your Christmas shopping? Or do you still have to rush out today to find that last-minute present for your favorite uncle or, worse yet, for your spouse? Or will you put it all off until next Friday, because you really enjoy the challenge of shopping on Christmas Eve?

Yes, these are questions I could ask you today, the Fourth (and last) Sunday of Advent. But I have a somewhat more important question for you: one you certainly do not need to answer out loud. My question is this: Why do you buy presents in the first place? What is it that prompts you to give a gift to someone else?

Do you give a gift to someone because you owe them something? Do you buy a present for someone merely because they expect it? When you make out your list of those who will receive Christmas presents this year, do you think about the people at work, the teacher at school, the person who delivers your mail, and the one who tosses your morning paper on the driveway, usually on the spot covered by water from the lawn sprinkler. Do you give gifts only to those who merit some reward from you, because of the jobs they do for you? Do you give with an expectation that if you don’t give them a Christmas bonus, maybe they won’t work quite as hard for you next year?

Is this, also, why you give gifts to friends and relatives? Because of what they have done for you, how well they have treated you? Are you a little concerned that if you don’t give them something, they won’t like you quite as much? Or do you give them a gift because you love them, and you want them to know just how much you love them? And if that’s the reason, does a bigger and more expensive gift mean you love them more than a smaller gift might represent? Does the size or cost of the gift stand in for the size of your love for one another?

Well, if you’ve had any of these thoughts, you share them with a lot of other people – including someone we heard about in our first reading for today, a reading taken from the Second Book of Samuel. Some three-thousand years ago, King David had similar thoughts. We heard how he was “… settled in his palace and the Lord God had given him rest from his enemies on every side.” It was then that King David decided he should do something nice for the Lord God. As he said “ … here I am living in a house of cedar, while the ark of God dwells in a tent!”

Now at first glance, you might say: ok, David saw how much he owed to God, and he was just paying him back. If God is generous, should I not be generous back to God? Isn’t this what I’m told God wants? Am I not supposed to give back to God a tenth of all I have? And when David told the local holy man, Nathan the prophet, about his planned gift-giving, Nathan answered: “Go, do whatever you have in mind, for the Lord is with you.”

But it turns out, even a prophet can be wrong from time to time, if he fails to check it out first with the Lord God. For that very night, the Lord God spoke to Nathan and told him to remind David it was he, the Lord God, who had accomplished everything David thought he had done on his own. And everything that would be done in the future by David or his offspring would be the result of God’s love for his people.

Once more, God reminded David that God gives without a requirement he be paid back. A gift from God is given merely because God loves us and not because we merit that gift. When God gives a gift, the only expectation is we rejoice in gratitude for the gift. And how do we rejoice? By sharing that gift with others. By sharing God’s love with others.

We heard this message even more powerfully in our gospel reading for this Fourth Sunday of Advent. Once again, we heard the story of the angel Gabriel’s announcement to Mary that she has been chosen to receive the greatest gift God could ever give: the gift of himself. In his announcement, Gabriel began by saying those words we prayerfully repeat to this day: “Hail, (Mary) full of grace! The Lord is with you.” And what was Mary’s response? Luke says: “… but she was greatly troubled at what was said and pondered what sort of greeting this might be.” However, the angel reassured her and then told her of the gift she was about to receive. And when she heard this, what was her final response? “May it be done to me according to your word.”

Mary, as we are constantly reminded, heard the word of God and said, “yes.” But what we sometimes fail to appreciate is exactly what she said “yes” to. Mary said “yes” to her complete and total acceptance of the gift God offered to her and, through her, to us. She accepted and embraced God’s gift – with the recognition she had not merited it by anything she, herself, had done, but merely because she was full of grace – God’s first gift to her. Without further questions, she accepted and shared God’s gifts. But sometimes God’s gifts are hard to accept and to share.

Although it’s easy to accept God’s gifts of life and health, we question his gifts of pain and suffering. We find it easy to rejoice in our family and friends, in our children and in our spouse when they please us, when they do what we think is good and right. But we find it difficult to accept, let alone rejoice in them, when they fail to live up to our expectations. Perhaps this is a result of how we view our own gift-giving and gift-receiving.

Have you ever given a gift someone does not like? Have you ever received a gift that makes you say to yourself: “why in the world did Uncle Bob ever give me this?! What possible use can be made of this so-called gift? It’s the wrong size and color. Using it would bring me a lot of pain and discomfort.”

Yet even when a gift is received with puzzlement, does that make the gift-giver into a cruel or unthinking person? No, not if we appreciate a true gift is given because of the love the giver has for the one who receives it. What loving person gives a gift in order to be cruel? After all, does a parent give a child a scorpion or a stone to eat?

When a gift is received with puzzlement, it suggests the gift needs to be received with continued faith and trust in the love of the giver. There must be faith and trust that, although I am uncertain right now why I am receiving it, I know, in the long run, this gift will be exactly what I need. I know the gift-giver, indeed, knows me and my circumstances better than I, myself, may know them. We need to remember that even God’s gift to Mary contained a puzzlement. His joyful gift to her was not free from pain and suffering. The rejoicing of Christmas contains within it the pain of Good Friday. Both the crib and the cross are made of the wood of salvation.

In a few days we will once again celebrate the gift of the Christ Child given to Mary and to us. In his name, we will give and receive other gifts because of the love we share for him and for one another. Although this is the season of hope and of joy for many of us, for some, it is a season of despair and of unhappiness. Yet in every season, we need to remember that everything we have is a gift from God and our response should be to rejoice in these gifts, even the ones which bring us the most puzzlement. We need to remember that God gives me a gift for only one reason. God gives me a gift because he loves me. In return for all gifts given, and those about to be received, it is right for me to give him thanks and praise; it is right for me to rejoice.

^{Fourth Sunday of Advent; December 19, 1999
2 Sam 7:1-5, 8-11, 16; Rom 16:25-27; Lk 1:26-38}

I want to offer my own welcome to all of our visitors to Christ the Good Shepherd, to all of you who are spending the holidays here with family and friends. It’s especially good to have you here this Sunday, the Sunday between Christmas and New Year’s, when the church celebrates the Feast of the Holy Family. The readings for today certainly emphasize family relationships, even ones we might not want to hear about.

Each of us probably hears the Second Reading from the letter of Saint Paul to the Colossians in very different ways. The kids may have paid extra attention to the line: “Fathers, do not nag your children lest they lose heart.” As for the wives, I know there are a few women here who do not take kindly to Paul’s urging: “Wives, be submissive to your husbands.” Husbands, on the other hand, may want to hold this as a scriptural stick over their wives. They may tend to ignore Paul’s following instructions: “Husbands, love your wives. Avoid any bitterness toward them.” But rather than focusing on these lines from Saint Paul, I’d prefer to take another look at what it means to be a Holy Family.

For some of us, this feast day in honor of the Holy Family might suggest we should focus entirely on Mary, Joseph and the infant Jesus. But this day, and it’s readings, applies to more than to just a particular holy family of three people who lived some two thousand years ago. We are all part of still another “holy family.” However, it’s a family made up of more than a mother, father and several children. You are also part of this “holy family” when you are a single parent living with growing children. You are still part of this “holy family” when you are a single adult living alone, in either an apartment or in a home for the elderly. We are all part of the Christian holy family, and this is the family Paul is talking about. This is the family I would offer for our reflection today.

But in considering the holy family of which we are all a part, it’s important for us to begin by reflecting upon the opposite of what a “family” is. I believe “loneliness” is the opposite of being a family. Loneliness may be a strange thing to think about at this time of year, a time of year when all of the TV commercials and songs remind us of being with those we love and who love us. But, for some, the Christmas season can be the loneliest time of the year. For the past several weeks, we may have tried to escape this loneliness by pouring ourselves into holiday activities: parties and shopping, writing cards, baking, hanging lights, and decorating trees. But now it’s all over.

Christmas Day has, once more, come and gone. And we ask ourselves: “Was it worth it?” Is there more joy today, the day after Christmas, the day after we have celebrated the birth of the Christ-child, than there was the day before Christmas? Over the past four weeks of Advent, we have been preparing for the birth of Jesus in our hearts. If we were to continue this theme, we have now reached the point of “post-partum blues.” For those of you who have children, do you recall the hectic days just before their birth; how you wanted the birth to come; and yet, there was still more to do. And then the joy of holding your child in your arms for the first time. Or maybe the trepidation of that experience.

Yes, there is a certain amount of parental concern following the birth of a child. And yes, in the days that follow, for some, there can be a deep case of the blues. And yes, today, the day after Christmas, now that the first joy has left, for some of us, depression can set in. Now is the time when the loneliness we have been trying to fight off can return with a vengeance.

But what is the nature of that loneliness? I’m not an expert in psychology, but someone just like you. Nevertheless, I wonder if that loneliness is a manifestation of our need to be loved, a need to feel special. When I feel unloved, unwanted, I feel lonely. I believe each one of us needs to feel special, to feel loved. I also believe the three readings for today ask us to help others to know how special they really are. To see what I mean, let’s take a closer look at these readings.

In the First Reading from Sirach, we hear how we should make our parents feel special. We don’t often, in our roles as children, whether we are 6, 16, or 56, reflect on how we need to make sure our own mother and father feel special. Yet that is what we heard in our first reading: “The Lord sets a father in honor over his children; a mother’s authority he confirms over her sons.” I won’t read the rest to you. It’s much too painful for me. My mother died during Christmas week four years ago. My father died just before Christmas last year. You who have lost loved ones and who have gone through the holidays without them understand all too well what Sirach tells us. But I believe it is more than just our own parents we are called upon to make special.

A few minutes ago, I recalled how Paul ended the reading we heard today: about not nagging our children and about submission. But the more important part is the opening line: “Because you are God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with heartfelt mercy, with kindness, humility, meekness, and patience.” He goes on to say: “Bear with one another; forgive whatever grievances you have against one another. … dedicate yourselves to thankfulness. Whatever you do, whether in speech or in action, do it in the name of the Lord Jesus.”

These, then, are Paul’s words on what it means for an entire community to become a holy family. From him, we hear we are to forgive. We are to accept. Forgiveness and acceptance are the keys to eliminating loneliness. They are the keys to becoming a holy family.

A few minutes ago, when I began this reflection, I said in order to understand something about becoming a holy family, we needed to understand the opposite of being a family is being lonely. In a family in which there is forgiveness and acceptance, there can be no loneliness. In a community in which there is forgiveness and acceptance, there can be no loneliness. When we are made to feel we are special, there is no loneliness.

In our Third Reading, our Gospel Reading, we heard about a man and a woman who might be models for each of us to follow. Although you might think I’m talking about Mary and Joseph, this is not who I mean. Have you ever thought about Simeon and Anna, the prophetess? I doubt if you have. But think for a moment.

Here we see two elderly, very devout people. They had dedicated their lives to the service of God. And what do they do when Mary and Joseph appear in the temple with their firstborn son? Simeon and Anna rush up to this young girl and her husband and begin to praise their child as being the Messiah, the Anointed One. Admittedly Mary and Joseph may have, at this point, begun to suspect this child was someone special. Most parents believe this true about their son, even without shepherds saying angels sang to them, or without having visits, themselves, from angels, either in person, as Mary did, or in dreams as Joseph did.

But what sort of confirmation must it have been not only of the specialness of their newborn son, but of Mary and Joseph, themselves, to have Simeon and Anna tell them that this child is to be “a revealing light to the gentiles, the glory of your people, Israel.” I suggest perhaps Simeon and Anna might be models for us. When was the last time you confirmed to someone, in particular to someone you love, just how special that person is – to you and to others?

Can I be a Simeon or an Anna? Can I allow another to see how special he or she is, not only to me, but to others around us? At Christmas we give material gifts to one another as outward signs of the love we hold for them. Yet it is possible to receive such gifts and still to feel unloved, lonely. Perhaps on this Feast of the Holy Family it might be possible to give another gift, the gift of making someone feel very special; of telling them how they are a “revealing light” to us; how they brighten our lives.

And yes, it is possible there is no one to tell us this; to help us know we are part of a holy family. But there is always one person there, if we are willing to listen. There is always “Immanuel,” God with us. We often forget that the child whose birth we just celebrated “grew in size and strength, filled with wisdom, and the grace of god was upon him.” Sometimes we forget this child became a man who taught us, who suffered for us, who died for us, and who returned to us. And is with us now. We are part of his holy family. And he must be part of ours, whether we live with others, or by our self. He is always present to tell you and me just how special we are to him. All he asks is we help him, by telling one another how special we are to everyone who is part of his Holy Family.

^{Holy Family Sunday; December 27, 1987; December 30, 1990 (repeated)
Sir 3:2-6, 12-14; Col 3:12-21; Lk 2:22-40}

I’d like to welcome our visitors to Christ the Good Shepherd, to all of you who are spending the holidays here with family and friends. It’s especially good to have you with us this weekend between Christmas and New Year’s, when the Church celebrates the Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Those who are “regulars” at CGS know I always begin my homilies with a question … although, I admit, it’s been a while since my last question for you. My question is this: What is a Holy Family?

Is it a holy family when a teenage mother gives birth to a child and her husband is not the father? Is it a holy family when they are hounded by civil authority and … to escape death … have to emigrate to a new country? Is it a holy family when they can finally return to their homeland but must settle in a strange city in order to escape further persecution? Is it a holy family when the child leaves his home to pursue his calling elsewhere but is finally willing to return with his parents and be obedient to them. Is it a holy family when the husband dies and leaves his beloved wife in the care of a son, who shortly, thereafter, leaves her alone – so he can wander the countryside with his friends and teach them that they should live as free as lilies of the field or birds of the air? Is it a holy family when his every-suffering, ever-loving mother sees him thrown into jail, and hung, naked on a cross, accused of being an enemy of the state and a blasphemer of his God? If any of this happened in 2014, we might say this is a dysfunctional family and urge them to seek counseling.

Yet, it is just such a family we honor today with a special feast day, a day of celebration and remembrance. A family who suffered much … yet rejoiced greatly. A family who heard the words of a righteous and devout man called Simeon … who said to the Lord God that he could now die in peace, since he had seen the Salvation of the Chosen People of God and the light for the revelation to the Gentiles. A family who was told that they would suffer much, but one who, nevertheless, had heard the voice of angels and received gifts from magi from a far-off land.

Just what is a family and, in particular: what is a “holy” family? First of all, a family can be composed of the typical mother, father and a single child. A family can also have a single parent … mother or father … with one or more kids. A family can have birth children, adopted children, foster children or no children. A family can have stepparents and half-brothers or sisters. A family can have grandparents raising their grandchildren with their own child seldom in sight. In fact, there can also be families without even parents or grandparents or aunts and uncles around. There are some who work in an occupation where the members call one another “family.” Each of us can be part of the “family of Christ the Good Shepherd.” We can be part of the “family of humanity.” From time to time we even hear about a “family of nations.”

So, what is a family? A family is a set of relationships, not relatives; not merely those linked by blood or marriage, but by a relationship – a union of hearts and souls. The purpose or goal of a family is to seek harmony … harmony with one another, harmony with God. A holy family is to seek mutual salvation … a oneness with God, himself: with God the father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

The question now becomes: how do we accomplish this? How do we become a family who seeks mutual salvation; how do we become a “holy family?” Of course there are many ways to become a “holy family.” But for now, let’s consider the opening line of today’s reading from Paul’s Letter to the Hebrews. We heard Saint Paul’s statement: “By faith, Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance; he went out, not knowing where he was to go.”

“By faith” … he listened intently to the Word of God and followed what the Lord God directed him to do. He listened and believed that the Word of God would become true. In our first reading from the Book of Genesis, we heard how Abraham wondered if his childlessness with his wife Sarah would lead to his steward, Eliezer, gaining all of his inheritance. To this concern, the Lord God responded: “Look up at the sky and count the stars, if you can. Just so … shall your descendants be.” And shortly afterwards, his 90-year-old wife Sarah, gave birth to their son Isaac. Abraham became the patriarch for the extended family of Jews, Christians and Muslims.

All of this came about because Abraham and Sarah listened intently to the Word of God. They were “obedient” to the Word of the Lord God. For you see, this is what the word “obedient” really means: to listen intently. To listen intently and undertake what has been heard – not by the ears but by the heart.

In today’s modern world it is very difficult to listen intently … to be obedient. Our modern technology forces us to hear … but not to listen. We hear events reported on television. We hear about violence in the world, but we seldom listen to the deeper meaning and feel compassion for the victims of this violence. We receive “tweets,” but we do not listen to the song of the birds-of-life around us. We hear the voices of our spouse but do not listen to the words they speak. The noise of surrounding chatter muffles our listening to family and friends who plead for help and desire our unconditional love. We ignore the “listening” that is demanded for us to become a holy family. We perceive the noise of living, but we ignore the angels of our dreams, our messengers from God … the messages given in our prayers … in our own conversations with God and within our families.

Recently we’ve been hearing about the Synod of Bishops who met to discuss the topic: “The Pastoral Challenges of the Family in the Context of Evangelization.” Their discussions about family life and spreading the Good News will continue to be held throughout the coming months. The bishops of the world will convene for their final session in September 2015 in Philadelphia. Pope Francis will be in attendance. Part I of their interim report bears the title: “Listening: the Context and Challenges of the Family.”

The importance of listening, of listening intently, of true obedience to family life cannot be ignored. We must go beyond merely “hearing” one another. To become a “holy family” we need to listen to all members of the family. We are taught repeatedly that each family is truly a “little church” … a domestic church. Together we become the gathering, the ecclesia, the universal Church.

In its message accompanying their interim report, the Bishops included several petitions … among which were the following I’d offer for our on-going prayers within our families:
● “Father, grant to all families the presence of strong and wise spouses who may be the source of a free and united family.
● “Father, grant that parents may have a home in which to live in peace with their families.
● “Father, grant that children may be a sign of trust and hope and that young people may have the courage to forge life-long, faithful commitments.
● “Father, grant to all that they may be able to earn bread with their hands, that they may enjoy serenity of spirit and that they may keep aflame the torch of faith even in periods of darkness.
● “Father, grant that we may all see flourish a Church that is ever more faithful and credible, a just and humane city, a world that loves truth, justice and mercy.”

Finally, we need to recall that although a Synod is an ecclesiastical assembly, the word, itself, comes from a Greek word meaning “to journey together.” In the coming months, may all of our domestic churches, the family churches of God – may we journey together with our clergy to seek out and to support the holy families among us. When the world’s bishops meet in their Synod in Philadelphia, the city of brotherly love, may all of us listen intently to the Word of God and remember that, according to John, it was not the voice of God, not the sound of God, which became enfleshed; but rather the Logos, the Word of God, that took on human form for our Salvation. It is this incarnation, we continue to celebrate throughout the Twelve days of Christmas. And so to each of you: a merry, a joy-filled Christmas and the best of wishes on this Feast of the Holy Family.

^{Feast of the Holy Family; December 28, 2014
Gn 15:1-6; 21:1-3; Heb 11:8, 11-12, 17-19; Lk 2:22-40}

Happy New Year! This may be the wrong time for me to ask a question … what with our thoughts being on how we will celebrate this evening. But as the old year passes and a new one begins, it’s really a very appropriate time for this particular question. You don’t need to answer it out loud – or, even after Mass – to tell your spouse what your answer was. My question is this: how many of your New Year’s resolutions have you already broken? And here it is: … 2012 hasn’t started yet, and you’ve already failed in how you had planned to change your behavior.

I hope you noticed I did not ask you what you resolved to do, what you promised to change. Some people would encourage you to tell someone else exactly what your New Year’s resolutions are. They believe, in this way, you’ll feel guilty about breaking them and this will force you to keep them longer than you might otherwise have done. However, I believe keeping New Year’s resolutions – or any other promises for that matter – is not about feeling guilty when you break them. Rather, resolutions and promises are about how you, yourself, want to change. It’s a matter of what is in your heart and not about what guilt feelings you might have in your mind.

Today’s gospel reading makes this quite clear. Surely Mary and Joseph did not feel guilty that she had given birth in a stable in Bethlehem rather than in the comforts of their own home in Nazareth. They did not feel guilty that those who spread the good news about their baby were strangers, mere lowly shepherds, rather than their close friends and family. Instead of feeling guilty and wanting the comforts of their home and the safety of the past, Mary reflected on these events in her own heart.

In her heart. You may recall that the Latin word for Heart is “Cor” … C,O,R. And if you add an E, in English it becomes Core … the center of your being. Mary reflected on these events in the center of her being, her own core. And we are called upon to do the same. It is in the center of each of us that change is to be made. It is in our center, in our heart, that resolutions and promises are to be made.

And what resolutions are called for, what changes should we seek – not only as the New Year begins, but each day of our lives? I would suggest these resolutions, these self-made promises, are the ones associated with the true Christmas season which still remains with us. Ones associated with the gifts the Christchild brought into our world some 2000 years ago. I would suggest our major resolutions, our changes, should involve his gift of love. His gift of reminding us we are to love God and our neighbor and our self. This is the change we need to make. To resolve I will love God more. To resolve I will increase my love for my family, my friends and all whom I meet. To resolve I will love myself more – by treating my body the way a temple of God should be treated.

I leave the specific resolutions up to you. They differ for each one of us. They relate to our prayer life, to our participation at every Eucharistic celebration. Our changes relate to how we interact with others: what attitudes we express about everyone we meet; what behavior we exhibit toward them. Our promises about our addictions which control us – they need to be addressed by each one of us, and not be initiated or delayed because of the nagging of others. Changes must occur within our own core, within our own heart.

What we seek is, indeed, what is called “metanoia,” the deep down, inner change of our being, our core. And what else do we need to change? What other gift of the Christchild are we called to open and use. I would suggest, in addition to love, there is the gift of forgiveness.

Again, forgiveness of what others have done to us. Forgiveness of what we have done against others. And, yes, sometimes the need to forgive God for the events in which we perceive he has harmed us. Perhaps by the death of a loved one. Perhaps by the loss of something else we held dear to us. Jesus brought us the gift of forgiveness and desires we share this gift with everyone we meet. He urges us to resolve not only to love, but also to forgive … for the two are parts of one another.

To love is to forgive. To forgive is to love. Both require our own action. An action demanded each moment of our lives. Resolutions demand on-going actions. They are not made for a start in the future. They are made for the present moment. For you see, the present moment is all we mortals have. We cannot change the past. Our past actions may influence what we do in the present. But the past need not control us. And we cannot control the future. We may influence what might happen in the future, but we cannot guarantee what will specifically be the result of our current action.

The only time we humans have is the ever-present, the ever-holy: Now. It is in each moment that our resolution is kept or broken. It is in each moment that our resolution is continued or re-made. Breaking a New Year’s resolution need not be permanent. Every moment we can promise what we will do. How we are to love. How we are to forgive. Each failure can be merely temporary. A failure endures only when we allow it to endure. For each broken resolution, we can begin anew. We can forgive our temporary – our time-bound – failure and continue on our path with Christ.

We recall how Paul reminded the Galatians: “God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying out, Abba, Father; [Abba, Daddy.] So [we] are no longer [slaves] … but heirs through God.” We are no longer controlled slaves, but rather we are now joined with God in his love and forgiveness as his adopted children. We remain so every moment of our lives; in each moment of the ever-present, ever-holy nowness of our lives with him.

And so, at the beginning of the year of our Lord, 2012 – on the celebration of the solemnity of Mary, the Mother of God – we might conclude with the words from the Book of Numbers she, herself, might have heard as she reflected on the magnificent events of her own life. “The Lord bless you and keep you! The Lord let his face shine upon you and be gracious to you! The Lord look upon you kindly and give you peace!” Now… and in every precious moment of the New Year – and in every day lived with the love and forgiveness of God.

^{Mary, the Mother of God; January 1, 2012
Num 6:22-27; Gal 4:4 – 7; Lk 2:16-21}

Today’s question is a recycled one. It’s one I asked on Epiphany twenty years ago, in January 1989. So, a few of you who are really “old timers” may remember both the question and the correct answer. And some of you may know the answer anyway.

Actually, the question is really an experiment. It requires a physical response from each one of you. So, are you ready? The experiment is this … I want each one of you to point towards the East. Yes, that’s the question: which direction is East?

As I expected, there seems to be a variety of opinions. The reason I asked this question twenty years ago … and for the current generation of parish members … is because, in today’s reading, we heard that the Magi came from the East and I wanted to know if you would look in the right direction to see them coming. I’ll tell you later which direction it really is.

As you know, today is Epiphany, the day we celebrate the manifestation of God, the public or “open” appearance of God on earth. Actually, there are several epiphanies that we can celebrate. There is the birth of Jesus, himself, that we celebrate on Christmas Day. Today, we celebrate the Epiphany of the Lord … his manifestation to the Gentiles, to non-Jews. Next Sunday, we close the Christmas season with the Baptism of the Lord when Jesus was made manifest as the chosen son of God. To a certain extent, the Feast of the Transfiguration is also an Epiphany. Sometimes, Easter and Pentecost are included as celebrations of the manifestation of God among us. So, there are many so-called “Epiphanies” when we recognize God is with us.

But for now, I’d like to reflect on today’s “Epiphany of the Lord.” To begin, let’s take a look at the five Kings we heard about in today’s Gospel. Yes, that’s right … there are five Kings. There are the Three Magi from the East. And there is also King Herod. And, finally, there is the king the Magi were in search of … “the newborn king of the Jews.”

First the Magi. Were you aware that in their journey to Jerusalem, the Magi had made use of the original GPS … the original Global Positioning System? Yes, it was called “the star of Bethlehem.” But, as with a modern GPS, they were confused about the details of the final location and had to ask for local help. So, they went to King Herod and his advisors. These three Magi (who may have been astrologers, wise sages, or even Kings) … these searchers for the newborn king of the Jews wanted to do him homage. And just what is meant by “doing homage?”

Homage is an ancient custom. It was performed between a royal lord and a humble subject. It was a ritual in which the subject would swear eternal faithfulness and trust to the royal lord in return for protection by the superior lord. The subject would say, in effect, “I am completely yours in body and soul,” and the master would reply “I will protect you always.”

And so, here, some two thousand years ago, we find three gentile wisemen, three leaders of a non-Jewish origin, seeking protection from a newborn child they named as “king of the Jews.” Perhaps it’s not difficult to understand Herod’s reaction to such news, since he viewed himself as the “king of the Jews.” And so how does King Herod react? With cunning and lies. He says he, too, wants to do homage to this newborn child. However, Herod seeks information from the Magi so that he can accomplish his real objective: the obliteration of this newborn king.

But just as Joseph, the foster father of Jesus, had been counseled in his own dreams, the Magi, too, were told in a dream not to return to Herod but to depart for their own country directly. Nevertheless, Herod, according to Matthew’s gospel, followed up his personal desires by killing all the boys recently born in Bethlehem.

Five kings. Three of them saw a star and followed it to do homage to a newborn king. One of them, hearing of the same star and what it portended, was frightened he would lose his power and so destroyed innocent children. The Magi, beholding the light of the star of Bethlehem, accepted the Christ child. Herod, beholding the same light, rejected the Christ child. Three kings brought gifts. One king brought death. And the Fifth King brought the light of the star, itself, into the world.

How often do we have an opportunity for similar choices of acceptance or rejection of the message we receive about the king who promises us light and life? When I am offered the light of the star of Bethlehem, do I bring gifts of life, or do I bring forms of death? Do I offer my gifts of time, talent and treasure as freely as the Magi offered their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh? Or do I use them to gain control over others, even if innocent people might suffer because of what I do, or fail to do? Do I offer my resources to help others or to abuse others? Do I offer my time freely to benefit my family, friends and co-workers, or do I waste my time in harmful pursuits on my own behalf or to the detriment of others? Do I react to errors with forgiveness, or with revenge? When problems occur in my home life, do I respond with greater commitment and fidelity, or do I yield to despair and infidelity? When stress enters my life, do I turn to prayer, or to drugs and alcohol?

And when my star shines brightly and good things happen to me, do I rejoice and thank God, or do I become disturbed because I expected even more and curse God and others for my not getting enough? The three kings saw their starlight and followed it to a greater King to do him homage. Another king saw the starlight and pursued a deadly course of action.

A few minutes ago, I asked you to point toward the East. And what is the correct direction for the East? If you pointed towards the direction behind the altar – you would have been correct. Even though our church has a circular form, our sanctuary is built, believe it or not, in a traditional pattern. Ancient churches were aligned so that during the morning service, the people would face East and the rising sun. These early Christians were reminded of the words we heard proclaimed by Isaiah the prophet in our first reading: “Rise up in splendor, Jerusalem! Your light has come, the glory of the Lord shines upon you.” Isaiah goes on to remind his people: “Then you shall be radiant at what you see, your heart shall throb and overflow …”

These early Christians saw themselves as the “new Jerusalem.” They heard these words as being addressed to them directly: “Rise up in splendor, you Christians. Your light has come, the glory of the Lord shines upon you.” Today when we face the East and behold the light of the rising sun, are we reminded of the rising of the Son of God. When we see the light of our star each day, are we reminded of the Epiphany of our Lord … his manifestation, his appearance among us?

We are called to do him homage: to proclaim: “I am completely yours in body and soul.” And to hear him respond: “I will protect you always.” And hearing these words, if we, ourselves, face the light of Christ and if we allow his light to shine upon us as we make our choices and live out our lives in this new year of 2009, it is then that each one of us can be an Epiphany, an appearance of Christ, to others.

^{Epiphany of the Lord, January 4, 2009
Is 60:1-6; Eph 3:2-3a, 5-6; Mt 2:1-12}

Today’s question involves three clues. Can you name the person who fits the following description? First: he was a son who was born to a childless woman in her old age. Well, there are several answers if that’s the only clue. One answer might be “Isaac” who was born to Sarah when she was ninety years old. So, here’s your second clue: his mother dedicated him as a Nazirite to the Lord God. Here your answer might be “Samson,” or perhaps “John the Baptist,” since both their mothers consecrated them to the Lord and they were forbidden to cut their hair or drink wine. But here’s your third clue: when his mother prayed in the temple that she would give birth to a son in her old age, the priest who saw her praying thought she was drunk and tried to chase her away.

Well, if you still haven’t guessed who this is, here’s an extra clue: he was the prophet who anointed Saul, and later David, and ushered in the kingdom of Israel and all that evolved from it. The correct answer, of course, is: Samuel. He’s the young apprentice we heard about in today’s first reading. In today’s first reading from the book of Samuel, we heard how the Lord God called to him when he was sleeping and how he did not recognize the voice of God, but needed the guidance of an older, more experienced prophet, Eli, in order to respond: “Speak Lord, your servant is listening.”

Perhaps you are led by all of this to conclude this will be my focus for today’s homily. The story of Eli and Samuel would be an appropriate one for us to reflect upon in order for us to understand that when God calls us, we sometimes need the help of those whom we believe are more experienced than we are in the ways of the Lord. And how we each need to be able to say: “Speak lord, your servant is listening.”

But then we have the Second Reading, taken from the First Letter of Paul to the Corinthians. Here we should recall that Corinth was a major seaport in ancient Greece, where Paul visited and began a Christian community. And as a seaport town, it was subject to all sorts of vices from visiting sailors. There were many places where visitors, and town residents, might go for physical pleasure. And so it is that Paul felt the need to remind the men in his community that: “your body is not for immorality, it is for the Lord, and the Lord is for the body.” Or in the words found in other translations: “the body is meant not for fornication but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body.”

Paul goes on to remind the Corinthians: “your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is within – the spirit you have received from God. You are not your own. You have been purchased …” by Jesus who suffered, died and rose again. This, too, would make another focus for a homily. How we need to turn away from lust and bodily pleasures, since the Holy Spirit now resides within each one of us, abides within us, lives within each one of us.

But then there is the Gospel reading, in which we hear another reference to abiding, or staying, or in the version we heard today: lodging. In the Gospel of John the Evangelist, we heard how the followers of another John, John the Baptist, were encouraged to leave him and follow Jesus, the Lamb of God. We heard the question of Andrew who asked Jesus: “Teacher, where do you stay?” And the response of Jesus: “Come and see.” This too, is a reading that is worth an entire homily. How each one of us is invited to “come and see” where Jesus lives, for, by experiencing his way of life, we, too, can become his disciples. For that is the very nature of discipleship: to live with the master and learn his ways first-hand. To not only learn what he has to say, but more importantly to experience how he lives out his life.

This Gospel reading might also encourage us to reflect upon Simon who is now called Kephas, or in Greek, Petros, the Rock. The rock foundation who seems at times not to be very steady in his following of Jesus. The rock who, in fact, denied three times that he even knew this Jesus of Nazareth.

But rather than focusing on any one of these stories from today’s readings, perhaps it would be possible to combine all three into a single focus. To combine … “Speak lord, for your servant is listening” and how we are to arise from our sleep and follow the Lord God. … With Paul’s reminder, “your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is within you,” … And Jesus’ invitation: “Come and see,” experience with me, my life so that it may become your own life as well.

Perhaps we can arrive at this combination by recognizing that this Sunday is the day the bishops of the United States have dedicated as “Respect Life Sunday,” a day to reflect on the decision by the Supreme Court on January 22, 1973, to legalize abortion. A day to reflect not only on the killing of unborn children but on the killing of the elderly under the guise of euthanasia, and the killing of the terminally ill by assisted suicide.

It seems to me that all three readings are part of a New Gospel, “The Gospel of Life,” proclaimed by John Paul II on March 25, 1995. In his encyclical, he speaks of the two cultures seen in our modern world: the “culture of death” and “the culture of life.” Once again, he reminds us: “Nothing and no one can in any way permit the killing of an innocent human being, whether a fetus or an embryo, an infant or an adult, an old person, or one suffering from an incurable disease, or a person who is dying. Furthermore, no one is permitted to ask for this act of killing, either for himself or herself or for another person entrusted to his or her care, nor can he or she consent to it, either explicitly or implicitly. Nor can any authority legitimately recommend or permit such an action.”

In the Gospel of Life, John Paul reminds us that some view the body as … “a complex of organs, functions and energies to be used according to the sole criteria of pleasure and efficiency,” which is a far cry from the view that “the body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is within you.”

The worldly view does not recognize we are made in the image and likeness of God which, in the words of John Paul, “is transmitted, thanks to the creation of the immortal soul.” In the Gospel of Life we are reminded that the soul becomes joined to the body at the moment of conception; that it is at this instant in which a new human being comes into existence; and remains in existence until God calls us home at the moment of God’s choosing and not our own.

And in the “in-between time,” in that time from the moment of conception until the moment when human life, in the words of John Paul, “leaves the realm of time to embark upon eternity,” we are expected to care for the poor, the homeless, the imprisoned, those brothers and sisters who are in need. Again, John Paul goes on to say: “society as a whole must respect, defend and promote the dignity of every human person, at every moment and in every condition of that person’s life.”

John Paul closes his encyclical with a prayer to Mary in which he prays:
“O Mary,
Bright dawn of the new world,
Mother of the living,
To you do we entrust the cause of life:
Look down, O Mother,
Upon the vast numbers
Of babies not allowed to be born,
Of the poor whose lives are made difficult,
Of men and women
Who are victims of brutal violence,
Of the elderly and the sick killed
By indifference or out of misguided mercy.
Grant that all who believe in your Son
May proclaim the Gospel of Life
With honesty and love
To the people of our time.”

And so, not only on this Sunday dedicated to “respect life,” but on each day of each week of each year, we are urged … to rise from our sleep, … to state firmly, “speak, lord, your servant is listening”,… to acknowledge that every human body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is within, … and to hear the invitation of Jesus: “Come and see.” Then we, too, might speak the words addressed by Andrew to his brother, Simon: “We have found the Messiah!’‘ it is then that this Messiah, this Anointed One of God, can turn to us and say: “Your name shall be Christian. Come, walk with me.”

^{Second Sunday of ordinary time; January 19, 1997: “Respect Life Sunday”
1 Sam 3:3b-10, 19; 1 Cor 6:13c – 15a, 17-20; Jn 1:35-42}

Today’s question is about a quotation. How many of you know the source of the following line: “To know Thee more clearly, to love Thee more dearly, to follow Thee more nearly?” Yes, it’s from the musical “Godspell” that was popular back in the 60’s and 70’s. It’s still heard sometimes today, although not on MTV. However, for those of you who are of a more spiritual bent, the original thoughts are from the “Exercises” of St. Ignatius of Loyola, who prayed for the grace: “to know Jesus intimately, to love him more intensely, and so to follow him more closely.”

Although I’d never oppose St. Ignatius, who’s one of my own, personal, spiritual guides, I’d suggest that perhaps both his words and the lyrics from “Godspell” might serve as instructions for us today if, instead, we consider them in the reverse order, an order which would encourage us: “To follow him more nearly, to love him more dearly, to know him more clearly.”

I make this suggestion on the basis of the readings we heard for today, here at the beginning of “Ordinary Time,” this time between the Christmas season, which ended last Sunday (the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord) and the season of Lent which begins in March. Here, in this ‘‘in-between” time, perhaps we might consider what it means – to follow Jesus, to love him, and to know him.

It is possible to follow the Lord without first knowing him completely, or even loving him as much as we might. In our opening reading from the First Book of Samuel we heard how this is possible. The story we heard a few minutes ago, began with a teenager by the name of Samuel. Samuel was the attendant for the priest, Eli. However, even though Samuel worked in the Temple, he was not, as we heard, “familiar with the Lord, because the Lord had not revealed anything to him as yet.” So, when the Lord called to young Samuel while he was sleeping, the teenager thought that his boss, Eli the priest, had called him. But Eli said he had not called him, and that Samuel should go back to sleep. The elderly priest probably did not enjoy being awakened a second time by his altar-boy. But then, on the third time, Eli realized what was happening and instructed Samuel to say those magnificent words: “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”

It was then that the Lord God gave Samuel his instructions which later led to Samuel anointing Saul as the first king of the Israelites, and still later, to his anointing David as the king who would unite the Hebrew tribes into a single kingdom and prepare the way for the coming of the Messiah.

A similar event occurred in our reading taken from the Gospel of John, the Evangelist. John, the Evangelist, spoke about another John, John, the Baptizer, who had his own followers. We heard how, one day, John the Baptizer, upon seeing Jesus, called him “the Lamb of God.” It was then that two of John’s disciples became curious about this man, whom they had thought was merely another teacher. As a result of their curiosity, they followed after Jesus. Their curiosity was rewarded when Jesus turned to them and asked them a question, a question which changed their lives. A question which can change our lives, as well. “What are you looking for?”

What are you looking for?” What do you want? What do you want out of life? What will make you happy? What will make you complete?

“What are you looking for?” he asked. The two men replied with their own question: “Where are you staying?” In our translation, the question seems like a very strange response. But not for John, the Evangelist, who is telling us his story about Jesus the Christ. For there are other ways to ask the same question. Where are you staying? can also mean: Where are you living? Where are you abiding? Where do you draw your strength, your comfort, your very being?”

It was to these unasked questions that Jesus, in turn, responded: “Come, and you will see.” … Come, follow me. And you will see. … Come and experience what I am about. … Come and live as I live. … Come and see the world and the people of the world as I see them. And so, in the words of John, the Evangelist: “They went and saw where Jesus was staying, and they stayed with him that day.” Then, having stayed with Jesus, having seen where he abided, having experienced the presence of this man, what did Andrew, the first disciple, the first follower of Jesus, do? Again, in the words of John the Evangelist: ”He first found his own brother Simon and told him, ‘we have found the Messiah.’ … then he brought him to Jesus.”

Upon experiencing the life of Jesus, upon following and seeing where Jesus abided, Andrew was compelled to seek out his own brother and bring him to the source of his new life. It was through the call of Andrew that Simon came to Jesus. It was then, upon meeting Jesus that Simon’s own life was changed. It was then that Simon began his own journey with Jesus to become Peter, the rock upon which the new kingdom was to be built.

Those who followed Jesus were the first to experience his presence. They followed him before they knew very much about him. But through their experience of him, they grew to love him. They grew to know more about him. With this love and with their new wisdom, they were compelled to share their lives with others, to urge others to follow this new master, to see, to experience what life was like when they abided with him, lived with him, stayed with him.

In later years, Paul, who did not know the Lord directly but who had experienced his presence in the depth of his own soul, wrote the words we heard in his letter to those in Corinth: “Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ …. whoever is joined to the Lord becomes one spirit with him … do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God, and that you are not your own.”

Yes, we as members of that Body of Christ, are urged to follow him, to see where he abides in others, in other members of his Body, and to call still others towards that same experience.

In the coming weeks we will hear more about our own opportunity to become “Disciples in Mission,” … to experience the Lord in new ways, and to share that experience with others so that they, too, may follow him. We, too, are called: to follow him more closely, to love him more dearly, and to know him more deeply. Like Samuel, we are called to awake from our sleep and to listen. To listen to the question he asks: “What are you looking for?” and to hear his invitation: “Come, and you will see.”

^{Second Sunday of Ordinary Time; January 16, 2000 … “Disciples in Mission” is a parish-wide program to encourage a more complete spirituality of disciples in action and outreach to the community.
1 Sam 3:3b-10,19; 1 Cor 6:13c-15a, 17-20; Jn 1:35-42}