Category: Homilies

As you know, I begin every homily with a question. Today’s question is a very easy one, even if not everyone will agree with the answer. My question is this: What time is it? Yes, what time is it; right now? It’s OK for you to look at your watch. My watch says it’s 9:16. But you might not agree; I’m usually about two or three minutes fast. But let’s say it is 9:16. That answer applies only if you live in Houston … not if you live in either New York City or Los Angles. That’s the strange thing about time. It’s all relevant to a frame of reference.

Have you ever considered time, itself, is really a human invention. Time is needed only by human beings. Plants and animals don’t need to measure time. They can get along well without minutes and hours. So why do we need “time” anyway? What does time really measure?

Well, for one thing – time measures “change.” We humans observe that everything in the world changes; nothing stays the same. If there were no changes, there would be no need for anything called “time.” Which is why God doesn’t require “time,” why God is “timeless,” why God is “eternal,” existing outside of time. The reasoning for God being eternal or timeless, goes something like this.

We believe God is “perfect.” If God is, indeed, “perfect,” God cannot improve and become better, because if God were able to become better, then God would not have been perfect and therefore would not have been God in the first place. And so God cannot change, cannot get either better or worse. And since God cannot change, God exists with no reference to time. And so we say God was, is and will be – all at the same time. The Israelites called God, Yahweh: I am who am, the changeless God, the timeless God, the God who exists forever.

But Adam and Eve, and all the rest of us, know that things do change; that each one of us human beings is born, grows up, and dies. We see plants sprout from the earth and then die each year. And if we look carefully enough, and long enough, we even see that rocks can erode away because of rain and wind. We recognize the whole earth and everything on it will change. And so, we ask: When will it all end? When will the time come when there is no more change; when there is no more earth; when there is no more “time?” When does “time” end and eternity begin?

The followers of Jesus asked that question. And Jesus said to them: “There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on earth nations will be in dismay, perplexed by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will die of fright in anticipation of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. And then they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. But when these signs begin to happen, stand erect and raise your heads because your redemption is at hand.”

Today, we once more begin a new liturgical year. And here on the first Sunday of Advent, we again focus on “eschatology,” the end times, and the “Parousia, the Second Coming, the return of Christ. Although we do this each and every year, these words, for some people, take on a greater sense of urgency depending upon circumstances in their current world. For some, this occurred two decades ago when we began a new millennium. Throughout the ages people have been superstitious about years with certain numbers. The year thirteen hundred was one of them. Only it was not then 1300 A.D., but rather thirteen-hundred years after the founding of the City of Rome.

As you know, the calendar we use today is based upon the year thought be the one when Christ was born. Before the change was made, the calendar was based upon the year in which the City of Rome was founded, which was 753 years before the birth of Christ. The change from the old to the new calendar occurred in the middle of the Sixth Century after the birth of Christ. So, by changing the calendar, the year 1300 after the founding of the City of Rome, became 547 A.D. and disaster was avoided.

What happened when 1300 A.D. came around? Well, rather than changing to a new calendar, the pope, who was Boniface VIII, blessed the year 1300 A.D. and declared it to be a Jubilee Year, the first such year ever declared by a pope. Throughout the centuries, other popes have declared other years to be “Jubilee Years.” Back in 2000 A.D., Pope John Paul II declared it to be the Year of Jubilee of the Holy Spirit. However, even without a formal declaration for a Jubilee Year of the Holy Spirit, we can still begin a consideration of the time of Advent as being a time for the Holy Spirit.

Every Advent season is, of course, a time for waiting. In fact, it is a time for double waiting … our waiting for the celebration of the incarnation of Christ, the time when our God took on human flesh in order to lead us back to him, and the time of our Second Waiting, our second Advent, the time of waiting for the return of Jesus the Christ. Just what are we to do with this time of waiting?

Are we to “invest” our time, as if it were a commodity like money left by the master to his servants? But no matter how hard we might try to invest our time; we cannot add one moment to it. Are we to “save” time as we are urged to do by all of the labor-saving devises we see advertised on tv or social media? I don’t know about you, but the more time I try to save, the less time I seem to have to do those things I really want to do.

Or am I to use God’s gift of time wisely? Am I to recognize that I cannot really do anything about the time which has passed, nor can I do much about the time that is to come? I cannot change the past; I cannot control the future. Unlike God who exists equally in the past, present and future, all I have available is God’s gift of the ever present, ever holy “now.” What I need to do is recognize, and cherish, this gift of the “nowness” of my life.

Now, today, this day, is the time for me to relax and smell the roses. Yes, today is the day to recognize the gifts God has given me. To do nothing but thank Him. However, it is also the day for me the share with others these gifts He has given me. Today is the day for improving relationships with friends and relatives; not to be chained by what has happened in the past; not to be put off by anticipated difficulties of tomorrow.

Right now is the time for me to do whatever I can in order for me to be closer to God. Now is the time to put aside thoughts of – “I should have done this” or “I ought to do that” and instead, actually begin to do it. I need to remember that time is more than the invention of human beings but rather it is God’s gift of the here and now. Now is the time, the moment, for the Coming of Christ into my life. Now is the time, the moment, to realize that the Reign of God has begun. Now is the time, the moment, to journey with the Spirit of Jesus towards God the Father.

And so it is that I ask you once more: What time is it? And if you look at the time piece on your wrist for an answer, you are looking in the wrong direction. Instead, I would urge you to look into your heart, for there you will find not a time piece but rather God’s peace for your time. Indeed, may the Peace of God be with you now and forever.

First Sunday of Advent: November 30, 1997
Jeremiah 33:14-16; 1 Thessalonians 3:12-42; Luke 21:25-28; 34-36

Where in your house is your dump-pile? You know the place I mean. It’s where the mail and the bills go before you have a chance to pay them. It’s the place where the kids put their homework and all their other school papers. The place where you stack the books you mean to read or return to the library. It’s the place you go to first when something is missing around the house. Everyone has a dump pile. Ours is the right side of the kitchen table, up against the wall, so things won’t fall off when the pile gets too high. So. the question for today is: Where is your dump pile?

Perhaps you might think this is a strange way to begin a homily reflection. But when I read those lines about “Every valley shall be filled and every mountain and hill shall be made low,” that’s the image which jumps into my mind. The mountains and valleys of stuff piled on our kitchen table just waiting for someone to level them off. I keep waiting for all of it to go away by magic, but it just sits there, waiting for me to do something about it. I need to sort it out, to figure out where each piece actually belongs.

It’s with this image of those waiting mountains and valleys I want to begin today’s reflection. The focus of this reflection is a simple one: it is active waiting. Not passive waiting, but active waiting. It’s not about straightening out the dump pile on the table; but rather, it’s about straightening out the dump pile inside of me. It’s about active waiting and about preparing the way for the coming of Christ.

We all realize, of course, that Advent is a time of waiting, of preparation. The question is: What are we waiting for? What are we preparing for? Are we waiting for the birth of Christ on December 25th? The answer to that question is “no.” We are not waiting for the birth of Christ. He was born into the world some two-thousand years ago. He will not be born in another three weeks.

Then what are we waiting for? Is it for our Messiah? No. Our Messiah, our Savior, began his ministry to his people sometime between the years 27 and 29 A.D. How do we know this? Our gospel reading for today begins with a history lesson. We are told that John the Baptist began his preaching: “…. In the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was tetrarch of Galilee, … during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas …” These are real people. They are part of history.

And so back in about 28 A.D., John the Baptist proclaimed that the time of the Messiah, the Savior of Israel, was now at hand. Yes, the Messiah came to his people some two-thousand years ago. We are not waiting for our Messiah.

Then what are we waiting for, here, today? We are waiting for two events. We are awaiting the return of Christ, the return he promised us when he left his disciples many centuries ago. At each celebration of the mass, we continue to profess this belief when we proclaim such words as: “Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ will come again.”

We do not know when this will happen. But, as Christians, we are sure it will happen. In the meantime, we are waiting for another event. And this one we expect much sooner.

This event is one for which we need to prepare actively. We await, we expect, the coming of the fullness of Christ within each of us. For most of us, we are not awaiting the coming of Christ into us for the first time. That happened at the moment of our baptism. It was then that we put on Christ.

Yet, the fullness of Christ is another matter. Here we need to prepare for his coming. Here we need to make room for him. It is this preparation that Advent is all about: Advent, the coming of Jesus into our heart and our lives, completely. Here is where we need to participate in active waiting.

None of us likes to wait. Much of the time we seem to be forced into passive waiting. And passive waiting brings on impatience. Think about the last time you had to wait in traffic on I-10 or I-45. This passive waiting is not pleasant. Each of us knows there are better ways to expend effort.

There are other times when we are forced to wait passively, not to be able to do anything about the outcome. How about those times when you are waiting for the results of an exam you took at school? You know you can’t do anything about changing the grade you’re going to get. Or what about waiting to be notified whether you are going to get the new job you applied for? You’ve completed all of the interviews; now all you can do is wait. We don’t like “passive” waiting, when we feel helpless, when we must depend on others for the outcome.

On the other hand, there are also times of active waiting. There is the farmer who plants the seeds and must wait for them to grow. Yet the farmer’s waiting can not be passive. There is a need to supply water and fertilizer, if the crops are to grow. And even if they have been planted in the fall and there is a need to wait-out the winter months, the wait can not be passive. There is equipment to fix. There are things to do over the winter months.

Waiting for the birth of a child is even a better example of active waiting. There is the nursery to paint, the crib to buy, the diapers to get, and the clothes to find.

Even our examples of passive waiting can become ones of active waiting. Stuck in that morning traffic, some people listen to music on their i-phone, or plan out their day ahead. Waiting for the results of an exam at school doesn’t mean you quit doing your schoolwork until you get your report card; at least, it better not mean that, if you want to get a better report card the next time. And waiting for the response to an interview, doesn’t mean you quit your old job before you have another one. And if you don’t have a current job, it doesn’t mean you stop looking for one until you’ve heard about the one you’ve applied for.

You see, even passive waiting can become active waiting. Our model for our active waiting for Christ is given to us today by John the Baptist. John did not sit around in the desert just waiting for the Messiah. He engaged in active waiting. He went around the region proclaiming a baptism of repentance which led to the forgiveness of sins. John demanded that his listeners change their hearts.

This is what repentance is all about: a change of heart. The Greek word (which many of you have heard before this) is: “metanoia.” A deep-down transformation, an interior change of heart. A turning away from what is killing us. A turning toward those actions which will save us.

In our first reading we heard Baruch, the secretary and companion of the prophet Jeremiah, urge his listeners to “… take off your robe of mourning and misery; put on the splendor of glory from God forever: wrapped in the cloak of justice from God.” Baruch paraphrases the words of the prophet Isaiah who came some two-hundred years before him when he says: “For God has commanded that every lofty mountain be made low and that the age-old depths and gorges be filled to level ground”.

Luke in his gospel goes directly to Isaiah. In Luke we hear that it is not God who will do the work of leveling mountains and filling up valleys but rather He commanded his own listeners to do the labor, themselves. Luke instructs those listening to him with the words: “prepare the way of the Lord.” Baruch may be in favor of a passive waiting, of letting God do everything, but Luke is in favor of an active waiting, of our doing something to prepare the way for the Lord’s arrival.

A few minutes ago I began this reflection by asking about the mountains and valleys of stuff in the dump piles in your house. Yet each of us has our own mountains and valleys inside of us. Mountains of self-created obstacles. Valleys of self-created depression or despair.

In our second reading, Saint Paul reminded the Philippians that: God “… who began a good work in you will continue to complete it until the day of Christ Jesus.” God has not created the mountains and valleys within me. Instead, He has begun the good work in me and will stay with me throughout my life.

I, myself, am called upon to level off my own mountains, those high-rising obstacles, and to fill up my own valleys of doubt. No one else can take care of the mountains and valleys in the dump pile on my kitchen table. Only I can sort through this mess and determine what needs to be discarded and what needs to be put in its proper place.

No one else can take care of the mountains and valleys within me. I cannot wait passively for them to disappear. I must be active while I wait for the coming of the fullness of Christ within me. It is up to each one of us to ” … prepare the way of the Lord … [so that everyone] shall see the salvation of God.”

Second Sunday of Advent; (December 4, 1988)
Baruch 5:1-9; Phillippians 1:4-6; Luke 3:1-6

Well, here we are at the Second Sunday in Advent, the time of preparation for the coming of the Christ-child once more into our lives. Can you really believe that it’s only three weeks until Christmas? And since it is this special season of the year, I have an Advent question for you. It’s this: Whom do you use as a model as you prepare for Christmas? In other words, when you think of Christmas, what person do you associate with the holiday? I’m going to give all of you the benefit of the doubt and assume that the first person you thought of was Jesus! So, let’s go to the second person.

For little kids, or perhaps the child in each of us, there is always Santa Claus. And if holiday shopping has gotten you down, I suppose you might identify with Ebenizer Scrooge. However, there are two people that the church offers to us as special models at this time of the year: the Blessed Virgin Mary – and John the Baptist. The focus for today’s homily is to be on these two people and how they might be models for us, not only during the season of Advent, but for other times as well.

Today’s gospel reading, as well as the one for next Sunday, speak about John the Baptist, who proclaims the coming of the adult Christ. The gospel readings for next Thursday, when we celebrate the feast of the Immaculate Conception, and the one for the Fourth Sunday of Advent speak of the announcement to Mary of the coming of the Christ-child into the world.

So it is that Advent, this season of expectation, is both a time of the Announcement of the birth of Jesus and the coming of the kingdom and a time of the proclamation of the return of Christ and the fulfillment of the kingdom. Advent, then, is a time for us to consider both Mary and John, to see what they have to say to us about preparing for the coming of Jesus the Christ. With John, the focus might be on our need for “change”. For Mary, the focus might be on our need for “acceptance”.

Let’s begin with John the Baptist. He came proclaiming our need for repentance, our need to change our lives, to re-form our lives, for this is indeed, what repentance means: to change, to form again, to re-form. John is a man of action. He was that way from the first moment we heard about him, as he leapt for joy in the womb of Elizabeth, his mother, when she first met Mary, after the Annunciation by the angel Gabriel that Mary would bear the Son of God.

As for Mary, herself, what was her reaction to the angel’s announcement? In the words of Luke, she whispered: “I am the maidservant of the Lord. Let it be done to me as you say.” So, while John is our model for Advent-change, Mary remains our model for Advent-acceptance.

But what does it mean if I am to use John, the man proclaiming change, the man of action, for my advent-model? Following him, would it mean that I must give up my destructive habits? Would I need to break off those harmful relationships that hinder my growth towards God? Following John, must I work for social change? Must I volunteer for community action and service? Must I do what I can to change my life and help to improve the lives of those around me?

And what if I am to use Mary, the woman who accepts without hesitation the Word of God into her own being, the woman of prayer, as my advent-model? Following her, would it mean that I must accept conditions or events that I cannot control? Would I need to embrace and affirm a person with whom I have been estranged? Following Mary, would I be called to let go of past hurts and internal pain? Must I pray for the Peace of God to help me, or those I love, get through a time of difficulty?

During Advent are we called to walk with John or with Mary? Or perhaps with both of them, as two companions at our sides. Is this what Saint Paul encourages us to do in his prayer for the Christians of Philippi when he says: “And this is my prayer: that your love may increase ever more and more in knowledge and every kind of perception, to discern what is of value, so that you may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ for the glory and praise of God.”

Are we called to love with both understanding and experience, with the “acceptance” of Mary and with John’s “call to change”? Is our conscience to be clear and our conduct blameless: is our inner life of prayer to be balanced with our outer life of action? Do we truly learn the value of things that really matter? For if we do, we will, indeed, be prepared “up to the very day of Christ.”

Not only during this Advent, but perhaps throughout our life, we have the opportunity to walk with both John and Mary – until the day comes when: “Every valley shall be filled and every mountain and hill shall be made low. The winding roads shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth, and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”

Second Sunday of Advent; December 4, 1994
Baruch 5:1-9; Phillippians 1:4-6; Luke 3:1-6

Today’s question involves observation and a little bit of Church history. My question is this: why is the third candle of Advent, pink? Why is the candle we lighted today on the Advent wreath, a different color than the ones used for the other three Sundays before Christmas?

And no, Christ the Good Shepherd did not run out of purple candles and had to substitute a pink one! All Catholic Advent wreaths have one pink and three purple candles.

It’s because of the Second Reading we heard today from Saint Paul’s letter to the Philippians. It begins with the instruction: “Brothers and sisters: Rejoice in the Lord always. I shall say it again: rejoice!”

The Latin word for “rejoice” is “gaudete.” And in the early Church, the third Sunday of Advent is known as “Gaudete Sunday.” “Rejoice Sunday.” It’s also necessary for us to recall that the four-week period of Advent is known as “the Little Lent.” The early Church prepared for the celebration of Easter with the six-weeks of Lent: a time of reflection, a time of repentance, a time calling for a change of heart, while waiting for the great celebration of the Resurrection of God with us.

In a similar manner, the Church used Advent as a four-week preparation for Christmas, the great celebration of the Incarnation of God with us: Emmanuel. In our modern world we may have forgotten that Advent is, like Lent, a time for reflection, a time for repentance, a time calling for a change of heart.

We tend to overlook the change in liturgical colors which are to remind us that Advent is a shortened Lent. For, like Lent, we use purple for our vestments and for the decorations in the Church. Except for the third Sunday, when we are reminded by the lighter shade of purple, by the color pink, that even in the midst of our “little Lent,” of our repentance and change of heart, even now, we are also called to “Rejoice.”

And next weekend, we will carry in the fourth candle, another purple one, to remind us that we are still in Advent, still in a time for the preparation of the celebration of the arrival of the Christ-child.

However, as many of us have noted, next Sunday is also December 24th, Christmas eve. And yes, both are days when the Church requires us to attend Mass. Next weekend, the 5:30 mass on Saturday evening as well as the 8:00 am and 10:00 am masses on Sunday morning will celebrate the Fourth and final Sunday of Advent. And yes, you heard me correctly. There will be only two morning masses for the celebration of the fourth Sunday of Advent. On Sunday afternoon we’ll celebrate the first of the Nativity liturgies. And yes, there will be a Midnight Mass, as usual. And yes, the expectation of the Bishop is that each of us will attend two masses: one for the Fourth Sunday of Advent and one for Christmas.

Next weekend, some may say that we have two “obligations” for attendance at mass. Others may view it as having two “opportunities” to celebrate that our Resurrected God and our Incarnated God is with us.

It is because of these “opportunities” that we are able to celebrate Gaudete Sunday, Rejoice Sunday, here in the middle of Advent. We are able to join with the Israelites we heard about in today’s First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Zephaniah: “Shout for joy, O daughter Zion! Sing joyfully, O Israel! Be glad and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem! … The Lord, your God is in your midst, a mighty savior; he will rejoice over you with gladness, and renew you in his love.”

Yes, today, on this Third Sunday of Advent, we are reminded to look forward to the Joy of Christmas. Some would say the “Joy of the Holiday Season.” Some would say that the entire period from Thanksgiving weekend until Christmas morning is a Season for Joy. But those who celebrate the joy of such a “Holiday Season,” focus on the secular aspects of these weeks – weeks devoted to consuming, of being consumers – of buying presents and expecting presents in return.

However, there are those of us who, instead, celebrate the joy, not of a time of “Happy Holidays,” but rather, a time of “Merry Christmas” – or if you’re English, a “Happy Christmas.” This is the time for the preparation for the coming of the Christ-child into our hearts and homes and for the marvelous Twelve Days of Christmas from December 25th until January 6th, the Epiphany of our Lord. A time not for the secular joy of consuming, but for the divine joy of giving.

We heard about such a joy in our gospel reading today when we listened to the urging of John the Baptist about the coming joy of the arrival of the Messiah. John’s words give us a message to ponder when we consider what the results of being joyful can bring about: When we are filled with divine joy and not secular joy; when we are moved by giving rather than getting, it is then that we – like the crowds who asked him what they can do – it is then that we hear John’s words: “Whoever has two cloaks should share with the person who has none. And whoever has food should do likewise.”

And like the tax-collectors who asked what they should do, we can hear and practice John’s reply: “Stop collecting more than what is prescribed.” We, too, can refrain from defrauding and cheating others. We, too, can become people of integrity and honesty in our dealings with others.

And like the soldiers, the force of authority in the ancient world, like them – we can hear and practice John’s reply: “Do not practice extortion, do not falsely accuse anyone, and be satisfied with your wages.” We, too, can refrain from being over-bearing and manipulative of those we serve. We, too, can put proper constraints on our aggressive behavior and be satisfied with our lot in life.

When John the Baptist was asked if he were the Messiah, the anointed one, the Christ – it was then that he professed his humility, his humanness as he awaited the coming of the one who would baptize them all “with the Holy Spirit and fire.”

And so, here we are in the middle of Advent, the middle of our waiting for the coming of Christ. Here as we await the celebration of the day when God took on human form to join with us in his kingdom on earth. Here as we await the celebration of the day when humanity will take on a divine form and join with him in the final coming of his kingdom, the final day for us to rejoice and to celebrate Emmanuel: God with Us.

Third Sunday of Advent: December 17, 2006
Zephaniah 3:14-18a; Phillipians 4:4-7; Luke 3:10-18

Liturgically speaking today is a very strange one. On the one hand, it’s the Fourth Sunday of Advent. Yet it’s also December 24th and Christmas Eve. Usually, we have more time between the last Sunday before Christmas and Christmas, itself, to prepare for the holiday. But here we are: with the celebration of Christmas finally upon us. Some of us, however, may say that it’s none too soon; that we have had enough of the preparation for Christmas, what with all of the shopping, both in malls and over the Internet, with all of the rushing about.

However, there may be others who are not yet quite finished. Between the end of mass this morning and Christmas mass this afternoon or evening, there are still those last minute things to do in order to get ready for company, for those visitors who have joined us, or will join us, over the next few days. Yes, this is the time for visitors. In fact, the Fourth Sunday of Advent might be called “Visitors’ Sunday”. So it’s appropriate for the focus for today’s reflection to be on visitors, on hospitality for those who briefly share our lives.

To begin our reflection, we might recall today’s gospel reading and a biblical woman who could be our model for hospitality towards visitors. Normally this is the time of year to reflect on Mary; but I have another woman in mind for today: Elizabeth. Elizabeth, whom Mary visited.

Now then, for those of you who have been wondering when would I get around to my ususal Sunday homily question, here it is. And you don’t need to answer out loud. My question is this: How do you, yourself, prepare for visitors? For those who enter your life for a brief time and then go off again?

If you’re a housewife, do you spend a lot of time dusting and putting stuff back in place? And if you’re the husband, or the kids, do you find yourself being told not to mess up what has already been hidden away? Well for all of us who have difficulty in preparing for the arrival of either friends or strangers, perhaps we need to take a closer look at someone who might be the patron saint for visitors: Elizabeth.

Her story begins when Zechariah, her husband, was serving as a priest in the temple in Jerusalem. Both Zechariah and Elizabeth were, according to Luke, “advanced in years,” which means they were probably somewhere in their sixties! Then, one day while Zechariah was alone in the inner sanctuary of the temple, the angel Gabriel appeared to him and said that Elizabeth was going to conceive and bear a son. Like any normal man who has a sixty-year-old wife, Zechariah didn’t believe the angel. As a result of his lack of belief, he was literally struck speechless by the angel. So when Elizabeth became pregnant, he wasn’t able to tell her what had been predicted.

Have you ever wondered what effect all of this might have had on Elizabeth? There she is. In her sixties and pregnant. And her husband seems to have had some kind of stroke and can’t speak. I would guess that she is under at least a little bit of stress!

From a human standpoint, the chances are that Mary, too, was under some stress when she arrived at the home of Elizabeth. After all, the same angel who had appeared to Zechariah had also come to her. And now here she was, an unwed, pregnant teenager. It’s likely her own parents may have lacked a complete understanding of what had happened. Instead of staying in Nazareth with them, she proceeds, according to Luke, “in haste” to her relative’s home in Judah. The angel had told her that Elizabeth was also pregnant. Perhaps Mary needed reassurance from this older woman that miracles do happen.

And so we come to today’s gospel reading. What does Elizabeth do when they meet? As I suggested, Elizabeth probably had her own stress. But she seems to immediately put it aside and offers comfort and a triple blessing to her young relative. How does she manage to accomplish this? Again, according to Luke, Elizabeth was “filled by the holy spirit” and cried out her greetings and her blessings.

Having been moved by the Holy Spirit, Elizabeth has a different perception. She does not see an unwed, pregnant teenager there before her. Rather she sees the woman whom she calls “the mother of my lord.” With Elizabeth as a model, is it possible for us to be filled with that same Holy Spirit and to have our own perceptions radically changed when we see those who visit us? Those who come into our lives?

One of the basic questions of our faith is this: can I see the Christ-child in those who visit me? When I am under my own stress, can I still offer comfort and blessings to those who come into my presence? Can I welcome them?

Although I began this reflection by focusing on visitors in our homes at this special time of the year, perhaps we also need to think about others who only momentarily come into our daily lives. Those strangers who enter our lives where we work, where we shop, where we learn, where we play. We speak of hospitality in our homes; but what about hospitality in our lives? Some of us might be called to be hospitable in large ways; but small ways are equally important.

Our first reading for today reminds us that it is not always the big places and large events in our life that are the most important. The prophesy we heard about in the first reading from Micah, reminds us that God chose, not the great city of Jerusalem, but rather insignificant Bethlehem, for the birthplace of his son. His son who was to rule not as a king, but rather one who would be like a lowly shepherd. And so, according to the prophet Micah, nothing is too insignificant to be used for the work of God. No place, too small; no task, too menial; no person, too unworthy.

Our second reading from Saint Paul’s letter to the Hebrews reminds us that it is not mere ritual which God desires but rather our active participation. It is not ritual sacrifices and offerings by the fire of holocausts, but rather “doing the will of God” that is desired.

And what is the will of God? That’s what the entire Good News is all about. It’s all about love of God and love of neighbor. About hospitality to strangers. About all who come as visitors into our lives. Yes, there are the visitors we know and the ones we do not know. We tend to help all kinds of visitors in our lives during the season of Advent. And it is right that we do make a special effort at this time of year. But it is equally important to recognize that there are hungry people every day of the year and not just during the days between Thanksgiving and December 25th. It might be easier if gift-giving and hospitality were entirely concentrated on one day a year and we could forget about other people for the remaining three-hundred-sixty-four days.

Yes, when Mary arrived on her doorstep, Elizabeth could have said: “There’s a marvelous inn here in town. I’ll pay for you to stay there.” But instead, Elizabeth opened up her home to this young girl; a place where Mary stayed for three months. Now I am not suggesting that visitors in our homes continue to stay beyond the holiday season; but what if they would? When a visitor stays with us for an extended time, certain accommodations must be made. There must be differences in how we would spend our daily life.

Although many visitors enter and leave our lives, perhaps we are called to make one particular visitor a permanent resident in our life. Accommodating, making room, changing our lives for this one visitor would make it infinitely easier to accommodate other visitors throughout the entire year.

For some people, Jesus as the Christ-child, is only a temporary guest. As quickly after December 25th as possible, he is put away with the strings of lights and all of the decorations. But what if this visitor were to become a permanent resident within us? What accommodations would need to be made if he is to live in our lives on a daily basis? What changes would need to be made if Jesus is not merely a visitor, but a permanent member of the family? How do I prepare for this radical change?

For an approach to an answer, perhaps we need to return to our earlier reflection on Elizabeth and her hospitality, her going beyond her own concerns and her welcoming Mary and the child she carried. Elizabeth did not do it alone. The Holy Spirit came to her and enabled her to recognize the Christ-child within her visitor.
● The Holy Spirit enables us to see the Jesus within others.
● The Holy Spirit enables us to see the Jesus within ourselves.
● The Holy Spirit enables us to have Jesus the Christ as a permanent resident and not just a once-a-year visitor.
Let us pray that the Holy Spirit remains with us as we continue to prepare for the coming of Emmanuel, God with us.

Fourth Sunday of Advent, December 24, 2000
Micah 5:1-4; Hebrews 10:5-10; Luke 1:39-45

(Invite children, grades 1 to 4, to gather around the altar on the floor.)

What are we celebrating today?
Birth of Jesus, Incarnation, God became man

Why did God become man? Why was Jesus born?
To save us. So, we could get to heaven. Came as savior, redeemer. To forgive us, so we could be with God again in His kingdom.

Have you ever broken anything?
Toy, something of mom or dad’s.

Even more important: have you ever broken your promise?
To mom or dad on going to do something or not going to do something; behaving.

When you do something you shouldn’t have done (like breaking something or breaking your promise to behave), have your folks ever given you a “time-out” to think about what you did that hurt someone or something? A “time-out” when you can think about how you might change what you did for the next time, so you won’t do it again; won’t hurt someone again.

That’s what happened a long time ago. God created people. We usually call them Adam and Eve. And because he loved them so much, He wanted them to be with Him all the time.

What do we call that place?
Garden of Eden, paradise, heaven, kingdom of God, kingdom of heaven

But what happened? God’s creatures, Adam and Eve, whom He loved, did something they should not have done. They broke a promise they made to God. And God said: OK, you have to have a “time-out” so you can think about what you did. And when you have thought about it long and hard, you can come back to me and we will live together in paradise, in heaven, in my kingdom.

But something happened next. God had a problem. How was He going to tell us that our “time-out” was over; that we were now forgiven and could join Him in heaven. He tried to tell us but we had a hard time understanding what He said. So before I tell you how He did it, I have another Christmas story to tell you.

Once upon a time there was a farmer. He was a very good and kind man. He had a wife and two children. Now this farmer believed in God, but he wasn’t at all sure about Christmas. He couldn’t figure out why the Son of God was born. And so on Christmas Eve, his wife and the children would go to church to celebrate the birth of the Christ-child, but the farmer would stay home.

Now one Christmas Eve, it was very cold. And the farmer went out to check on the animals in his barn. He saw they were warm and well-fed. But as he was leaving the barn, he saw a flock of birds in the yard. Now this farmer, as I said, was a very good and kind man. He felt sorry for the birds. He knew if they stayed out in the cold during the night they would freeze and die.

He tried to shoo them into the barn where they would be warm and have grain like his animals had. But they flew up into the air. They were frightened by him. He tried to lead them into the barn with a trail of grain, but they ignored him. The farmer was very frustrated because he was very concerned for the birds … and finally he shouted out: “O God, if only I could become a little bird, I could lead all of these other birds into my barn where they would be safe.”

And suddenly, the farmer realized just why God had to become a man; so that He could lead us into His kingdom, where we would be safe. Where we would be saved. God knew we needed to have someone like us who also was like Him. Someone that could teach us and lead us into His kingdom.

And although the farmer couldn’t become a bird to lead the other little birds to safety, God was able to become a man to lead us. But he knew he couldn’t come as an already grown-up man. He couldn’t suddenly appear and have us follow him. Instead, He came as a little baby, one who grew up into a man who became a teacher. And what did he teach us?

He taught us that God is “our Father.” He also taught us our Father has forgiven us; that He wants us back home, with Him in the kingdom of heaven. To be safe with Him. And He summed it all up in that prayer we say; the one that starts with “Our Father who art in heaven …” and the one that says we should forgive others as we have been forgiven.

And that’s what Christmas is all about. It’s about how God has forgiven us. How God has become like us so that we could be saved; we could be safe with him. And He has asked us to forgive one another so that we could all be part of His kingdom. Yes, that’s really what Christmas time is all about. It’s the time for us to forgive one another about all of the past hurts we may have caused. It’s the time to end the “time-out” and return home.

And so you can go back to your folks now; and when you do, I’d like to have you whisper something to them. Will you do it? When you get back, whisper the words “Please forgive me.” And I hope that the big folks can whisper back the words: “I forgive you” – and remember that this is what Christmas, the coming of Christ is all about. I forgive you. Merry Christmas.

Christmas, December 25, 2003
Children’s Lectionary, Scriptures not used directly

To begin, I want to welcome all of our visitors to Christ the Good Shepherd – to all of you who are spending this long Christmas weekend here with family and friends. It’s especially good to have you here this Sunday, the Sunday between Christmas and New Year’s … the Sunday when the church celebrates the Feast of the Holy Family. The readings for today emphasize family relationships, even ones we sometimes might be reluctant to hear. And, as usual, I have a question for you. Actually, there are two of them. They’re straight forward, but the answers may not be easy. The questions are: what is a family and, what is a “holy family?”

In our first reading from the Book of Sirach, we hear about the relationships within a human family – relationships which involve authority, honor and respect. These virtues are ones that prevail in a scriptural holy family … in a family like the one of Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

Our second reading, taken from a letter of Saint John, also speaks of a family. But in this family, God is the Father who bestows his love on us, his children. We are His children who are capable of growing and changing, of loving one another – until we become more like Him in our years of maturity.

Our gospel reading for today also addresses relationships found within a family. In this case it is, in fact, the specific Holy Family – the one consisting of Jesus, Mary and Joseph. However, upon hearing this story, we may believe it seems like a strange event in their mutual lives. At least it seems strange to me when I look at our modern society in which we tend to protect our children from strangers – and from all forms of external harm … from almost everything and everyone they might meet.

I mean – can you imagine your own family visiting New York City with a tour-group and returning home without your child in plain sight … and not worrying about the twelve-year-old for three whole days!? Evidently people had a different view of what it meant to be an extended family some two thousand years ago … and about trusting that this extended family would care of each other, at all times.

However, the point of the gospel story is not how thoughtless Mary and Joseph might have been by modern standards, but rather the fact that Jesus was dedicated … from the beginning of his life … to the service of God – to doing what God, the Father, had sent him to do for others. And at the same time, for him to recognize his own humanity and to remain with his family until the appropriate moment arrived for him to fulfill the prophecies made about him. As Luke reports: “He went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them, and his mother kept all these things in her heart. And Jesus advanced in wisdom and age and favor before God and man.”

The four gospel writers tell us no more about the life of the Holy Family of Nazareth. But we can surmise that their relationships mirrored those that make up all holy families. After-all, there is more than the one holy family consisting of Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

Yes, a family – a holy family – can be composed of the classic father, mother, and single child. A holy family can also have a single parent (mother or father) with one or more kids. A holy family can have birth children, adopted children, foster children or no children. A holy family can have step-parents and half-brothers or half-sisters. A holy family can have grandparents raising their grandchildren with their own child seldom in sight.

In fact, there can also be holy families even without parents or grandparents or aunts and uncles around. There are some who work in an occupation where the members call one another “family.” We can be part of a “family of Christ the Good Shepherd.” Or we can be part of the family of humanity. From time to time, we even hear about a “family of nations.” Each one of these families can, indeed, be a holy family.

A holy family is a set of relationships: not relatives – not just those linked to you by blood or marriage – but by relationships as well: a union of hearts and souls. And what conditions lead to a holy family?

I am sure there are many; but, today, I want to talk about only three of them: authority, obedience, and respect … those virtues we heard about in all three readings for today. However, before you become upset with me for bringing up these virtues, I’d invite you to hear what I mean by these words which have become tarnished by our modern society.

First of all: “authority.” Every family, and especially every family that seeks the blessing of God – every family who desires to be a “holy” family – must recognize the need for “authority.” Now I do not mean a totalitarian regime in which the husband-father controls the thoughts and movements of the wife-mother, the sons and daughters and everyone else living under his roof.

The word authority is related to the word “author.” And what is the role of an author? The author directs and guides the development of the characters in the author’s story. “Authority” offers guidance when events overwhelm us, when we lack direction and need encouragement to return to the path we must follow. Such authority comes from those who have wisdom sufficient to help us recover our way through difficult times.

We seek the authority of God through prayer. We seek divine guidance and help. In a family blessed by God, in a “holy” family, we seek guidance, not only from God, but from those who speak for God: from prophets. And who in our own holy family might these prophets be?

It could be dad. It is often mom. It may be a grandparent who has experienced life and God’s participation in that life. It may even come from young children, who have not lived long, but who, nevertheless, can provide prophetic direction for us. The words of God can even come from teenagers – although, sometimes, the prophecies they offer are not ones the parents would prefer.

And what about “obedience?” In the translation of the gospel we heard today, it was said that Jesus returned from Jerusalem to Nazareth with his parents and was “obedient” to them. What did he do? He listened to them. He really listened to them.

And that is what obedience means. To listen intently. To listen not with the ears alone but with heart and soul. To appreciate what is really being said. To hear the love and concern being expressed, even when the words, themselves, might seem harsh and uncomfortable … when the actions being requested are for my own good but seem to be ones I want to avoid at all costs. In a holy family, authority – the search for guidance and direction – is combined with obedience – a listening that casts the best light possible on what is being said by the one who offers guidance.

And finally, there is “respect” – the partner of obedience. For as obedience is to listen intently, respect is to “see” intently: to look deeply into the character and nature of a person and behold the grace of God within the individual.

Respect is to see the underlying goodness and to respond to it. And so it is that a holy child sees the holiness of the parent – the God within the parent – just as the holy parent must see the holiness within the child – the spirit of God within the child, even when it is masked by mischief. For that matter, all of us are called to see the holy spirit within each and every human being we meet.

The ancient virtues of authority, obedience and respect are not out-of-date. They remain virtues which show forth the relationships within each and every family. The Feast Day of the Holy Family should remind us that we are urged to respect the divinity within each one of us; to look deeply and intently into the person next to us; and discern that, together, all of us make up the Holy Family of God.

Feast of Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph; December 27, 2009
Sir 3:2-6;12-14; 1 Jn 3:1-2, 21-24; Lk 2:41-52

Today’s question requires a physical response. I’d like each of you, right now, to point towards the East. Yes, that’s right. Well, there seems to be some difference of opinion. Since our sanctuary is circular, it is difficult to be sure which direction is East. However, since the astrologers we heard about in today’s gospel came out of the East, I thought it might be a good idea to see how many of you might recognize the direction from which they came.

Actually, due East is directly behind me. To verify this fact I used my pocket compass. If you don’t believe me, you can come up here after mass and check it out yourself. You might be wondering why I asked you to point to the east, in the first place? In part, it’s to get you involved in today’s reading and the feast we celebrate today, the Epiphany.

In the pre-Vatican II liturgical year, Epiphany was celebrated on January 6th, the Twelfth Day after Christmas. But now we celebrate this feast day on the First Sunday after New Year’s Day. So, since this is “liturgically” the Twelfth Day of Christmas – even if it’s actually January 8th, two days later – I suppose I could have brought in twelve lords a leaping, but I thought the altar area might get a little crowded.

In some European cultures, Epiphany is celebrated as the major holiday, instead of having it on December 25th. It’s the day when the Christ-child was made known to the outside world, to the non-Jews, the gentiles, who came from Arabia to pay him homage as the new King of the Jews. And that’s what Epiphany means; to make manifest, to make something visible.

And what does all of this have to do with us, here at the beginning of the year we call 1989? Well, the focus of today’s reflection is this: how do I make Jesus the Christ visible to others? A corollary of this question is another one: how do I react when I hear a new message? Where do we start these reflections on reactions to a new message and making Christ visible in this world?

Perhaps we should begin with thinking about King Herod and how he reacted to the question the astrologers put to him. First of all, no one is sure just how many astrologers showed up some two-thousand years ago in Jerusalem. The Greek word for these men is “magi”; it’s plural, so there must have been more than one. Some early traditions had the number twelve; but later traditions settled on three, one for each of the three gifts mentioned in the gospel: gold, frankincense and myrrh. But these details really don’t matter; at least not to Matthew who tells us the story.

What did matter to Matthew? It was simply this: at some point after the birth of the child who was to be the Messiah, strangers, foreigners, showed up in the capital city of the Jews looking for this child who was to be the Messiah, the leader who would save the Hebrews, who would usher in the new age of Yahweh. These were not Jewish scholars; they were unbelievers. Yet they came to do homage to this child. When they arrived in Jerusalem, what better person to ask about this new-born king than the present ruler, the current king of the Jews. After all, wasn’t he charged with the responsibility of leading these people until the Messiah came? Wasn’t the king awaiting the arrival of the Messiah just as eagerly as the rest of the people were; all those who had been calling out for deliverance for so many years?

Evidently King Herod was not waiting for the Messiah. In the first place, even though he was the recognized leader of the Jewish community, he had no idea where the Messiah was to have been born. He had to call together all of the chief priests and the learned scribes to ask them what they thought. And after checking all of their resource books, they finally came up with an answer. The Messiah was to come from this little village about five miles south of Jerusalem. Even then, King Herod was not pleased.

When he heard the news from these foreigners that the Messiah may have been born and that they had come to pay this new-born child homage as if he were royalty, King Herod devised a plan to learn more about the child so that he could kill him. How do we know this? We don’t learn it from today’s reading from Matthew’s gospel. But if we continue, we come to the account of how, when the astrologers did not report back to Herod, he sent his soldiers to Bethlehem to kill all male children two years of age or under.

Herod’s reaction to the good news of the coming of the Messiah, the Savior of his people, was that, fearing the loss of his own power, he had to destroy this new-born king. The question is: do we react the same way? When presented with a change in my life, do I see it as a new-found opportunity or as a new threat?

Last week, Deacon Les talked about the new year and about change. For the next few minutes, I’d like to address this issue, as well. The question is: what change is being asked of me? For one thing, I am being asked to become a “new Jerusalem”. Just what does that mean?

For the past weeks during much of the Christmas season, we’ve heard readings from the prophet Isaiah about Jerusalem. Even today’s first reading begins: “Rise up in splendor, Jerusalem! Your light has come, the glory of the Lord shines upon you.”

Why have we been hearing so much about Jerusalem, about a city in the Middle East which has been torn by strife and conflict for so many centuries and is still in the newspapers today for the same reason. Do we read this passage from Isaiah and believe this city in Israel is, indeed, to rise up? Some would believe this. However, for Christians, over the centuries, the reference to Jerusalem is not to a specific city but rather, to the “people of God.”

The early christians saw themselves as the “new Jerusalem”, the “new kingdom,” a people who would someday replace the earth-bound city of Jerusalem. When those early Christians prayed the Psalms and read the words of Isaiah, what they were really saying was: “Rise up in splendor, you Christians! Your light has come, the glory of the Lord shines upon you.”

This is our own challenge today in 1989. We are those same Christians. We are the “new Jerusalem.” The message we need to hear is this: “Rise up in splendor, you members of Christ the Good Shepherd! Your light has come, the glory of the Lord shines upon you.” And when you hear that message, do you see it as a threat or an opportunity.

Just what does it mean to know that “our light has come”? I believe it means we are to take that light and to shine it forth to others. We are called to make that light visible to others. We are called to make Christ visible to others. We are each called to be Epiphanies.

How are we to do this? By living out our lives as Christians. By hearing the new message and allowing it to change our lives. Change is not easy. Whether it is at a community or a personal level. Consider how in a few short days we will have a change in our national government. Each time a new president is inaugurated, even when his political party is the same, there is a time for change. Some see this in terms of new opportunities, others as new threats.

Other nations have similar concerns; it ‘s not unique to the United States. In the U.S.S.R. some soviets view Mr. Gorbachev’s “glasnost” as a new opportunity; others within the existing power structure see it as a new threat. At the same time, when I was thinking about this homily, the image came to me of Gorbachev’s recent visit to the United States. Here was a modern stranger visiting a foreign country with a message that some in the U.S. would see as a new opportunity and others would see as a new threat.

Although political changes give us a clear picture of change in terms of threat or opportunity, our own personal lives have changes which give us similar attitudes. Each of us can view this new year in terms of opportunities or threats. And within this year, we each have specific changes ahead of us.

For some a new job. For others a move to a new home. There can be new acquaintances and new friends or enemies. For some, there are unforseen crises: problems of health, perhaps the death of loved ones. Some situations call for new determination: areas of alcoholism, substance abuse: drugs, or tobacco, or even food. Others are called to consider such tragic matters as child abuse. For some there is the need to think about changing a relationship which is detrimental to our well-being. Each change is difficult. Each change has built-in fears and doubts. Yet each change can be a new opportunity. What kind of an opportunity?

An opportunity to make Christ more visible to others! When we are called upon to make a change, this attitude needs to become our guiding light. How, by my decision, by my action, how do I make Christ more visible to others? My focus must be on him, upon Jesus the Christ, in order for the change to be seen as an opportunity and not a threat.

At the beginning of this reflection, I asked each of you to point towards the East. Not everyone got it right. However, if you are ever in a church and asked that question again, you are almost certain to be correct if you point in the direction behind the altar. From the earliest days of Christianity, churches have been built so that the people face towards the East. In that way, the rising sun can always be seen through the stained-glass windows above the altar and the people can be reminded of the light of the risen Christ.

What our Christian buildings accomplish, we also should do. If we face the light of the Christ, if we allow his light to shine upon us as we make our choices and live out our lives, it is then that we can be an Epiphany to others.

Epiphany; January 8, 1989
Is 60:1-6; Eph 3:2-3, 5-6; Mt 2:1-12

My question for today’s reflection is a personal one. Now that the season of Christmas is over and the lights and decorations have been put away, what has happened to the gifts you and your family received? How many of the toys are broken – or discarded because of a lack of interest? What did you do with Aunt Gertrude’s “whatch-you-call-it” that she gave you with such love, but you really can’t stand? Which gifts have been shoved away, unused – waiting the time to be re-gifted in a white elephant sale? And which ones do you really like and use every day?

Each year, all of us receive material gifts we never use, as well as those we truly love. But what about the other gifts we have. The ones we have received from God? Yes, the focus for today’s reflection is rightly on these gifts: a focus on how do we use the gifts – the talents and abilities which God has given to each one of us?

We are, of course, reminded of those gifts in the reading we heard from Saint Paul’s letter to the Corinthians. Paul, who seems to like to list things, speaks of the gifts of: “expression of wisdom … [and] of knowledge; faith, healing, mighty deed, [and] prophecy …” that is, speaking out on behalf of God. He identifies the gift of “discernment of spirits,” the ability to tell the difference between good and evil. To these seven, he has also added the gifts of speaking in tongues and of interpreting them, gifts which are related to our ability to pray to God and to understand what God says to us in prayer.

All of these gifts are ways to understand how God works in our lives and how we are to share this understanding with others. Saint Paul reminds us that there is a relationship between these gifts and our responsibilities for the use of these gifts. Our reading began with the words: “There are different kinds of spiritual gifts but the same Spirit; there are different forms of service but the same Lord; there are different workings but the same God who produces all of them in everyone.” He also said: “To each person the manifestation of the spirit is given for [the common good.]”

It seems from this, that each one of us is given a gift that we are to use in the service of others. To receive a gift and honor the giver, means that we are to use the gift and that we are to share this gift with others. If you put Aunt Gertrude’s whatch-you-call-it away in the closet, you please yourself; you do not please Aunt Gertrude, who thought you needed whatever it was she gave you. Perhaps the Holy Spirit is much like Aunt Gertrude. We receive gifts from the Holy Spirit but don’t know what to do with them and so we stack them away, unused. So, maybe it’s time to think about how we respond to a gift.

To approach our attitudes about these gifts, we might take a closer look at today’s gospel reading: the story of the wedding feast at Cana. Here at Christ the Good Shepherd, we are reminded of this story every time we look at the Marian window. Most of you probably know that the central panels in our window show Mary and Jesus at the wedding in Cana, where she asks him for his help and he performs what John calls the first of his signs of glorification: the turning of water into wine.

Biblical scholars tell us that the Gospel of John is a special theological approach to Jesus and is noted for its symbolism. It’s for sure that today’s gospel reading has a high level of symbolism. First of all, we have six stone jars filled to the brim with water and this is done under the authority of Jesus. The total volume of water turned into wine is over one-hundred-fifty gallons or something like six-hundred bottles of wine. Now that’s a wedding party, considering that the original supply had already run out!

In symbolic terms, some see Jesus taking the Jewish tradition of the law, signified by the water used for purification rites, and transforming it into the superabundance of the new covenant. They see relationships between the first sign of the glorification of Jesus in the Gospel of John and the last sign of his glorification at his crucifixion. Here, at the beginning of John’s gospel, Jesus addresses Mary in terms of the woman who does not recognize that his time has not yet come. At the end of John’s gospel, Jesus addresses her in terms of the woman who is told to look upon her new son, the beloved disciple who represents all of us. The water changed into wine is seen in terms of the water and blood which pour from the pierced side of Jesus, a scene that is unique to John’s gospel.

And in between, the superabundance of the water turned into wine is also viewed in context with the other times water is emphasized in John’s gospel.
● Times which include his telling Nicodemus we need to be born again with water and the spirit.
● Or the living water Jesus talks about with the woman at the well.
● Or the cure of the paralytic at the pool of Bethesda.
● Or the man who was born blind and who was cured by washing in the pool of Siloam.
● And of course, there is the time when Jesus washed the feet of his disciples.
All of these stories involving water are found only in John’s gospel. So, it’s easy to see how John was deep into symbols and how important water and purification are in his theology.

With the use of symbols so strongly in mind, it’s not unfair to use the symbols of the wedding feast at Cana for a deeper understanding of gift giving. But rather than water and wine, the symbols I want to consider are the people, themselves, whom we encounter in today’s reading. People who might be you and me. The real question for our reflection today is this: If I were at the wedding feast in Cana, who would I be?

There are many different kinds of people at this wedding party. Each one of them had both a different knowledge and a different understanding about the gift Jesus provided for them: the gift of the water turned to wine. And as a result of this understanding, they responded in different ways to his gift.

First of all, what was the understanding of the servants who poured the water into the jars and drew out the wine to be served? They saw what had happened, but they did not really understand what they saw. How many of us see our own gifts from God, but do not understand what they are? We continue to carry a miraculous gift but do not appreciate the wonder of what we carry.

And what about the chief steward? He tasted the new gift, but thought that the bridegroom had kept it hidden all this time and was only now making it available to his guests. How many of us attribute our own gifts to human effort and do not recognize the true origin of our talents and abilities?

Then there is the bridegroom who readily accepts the gift but does not question it’s origin. What concern is it of his? So long as people are happy with it and he saves face. Are there those of us who go through life taking advantage of their gifts from God but are unconcerned about how we came by them? Who consume their gifts without even a “thank you”?

And then there are the disciples who saw what was going on and who, according to John, believed in him. They apparently understood the true origin of the gift. But how deep was their understanding? Did this belief change them at the time? Or were they still uncommitted to do anything about it? And what about you and me? Do we momentarily understand the source of our gifts but then fail to act upon this knowledge?

Finally, there is Mary. She was the one who encouraged the initiation of the gift, who was confident that something would happen, even if she was uncertain exactly what it would be. She was the one who sought out a gift, not for herself but for the welfare of others. Do I have the courage to look for my gift and expect to find it? And when I receive it, do I take delight in it and truly use it for my own good and for the welfare of others?

And so, who are you at the wedding feast? What is your understanding about the gift you have received and your need to use it, to share it with others?

Our gifts come in many sizes and shapes. (The holy spirit and aunt Gertrude may have much in common) but this weekend, we are reminded of one person who did recognize that his gifts came from God and that he was meant to share these gifts with others, even if other people might not be ready to accept them. Tomorrow many of us are given an opportunity to celebrate the memory of the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., a man who had the gift to move people and to lead them in a non-violent effort to change a way of life many thought could not be changed. It seems to me that Dr. King understood that his gifts were from God and that he must use them no matter what the cost might be to him. It is that kind of understanding which each of us must have about our own gifts. To realize that they are from God and are to be used for the good of others.

Sometimes it’s difficult to recognize our gifts. Sometimes we attribute them to our own efforts. Sometimes we use the gifts of others without realizing the source of these gifts. But like Martin Luther King, Jr., it’s essential that we do understand what our gifts are; that we acknowledge their true source; and that we use them for the good of others, no matter what the cost might be to us. Although Christmas time is over for another year, perhaps we can still open those gifts of Christ, those gifts of the Holy Spirit, and using them, transform our lives and the lives of those we meet.

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time; January 19, 1992
Is 62:1-5; 1 Cor 12:4-11; Jn 2:1-12

In the words of the prophet Isaiah that we heard in today’s first reading God says to the people of Israel: “… you shall be called ‘my delight,’ and your land ‘espoused’. For the Lord delights in you and makes your land his spouse.” This passage leads me to ask a question you need not answer out loud. The question is this: What nick name do you have for your spouse, or if you’re not married, for the one you love?

In case you’re interested and want to use it, the Hebrew word for “my delight” is Hepzibah. And the word for “espoused” or “married” is Beulah, a good old-fashioned name that few would dare use today. And if you’re wondering what nick name I call my wife, I’m not going to tell you. You may have to ask one of our three children or perhaps my wife, whose name in case you don’t know it, is Karen.

For those of you who may be new to the parish and confused about how I have a wife, three children and seven grandchildren, you need to know that I’m a Permanent Deacon and not a priest; and that I’ve been married to Karen for almost forty-three years. Although a few people call me “Father,” instead of “Deacon” Pat, the only ones who really call me that are our daughter and two sons. Of course they also refer to me in other ways but I won’t go into that either.

Now if you’re wondering why I’m making a point of my marital status, it’s because of today’s gospel reading about the wedding feast at Cana. This is a passage which many engaged couples choose to have read at their own wedding celebrations. It’s a very appropriate reading, since it deals not only with a wedding but, even more importantly, with a miracle of change.

At first, you may think this miracle of change involves only the change of water into wine: the first miracle performed by Jesus in his ministry. But there is another change represented by the water turned into wine. This second miracle is the transformation of two people into one couple. Just as ordinary water becomes extra-ordinary wine, an ordinary man and an ordinary woman can become an extra-ordinary couple.

This change results in a new union: a togetherness of a couple who still remain two separate persons but now are joined into a partnership of husband and wife: a partnership in which each one must continue to grow yet in a manner conducive to mutual growth, mutual benefit.

The sacrament of Matrimony is often said to be a sign of the Covenant of God with God’s people, of Christ the bridegroom with his spouse, the church. For just as God has made an unbreakable agreement with all of us, so a man and a woman in their marriage covenant make an unbreakable agreement among themselves and their God.

However, the sacrament of Matrimony is a unique sacrament, one that is very different from, say, Baptism or Confirmation. In Baptism the normal minister is the priest or deacon who pours the water and says the words: “I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” A bishop is the normal minister for Confirmation. A priest is the normal minister for the Eucharist.

However, the ministers of the sacrament of Matrimony are the husband and wife, themselves. By speaking their vows, their promises to one another, the husband conveys this sacrament upon his wife; and the wife upon her husband. The priest or deacon is a minister of the church who witnesses this exchange. All the friends and relatives gathered together as a community participate as witnesses of this sacrament . which is, as all sacraments are, a community event and an on-going process in which God’s special graces are offered.

No, the sacrament of Marriage does not end with the wedding ceremony. It is a continuing sacrament and, as with all sacraments, it offers its own graces, its own gifts of God’s life within us. There are many graces each one of us can call upon within the sacrament of Marriage. I personally believe that one of the major graces is that of “forgiveness.” I believe a special gift, offered by God to each spouse, is the gift of a continuing reconciliation that heals the hurts encountered in the process of two people mutually growing together. For if reconciliation is not obtained, the result is a divorce for what are called “irreconcilable differences.” But with the gifts of forgiveness and reconciliation with one another, and with God, all things become possible.

However, if I am the only one to speak about this sacrament of Matrimony, you would be missing another very important view. And so it’s now time for you to hear from the person who shares with me the gifts God has given us: my delight called Karen.

[Karen continues] Pat has already mentioned that marriage is a sacrament between two people and God. I want to talk about marriage as a covenant and not merely a contract.

Contracts are based on inequality. If one party fails, the other forecloses. There is little room for forgiveness. Some marriages are indeed contracts; and contracts can be broken. Divorce happens even when couples try to hold the contract together. Divorce is sad, but in and of itself, divorce is not sinful.

In a covenant relationship love and forgiveness are ongoing. Marriage becomes, not a 50-50, but a 100-100 percent relationship. In tough times, one person’s 100 percent has to be enough to keep two imperfect people together until healing and forgiveness are possible. Of course, God, who is the third party in the covenant, helps to reconcile the couple.

If you remember, when the flood was over in the Book of Genesis, God sent a rainbow to Noah and his family as a sign of the covenant between God and human beings. Well, our marriage has a sign too. There are many, of course. We have wedding rings, photographs, memories and children as signs of our covenant. But the sign that I want to show you today is this. (Show the can!).

This is a can which once held corned beef hash. When we married, I moved into Pat’s apartment, and this can of hash was in the pantry. I didn’t, and don’t, like canned hash, and so when we moved a few months later, it was still there. We were too poor, and I was too thrifty to throw it away, so it moved with us. We lived in four apartments in Ithaca, New York, and each time the hash went with us. We crossed the country over the years – from New York to New Hampshire – to Oregon – to Maryland – to Massachusetts and finally here to Houston.

The can grew suspiciously domed and rusty and so the contents were removed long ago but the can moves with us still. it symbolizes the years of economic hardship, the joys of childbirth, the struggles and forgiveness, the hope: the journey. It has been transformed from a humble can of hash to a symbol of our covenant and I wouldn’t dream of moving without it.

Finally, I have a question for you about today’s gospel reading. Why on earth did Jesus make so much wine? Scripture tells us the quantity in the stone jars was between 120 and 180 gallons. Surely it was a waste of fine wine. Or was it? For me, the reason is this. Jesus did more than transform water into wine. At the wedding feast at Cana in Galilee, Jesus transformed a wedding toast into a lifetime of grace to be drawn upon. The grace given to us in our sacrament of Marriage is unending. It allows us to drink deeply of God’s love for us as a couple.

So, you engaged couples out there, prepare to find an abundance of wine at your wedding; much more than you have ordered from your caterer. For you married couples, please don’t forget the endless grace that can be drawn upon; especially in the difficult times in your lives together; and there will be difficult times. And for you who are divorced, widowed or separated; or those who have responded to a vocation which calls for celibacy; or for those who never marry for one reason or another, remember there are graces in abundance in all the sacraments: stone jars of wine which invite you to celebrate God’s love for you, an endless supply of goodness.

The two closest and most beautiful relationships I have in my life are with God and with Pat. Sometimes I feel closer to one than to the other; but when I allow God’s grace to fill me, I can celebrate each day of my life in the knowledge that I am truly loved.

[Pat continues] Yes, the sacrament of Matrimony offers many graces to the couple joined in a covenant with God. It also offers God’s life and love to all who come in contact with this sacrament. In our second reading from Saint Paul, we heard about many different spiritual gifts given by the one spirit for the building up of the community.

At the conclusion of today’s gospel reading, John the Evangelist says: “Jesus did this as the beginning of his signs at Cana in Galilee and so revealed his glory, and his disciples began to believe in him.” In a similar manner, as a sign of their covenant, as a sign of your covenant, as a sign of their sacramental union, each couple is to reveal the glory of God to their friends, to their family, especially their children, to their co-workers and to the rest of society. Each one of us may have a special nickname for our spouse, but the name we all must carry is that of “Christian,” one who reveals the glory of God and the love of Christ to others.

Second Sunday of Ordinary Time; January 14, 2001
Is 62:1-5; 1 Cor 2:4-11; Jn 2:1-11