FOURTH SUNDAY OF ADVENT

21 DECEMBER 2014

          King David was a powerful man with ambitious plans.  He had united the tribes of Israel into a stable nation and established Jerusalem as its capital.  He had defeated the enemies and brought peace.  He had built himself a nice house.  Now he wanted to build a proper house for the Lord who had given him his success.  At first, Nathan the prophet agreed.  But the Lord spoke through Nathan and told David to scrap his plans.  God had greater plan than a physical temple, which would be built by David's son, Solomon.  God told David to trust that he would build of his line of descendants a house that would endure forever.

            One thousand years later, we meet a teenage girl living in a remote village 90 miles north of Jerusalem.  We have no idea of what Mary was planning, because she had none of the fame or power of King David.  We can only speculate that she was planning to settle down with her betrothed, Joseph, have children, and raise a family.  However, the Angel Gabriel startles her to announce that the promises made to David would be fulfilled in her.  Like the Spirit of God hovering over the void at the time of creation, the Holy Spirit would come upon her.  Her body would become the Ark of the New Covenant, bearing God's only begotten Son.

            When the 15th century artist, Fra Angelico, painted this scene, he used a device to help us understand what the Angel's message did to Mary's plans.  In his painting, Gabriel is leaning in toward Mary.  The artist linked them by writing the words of their conversation between them.  The Angel's declaration that the Holy Spirit will come upon her is straight forward.  But Mary's response, "Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord.  May it be done to me according to your word" is written upside down and backward.  By doing this, Fra Angelico shows us that Mary's plans are reversed, and her world is turned upside down.  In agreeing to be the handmaid of the Lord, Mary enters into a certain darkness that comes with uncertainty and unexpected change.

            Today is the darkest day of the year.  Not only do we experience a short period of light today, but cloud cover around here makes this time of the year gloomier.  This darkness is a sign of the deeper darkness which is experienced by those who have had their worlds turned upside down and their plans reversed.  Those who have lost loved ones to death and are facing their first Christmas without them know the darkness of having their world turned upside down.  The same is true of those who are suffering from any kind of illness or depression or even the flu.  Others bring the darkness of broken relationships and dysfunctional family dynamics to this week.  Many dwell in the darkness of being alone. 

            When we find ourselves in any kind of darkness, we are tempted to believe that God is distant from us.  But, in fact, the opposite is true.  God's presence is much more profound than an emotional feeling of warmth or happiness.  When our world gets turned upside down and our plans are reversed, God keeps his promise to us, just as certainly as God kept his promise to King David and to Mary, the Mother of God.  It took 1,000 years before God's promise to David was fulfilled in Mary's response.  Mary continued to ponder all these things in her heart as she faced the darkness of her new and unexpected condition.  Mary trusted that the Lord's promise to her would be fulfilled, even when the village gossiped about her pregnancy, even when the child was born in a stable, even when they were exiled in Egypt, and even as her Song hung on the cross.

            It is Mary's faith that sustains us in these final days before Christmas.  Of course, we need to do the work of preparing for our celebration.  But, if we prepare in a way that allows God to surprise us, even in turning our lives upside down and backwards, then we can also say with Mary, "Let it be done to me according to your word."

THIRD SUNDAY OF ADVENT

14 DECEMBER 2014

          The words of Isaiah the prophet are filled with hope and promise.  Standing on the ruins of Jerusalem after the return of his people from their fifty year captivity in Babylon, he is filled with the spirit of the Lord and makes some bold promises to save his people.  500 years later, when expectations for the coming of the Savior were very high, many people identified John the Baptist as the one who would fulfill these promises.  He fits Isaiah's job description well.  The spirit of God is definitely upon him.  He announces glad tidings to the poor.  His words heal the brokenhearted, and all the other duties assigned by Isaiah.  His bold words in the desert raise the question about who is the Messiah – John or Jesus.  Both proclaimed the Kingdom of God.  Because John came first and baptized Jesus, some thought that Jesus was a disciple of John.

            But John the Baptist is very secure in his identity and in his role.  When the religious authorities start grilling him, he defines himself in terms of who he is not.  He is not the Christ.  He is not Elijah come back again.  He is not the prophet described by Moses.  He is the one who points to the one who identifies himself as "I am" in the rest of John's Gospel.  Jesus uses that term, "I am," to identify himself with God who revealed himself to Moses in the burning bush.  Jesus is the Good Shepherd.  He is the vine.  He is the Light of the world.  He is the way, the truth, and the life.  John's role is to point to him and tell people the truth about him.

            In knowing his true identity and mission, John displays true humility.  He is in sharp contrast to the frog in one of Aesop's Tales.  The frog is tired of the muddy pond where he spends his life.  He wants to see the world.  So, he talks a stork into allowing him to hold onto his leg to fly above the earth's beauty and diversity.  But the frog's small hands are too small and slimy.  Every time the stork takes off, the frog loses his grip and falls back into the water.  Finally, the frog decides to attach himself with his mouth.  It works.  As the stork flies high with the frog attached to his leg, some bird watchers marvel at the incredible sight of these two creatures working so well together.  They say, "How ingenious these two animals are!  I wonder which of them came up with this idea."  Swelling with pride at their compliments and wanting to take credit for his cleverness, the frog blurted out, "I did."  And he fell to his death.

            It is with the humility of John the Baptist that we enter into these final two weeks to prepare to celebrate the first coming of Christ at Christmas.  Instead of pointing to himself and giving in to the adulation of the crowds, John keeps his gaze fixed on Jesus Christ.  He invites us to do the same.  We may be preparing to celebrate his first coming and waiting for him to come again, but he is already in our midst.  He invites us to keep our gaze fixed on Jesus, who tells us over and over again that we can recognize him in the least among us.  Formed by our contact with him in the Sacramental life of the Church, we humbly recognize him in our Latino brothers and sisters of our sister parish of Saint Adalbert and in the poor served by the Giving Tree.  We humbly dedicate ourselves to serving others, without worrying whether or not we get credit or whether or not people give us credit for our good work.  We recognize him in those people who annoy us most in our lives with a humility that reminds us of the ways we are probably annoying them also. 

            With the humility of John the Baptist, we can also be honest about the ways in which we have not shown the face of Jesus Christ in our words and actions or recognized him in others.  Come to the Advent Penance Service.  There, we can be honest about our failures to imitate the example of John the Baptist.  There God's mercy will allow that light to shine through us in a world filled with too much darkness, as these rose vestments shine in the purple of Advent.

SECOND SUNDAY OF ADVENT

7 DECEMBER 2014

          By the time the Second Letter of Saint Peter was written, it was clear that the Lord Jesus would not be coming back any time soon.  As a result, some began preaching that the Lord would not come again and that there would be no final judgment.  To that error, the author, writing in the name of the Apostle, responded that the Lord will definitely come again.  He has not delayed his promise.  Instead, he has delayed his second coming.

            Using the metaphor that one day with the Lord is a thousand years, it has been two "days" since the Paschal Mystery.  In our day, we are also tempted to live as if the Lord will not come again and as if there will be no judgment at the end of time.  For that reason, we need to hear the author telling us to be vigilant, a lesson we learned two times on our Pilgrimage last summer.  Had we been more vigilant in Lucca, our bicycles would not have been stolen.  Had we been more vigilant in Rome, thieves would not have taken all the rest of our belongings.  If we could go back in time, we would have behaved differently.  We would have walked our bikes through the streets of Lucca and taken turns sitting with the bikes while visiting local churches.  We would have unloaded our luggage first in Rome and then gone to Saint Peter's Square to celebrate our arrival after 1,200 miles.  But, we cannot go back in time.  We can only learn from those lessons and do things differently if we ever do something like this again.

            The author of the Second Letter of Saint Peter knows that we cannot go back in time.  Instead, he provides a reason for the Lord delaying his second coming.  By delaying his second coming, the Lord is providing us valuable time to look back on ways we have not been vigilant and to use the time remaining as a gift to change our ways.  To use the image of the Prophet Isaiah, the Season of Advent gives us time to make straight the way of the Lord, so that he can come directly into our lives.  We can remove the mountains that have become obstacles and fill in the valleys which have become pitfalls for the Lord to come to us in an intimate way.

            John the Baptist provides ways of using the time in this Season of Advent.  John's father was a priest in the Temple of Jerusalem.  He helped people to prepare the paschal lambs for sacrifice to ask God for reconciliation.  That is not where John speaks in today's Gospel.  John has gone to the wilderness, to the quiet of the desert. where his ancestors had found God in their Exodus from Egypt.  From that barren place, he points to the coming of God's only begotten Son, who will become the real Lamb of God sacrificed, not in a sacred Temple, but on a hill where criminals were executed outside the city walls.  That sacrifice will become the perfect sacrifice which reconciles us with the Father.  As recipients of that sacrifice, we are formed into a living Temple guided by the gift of the Holy Spirit given to us when we were baptized.

            John the Baptist eats locusts which speak of God's judgment and honey which speaks of God's mercy.  John invites us to take some time from the craziness of our culture's holiday season to use Advent as a time to look back on ways in which we have not been vigilant and aware of the Lord's presence and change those patterns of behavior in the time given to us by the Lord.  One very real way of using this gift of time is to make a good confession.  Come to the Advent Penance Service a week from Tuesday.  There will be 17 priests.  Together, we hear the Word of God which can open our eyes to God's judgment on our failures.  Individually, we encounter the Lord's mercy in the Sacrament.  As we wait for others to do the same, we sit in the quiet to be with the Lord.  Through the Sacrament of Reconciliation, the fire of the Lord's love burns away our sins.  In experiencing the fire of that love, we can face the fire of the Lord's Second Coming with vigilance and without fear.

FIRST SUNDAY OF ADVENT

30 NOVEMBER 2014

            The prophet Isaiah gives voice to the frustrations of his people.  Living some 600 years before Christ, They had seen the Babylonians destroy Jerusalem, demolish their sacred temple, and murder their king.  Worse, they had been in exile in Babylon for almost fifty years.  They had come to realize that the prophet Jeremiah had been correct in telling them to turn back to their Covenant with God and had seen their exile as God's punishment for not listening.  Now, completely dispirited, they beg God to rend the heavens and come down and save them.

            As we begin this new Liturgical Year, we enter into the Season of Advent to consider how God saves us.  God answered the prayers of the exiles in Babylon by rending the heavens with a pagan King, Cyrus of Persia, who issued a decree allowing the refugees to return home.  In a few weeks, we will celebrate the Christmas, when the Father sent his only begotten Son to rend the heavens and come down to save us as a tiny child born into poverty.  This Season of Advent has the potential to teach us valuable lessons about how we can prepare for the ways that God rends the heavens to come down to save us.

            The first lesson is countercultural.  We live in a culture of  immediate results.  In our world of instant communication, we can be in touch with everyone at the tap of the "send" button.  That means that we can send angry and hurtful emotions without looking into the face of the one who receives our messages.  One of my nieces assumed that we are all against her when she got married last summer and "unfriended" all of us, even those of us who do not have a clue about using Facebook.  Our culture has been observing the "Holiday Season" since the first of November, and the voice of consumerism promises instant gratification to those who shop.

            In contrast, Advent invites us to wait.  Advent tells us that there is value in backing off from the glare of lights and holiday gatherings to spend time in prayer and contemplation.  In prayer and contemplation, we can hear the ways in which we have not listened to the authentic prophets of our day and have strayed from the Lord's Covenant of love.  The more contemplative style of our Advent liturgies sets the tone for the season.  Take one of the resources at the doors of  church to help in daily prayer and contemplation at home.  Come to the devotional prayers on Tuesday nights during Advent, including the communal Penance Service on the last Tuesday before Christmas.  We will offer many opportunities for the Sacrament of Reconciliation, allowing us to look at the ways in which we have ignored the Lord's presence and to begin again.

            The second lesson comes from today's Gospel.  As we prepare to celebrate the way the Lord has rent the heavens and come down to save us a child, we are aware that he will rend the heavens at the end of time to bring to completion his work of salvation.  None of us knows when the Lord will rend the heavens to come to us at the moment of our death or at the end of the world.  For that reason, we are to be watchful and alert.  Prayer and contemplation can help us understand that being watchful and alert does not mean that we cower in fear, worrying that we will be caught doing something wrong.  It means that we are actively engaged in living our Baptismal promises, being awake to the ways in which we connect with other people to make our world a more welcoming place for the coming of the Lord.

            Finally, when we combine prayer and contemplation with watching and being alert, we will be much more conscious of the ways that the Lord rends the heavens and comes to us now.  To use Isaiah's image, we are the clay, and the Lord is the potter who is forming us.  The Lord does that in the sacramental life of the Church.  With our eyes, ears, hearts, and minds opened by these real encounters, we become more aware of the ways in which he is forming us now.

OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST, KING OF THE UNIVERSE

23 NOVEMBER 2014

          When we began November with the Solemnity of All Saints, we heard the Sermon on the Mount from Saint Matthew's Gospel.  Jesus spoke to his disciples and told us eight ways in which we can be blessed, or happy.  True happiness, he says, lies in becoming detached.  We can be poor in spirit, when we are detached from material things.  We can mourn, when we are not addicted to “feeling good” all the time.  We can be meek, when we are not self centered.  We can thirst for righteousness, when we are detached from sin.  We can be merciful, when we are detached from revenge.  We can be clean of heart, when we are detached from evil thoughts.  We can be peacemakers, when we are free from hatred.  We can endure insult and persecution, when we don’t care what other people think.  With the saints as our models, these are the standards for us as we continue our mission to live and proclaim the Kingdom of God.

            Today, we hear another familiar passage from the Gospel of Matthew.  On this last day of the Liturgical Year, it is addressed to all the nations gathered at the end of time.  Even though Jesus avoids using the title of “king” for himself in his earthly ministry, he clearly is the King seated on his glorious throne.  He is the loving shepherd who knows each of us by name, and he will bring justice to his sheep at the end of time.  He addresses this parable to those whom he has sent out on mission to proclaim the presence of the Kingdom of God.  He knows that it is a difficult mission.  In living detachment, they will have to depend on the kindness of others.  That is why those who provide them with food, water, shelter, clothing, care in sickness, and concern when they are thrown into prison will be judged as sheep.  Those who treat them with kindness are caring for Christ, even if they do not recognize him.

            He also addresses this parable to us, entrusted with the task of living and proclaiming God's Kingdom.  As we live the beatitudes, our efforts to become more detached will lead us to treat those who come to us in need with greater respect.  The six acts of mercy mentioned in the parable form the basis for our seven corporal works of mercy (with burying the dead being the seventh).  These corporal works of mercy are very specific ways in which we continue to live the detachment of the Beatitudes.  Most importantly, Jesus reminds us of the reason why we should treat others in this fashion.  In treating them with respect, we are recognizing Christ in them.

            It is never comfortable to think about the end.  We have been praying in a special way during November for those who have already died.  In doing so, we remember that the end will come for each of us also, not only at the end of the world, but at the end of our lives.  That is why Saint Paul’s words in the second reading can be so comforting.  Christ has already died and been raised from the dead.  Using a metaphor from the ancient Temple Sacrifice, he is the first fruits.  He is already leading us on the way to the Father.  He tells us to focus on the present and the ways in which sharing in Christ's dying is already a sharing in his resurrection.

            So, instead of fretting and worrying about what will happen at the end, the best way to prepare is to practice the corporal works of mercy now.  Practicing those corporal works of mercy keeps us out of the goat department and squarely into the flock of Jesus Christ.  It takes a lot of faith to recognize Christ in those who come to us in need.  Our Saint Vincent de Paul Society does that all the time.  We have to look beyond appearances and not make judgments.  We look into their eyes to see the face of Jesus Christ through our eyes of faith.  In serving them, we serve Christ.  In serving Christ, we serve the Shepherd and King who will not forget our works, who knows that we are sheep, and who will put us on his right hand as long as we act as members of his flock now.

FEAST OF THE DEDICATION OF THE LATERAN BASILICA

9 NOVEMBER 2014

          In his letter to the Corinthians, Saint Paul is not talking about physical buildings.  He reminds us that we are a living Temple, formed of living stones, and that God dwells in our midst.  Nor does Jesus talk about a physical temple in the Gospel.  Standing in the magnificent Temple undergoing a fifty-year renovation, Jesus is referring to his own body.  As he drives the money changers and animals out of the Temple, he will become the ultimate sacrifice acceptable to the Father, not within the sacred Temple, but outside the city walls in a hill of execution.

            As living stones of the Temple of God, we gather today to celebrate the dedication of the Basilica of Saint John Lateran in Rome.  It is a truly magnificent church.  The Emperor Constantine built the original church on land that had belonged to the Laterani family.  Pope Sylvester I consecrated it on this day in 324.  Since then, the physical church has been destroyed by earthquakes, fires, and invasions of Vandals.  It has been rebuilt and renovated many times.  Even though Popes have lived at the Vatican since the 14^th century, the Basilica of Saint John Lateran has remained the Cathedral Church of the Pope as Bishop of Rome.  It has remained a powerful sign of the living stones of God's Temple in union with the Bishop of Rome.

            Our physical church has something in common with the Baptismal font of Saint John.  Around the top of the octagonal baptismal font at the Lateran Basilica is inscribed a meditation about Baptism written in Latin by Pope Saint Leo the Great in the 5^th century.  Those same words are inscribed around the base of our Baptismal font.  Through Baptism, we are formed into a living Temple.  Through Baptism, we share communion each other, and ultimately with the Pope, who serves as bond of unity for Catholic Churches throughout the world.

            As you may have heard, we are planning to build a new church for our parish!  In our Capital Campaign, we have emphasized the need for more space.  Our physical structures are too small for the size of our growing congregation.  Just as renovations and adjustments had to be made on the Lateran Basilica over the centuries, we are adjusting to changing needs here.

            As much as these physical limitations are true, we have not spoken enough of building a beautiful structure.  This feast gives us a chance to reflect on the importance of a physical church. We, the living stones who worship in spirit and in truth, need a beautiful sacred space in which we can praise God.  That is why we have been careful with our present sacred church.  It will be repurposed to provide a new Baptismal Font, with the meditation of Pope Saint Leo the Great inscribed on.  It will also provide a sacred place for gathering as a community before and after Mass, for meetings, funeral dinners, and the work of building our spiritual temple.

            We are also being very careful with the design of the new church.  The new church is Romanesque, which preserves the beauty of a church like Saint Monica.  Yet, it will also be built in a cruciform shape, which will allow the living stones to be gathered around the Altar.  We have been very careful in planning the iconography and the images which will remind us that we are living stones being formed into a great Temple built upon the Sacrifice of Jesus Christ.

            All beautiful church buildings require sacrifice.  As Jesus made the ultimate sacrifice to become the foundation of our living Temple, many parishioners have responded by making sacrificial gifts to build a beautiful and sacred church.  We have already raised $11.2 million in pledges, and we continue to work toward our goal of $15 million.  But, we are not done yet, and we continue to seek help as we go to the Diocesan Finance Council to receive permission to move ahead.

            We are not building grand a basilica to attract the attention of the universal Church, as the Lateran Basilica does.  We are building a beautiful church that will serve the living stones of the Temple of Saint Pius X for many years.  It is a daunting task, just as the maintenance and rebuilding of the Lateran Basilica has been a daunting task, just as the building of our present church had been a daunting task.  But many have sacrificed to give us these gifts.  Now it is our turn to continue the work of building a proper physical church for the living stones who will worship God in it.

ALL SOUL'S DAY

2 NOVEMBER 2014

          As we gather with the living members at Saint Pius today, the first two days of November remind us that the communion of the Body of Christ goes beyond what we experience with our senses.  Yesterday, the Solemnity of All Saints reminded us that countless men and women surround the throne of God and intercede for us.  Today, the Feast of All Souls reminds us of another dimension of that community:  the reality of those who have died and who are being purified by the fire of God's love to be united completely with God and the saints.  Because we have no idea of God's judgment, we pray for them.

            As we reflect on this communion which goes beyond our senses, an example from history might help.  On April 14, 1912, the radio operator on the ocean liner Californian in the North Atlantic turned off his set and went to bed.  That was standard practice in those days.  Mariners had navigated the seas for centuries without radio communication, and there seemed to be no need to keep this relatively new form of communication on 24/7.

            However, that was the night when the Titanic sank, and over 1,500 passengers and crew perished.  The doomed liner was only a few miles away from the Californian, and lookouts on the Titanic had spotted it.  Even thought the radio operator on the Titanic desperately tried to contact the Californian, no one on board that ship was listening.  No one could respond to save what likely would have been hundreds of people.

            In a similar way, praying for our beloved dead keeps alive our communion with those who have gone before us.  Saint Paul reminds us that when we keep our baptismal commitments, when we die to ourselves, we share in Christ's resurrection.  That is the promise of the one who assures us that everyone who sees the Son and believes in him will have eternal life.  But we know that our loved ones have not always died to themselves.  We know that there were times when they took their eyes off him.  We pray for them, trusting that our prayers have an effect.

            We often misunderstand the concept of Purgatory.  Purgatory is not a place, because there is no time and place in eternity.  Purgatory describes the process by which God purifies them.  In our iconography, we place haloes around those who are saints.  They have become so completely transparent that the fire of God's love shines through them.  For those deceased who have failed to die to themselves in living their baptismal promises, the fire of God's love burns away whatever separates them from the saints.  Just as their prayers for us when they were alive have helped and supported us in ways that we do not know, so do our prayers for them.

            When we pray for the dead, we keep our communication open with them.  They are not forgotten.  That prayer is 24/7, because Christians around the world today are praying for them today.  We can also learn lessons from the Titanic.  The loss of life went beyond a radio operator who was asleep.  There should have been more lifeboats on the Titanic.  The life boats that were launched  were not filled, because the arrogance of the owners thought there was no need for drills on an unsinkable ship.  There should have been as much concern for the lives of the poor as there was for the rich.  As the ship sank, the half full life boats could have gone back to save drowning people. 

            We can learn these and similar lessons and make changes in our lives now, just as changes in the law about radio communication were changed 100 years ago.  They remind us to   keep our eyes on Christ and live our baptismal promises more faithfully.  The Saints intercede for us as we make these changes, giving the love of God a chance to purify us.  We pray for the dead who cannot make changes, as they are being purified by the love of God in eternity.