FIRST SUNDAY OF ADVENT

29 NOVEMBER 2020

 

          The Prophet Isaiah expresses the frustrations of his people in today’s first reading.  They had just returned to their homeland after fifty years of captivity in Babylon.  Instead of finding a familiar environment, they find incredible devastation and huge frustrations in rebuilding the temple and Jerusalem.  He acknowledges that they had sinned and deserved punishment.  But it seems that God has hidden his face in their darkness.  The prophet begs God to “…rend the heavens and come down, with the mountains quaking before you…”

            It is easy to identify with Isaiah’s frustration in the midst of our current darkness.  The pandemic continues to rage and disrupt our lives, and we see no foreseeable end to it.  There are bitter divisions in our nation, in our Church, and even in our families.  Civil unrest continues to threaten our peace.  Everyone is on edge.  We might wonder where God is in all of this.  Is God paying attention?  Why doesn’t God give some tangible signs of his presence in this mess?

            Many saints and mystics have asked this same question.  Even Saint Teresa of Calcutta, known for her faith and care for the poorest of God’s people, asked that question.  In her journal published after her death, she speaks of a spiritual loneliness.  She wrote of bearing a “terrible pain of loss, of God not wanting me, of God not being God, of God not really existing.”

            That is why we need this Season of Advent so badly.  Advent prepares us to celebrate the reality that God has already rent the heavens and come down.  God did not part the seas and rend the mountains as he had done in the Exodus and at Mount Sinai.  God has rent the heavens in the most intimate of ways – in a small town in Israel, through a young couple who could not find a place to give birth to their child.  God shows up, not with thunder and lightning, but in starlight.  God appears not as a warrior king, but as a child who is vulnerable and poor.

            Advent prepares us to celebrate this first coming at Christmas and renew our faith that God has not abandoned us.  But Advent also challenges us to prepare for the Lord’s second coming at the end of the world and at the end of our lives.  Because we cannot know when that second coming will occur, Jesus insists that the best way to prepare is to be watchful.  His first disciples failed to be watchful when they fell asleep during his agony in the Garden of Gethsemane.  That trial has remained with the Church ever since.

            If we remain watchful, we can peer through the darkness and gloom to see signs of his presence now.  We can listen carefully to his Words in Scripture.  We can reaffirm our faith that he is truly present in the Eucharist.  Each of us has our own work, our own ministry, which takes us beyond ourselves and our own fears to serve the needs of others.  In those sacrificial actions of love, we can recognize the reality of our true identity when we participate in the Eucharist:  Christ’s Body present in the darkness of our times.

            Perhaps the best way to be watchful is to spend more time in personal prayer.  We are invited to renew our Stewardship of Prayer during Advent as a way to heighten our need to stay awake and be watchful.  Please listen to Jess Kimmet, as she speaks of her own life of prayer and how it has affected her life, her marriage, and her children.

Witness Talk: Stewardship of Prayer

St. Pius X—Advent 2020

Jessica Kimmet

Hello, friends! My name is Jess Kimmet. I’ve been married to Mark for six years and we have two kids so far: Marty is four and Lucas is almost two. I’m so grateful to be able to talk to you a little today about stewardship of prayer and how my own faith has grown through my imperfect but ongoing attempts to pray.

Since becoming a parishioner at St. Pius, I’ve been really struck at how the parish approaches stewardship as a holistic way of life and an identity we can grow into. Stewardship is our response of gratitude to the many gifts God is always giving us. As good stewards, we strive to give a first fruits gift back to God. When we’re talking about stewardship of prayer, that’s a gift of time, but is maybe even more a gift of attention. Our attention is so fragmented and splintered by the way our culture demands we live our lives, and any time we can focus on another person without distraction we are giving them a great gift. This is true of God, too!

Now, I’m not very good at this! I’m a task-oriented person who loves checking things off a to-do list, and simply giving my attention to someone never feels like much of an accomplishment. It’s something I’m working on being more patient with in all my relationships, and especially in my relationship with God, who does not normally demand my attention in the loud and insistent ways my children might, but rather gently invites it and patiently waits for me to respond.

And even though I don’t feel like I’m good at it, I do keep trying to respond, and my response looks really different as I move through the different seasons of my life. Before I had kids, I loved to pray with the Liturgy of the Hours, setting aside specific times and getting out my fancy book with the ribbons and flipping back and forth through the complexities of praying the Psalms with the Church. After having kids, I rarely find myself with enough free hands to handle all those ribbons, so I’ve found myself returning a lot more to memorized prayer, praying the rosary a lot more, sometimes counting my Hail Marys on the toes of the baby I’m nursing. The pandemic threw another wrench into my prayer life as it derailed all of our routines; but I’ve been finding a lot of joy in intercessory prayer, praying for the specific needs of others as a way of staying connected during this time of social distancing.

In my mind, a “successful” prayer life looks like having a regular time and place for prayer, but this season of having little kids means that the needs in my house are frequently changing, so my best times for prayer are constantly shuffling. I used to see this as a failure, but I’ve come to see it as an opportunity. It calls for flexibility and creativity and a little bit of stubbornness on my part, and God is always there waiting when I sort it back out again. Through all these changes, I’ve been really grateful for a class on prayer that I got to take my junior year of high school. It gave me the opportunity to explore a lot of different types of prayer, so I have this toolbox to pull from when things need to change. The monthly prayer challenges St. Pius is providing during this parish Year of Prayer are another great opportunity

Another big challenge for my prayer life was when I had postpartum depression last year. I couldn’t find the energy to do much more than go through the motions of anything; but I want to put in a plug here for going through the motions. I don’t feel super in love with my husband every day, but I still act like I’m married. It’s in the choice to act lovingly that love transcends the fickleness of our human emotions and becomes a virtue, something we can practice and get better at. Prayer isn’t always emotionally gratifying; it doesn’t always make me feel good. God doesn’t always show up in the ways I would have chosen, with the highs of a retreat or the consolations I was looking for. But I keep showing up, even if imperfectly or irregularly or distractedly. And the gift is that God shows up, too, always, and turning my attention to God with whatever regularity I can muster helps me learn to see God in places I didn’t expect.

 

OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST, KING OF THE UNIVERSE

22 NOVEMBER 2020

 

          In the ancient world, rulers and kings were expected to tend the people of their kingdoms with the same care and concern given by human shepherds to the sheep of their flocks.  The prophet Ezekiel speaks some 600 years before the birth of Christ to his people who had suffered from bad leadership.  Because their shepherds were more concerned for their own comfort than for the welfare of the people they were supposed to serve, the people of Israel had been scattered by the Babylonians when they destroyed Jerusalem and the temple.  Ezekiel promises that God himself will seek out the lost, bring back the strays, bind up the injured, and heal the sick.  Those who had abandoned them (the sleek and the strong) would experience God’s justice.

            Throughout the course of this Liturgical Year, we have been hearing from the Gospel of Matthew.  Sunday after Sunday, we have heard about the ways in which this prophecy has been fulfilled in Jesus Christ.  Jesus has been seeking the lost.  He has been bringing back those who have strayed, even the religious leaders resisting his call to repent.  He has healed the wounds of those who have been injured by neglect.  He has healed the sick over and over again.

            Today, we hear the final words spoken by the Good Shepherd before he is betrayed and crucified, laying down his life out of love for his sheep.  In this final parable, he talks about final endings.  Unlike sheep, we have the choice to respond to his love or ignore it.  He is honest in telling us that there are consequences when we choose to ignore his love.  He invites us to carry plenty of oil with us (good works) like the five wise virgins in the parable two weeks ago.  He insists that we invest our talents wisely like the first two servants in last Sunday’s Gospel.  Today, he warns us that we need to be among the sheep at the end, avoiding the fate of the goats.

            Today’s parable speaks about how these endings are surprising.  The first surprise is that all of those judged by Christ are surprised in the Last Judgment.  Both the sheep and the goats are surprised by the criteria by which they are judged.  Both the sheep and the goats ask the same question:  “When did we see you naked, or in prison, or poor?’  The sheep are saved because they responded to these needs, even when they did not recognize Christ in those they served.  The goats are damned because they failed to respond to these needs.

            The second surprise is that small and concrete acts of kindness are used for the criteria of judgment.  We expect great rewards for those who do great deeds, and severe punishment for those who commit horrendous acts of cruelty.  But the sheep are rewarded their compassionate responses in small ways to the hungry or thirsty or naked or strangers.  The goats are condemned for the hardness of their hearts in the face of small requests in the name of human dignity.

            The third surprise is that the endings sound so negative to our ears.  In each of the three parables, the faithful are rewarded first.  The five wise virgins are welcomed to the wedding banquet.  The first two stewards are praised for the ways they invested their talents.  The sheep are welcomed into the kingdom prepared for them from the foundation of the world.  But the five foolish virgins are locked out of the wedding feast.  The third servant is thrown out into the darkness.  The goats go off to eternal punishment.

            We hear these parables at the end of this Liturgical Year. Jesus tells them not to cause us to be obsessed with the inevitability of the end or to live in fear for the rest of our lives.  We hear them so that we will not be surprised when the Lord comes, either at the end of time or at the end of our lives.  The Good Shepherd knows each of us by name.  The Good Shepherd loves us and has laid down his life for us.  He wants us to respond and share in his eternal kingdom.  He does not want us to be surprised.

 

THIRTY-THIRD SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME

15 NOVEMBER 2020

 

          The earliest prophets of the Old Testament used the term “the day of the Lord” to give hope to the people of Israel that God would bring victory to them over their enemies.  However, as time went on, later prophets used that same term to warn people of the result of their infidelity to the Covenant.  These later warnings were realized when the Babylonians invaded to destroy Jerusalem and its sacred temple on “the day of the Lord.” 

            Saint Paul uses that same term when he writes to the Thessalonians.  He responds to their question about the timing of the Second Coming of Jesus Christ.  Calling that event “the day of the Lord,” he reminds them that no one knows when the Lord will come again.  Instead of predicting when it will occur, he tells them to remember the light of Christ that they received at their baptism and to stay alert and be sober.  While their pagan neighbors remain in darkness, concerned only about avoiding the wrath of their Roman rulers, they should live their baptismal promises. In living those baptismal promises, their sacrificial love will reveal the presence of the risen Christ in the lives of their families.

            Saint Paul addresses this same message to us today.  He reminds us that we cannot know the timing of “the day of the Lord,” either in the Lord’s Second Coming, or when we will die.  Like the Thessalonians, we too are children of light, challenged to allow the light of Christ to shine through us when we live our baptismal promises.  Jesus has given each of us generous amounts of talents, as the man in the parable gave to his servants.  The Lord has given each of us natural abilities and talents.  He has entrusted to us financial resources in the comfort of the First World.  He has provided spiritual gifts.  Throughout the course of this Liturgical Year, he has entrusted us with knowledge of the workings of the Kingdom of Heaven in our midst.

            We are tempted to be like the third servant who does not think that his one talent matters.  Instead of taking a risk and responding with love to the talent he has been given out of love, he buries his talent and cowers in fear.  Talents are meant to be shared, not buried or hoarded.  That is what happened at the beginning of this pandemic.  When we entered the lockdown, people became afraid of lacking valuable commodities.  The shortage of toilet paper is an example.  Experts called it “zero risk bias.”  Instead of sharing toilet paper, too many hoarded it out of fear.  We cannot remain hidden and living in fear and darkness.  We must invest our talents.

            Every year, we sponsor a retreat for our eighth graders, as they prepare to receive the gifts of the Holy Spirit when they are confirmed.  They could not be gathered in one place this year.  So, they have participated virtually.  At two Masses this weekend, they are being enrolled as Candidates for the Sacrament of Confirmation.  As we support them and pray for them, they encourage us to put the gifts we received to use our natural abilities and talents to build up our human families and our parish family.  They encourage us to set aside a portion of our financial resources to assist the most vulnerable, especially those affected by this pandemic.  As they have learned about the Holy Spirit in class, they show us the need to participate in adult education offerings to deepen our understanding of the faith.  As they have listened to the Gospel of Saint Matthew this year, we can reinforce our faith that the Kingdom of Heaven is in our midst, keeping the Holy Spirit’s gift of hope alive in this darkness.

            The Book of Proverbs praises the industrious wife who puts her obvious skills at the service of her family and her community.  We can do the same, trusting that the risks we take in investing our many talents will bring light to a darkened world and keep us alert for “the day of the Lord,” whenever that day arrives.

 

THIRTY-SECOND SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME

8 NOVEMBER 2020

 

          Saint Paul’s Letter to the Thessalonians is the earliest writing in the New Testament.  The members of that Church expected that Jesus Christ would come again in their lifetimes.  That is why Saint Paul responds to their concern in today’s second reading.  Those who were mourning the death of loved ones were concerned that they had died before Christ had come again.  What will happen to them?  Saint Paul tells them that they should grieve the loss of their loved ones.  But they should grieve in hope, because Christ has already won the victory over death. 

            By the time Saint Matthew had written his Gospel, it was clear that the second coming of the Lord would be delayed.  Jesus uses the setting of a Mediterranean wedding feast to warn the Church about the danger of being complacent about his coming.  In the ancient world, marriages were arranged by parents.  When it came time for the actual wedding, the wedding party would process from the bride’s family to the groom’s family, where the new couple would live.  In the parable, Jesus does not give the reason for the bridegroom’s delay.  Instead, he contrasts the wisdom of the five virgins who had brought extra oil for their lamps with the foolishness of the five virgins who did not.  By the time the foolish virgins ran to the convenience store to buy more oil, it was too late.  The door to the wedding feast had been closed.

            This parable is addressed to the Church today, because our Bridegroom, Jesus Christ, has delayed his coming for two millennia.  In addition, our secular culture avoids paying attention to the reality of our own deaths, when the Lord will come for us.  For those reasons, we must make sure that we have plenty of oil.  The oil represents our deeds of righteousness.  In performing good works, we do not earn our salvation.  The Lord has already won that salvation for us.  Instead, our good works are a response to his presence and action in our lives.  When we perform those good works (giving humble service, respecting the dignity of each human person, attending the needs of the poor, putting the needs of others before our own), we allow the light of Christ to shine through us into a world filled with darkness.  The Lord’s message is clear.  We need to be prepared for the end by doing good works now.  We cannot be caught without oil in our lamps when Jesus returns.  But we do not prepare ourselves by cowering in fear.  We do so by expressing our deep relationship with Jesus Christ by our deeds of righteousness.

            Every year, our Diocesan Office of the Propagation of the Faith assigns every parish a mission preacher.  Last year, Father Larry Kanyike was our mission preacher, and we responded generously to assist him with his deeds of righteousness in his parish in Uganda.  This year, we have been assigned the Holy Cross Mission Center.  Because of the pandemic, they have asked me to make their case for them.  Please read the information in the bulletin and online.

            I have had personal experiences with the work of the Holy Cross Congregation in Africa.  Over thirty years ago, I visited their new center in Jinja, Uganda.  They had already opened a school for the children in the area, and they were establishing a seminary to attract African vocations.  They lived in a very humble dwelling, and I slept in a tool shed.  We also met refugees from the Holy Cross mission in Rwanda.  They had escaped with their lives.  They may have shared the waters of baptism.  But they had been born into the wrong tribe, threatened with genocide.  At the end of the trip, we stayed at the Holy Cross parish in Dandora, a very poor suburb of Nairobi, Kenya.  They were building a church, and they lived among the poor.  I can testify to the deeds of righteousness, the good works, of the Holy Cross Missions in Africa and trust that they are doing good work in Mexico, South America, and Bangladesh.  On behalf of the Holy Cross Mission Center, thank you for your support.

 

ALL SAINTS

1 NOVEMBER 2020

 

          Those who read the Book of Revelation often think of it as future oriented.  In a sense, that is true.  The Book of Revelation points to the Last Judgment and the realization of the new and eternal Jerusalem in the new heavens and the new earth.  But too many readers have tried to interpret the Book of Revelation to predict when those end times will occur.  They read the symbolic numbers and apocalyptic images to fit their personal reading of this incredibly complex Book.  They forget that the Book of Revelation was written at a time of great persecution to give hope to faithful disciples.  They forget that Jesus himself says in the Gospels that no one, not even the Son of God, knows those times. 

            In today’s reading from the Book of Revelation, the author shares a vision of a present reality.  His vision reveals the essence of heaven:  the throne of God surrounded by countless men and women who had been marked with the seal of the Lamb.  144,000 is a symbolic number of the remnant of the twelve tribes of Israel who acknowledge the Lamb who was slain.  Then the author has another vision of a great multitude, which no one can count.  Wearing white robes and carrying palm branches, they have shared the victory won by the Lamb who was slain.  The saints already share the blessedness of the Beatitudes in today’s Gospel. 

            In the heavenly kingdom, they are truly poor in spirit, because they are completely detached from material things.  They had not been afraid to mourn, because they had been freed from an addiction to “feeling good.”  They are meek, because they are not self-centered.  They no longer need to hunger and thirst for righteousness, because they are completely detached from sin.  They know the mercy of God, detached from revenge.  They are the clean of heart, detached from evil thoughts.  They are truly peacemakers, because they are free from hatred.  Many had been persecuted for their faith on earth.  But they do not care what other people think.

            We celebrate this present reality on this Solemnity of All Saints.  We not only honor those who have been officially canonized by the Church.  We honor all those who are now in the eternal presence of God, many of whom have touched our lives personally.  They challenge us to see the Beatitudes not as ideals that are impossible to grasp, but as practical guides to enable us to live holy lives.  In art, these saints have their heads surrounded by haloes.  Those haloes reflect the fact that they have achieved ultimate holiness, ultimate blessedness.  In picturing the essence of heaven, of being in the absolute presence of God, artists depict God in terms of a bright fire burning to dispel the darkness of death and sin.  That is why the Book of Revelation says that there is no sun in the new and eternal Jerusalem.  The fire of God’s love shines through the saints in heaven, because they are completely and totally transparent.  Nothing separates them from God or from each other in the Communion of Saints.

            The saints not only challenge us.  They also intercede for us.  They pray for us, that we see the Beatitudes not as ideals impossible to grasp, but as invitations to detach ourselves from those things that keep us from being transparent, of being truly holy.  Like them, we can continue to turn more completely to the Lord Jesus, so that we too can become more transparent, more holy.  We too can learn to detach ourselves from material things, from the addiction of feeling good all the time, from being self-centered, from being detached from sin, revenge, evil thoughts, hatred, and worrying about what others think of us.  We too can hunger and thirst for righteousness.  They are pulling for us now, because they want us to join them when the Lord calls us into the fulfillment of the Kingdom of heaven.