Sometimes people are nostalgic for an era they never lived in. They might prefer the fashion, the music, or the mores of a bygone era, or they might look forward to some future period when all of their political or cultural aspiration will be realized. On one level, a critical evaluation of the glories of the past can be helpful in giving us a measuring stick for our own achievements. Nevertheless, we must be always conscious of the importance of living our lives to the full in the world in which we really exist, not obsessed with our own imaginary construction of the past or future.
The reason for this is that although there is a certain contingency to our existence at this moment in history—I did not choose to enter the world I did, but happened to do so following upon the concrete decisions of others that ordered their lives in a certain way—nevertheless my existence at this moment fits into God’s providential plan. There is no contradiction between contingent human decisions and divine providence. God freely creates the soul of each of us at the moment of conception, a moment that occurs on the basis of the union of our parents. This, incidentally, is the core of the tragedy of abortion—although this child may not be desired by his or her parents, whatever the contingent circumstances may be, he or she is created and loved by God.
On the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, we celebrate the marvelous congruence between the contingent human action and divine providence in the conception of Mary. The parents of the Virgin conceived her in the normal manner, but on this occasion God not only created her soul but did so in a way that preserved her from every stain of sin by virtue of the death of his Son, which he foresaw, preparing her to be a worthy dwelling for Jesus. Mary’s parents lived at a particular moment of history, unchosen by themselves, and decided to marry each other at a time they themselves chose. The child that was born to them, whom they decided to name Mary, was to play an integral role in the mystery of redemption: in the fullness of time, at the exactly appropriate moment, she was to bear a son, and name him Jesus.
Meditation: Reflect on the ways God’s providence has worked in your life through contingent events. Pray for your parents, and those who have played an important role in your life.
The world doesn’t work the way it should. Freak accidents ruin our plans; the greatest passions dwindle to boredom; our best friends annoy us; death snatches our loved ones and they are gone. Conflict is built into the structure of the world—we are not even at peace with ourselves. The sin of Adam has shaken the earth, and nothing is stable anymore.
Sin causes us pain because it doesn’t belong. God made the world good, free from sin and death. But when Adam and Eve rejected God’s love and chose to create their own path to happiness, they lost the special gifts of closeness to God that they had enjoyed, and the earth became a place of struggle and pain.
But sin is not the last word about us. Our hearts still long for God, and he gives us his grace that we might be lifted out of our sin and filled with the very presence of the Divine Trinity. This is our hope—that God did not make us for death, but for life eternal as his adopted sons and daughters. Jesus came to earth for this purpose, and he will come again to bring this work to completion.
God calls us to hope for a goodness that we often can’t see, that will be fulfilled only in the world to come. In Advent especially we realize that the longing for heaven can itself be a kind of pain, because we see the brokenness of the world and the brokenness of our own hearts, caused by the blows of sin, and we yearn for the wholeness of Christ.
Christ offers us this holy longing in the second beatitude: “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” Left to our own devices, we mourn selfishly, sinking into self-pity whenever something of ours—a relationship, a piece of property, even a comfortable lie—is taken away from us. By God’s grace, we long for his presence and mourn what separates us from him, hoping to be made more like him; we mourn our sins and those of the world because we long for Christ to come again and bring us the comfort of the heavenly Jerusalem.
Today’s meditation: Reflect on Jesus’ mercy. Offer God one of your selfish desires and ask him to take it away.
Advent begins with both a bang and a whisper. Now that Thanksgiving is out of the way, stores, commercials, and TV channels are roiling with the frenetic energy of Yuletide cheer, while each of us struggles to remember what it is we are actually preparing for.
But the clash between noise and stillness is nothing new. Thinking of the Messiah’s coming, Isaiah begs the Lord to come in thunder and earthquake, while St. Mark reminds us that Jesus comes so quietly that we might miss him unless we keep careful watch.
The first beatitude helps us resolve the apparent conflict: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Our world has its own values and priorities, according to which the poor are usually somewhere between despised and pitied, but never blessed. Jesus opens the door here to a new way of living: the poor in spirit are those who don’t need to create their own meaning, to wrest wealth, power, and happiness from the world by their own brute strength. The poor in spirit place their hope in God, and live in his presence wherever they happen to be, however chaotic or earth-shaking their surroundings may be.
Jesus Christ is the stillness at the heart of the world’s noise. He invites us to become poor in spirit, to be with him now, sharing a foretaste of the kingdom of heaven even on this earth.
But Christ will come again, with a splendor and a majesty that will shake loose the foundations of the world—stillness doesn’t mean immobility. We can’t make ourselves ready for that day by our own power; we can’t force ourselves to be poor in spirit. Jesus himself prepares us for his Second Coming through this beatitude, offering us a new wealth, a new kingdom, and new life: grace. May the life of grace grow in us this Advent, letting us live in God’s presence, in noise and in quiet.
Today’s meditation: Ask God to increase your desire for him.
Outside, there is a great drama of light and darkness is unfolding before us. The light is giving way to darkness.
Here in the Northern Hemisphere the days are getting very short just now. And they’re going to get even shorter. In Washington DC, where I live, it is dark by 5pm. On cloudy days it is almost dark by 4pm. My brothers both live further north, one in St. Paul the other in Seattle. It’s dark even earlier there.
An old expression (probably by Yogi Berra) goes, “It’s getting late very early out there.”
For us, who live in modern times of electricity, the drama is less obvious, little more than an annoyance as we switch on more lights.
But think of those who lived not long before us, in a time before abundant electrical lights. Perhaps it was possible to huddle near a candle or fire, but in the end, the darkness put a real stop to most things. Neither work, nor reading, nor most forms of recreation could take place. Darkness was a significant factor.
Recently, in a widespread power outage, I was struck at just how really dark it was outside at night without the streetlights and lights from homes. Frankly it was hard to venture out. Bearings were quickly lost and I stumbled over simple things like a curb or fence post. We moderns just aren’t used to this.
Once I toured Luray Caverns in the nearby Shenandoah Mountains. At the bottom of the caverns hundreds of feet down they gathered us near the center of a large cave and shut off the lights. The darkness was overwhelming. It was almost a physical feeling. I felt a wave of slight panic sweep through me and was so relieved when the lights came back on. Is this what it is like to be blind? Light is very precious.
And so, here in a “deep and dark December,” the light continues to recede. The spiritual impact of this drama of light is brought into the Church. Our hymns turn to images of light. The darker it gets, the more candles we light on the Advent wreath. In the darkest moments of December our Advent wreath is at its brightest. As Scripture says, The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it….The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. (John 1:5, 9). And old prayer says, Within our darkest night you kindle a fire that never dies away.
As the drama of light outside continues, December 21 and 22nd are the shortest, darkest days of the year. By December 23rd, the ancients noticed a slight return of the Light. Now the morning star heralds something new, something brighter.
People, look east. The time is near
Of the crowning of the year.
Make your house fair as you are able,
Trim the hearth and set the table.
People, look east and sing today:
Love, the guest, is on the way.
And then, on December 24th, in the deep center of one of the the longest nights, the liturgy of Christmas begins, Christ is born and on December 25th a new light shines. From then on, the days get longer.
Yes, a great drama of light is unfolding before us. It is Advent. It is time to recognize our need for the light and just how precious Jesus, the light of the world is. Ponder in these darkest days the beauty of the light.
Consider too the theme of light in many of the Advent songs we sing. Here are few excerpts, mostly from Old Latin Hymns:
From Veni, Veni, Emmanuel:
O come, thou Dayspring from on high,
And cheer us by thy drawing nigh:
Disperse the gloomy cloud of night
And death’s dark shadow put to flight
Rejoice, rejoice Emmanuel,
Shall come to thee O Israel.
From the German Hymn Wachet auf:
Wake, awake, for night is flying;
The watchmen on the heights are crying:
Awake, Jerusalem, at last!
Midnight hears the welcome voices
And at the thrilling cry rejoices;
Come forth, ye virgins, night is past;
The Bridegroom comes, awake;
Your lamps with gladness take;
Alleluia! And for His marriage feast prepare
For ye must go and meet Him there.
From Conditor Alme Siderum
Creator of the stars of night,
Thy people’s everlasting light
Oh Christ, thou savior of us all,
We pray thee hear us when we call
From Vox Clara ecce intonat:
Hark! a thrilling voice is sounding;
“Christ is nigh,” it seems to say,
“Cast away the works of darkness,
O ye children of the day.”
Wakened by the solemn warning
Let the earthbound soul arise;
Christ, her Sun, all ill dispelling,
Shines upon the morning skies.
From the Liturgy of St. James, 4th Century (Σιγησάτο παρα σὰρξ βροτεία):
Rank on rank the host of heaven
Spreads its vanguard on the way,
As the Light of light descendeth
From the realms of endless day,
That the powers of hell may vanish
As the darkness clears away.
From Veni Redemptor Gentium:
Thy cradle here shall glitter bright,
And darkness breathe a newer light,
Where endless faith shall shine serene,
And twilight never intervene
Enjoy this Advent and watch for the Light, it will surely come
Advent is a time of preparation. But preparation for what? The Church only exists because Christ has already come to us, so Advent might just seem like a collective form of play-acting, where we pretend that we don’t know what’s coming, like naughty children who have long since found where their parents hide the presents, but still have to act surprised on Christmas morning. And that’s what Advent would be if Jesus Christ were just another historical figure whose birth we celebrate, like George Washington or Martin Luther King.
But Jesus is not just a historical man who lived in the distant past. Jesus is the Messiah, the Chosen One of God, God-made-man. His birth, life, death, and resurrection restructured human life in the world—eternity is now always present to us in the living person of Jesus Christ, reigning in heaven.
God became man and lived on this earth in Jesus Christ; in heaven he reigns now, present to us in the liturgy, the sacraments, and the life of prayer; at the end of time he will come again, glorious in his judgment of the living and the dead. Advent allows us to prepare for—to reflect on and be changed by—these three ‘comings’ of Christ: in history, in our hearts, and at the last judgment.
Throughout Advent we will be presenting a series of short meditations that focus on the transformation that God offers us in Jesus Christ. To prepare our hearts for Christ’s Second Coming, we will explore the New Law that Jesus gave us to transform us by his grace: the Beatitudes, the Law of the heavenly Jerusalem. At the same time, we will reflect on the historical coming of Christ, praying with the mysteries of Mary’s life and looking to be made like her, as she was made like Christ.
Today’s meditation: Ask God to show himself to you in a new way this Advent. Spend some time in prayer, reflecting on the three ‘comings’ of Christ.
Check back on Thursday for the next reflection of the Advent 2011: Live Anew Series.
While standing in a supermarket checkout line, I noticed a little sign warning that tobacco products would not be sold to anyone not born before today’s day in 1990. My first kneejerk thought was: “People born in 1990 are still in preschool!” But then I did some quick math in my head and realized that, no, people born in 1990 are now young adults. I was reminded quite forcefully of the old saying “Tempis fugit!” – Time flies.
Time does fly, and we need to be always mindful of the time. Not just so that we know what time it is, which is always important, or so that we’re not late, which is important too. We need to be mindful of time so we can appreciate how quickly it passes, realize how little of it we really have, and accept how short life is.
Before a Sunday Mass once, I was standing in the back of the church. I wanted to know if it was 8:00 o’clock yet so I could start the procession, but for some reason I had forgotten my watch that day. So I asked two different people walking past if they knew the time, but they didn’t have watches either. Then I turned to one of our regular ushers, and asked if he know the time. He held up his forearm, showed me his wristwatch, and said with a smile, “I’m watchful!”
I thanked him and said I would be using his words in my homily on this First Sunday of Advent, because in today’s gospel our Lord tells us very directly that we all need to be watchful. Not just in the sense of being aware of the time, of course, but being watchful for his coming, which could come at any time. We need to be alert and prepared to meet the Lord- whether it be at his second coming at the end of all time, or our meeting him and the end of our time, when we pass from this life into eternity. At both of those times we’ll be judged on how we’ve conducted our lives. We know it will happen; it’s an article of our faith. But we can’t be exactly sure when. And because time flies, the time when we meet Jesus may come more quickly than we think, or expect.
That’s why we need to be prepared; that’s why we need to be watchful.
At a deacon’s funeral I attended, an Irish priest preached the funeral homily in which he recalled a parish mission he had attended in Ireland as a boy. The priest who was leading the mission reminded the entire congregation that one day, everyone in the parish would die. When he said that, however, one woman in the pews began to giggle uncontrollably. At the end of the talk, the priest greeted everyone at the door as they left. When he met the woman who had giggled, he asked her why she had laughed when he said that everyone in the parish would die. “Well you see Father,” she explained, “I’m not from the parish!” The serious point was, however, is that one day we will indeed all die and be judged by the Lord, and for that we need to be prepared.
Preparing to meet the Lord means repenting- turning our lives around, seeking to grow closer to God, opening ourselves more to his grace, striving to follow his will more faithfully, and eliminating those attitudes, habits, and lifestyles that we know to be sinful. I’m reminded of the story of “Easy Eddie” O’Hare, who was the lawyer for Chicago mafia boss Al “Scarface” Capone. Easy Eddie was a crafty attorney whose legal skills managed to keep Capone out of jail and continue his illegal bootlegging, gambling, and prostitution operations. In gratitude for his services, Capone paid O’Hare lavishly and gave him plenty of extra perks, including a massive home that filled an entire Chicago city block.
O’Hare knew who he worked for and even took part in illegal activities himself. But he had a son for whom he wanted a better life. He was able to provide him with fine clothes and an expensive education, but he knew that he couldn’t give his son an honorable name or a good example. And so he made a decision to turn his life around. He met with federal authorities and testified against Capone. This led to Capone’s arrest. It also led to O’Hare’s assassination on a Chicago street. Police removed from his pockets a rosary, a crucifix, a religious medal and a poem clipped from a magazine. The poem read: “The clock of life is wound but once, and no man has the power to tell just when the hands will stop, at late or early hour. Now is the only time you own. Live, love, toil with a will. Place no faith in time. For the clock may soon be still.” O’Hare had seemingly realized that time flies, and that he needed to turn his life around while he still had time- both for himself and for his son. And as for his son, Butch O’Hare, he grew up win the Congressional Medal ofHonor as a Navy pilot. Chicago’s O’Hare Airport is named after him today.
Now, we here this morning aren’t lawyers for the mob, at least I don’t think so. And turning our lives around will probably not place us at risk of being assassinated. But not turning our lives around will place anyone at risk of death, because death is a consequence of sin, and a life lived at odds with God leads to eternal death. This shouldn’t scare us, because God is merciful and wants us to live in hope! But should instead motivate us to conversion, not later, but now, because time, whether we want it to or not, always flies.
One of the dangers in presenting New Testament moral teaching is that the preacher or teacher risks reducing the Gospel to a moralism. In other words the moral truth that is proclaimed is reduced merely to another rule that I am supposed to keep out of my own flesh power. This is an incorrect notion since, for a Christian, the moral life is not achieved, it is received. The moral life is not an imposition, it is a gift from God.
In the Gospel chosen for the American Holiday of Thanksgiving we have the familiar story of the ten lepers who are healed by Jesus and only one returns to thank Him. This fact of the ingratitude of the other nine prompts an irritable response by Jesus who more than suggests that they should also have returned to give thanks. Now if we just read this Gospel on the surface we can come away merely with a moralism that we should do a better job about being thankful to God and others. Well, OK. But simply having another rule or being reminded of a rule that already exists isn’t really the Gospel, it’s just a rule or an ethic of polite society.
Where the Gospel, the Transformative Good News exists, is to receive from God a deeply grateful heart so that we do not merely say thank you, but we are actually and deeply moved with gratitude. We are not merely being polite or justly rendering a debt of obligation to say “thanks” we actually ARE grateful from the heart. True gratitude is a grace, or gift from God which proceeds from a humble and transformed heart. In such a case we do not render thanks merely because it is polite or expected, but because it naturally flows from a profound experience of gratitude. This is the Gospel, not a moralism, but a truth of a transformed heart.
Thus, an anointing to seek from God is a powerful transformation of our intellect and heart wherein we become deeply aware of the remarkable gift that everything we have really is. As this awareness deepens so does our gratitude and joy at the “magnificent munificence” of our God. Everything, literally everything, is a gift from God.
Permit a few thoughts on the basis for a deepening awareness of gratitude. Ultimately gratitude is a grace, but having a deeper awareness of the intellectual basis for it can help to open us more fully to this gift.
1. We are contingent beings who depend on God for our very existence. He holds together every fiber of our being: every cell, every part of a cell, every molecule, every part of a molecule, every atom, every part of an atom. God facilitates every function of our body: every beat of our heart, every organ and movement of our body. God sustains every intricate detail of this world in which we live: the perfectly designed orbit of this planet so that we do not cook or freeze, the magnetic shield around the planet that protects us from harmful aspects of solar radiation, every intricate visible and hidden process of this earth, solar system, galaxy and universe. All of this, and us, are contingent and thus sustained by God and provided for by Him. The depth, height, length and width of what God does is simply astonishing. And he does it all free of charge. As we ponder such goodness and providence we are helped to be more grateful. All is gift.
2. Every good thing you or I do is a gift from God. St. Paul says, What have you that you have not received. And if you have received, why do you glory as though you had achieved? (1 Cor 4:7). Elsewhere he writes, For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. (Eph 2:8-10). Hence even our good works are not our gift to God, they are His gift to us. And on judgment day we cannot say to God, "Look what I have done, you owe me heaven." All we can say on that day is “Thank You!” All is gift!
3. Gifts in strange packages – There are some gifts of God that do not seem like gifts. There are sudden losses, tragedies, natural disasters and the like. In such moments we can feel forsaken by God, and gratitude is the last thing on our mind. But here too, Scripture bids us to look again: And we know that all things work together for the good of those who love God and who have been called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28). We don’t always know how, but even in difficult moments God is making a way unto something good, something better. He is paving a path to glory, perhaps through the cross, but unto glory. For now we may have questions but Jesus has said to us: But I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy. On that day you will have no more questions to ask me. (Jn 16:22-23). Yes, even in our difficulties we are more than conquerors (Rm 8:37) because the Lord can write straight with crooked lines, and make a way out of no way. All is gift!
4. Yes, all is gift. Absolutely everything is gift. Even our failures, if we are in Christ and learn from them and they teach us humility. For what shall we give thanks? Everything! All is gift!
5. There is an old saying:Justice is when you get what you deserve. Mercy is when you don’t get what you deserve. grace is when you get what you don’t deserve. I like you get asked a dozen times a day, “How are you doing?” I have trained myself to often answer, “More blessed than I deserve.” Yes, All is gift.
6. Finally, the work “Thanks” in English is unfortunately abstract. But in the Latin and the Romance Languages, the word for “thanks” is far more tied to the fact of grace and gift. In Latin one says thank you as gratias ago tibi, or simply, gratias. Now gratias is translated as “thanks” But it is really the same word as “grace” and “gift” which in Latin is rendered gratia. Hence when one receives a gift they thus exclaim: “Grace!” or “Gifts!” It is the same with Spanish: Gracias and Italian: ‘Grazie. French has a slightly different approach but no less abstract when it says Thank you as Merci which is rooted in the Latin merces, meaning something that has been paid for or given freely. So all these languages vividly record the giftedness that underlies everything for which we are grateful. The English word “thanks” does not quite make the connections. About the closest we get are the words, gratitude and grateful. And again all these words (gratias, gracias, grazie, merci, gratitude) teach us that all is gift!
To be grateful is ultimately a gift to be be received from God. We ought ot humbly ask for it. We can dispose our self to it by reflecting on things like that above but ultimately gratitude comes from a humble, contrite and transformed heart. Saying thank you is not a moralism. True gratitude is a grace, a gift that comes from a heart deeply moved, astonished and aware of the fact that all is gift.
On my daily commute, I pass by Holy Redeemer Catholic Church on New York Avenue in the District. One morning, from my comfortable car as I sipped my coffee, I saw in the church doorway a rough-looking homeless man who had obviously spent the night there. And to my shame, I have to confess that my first thought was: “Thank God I don’t have to deal with that.”
Today’s gospel reminds me, as it reminds all of us, that we do have to deal with that- or with “them,” to be more precise. As we heard, Christ our King calls us to serve him by feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting prisoners, caring for the sick, and welcoming the stranger. Our tradition refers to these as the “Corporal Acts of Mercy.”
Throughout his ministry, Jesus taught that there can be no real relationship with him if we neglect the poor and ignore the needy. Unfortunately, we don’t always take our Lord’s words seriously enough. As Fr. Benedict Groeschel once wrote: “I am astonished when I see so many sincere Christians afraid or disinclined to find (Jesus) where he teaches he can be found, namely, among the poor.”
If we don’t avoid the poor and needy outright, we can sometimes avoid our responsibility to help them by “spiritualizing” our response. What I mean by this is expressed by a well-known anonymous passage. It says, “I was hungry, and you formed a humanities groups to discuss my hunger. I was imprisoned, and you crept off quietly to your chapel and prayed for my release. I was naked, and in your mind you debated the morality of my appearance. I was sick, and you knelt and thanked God for your health. I was homeless, and you spoke to me of the spiritual shelter of God’s love. I was lonely, and you left me alone to pray for me. You seem so holy, so close to God. But I am still very hungry and lonely and cold.”
We hear things like this, and we probably feel a little bit guilty. We think of all the people we aren’t helping, and we feel frustrated. The needs are so great, and we don’t even know these people. Just what does Jesus expect us to do?
Jesus invites us to begin at home. You and I learn to love one another and to meet each other’s needs from our families. The expression “Charity begins at home” has a great deal of truth to it. We’ll likely not have the compassion and generosity we need to serve the poor and the needy unless we first learn and practice those virtues in the community of our relatives and friends.
Possibly we grew up in families in which members served one another and the community. Hopefully, we have learned to be servants from them. However, it is very possible that we did not, especially since we live in such a selfish culture. The first sentence of a very popular Christian book is: “It’s not about you.” The author says this because our culture so often tells us: It is about you! Our culture breeds selfishness. And selfish people aren’t inclined to serve the needs of others.
This selfishness can be reinforced by some of the choices families make today. Because their kids are so over-scheduled with sports, clubs, and other activities, their parents feel guilty about giving them chores. The effect of this, however, is that kids don’t learn to serve the needs of the family by helping around the house. All of their activities are about their development, their advancement, and their amusement, and not about the common good. And they become selfish. So if you have children at home, I strongly encourage you to give them age-appropriate chores.
Another simple thing families can do to teach and create an atmosphere of service can be done around the dinner table. Each family member, one at a time, thanks the other family members for the ways they had served them or met their needs that day. For example: “I’m grateful to Charlie for helping me pick up my toys. I’m grateful to Mommy for helping me with my homework. I’m grateful to Dad for taking me to Cub Scouts. I’m grateful to Winnie for having been so cooperative when it was time to leave the playground.” Doing this reinforces the idea that family members should cooperate with each other, help each other, and serve one another. We did this in my family after having been introduced to it at a family retreat, and it was a real blessing to us.
I would encourage you to think today about your families and friends in light of Jesus’ words in today’s gospel. Hopefully they’re adequately fed and clothed. If they are, then those needs have been met. But there are so many other needs. Needs that maybe we don’t recognize. Needs that maybe we’ve been ignoring. For instance: Do they need to be nourished by our presence? Are they starving for our affection? Do they hunger for our forgiveness? Have we stripped them naked by our insults and negativity? Do they need to be clothed with our encouragement and affirmation? Have they become strangers to us? Do we need to welcome them back into our lives? Do they feel imprisoned by dehumanizing jobs or the overwhelming demands of family life? Do we need to visit them with our help, understanding, and compassion? And when they’re sick, how do we respond? Is it an inconvenience to us? Do we get annoyed? Or do we heal them with our attention and loving care?
These are just some of the needs of those we love. And when we learn to serve them by meeting these needs, we’ll come to find ourselves far more willing and open to serve the needs of others, as Christ has commanded us to do. Instead of saying, “Thank God I don’t have to deal with that” maybe we’ll say “Thank God I can!”
