St. Francis Xavier, Priest
Isaiah 29:17-24  +  Matthew 9:27-31
December 3, 2021

The Lord is my light and my salvation.

Advent corresponds roughly with the final weeks when the day grows shorter (at least, in the Northern Hemisphere).  There’s a great deal of imagery in the scriptures and liturgies of Advent that relates to the human struggle with darkness.  For example, the feast day of Saint Lucy—whose name comes from the Latin word for light, and whose feast is celebrated in many countries with a brilliant display of candles—falls close to the midpoint of Advent.  On the following day the Church celebrates the feast of St. John of the Cross, a Doctor of the Church whose writings explore the “dark night of the soul”.

The refrain to today’s Responsorial is:  “The Lord is my light and my salvation.”  To reflect upon the Lord God Himself as “light” is infinitely more significant than reflecting upon the earth’s annual descent into darkness, or even upon the human darkness that one experiences while undergoing spiritual purification and growth in the divine virtue of faith.

The notion of the Lord God as light transcends any other notion of light that human persons experience.  One way to appreciate this difference is to notice how Psalm 27 continues its description of the Lord.  This Lord whom the Psalmist has just described as “light” is the object of the Psalmist’s sight.  Consider how unusual that is.

In ordinary human life, light serves to illuminate physical objects.  A man would be thought odd if he stared at a light bulb, and reckless if he stared at the sun.  But in Psalm 27 the Psalmist describes the Lord as the focus of his sight:  “One thing I ask of the Lord; / this I seek: / To dwell in the house of the Lord / all the days of my life, / That I may gaze on the loveliness of the Lord / and contemplate his temple.”  One might consider these verses as the Old Testament’s clearest description of what the Church calls the “Beatific Vision”.  To be a saint in Heaven is to gaze forever at the Lord, who is pure light.

The Second Sunday of Advent [C]
Baruch 5:1-9  +  Philippians 1:4-6,8-11  +  Luke 3:1-6

“A voice of one crying out in the desert ….”

In today’s Gospel Reading we hear St. John the Baptist preparing the way for Jesus.  In other words, John is preparing others to receive Jesus for who Jesus is, which is no small task.  The beginning of the Gospel passage situates John’s ministry in a specific worldly context, explaining what sort of men were leaders of the world into which the Messiah had come.  These pagan and Jewish leaders were corrupt.  This is why Saint Luke the Evangelist mentions them:  to tell us that John—and the Lord after him—had an up-hill battle before them.

John the Baptist himself is the “hinge” or “pivot” between the Old and New Testaments.  In the texts that describe him, he appears as one who foreshadows the coming of the Messiah.  We might ask, though, why it is that John also happens to be the cousin of Jesus.  Is this familial relationship a mere historical co-incidence?

Regardless, the Gospel accounts make clear that for two persons who were related, John the Baptist and Jesus were very different persons.  They were both criticized, but for opposite reasons:  Jesus for being a drunkard, and John for being ascetical.  At times it seems that the only thing these cousins have in common is that they were unjustly persecuted.  What were John and Jesus really about, then?

Both an openness to and care for others mark the kingdom of the Messiah, its King, and its herald.  These qualities also mark the lives of those invited to His Table.  The kingdom that Jesus was sent to establish is not one which seeks to conquer other nations.  Instead, it’s one which invites children gathered from the east and west to share in God’s splendor.  Each of us as a member of Christ’s Mystical Body—the Church—shares in the missionary command given to the Church.  So then, we should consider during Advent who it is that we ought to be inviting to share in the riches of the Christian life.

It might not be who we think.  If John the Baptist were to appear on our doorstep, it’s likely that we would want nothing to do with him.  Our reluctance might be because of his appearance.  But more than likely it would be because as we hear John described in the Gospel, we notice that he tells everyone like it is.  When he speaks of sinners, he points out their sins.  When he speaks of Christ, he points and shouts, “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.”

In preparing for the birth of the Messiah, we give thanks that Jesus was born 2000 years ago in order to die for us.  His death is what we celebrate when we come before the altar to share in the Sacrifice of His life for us.  If a Christian devoutly receives that life in Holy Communion, she will have the strength to seek out others in order to serve them, whether or not she believes that they deserve her love and service.

It is not safe to think or act this way, of course.  In fact, the Christian life is not only a narrow path, but a dangerous one as well.  If our love is to increase more and more, as Saint Paul urges us in the Second Reading, we must be willing to embrace those whom we do not care for, or even—in our own minds—consider part of God’s plan.  We must do so by remembering that we ourselves were once far from the Lord, and that He has done great things for us.  There may be many persons in our lives whom we dislike, but our dislike is no reason to think that God loves them any less, or that Christ became human to save us, but not them.

God did all that He could for each of us in sending His Son to become human and die for us on the Cross.  Yet choosing to respect our free will, the Lord will not save us from evil in spite of ourselves.  He allows us to bring evil into our lives if we so wish.  Each one of us, like God, is called to share in His work of saving others.  As with God, there is only so much each of us can do for others, but there certainly is something we can do.

Thursday of the First Week of Advent
Isaiah 26:1-6  +  Matthew 7:21,24-27
December 2, 2021

“… only the one who does the will of my Father ….”

The Apostle Paul is sometimes quoted in order to create a false division between faith and good works.  St. Paul makes clear—so it’s said—that salvation in Christ is based upon faith alone.  Good works play no role—so it’s said—in reaching salvation.

Against such misappropriation of St. Paul’s words we have the explanation of Jesus in today’s Gospel Reading.  “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the Kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven.”  Should we take Jesus’ reference to someone saying, “Lord, Lord” and equate it with faith, which some say alone bears salvation?  One might argue that point, and it’s a point worth debating.

However, one cannot doubt that Jesus in today’s Gospel Reading is making a sharp contrast.  Nor can one doubt that when Jesus declares that only the one who does the will of His Father will enter the Kingdom of Heaven, Jesus is speaking about the performance of good works.  At the same time, we ought to be precise about Jesus’ words about this point:  in order to be good works, works must be done according to the will of God the Father.  Not just any old good works will do.

Finally, we ought to note something about those who say to Jesus, “Lord, Lord”.  Jesus doesn’t say here, and the Church does not teach, that salvation is reached by good works alone.  Note whom Jesus is speaking about when He declares:  “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the Kingdom of heaven.”  He is speaking about a general set of people:  all those who say to Jesus, “Lord, Lord.”  Within that set, there is a smaller sub-set.  Among those who say to Jesus, “Lord, Lord”, only those who also do the will of God the Father will enter the Kingdom of Heaven.

During this holy season of Advent, then, our good works can help us not only prepare one day to enter Heaven, but also to celebrate Christmastide fittingly.  This celebration begins with allowing the newborn Christ to bring us from Heaven a bit of His divine life.

Wednesday of the First Week of Advent
Isaiah 25:6-10  +  Matthew 15:29-37

For the hand of the Lord will rest on this mountain.

The first and last phrases of today’s First Reading are identical:  “on this mountain”.  The First Reading is taken from the twenty-fifth chapter of Isaiah, and “this mountain” that the Advent prophet describes bears a two-fold meaning.  “This mountain” refers to the earthly reign of the Messiah, and also to His heavenly Kingdom.

A mountain is a fitting place for the earthly Messiah to bestow His blessings.  After all, as we hear in Isaiah 11, the Messiah is “set up as a signal for the nations”, which the “Gentiles shall seek out”.  What better place for a signal to the nations than a mountaintop?  The higher the mountaintop, the farther away it can be seen.

The second meaning of “this mountain” is the Messiah’s kingdom in Heaven.  When a human person looks up at the night sky, he can—weather permitting—see the moon and other “heavenly bodies”.  These same objects in “the heavens” can be seen simultaneously by persons at very distant points upon the earth.  An example of this would be the Christmas narrative of the wise men travelling to Bethlehem by the light of a star.

All the more, though, is eternal Truth a lodestar for mankind.  Truth abides not in any “heavens” seen from the vantage point of earth.  Truth abides in Heaven itself, and from that eternal Heaven God the Father sent His Son—who is the Truth—to become man in order to proclaim the Truth in words and works.  The divine person of Jesus speaks and acts to redeem fallen man and to lead him to the eternal Heaven.

St. Andrew, Apostle
Romans 10:9-18  +  Matthew 4:18-22
November 30, 2021

“And how can they hear without someone to preach?”

There are many things about a man entering the seminary that are misunderstood.  One important point that many people do not understand is that a man enters the seminary in order to continue to discern the calling that the Lord has made to him.  He does not enter the seminary because he has already made a decision to be a priest.

The Lord calls out to every young man, “Come after me….”  What differs from one man to another is the phrase that follows “Come after me….”  For some, the words that follow are “Be my faithful disciple, and serve me wherever you go in the world.”  To others, Jesus says those words by which we hear him calling Simon and Andrew:  “Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men.”  The prayer that a man offers while in the seminary asks the Lord for help in clarifying just which call it is that the Lord has made to him.

“Fishers of men.”  This is a metaphor, of course:  one that speaks to Simon and Andrew, whose lives as adults had been given to the livelihood of being fishermen.  Regardless of the livelihood which they had chosen for themselves, the Lord’s words mean “Come after me.  I chose you to be the servants of my Church.”  No matter the Christian, and no matter the vocation to which the Lord calls him or her, the root of each vocation is service.

Monday of the First Week of Advent
Isaiah 4:2-6  +  Matthew 8:5-11
November 29, 2021

Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord.

Psalm 122 describes the image of “the house of the Lord”.  In this Old Testament passage, “the house of the Lord” refers not to Heaven, but to the sacred, earthly city of Jerusalem.  The passage also mentions that Jerusalem sits atop a mountain (not on the scale of the Rockies or Himalayas, but a mountain as considered by the ancient peoples of the Holy Land).  That “the house of the Lord” sits atop a mountain implies an ascent, which in turn implies personal sacrifice.  One must stretch and climb to reach His house.  We can relate this ascent both to the long course of Old Testament salvation history, and to our own religious practices during the Season of Advent.  Keep in mind that Advent is a penitential season.

Today’s Gospel passage presents the Lord’s response to such human initiative.  The pagan centurion not only shows initiative in appealing to Jesus, but also faith.  This pagan utters the cry that each of us echoes before Holy Communion:  “‘Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof; only say the word and my servant will be healed.’”  Jesus responds to him with a prophecy that fulfills Isaiah’s:  “‘… many will come from the east and the west, and will recline with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob at the banquet in the Kingdom of heaven.’”  Jesus adds further to the direction given us by Psalm 122 and Isaiah 2, by pointing our attention beyond any earthly city to the heavenly Jerusalem.

This prophecy can be fulfilled in your own life only because God the Father took the initiative of sending His Son down to be our Messiah.  Jesus offers us the fruits of His sacrifice on the Cross through the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.  Each of us, even if a member of Christ’s Body from birth, should not presume on God’s grace, but imitate the faith of the pagan centurion.  Make a two-fold prayer on this first weekday of Advent.  (1) Pray that many others will come to Jesus in Holy Mass.  (2) Pray that you will generously take the fruits of the Eucharist to many others though the sacrifices of your daily life.

Please note:  two reflections are given below, each based on the First Reading or Responsorial Psalm of the day.  The Year I readings apply to years ending in an odd number (for example, 2023), while the Year II readings apply to years ending in an even number, such as 2024.  The Gospel Reading is the same in both years.

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Saturday of the Thirty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time [Year I]
Daniel 7:15-27  +  Luke 21:34-36

“Beware that your hearts do not become drowsy ….”

Today is the liturgical equivalent of New Year’s Eve.  With the end of the Church’s liturgical year, there is a note of celebration.  We look back at this concluding year of grace and give thanks to God for the gifts of life and growth in Christ.

Nonetheless, the Church’s liturgical year is never simply about the here and how.  The end of each liturgical year is not simply about looking back at the previous 52 weeks.  Each year looks back far into history; indeed, even back to that time “in the beginning” when God chose to act as a gracious Creator.  Each year also looks forward in hope to the good things that God has promised us.  It’s this looking forward in hope that the year’s end in particular focuses upon.

At first glance, the Scriptures of the Sacred Liturgy at the end of the year may not seem very hopeful.  In fact, they may seem to focus on quite ominous matters.  The “fourth beast” in Daniel’s vision in the First Reading illustrates this focus.  Jesus in the Gospel passage seems to issue a warning about “that day”, which “will assault everyone who lives on the face of the earth”.  Jesus also implies, however, that His followers have good reason for hope.  He encourages them to hope for “the strength to escape the tribulations… and to stand before the Son of Man.”  This Son of Man is our hope and our Salvation.

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Saturday of the Thirty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time [Year II]
Revelation 22:1-7  +  Luke 21:34-36

“For that day will assault everyone who lives on the face of the earth.”

The Responsorial Psalm on this final day of the liturgical year shows us how the Church’s year is cyclical in nature.  The psalm’s refrain is a link, tying together this final day of the year to the season of Advent with which the new year begins this evening.

“Marana tha!  Come, Lord Jesus!”  We cry for the coming of the Messiah, as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be until the end of time.  In the beginning, mankind fell from his state of grace.  But God in loving solicitude for His fallen creatures promised to send a savior, and so man began his cry for the Messiah to come.

When He did come, His own people received Him not, as St. John the Evangelist proclaims in the prologue to his Gospel account.  His own people in fact put Him to death.  Yet it was for this that the Messiah had come.

He will come again at the end of time.  When He does, each member of the human family will be judged according to three points.  Do you believe that Jesus first came to destroy your sins?  Do you believe that Jesus will judge you in the end according to your choice to live for or against Him?  Do you believe at this moment that your life is His to live, and that you must cede it to Him?

Please note:  two reflections are given below, each based on the First Reading or Responsorial Psalm of the day.  The Year I readings apply to years ending in an odd number (for example, 2023), while the Year II readings apply to years ending in an even number, such as 2024.  The Gospel Reading is the same in both years.

 

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Friday of the Thirty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time [Year I]
Daniel 7:2-14  +  Luke 21:29-33

His dominion is an everlasting dominion that shall not be taken away ….

Today’s First Reading from Daniel follows naturally from last Sunday’s celebration of Christ the King.  There are few queens and kings in the world today who truly rule as monarchs, and the peoples of many nations (such as the United States) reject the very idea of having a queen or king.  Indeed, in modern Western thought, government is “by the people”, and all elected officials hold power only through consent of the governed.  While such ideas hold merit when it comes to civil government, problems arise when they are applied to the spiritual life and to the life of the Church.

In Daniel’s vision, the “son of man” “received dominion, glory and kingship; nations and peoples of every language serve him.  His dominion is an everlasting dominion”.  The word “dominion” comes from the Latin word “dominus”, meaning “lord” (either human or divine).  Older Catholics are familiar with the phrase “Dominus vobiscum” (“The Lord be with you”).  The English word “dominate” is a cognate.

Secular Western culture rejects all ideas of domination, even in the spiritual life.  There are many “brands” of religion and spirituality that reject even the notion that God should be seen as a “lord” who has “dominion”.  At the heart of many modern religions and spiritualities is the idea enshrined in a modern U. S. Supreme Court decision that each human being has a right to create her or his own view of reality, including the definition of life itself.  Whatever the origins of such ideas, they cannot be reconciled with the Bible, whose God is, at one and the same time, both a loving Father and a providential Lord.

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Friday of the Thirty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time [Year II]
Revelation 20:1-4,11—21:2  +  Luke 21:29-33

“Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.”

The last verse of today’s First Reading offers a key to understanding the entire Book of Revelation.  Mysterious as most of its imagery is, the image of “a bride adorned for her husband” is one that we readily understand.

The entire sentence where he describes this wedded couple is:  “I also saw the holy city, a new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride….”  This bride is the Church, and her husband is Christ.  This might seem odd, since it’s a city that is the bride.  But a city is a collection of persons joined together by several ties.  Here St. John is insisting that the most important tie is that of its members being wedded to the bridegroom.  St. John is describing the Church as a city, whereas St. Paul uses the metaphor of “the Body of Christ”.  As members of this heavenly Jerusalem, how can we reflect on our own participation in the Church?

We must think of this city as having a divine center, and ask whether our participation in the life of this city is oriented to this center, or whether instead we live in a little back alley of the city, focused on our own interests, apart from the needs of others and the will of the city’s “mayor”, Christ.

“The holy city” is the Church, the Bride of Christ.  But on this next-to-last day of the Church’s year, as her reflection focuses intently on the Second Coming, two facts about this city of Jerusalem especially stand out.  The first is the historical fact that the city’s savior and bridegroom was crucified outside the city.  The second is the spiritual fact that in the vision of the Beloved Disciple, this “new Jerusalem, [comes] down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride”.  This city is “prepared as a bride” as it comes “down out of heaven”.  That is to say, it’s God’s grace, and not man’s efforts, that make this bride what she is.  We need to disavow the falsehood of those who exhort:  “Let us build the city of God.”  This is the cry of Babel.  The cries of Heaven are cries of joy, that there, the last thing is the first thing, the Alpha and the Omega, the love which builds the city of God, washes away our sins, and makes us faithful citizens.

The First Sunday of Advent [C]
Jeremiah 33:14-16  +  1 Thessalonians 3:12—4:2  +  Luke 21:25-28,34-36

“… pray that you have the strength to escape the tribulations that are immanent and to stand before the Son of Man.”

You might have heard the saying, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”  In fact, history is important for many reasons.  History roots our lives in a reality deeper than the passing moment, preventing us from being like the seed in the Parable of the Sower that withers for lack of roots [see Luke 8:4-15].  Or to use a similar metaphor, history is like the long, thick roots of a huge, ancient tree, which not only provide nourishment from the ground, but also ground the tree during violent weather.

This offers one reason why, on today’s start of the Church’s new year, she beckons us to look to the past.  More specifically, the Season of Advent that begins today draws our attention to the right way and the wrong ways to prepare for a visit from God.

God’s plan for visiting His People began at the dawn of human history.  “In the beginning,” when Adam and Eve committed the Original Sin, God could in justice have abandoned His fallen creature.  In love, however, God made them a promise of redemption [see Genesis 3].  The many centuries stretching from Eve to Mary—from Adam to Christ—are one long Advent.  That historical advent consisted of both man preparing himself to receive the Messiah, and God preparing man to receive the Messiah.  We hear of this long plan, with all its fits and starts, in the First Readings at Holy Mass during Advent.

The long arc of Old Testament history, however, is not the only lens through which Advent looks at how to prepare for God’s visit.  The Gospel Readings offer perspectives that complement that of the Old Testament.  The most obvious difference between Advent’s First Readings and Gospel Readings is in the spans of time that they cover.  The Old Testament’s preparation for the Messiah’s arrival ranges over many centuries of history.  The Gospel Readings focus upon three different spans of time.

The most obvious focus of the Gospel Readings during Advent is the nine months preceding Jesus’ birth.  The Blessed Virgin Mary offers us the perfect example of how to prepare for the Messiah’s visit.  Unlike the sinful priests, prophets, and kings of the Old Testament, Mary not only accepts God at His Word:  she accepts God’s Word with such faith that that Word becomes flesh within her.  She not only follows the Word, but bears the Word.  If there’s a single quote of Mary that sums up her preparation for God’s visit, it’s:  “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord.  Let it be done unto me according to thy Word.”

A less obvious focus of the Gospel Readings during Advent is the “birth” of Jesus’ public ministry.  St. John the Baptist is the herald of the Messiah’s mission among the People of God.  John prepares them to accept not only God’s visit, but more specifically the mission that’s the reason for His visit.  If there’s a single quote of John that sums up his preparation for God’s visit, it’s:  “Behold, the Lamb of God!  Behold him who takes away the sins of the world!”

The least obvious focus of the Gospel Readings during Advent is the Second Coming of Jesus at the end of time, and its accompanying Final Judgment.  Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel Reading relate to His Second Coming, accompanied as that distant day will be by “signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars,” with earthly nations “in dismay”.

Those events might seem to have little in common with the peaceful scene in our Nativity sets.  Yet conflict and violence accompany each period of preparation for God’s visit to His People:  the long arc of the Old Testament filled with unfaithful earthly pilgrims; Mary’s pregnancy during which King Herod and his retinue lurk in the shadows; John’s heralding the Lamb of God for whose sake he will be martyred; and the preparation of every human person for the Final Judgment.  The last words of Jesus in today’s Gospel Reading apply to each of these periods of preparation:  “pray that you have the strength to escape the tribulations that are immanent and to stand before the Son of Man.”  The King of Kings drops down from Heaven to bring peace and salvation, but no one ought to overlook the costs that these gifts bear.