1. Year A / Christmas / Christmas Night 
    Readings Isaiah 9.1-6 / Psalm 95 (R/v Luke 2.11) / Titus 2.11-14 / Luke 2.1-14


    “She wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger”.

    All our Advent waiting has come to this moment. This moment when the promise of our patient and hope-filled expectation is fulfilled in the birth of a child.

    Our readings this evening try to capture and express this birth as the joy of a mystery. The mystery of God that you and I have long awaited for in faith and that we trusted our hope in throughout our Advent journey. In fact and story, in word and rhyme, and in metaphor and imagery, they describe this birth, explain its significance, articulate our rejoicing and proclaim what this day is about. “Today is born our Savior, Christ the Lord”. 

    We have heard Isaiah’s prophecies of this child’s coming as the end of darkness and burden on earth and the dawning of God’s light and peace. We have listened to Paul teaching us that this child is the grace of God appearing in our midst. And with Luke's narration, we have gazed on God’s radiance shining through this child’s nativity that occurred a long time ago amidst the dark and harsh realities of Roman history and the poverty of human life.

    Yet, all of them do not adequately explain who this child is. For the baby lying in the manger was God. 

    What language cannot appropriately express, or theology and religion fully give an account of, our faith makes up by giving us enough reason and inspiration to come here tonight. 

    We’ve come to stand before the manger and to see this child. We’ve come in gratitude for God’s gift of himself in this child.  And we can rejoice for God’s love that this child will reveal to us in our everydayness, as he once did in history. 

    Perhaps, honesty has moved some of us to also come and see this child tonight. We’ve come because we know deep within our very selves is a hunger that only God can fill. And, by coming here we trust that we will be fed with the goodness he has always filled us with and we believe that he will continue to lavish even more upon us who are wanting and in need because of our human condition.

    Also, there may be some amongst us who have come to stand before the child, not to see but to seek God’s mercy. God who always forgives, accepts and welcomes again the lost and the stray. And yes, this child’s outstretched arms then are nothing less than God inviting us into his merciful embrace.

    Whatever has moved us to come before this child tonight, it is in our gazing upon him in the manger however that you and I will experience, again, something of the great mystery of God who chose in love to become one like us so that he can be with us. 

    We will never fully comprehend the reality of this love of God that motivated his decision to come into our midst. Yet this child’s birth -- and all it means for our wellbeing and happiness, indeed, for our salvation -- must assure us that our belief is true. And so, we are also comforted with peace tonight. 

    But God becoming human must also challenge us: how is it possible that God should desire to come into our world and into our lives with all their poverty and finitude, with their pain and suffering, with their stains and soils from sin? Surely, this truth ought to tell us something of what we mean to God and what God should mean to us.

    I believe we know the answer; it is deep within each one of us. 

    Knowing it, there is only one right expression we can make this evening: it is to humble ourselves and to join the shepherds. Together with them, we must approach the manger. Like them, we come not to just see but to adore and to worship this child whose name is Jesus, born as our savior and incarnate as Emmanuel, God with us. 

    As we come with the shepherds, we must not be afraid to let go and to leave behind the fairy tale images of Christmas that Hallmark cards and the window displays at Macy’s reduce to Christmas quaint and traditional, to Happy Holidays commercial and secular.

    Let us come and kneel before this baby lying in the manger who is God. Let us place our successes and failures, our hopes and regrets, even our holy and unholy actions, before this child. Yes, let us offer all that we are to the infant Jesus whose arms are reaching out to you, to me for our embrace, for our welcome, for our self-offering to him who is our Lord.

    Then, let us profess our faith in the beauty and the goodness that is the great truth that God became man and dwelt amongst us. 

    As we do this, we will not hear the angels singing, “Glory to God in the highest, and peace to people of goodwill”, as the shepherds once did on that cold, dark night. But as the English Cardinal Basil Hume so rightly articulated what surely must be our innermost feelings tonight, you and I, we too will want “to sing those same words when the great truth of Christmas begins to dawn again” in our hearts and in our minds.

    And this is all that matters, not just tonight but always. 




    (with some insights from Basil Cardinal Hume) 

    Preached at Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta  Parish, Dorchester, Boston
    Photo from the Internet





    Posted by
    Labels: Breaking Open God's Word Christmas
    0

    Add a comment

  2. Year A / Advent / 4th week of Advent – Monday (23 Dec)
    Readings Malachi 3.1-4 /23-24 / Psalm 25 / Luke 1.57-66


    A child’s birth is always a milestone moment in the life of a family. It is the fruition of a love shared, as it also is the promise of new beginnings for the future. Equally important is the moment when the child is named. 

    As long and as difficult as a mother’s pregnancy can sometimes be, so too can the discussion and decision be about the right name for the little one. We know this from the experiences of our family and friends as they debate the appropriateness and symbolism of any newborn’s name.

    But the waiting for this name is always worth it. When the chosen name is bestowed, first uttered over the child by parents and then echoed by one and all, what is given is an identity and an embrace into the family. This name bears the hopes of the parents and family for everything good the child can grow up to become. It also announces this child’s arrival into the lives of the extended family and community; indeed the world as they know it will no longer be the same because of this newborn child. 

    Today’s gospel passage is about the naming of a newborn child; it express well these thoughts and feelings too. "John is his name", says his mother. "John is indeed his name", confirms the father. Naming their son ‘John’, which means ‘God is gracious’--as God had instructed them to do--witnesses to us who God is and what God does. 

    It reminds us of God’s gracious life-giving action in spite of Elizabeth’s barrenness. It bears the hope of God’s forgiving grace to come in John’s future ministry of preaching repentance. And in Zechariah’s action of spelling out the name ‘John’, we see the joyful fulfillment of God’s action in their lives, and the advancement of God’s plan for one to herald the Savior’s advent.

    This evening John’s birth must also herald the impending birth of another child. This child to come whom we profess is the Savior.  

    The gospel readings on Christmas night from Luke and on Christmas morning from John will speak of this child to come as "the babe in swaddling clothes", as "God’s Word made flesh", as "God’s Light in the darkness", and as "the Son of God". These readings will however not mention his name. Perhaps, like Zechariah and Elizabeth’s kinsfolk who waited to hear the name of their son, we too must wait in silence to know his name. And it is right that we also await with an expectant yearning in these final hours of Advent to hear and to speak this Savior’s name. It will do us good then not only to lift our eyes to the dawning horizon of his birth but to also strain our ears to catch his name in our prayer and in our graciousness towards each other in these last Advent moments.

    But let me suggest that there is an Other who once awaited a long time in silence to speak a name. And who even now awaits to speak this name to us who can sometimes remain deaf to hearing and receiving it.

    If we have waited long this Advent to hear and say the Savior’s name, so has God waited in silence too to speak this name to us again this Christmas morning to come. This is a name that baptizes us into our identity in faith, that anoints our life in love, that blesses our purpose in hope. 

    And this name is ‘Christian’. Christian which means 'of Christ', 'anointed' by him with the grace of God, by him who is this child we await to be ‘born’ again in the Spirit within us as Emmanuel, God-is-with-us. 

    I believe, as you believe, that God wants to speak this name again to us, and through us and our ministry, to one and all. 'Christian' is God’s rightful name for us; it marks us as his beloved and as his own. This name is God’s Word breaking into the silence of human hearts and transfiguring us more perfectly into his image and likeness. 

    The fullness of this image and likeness is only present in the name above all other names. It is manifest in the name of the one whom God gifts to us as our Savior, the Christ, and in whom we realise the fullness of ourselves as Christians. 

    And so, as we attend Christmas Eucharist tomorrow night, in whichever parish we are at, let us go with the shepherds to see, to gaze upon and to kneel before this child in adoration. And let us do this by attuning our ears to catch in our prayerful contemplation of Mary and Joseph’s grateful and joyful conversation at the manger the name of this child, Jesus.



    Preached at Faber Jesuit Community, Brighton, Boston
    Photo: www.kelloggshow.com

    Posted by
    Labels: Advent Breaking Open God's Word
    0

    Add a comment

  3. Year A / 4th Week of Advent / Sunday 
    Readings: Isaiah 7.10-14 / Psalm 24 (R/v 7c and 10b) / Romans 1.1-7 / Matthew 1.18-24


    A custom in many monastery retreat houses is table reading. 
    This happens at meal times. Its purpose is to offer some words 
    to challenge and to inspire the retreatants to better live the Christian life. 
    Often, selections are played from an audio book. 

    At the monastery retreat house in Spencer 
    where I was at earlier this week, 
    the passages chosen for table reading 
    focused on the writings of the Trappist monk, Thomas Merton. 
    He wrote about the true and false selves we each are, 
    and the need to become more the persons God created us to be. 

    As I listened to these reflections on Merton’s writings 
    by the Jesuit James Martin, 
    I found myself thinking about Joseph in today’s gospel passage from Matthew. 
    I thought a lot about how God invited Joseph to embrace his true self. 

    I’d like to suggest that in and through Joseph 
    God is challenging and inspiring you and me today 
    to become more genuinely our true selves. 

    I believe God is inviting us to do this 
    so as to better prepare ourselves to celebrate Christmas. 
    This is an appropriate message for our prayeful contemplation 
    on this 4th Sunday of Advent.

    Matthew describes Joseph’s first reaction 
    when he was confronted by Mary’s mysterious conception. 
    He decided to distance himself from this situation. 
    He chose to divorce her quietly 
    because he did not want to expose Mary to public shame. 

    It is highly possible that his actions were about doing the right thing 
    according to the expected social and moral action 
    of the Jewish community of his time. 
    As a righteous Jewish man, he must have grieved 
    over Mary’s unexplainable pregnancy
    that other Jews would have judged sinful.
    I’d like to think that Joseph struggled with his decision. 
    He struggled because he loved Mary, whom he wanted to marry. 
    Yet, he felt it was better to divorce her inexplicable conception. 

    But God intervened. 
    God revealed to Joseph that that he had a mission to fulfill. 
    This mission was God’s mission for him. 
    He was to be Mary’s huband and to be the father of this child 
    who will be called 'Jesus’ 
    and whose coming would fulfill the ancient prophecy 
    of the coming of the mysterious 'Emmanuel,’ God-who-is-with-us. 

    What God revealed to Joseph was his true self: 
    God had always meant for him to be Mary’s husband 
    and also to be Jesus’ earthly father. 

    What about you and me? 
    Don’t we also struggle to harmonize
    the selves we fashion ourselves for the world to see and approve 
    and the more authentic selves God created us to become? 

    Perhaps, we struggle between pretending to be someone we are not, 
    that family and friends expect us to be, 
    and the persons we really are, 
    who we know God loves and accepts?

    We could also be struggling 
    because society demands we fit into its stereotypes 
    of what it is to be be successful and happy;
    and we don't want these. 

    Some of us might be struggling too 
    with how the majority demands that minorities 
    -- whatever their race or language, sex or gender, 
    political ideology or religious belief may be --
    must fit into their dominant categories to be normal and to be accepted. 

    Moreover, there are still others amongst us 
    who could be struggling to reconcile themselves with 
    how God sees and loves them and our Church that can sometimes exclude them 
    because they are judged different and so sinful.

    The honest truth is that we all wear masks. 
    We wear them to be accepted, to be approved, 
    to be loved, even to be acceptable before God. 

    And yet, we all know and we desire 
    to be more like the persons God created us to be
    --each one unique, everyone beloved, all of us God’s very own.

    Isn't this our struggle, every now and then,
    to leave behind our fasle selves and to embrace our true selves?

    What can help us to become more the person God created us to be? 
    Matthew’s presentation of Joseph gives us a clue.

    Joseph hears and responds to God’s revelation. 
    He does this without without hesitation, 
    without posing any questions, and without the least delay. 
    I believe Joseph could act in these ways because he trusted in God.

    Hearing and trusting the voice of God. 
    This is how Joseph models for us the way to embrace our truer selves, 
    the selves God wants us to become.

    Hearing and trusting the voice of God. 
    I believe this is what God is asking of us 
    in our final Advent days before Christmas. 
    God is challenging us to entrust ourselves even more into his hands. 

    But why? 
    Because God desires to better prepare us--as he did with Joseph--
    to embrace our true selves 
    so that we can more wholeheartedly receive Jesus into our lives at Christmas. 

    And if we listen to God, working through our family, 
    friends and colleagues in school or at work, 
    even through strangers we meet or people who have hurt us, 
    what might God say about the true self?

    I believe God will say this:
    the true self is the one who needs God.

    This is the truth of who we are. 
    If we are honest with ourselves and God, and also with each other, 
    you and I will have to confess that we need God. 
    Whether we are struggling with our sinfulness or growing in our saintliness, 
    we all need God. 

    We need God because we would not be who we are 
    apart from our relationship with God. 
    Everything we have have and everything we are comes from God. 

    And it is through Jesus, with Jesus and in Jesus 
    that God shares everything he has abundantly with us. 
    God gives us Jesus so that we who need God 
    can experience, know and enjoy him and his saving love in our lives. 

    And when we do this, I believe God will surprise us even more:
    God will help us realize the fullness of who we were created to be. 

    As Joseph was meant to be Mary’s husband and Jesus’ father, 
    you and I are meant to be in friendship with Jesus. 
    And, through Jesus and in his Spirit, 
    God means for us to live  always in God’s life and in God’s love.

    This is indeed good news that we can trust:
    God will meet every one of our needs, 
    no matter how small or how big, in Jesus.  
    This is what we can truly hope for with joyful anticipation 
    as Christmas fast approaches us.

    So, let us be honest with ourselves and with God in the next few days, 
    and let us confess that we do need God. 
    Then, we can perhaps more honestly sing out with expectant joy, 
    “Come Lord Jesus, come, and come now!”



    Preached at Blessed Mother of Teresa of Calcutta Parish, Dorchester, Boston
    photo from michaelalexanderchaney.com

    Posted by
    Labels: Advent Breaking Open God's Word
    0

    Add a comment

  4. Year A / 3rd Week of Advent / Sunday 
    Readings: Isaiah 35.1-6a, 10 / Psalm 146  / James 5.7-10 / Matthew 11.2-11
    I remember her question well. 

     It was three years ago that a middle-aged woman asked it. 
    It was on the Thursday of the third week of Advent. 
    We had been gathering each Advent week to pray 
    and to reflect on the coming Sunday readings. 
    We were preparing for Christmas 
    by learning what the scriptures had to tell us about Jesus as Saviour.

     Our conversations often focused on the first readings from Isaiah. 
    He wrote about the coming of the Lord. 

     About the Lord establishing his house 
    among the people and bringing about reconciliation and peace. 

     About this Lord turning upside down the ways of the world 
    and ushering in the surprisingly impossible: 
    arid deserts blooming; 
    wild and ferocious animals like the wolf and the lion lying down
    and eating with the domesticated ox and cow; 
    harm and ruin giving way to trust and care. 

     About him healing the sick, freeing the enslaved 
    and turning sadness and suffering into joy and comfort.

     Isaiah’s images of the Lord coming into the world 
    encouraged many of us. 
    They uplifted others with the promise of new beginnings. 
    One or two who struggled to keep their faith were consoled 
    that God cared enough to reach out to a broken world.

     “But really?” she asked. 

     I think her question was fair and honest. 
    Haven’t you and I also asked this question, now and then? 
    Asked it when things don’t go our way or our hearts are broken by rejection, 
    when someone we love is dying 
    or when another innocent child is killed because of gun violence. 

     In such moments, don’t we utter, “Really, Lord?” 
    whether we do this in prayerful need, in frustrating anger 
    or in disappointing confusion.

     Really, where are you Lord when we are suffering and in pain? 
    Are you really bringing about justice and healing? 
    Is it really your plan that we always have shelter and food, 
    and good education for our kids? 
    Is your mercy really so boundless that you will always forgive me 
    for I struggle with my same sins of gossiping, of watching pornography, 
    of not loving my spouse enough? 
    Are you really going to save me for eternal life 
    when my love for you is so selfish 
    and my life is so messed up by lies, addiction and hatred?

     I’d like to think that “Really?” is also the question on John the Baptist’s mind. 
    It is his question behind this question he has his disciples ask Jesus, 
    “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?”

     John the Baptist, who preached repentance 
    and converted many to prepare for God’s judgment, 
    needs to know Jesus’ answer.  
    He sees and hears Jesus preaching and teaching 
    about repentance so that all can enjoy God’s salvation 
    but he cannot observe any big and unmistakable signs 
    of the world being transformed.  

     And so, the answer the imprisoned John the Baptist seeks 
    has to do with his need for a sign of hope.

     Like him, we too look for signs of hope, often in difficult and trying times. 
    And so we too ask the question, especially at Advent time, 
    “Really? Are you the one who is to come?” 
    We ask not because we doubt. 
    Rather, we ask to deepen and to strengthen our faith in Jesus 
    whom God sent into the world to be our true hope. “Really?”

     And Jesus' answer in today’s gospel reading 
    can assure us that it is right to put our hope in him. 

     John was looking for clear and certain signs that the Saviour is coming; 
    he was looking for world transforming occurrences and happenings 
    to find the Saviour’s advent.

     Jesus, on the other hand, does not speak about the Saviour’s coming. 
    Instead, he directs us to see and hear about his faithful presence 
    in the good that is the very small events in our lives, 
    often on an individual level and in the ordinariness of our everyday.

     Should we see and listen to what is happening in our lives, 
    we might hear the same assurance Jesus gave to John the Baptist: 
    “See and hear: I am with you, in your midst 
    and there is indeed a new way of living.”

     Aren’t you and I already seeing and hearing, even experiencing it? 

     When a hungry and homeless man honestly returns a huge amount of money 
    he found instead of quietly stealing it away?

     When rival politicians who have campaigned hard 
    against each other to become mayor put aside their differences 
    and work together for the common good and the common wealth of this city?

     When the president of a democracy and the leader of a communist country 
    reach out and shake hands, and so witness that they can respect each other 
    as human beings, created by the same God?

     When the Pope challenges the Church to stop politicking 
    about who should and should not receive communion 
    or who should be judged a sinner and who not,
    so that all can experience and enjoy God’s unbiased and bountiful mercy?

     Aren’t these the quiet ways Jesus has come into our lives in recent times? 
    Come not to judge. But come to bring each one of us, 
    not matter how sinful or saintly, 
    into the fullness of life and love with God and with one another. 

     Today, we celebrate Gaudete Sunday. Gaudete means “rejoice” in Latin. 
    What are we rejoicing about? 

     We are rejoicing that Jesus is really our hope! 
    And that his coming is very near. 
    Near however not in the sense of two weeks more to Christmas. 
    But near in that sense that Jesus is always close to us. 
    We are to hope for him not in big occurrences and grand events. 
    Rather, we are invited today to wait for his coming 
    with an expectant, hope-filled joy. 

     With joy because it will open our eyes and our ears even more 
    to look out for and to listen carefully to 
    his surprising and faithful coming, again and again, into our lives.

     He will come in ways our world deems inconsequential, unimportant, ordinary,
    like when God came to us as a child, gurgling, in his mother’s arms, 
    in a manger in the middle of nowhere
    --this child, God like us so as to be with us.

     Indeed, if this is how Jesus came once in time, 
    and how he keeps coming into our everyday lives, 
    and how he will faithfully come again, and soon, 
    to you and me, then our question, “Really? Are you the one?” 
    must more properly and joyfully be answered 
    with that exclamation, “Yes, Really!”

    Preached at Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta Parish, Dorchester, Boston
    photo: watching the  snow fall by ardelle /my life, january 2013 

    Posted by
    Labels: Advent Breaking Open God's Word
    0

    Add a comment

  5. Year A / 2nd Week of Advent / Sunday 
    Readings: Isaiah 11.1-10 / Psalm 72 (R/v cf 7)  / Romans 15.4-9 / Matthew 3.1-12
    Growing up, I would spend every December 
    with my family cleaning up our house for Christmas.  
    My siblings and I jokingly called it the Big Makeover 
    because when all the cleaning was done, 
    things around the house would have been rearranged. 

     The living room and dinning room would have new arrangements 
    and things in the kitchen would be stored in new places. 
    And decorating for Christmas meant finding a new place each year 
    to put up the Christmas tree and arranging anew
    the Christmas ornaments and Christmas cards for display. 

     Perhaps, you have a similar experience this year 
    of making changes and re-arranging your house for the coming Christmas.

     Changing and re-arranging. 

     It’s never easy to do this with things around us 
    and in physical settings we inhabit. 
    What more when it comes to changing and re-arranging 
    our interior, spiritual life. 

     Yet, this is exactly the call 
    John the Baptist makes in our gospel reading 
    to you and me this morning. 
    “Repent; prepare your way for the Lord’s coming; 
    make straight our paths for him who is coming!” 

     He is challenging us to examine the quality of our Christian faith and life. 

     At Advent time, John the Baptist’s call 
    can challenge us who are making Advent preparations 
    to pause  and take stock of our progress. 

     And, his call should challenge those of us 
    who might want to let Advent pass by this year not to do so.
    Instead, this can be a graced time to begin our lives anew. 
    Begin by giving our broken selves back to God 
    through Jesus who took on our broken human nature 
    to save us into new life.

     We all know John the Baptist’s call to repent is a good one. 
    We know the spiritual worth of rejecting our sinful ways 
    and enlivening our lukewarm Christian life. 
    We do this is to live in more Christ-like ways. 
    Perhaps, some of us will even admit that it is timely to repent 
    after honestly examining our lives as the year ends. 
    Indeed, who amongst us here does not want to change 
    for the better and to be in friendship with God?

     But isn’t it is always easier to listen and to say, 
    “Yes, I hear the good message of John the Baptist”? 

     What is more difficult I will admit is to act on it. 
    I know that I struggle whenever I hear the call to repentance. 
    May be, you do too. 

     It is not because we do not know our sins 
    or do not want to be forgiven. 
    On the contrary, we can and we do name our sins 
    and admit our regret and repentance for them 
    and come to the Lord asking for his forgiveness. 
    Some of us do this by coming to confession faithfully and regularly. 

     What I think we all really struggle with
    is letting God enter completely into our hearts to fashion it anew.  
    John the Baptist is challenging you and me to let go and let God do this. 

     It isn’t easy: we yearn to make of our lives 
    what God created us for: to be holy. 
    But we also find ourselves wanting those attractions and distractions 
    that keep us away from wholeheartedly loving God and one another. 

     One way you and I keep God standing at the doorway into our hearts
    is when we make such excuses as these: 
    -- Well, I keep struggling with the same sin, even after confession. 
    God knows I try.
    -- I’ve committed no mortal sins, just lots of small, venial ones. 
    Surely, God who loves me will forgive me.
    -- I’m a good Christian: I pray; I give to the poor; I observe the commandments. 
    God knows I’m not a big-time sinner.
    -- And may be even, What’s the point? God will save us all, right?

     I believe God knows our sins 
    and our holy struggles to be less sinful and more faithful. 
    And because God loves us as we are, 
    God will forgive us and God will save us. 
    God will do this because God is tender of heart for us 
    and merciful for our salvation and happiness. 

     This is how precious we are to God 
    that God comes down to be one like us and for us. 
    This is what we celebrate Jesus for at Christmas with joy, 
    as we also do with gratitude for what Jesus’ humanity promises us
    --the divine likeness we are saved for. 

     But let me insist that John the Baptist’s challenge 
    is worth our serious consideration for two reasons. 
    First, it asks us, how serious are we about being in friendship with God? 
    God who intentionally and always reaches out first to be in friendship with us. 
    Jesus is God’s pledge that he is. What is ours? 

     Second, how open are you and I to changing and re-arranging our lives 
    this Advent for Jesus? 
    Jesus is committed to re-arranging our lives for the better; 
    with him our world will turn upside down, things will be reversed 
    and God’s ways will be restored.  
    In our first reading, Isaiah paints a picture of what this will look like: 
    deserts will come alive with fragrant blossoms; 
    lambs will eat with wolves; young calves and lions will stroll together; 
    cows and bears will share friendship; 
    and babies will play unharmed with cobras. 
    Indeed, this is the beauty and goodness of God’s reign
    Jesus will usher in with his coming.  

     John the Baptist’s challenge is to help us to see this promise.
    We cannot see this, 
    nor can we begin to understand this newness of living in God’s ways, 
    unless we change and re-arrange the interior, spiritual space of our lives. 
    It is with eyes of faith, of seeing with our converted hearts, 
    and not with physical sight, that we can gaze on Jesus, 
    know the good news he proclaims 
    and share in the good work he is doing for us all.

     This Advent Sunday, you and I have come here again, 
    as we have faithfully done each Sunday past. 
    I believe this is our pledge to God that we are serious 
    about wanting to be in friendship with him. 
    We come because we want to.
    The good news is that God enables us to to want to come.

    The even better good news is that God keeps reaching out, 
    through challenges like John the Baptist’s,
    to keep inviting us back again an again into our salvation. 

     Today, he encourages us 
    to let Jesus enter into our hearts so that he can prepare us 
    to live in the goodness of his upside down world. 
    This world Jesus brings about 
    and that we experience as Christmas blessedness 
    amidst of the pains and sufferings in our world.

     As we continue decorating our homes for Christmas, 
    let us pray that we will keep ourselves open 
    to God who wants to change and re-arrange our inner, spiritual homes. 
    Then, as God does this,
    let us savour how God, drawing upon his delight with our rearranged interiors, 
    will use you and me, and all of us,
    to decorate the one space  God wishes to come and dwell in with us, 
    this space, our world, God’s house.

    Preached at Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta Parish, Dorchester, Boston
    photo: window sill by adsj, dover, massachusetts, january, 2011.

    Posted by
    Labels: Advent Breaking Open God's Word
    0

    Add a comment

  6. Solemnity of St Francis Xavier 
    Readings: Zephaniah 3.9-10, 14-20 / Psalm 86 / Mathew 26.16-20


    "Go, therefore, and make disciples of all the nations." These words aptly describe the life and mission of Francis Xavier, who obediently, fully and faithfully to the end lived this commandment of Jesus. 

    We’ve read about his totally availability when Ignatius needed a substitute for the mission to the East. We’ve heard homilies extolling his missionary zeal that converted thousands at the frontiers. And may be today, we might want to reflect on his commitment to living the magis, and consider how he inspires and humbles us, and, may be, even how he challenges us to more honestly confess that you and I might have a lot more to do to better realize our own mission to study, to teach, to live as companions, to serve as men consecrated and ordained. 

    All these gifts of Francis for mission is why the Church and our Society hold him up as the model saint for evangelization.  The image of Francis the missionary is so often presented in grand and heroic brushstrokes. Paintings of him capture this sense. Either he is standing tall among the masses, preaching to them, with his right arm outstretched with the Crucifix resolutely raised high, or he is alone, wrecked with fever on his dying bed, with his eyes turned to heaven and with China, the mission field he could not reached, in the background. Francis is portrayed as the lone missionary hero striking out fearlessly into strange worlds with little or no grasp of the language or local customs. He is imaged as one driven by a relentless desire to save souls. Indeed, Francis the saint is presented larger than life. All in all, there is much to give praise for his missionary exploits that brought glory to God and the Church. 

    Yet, if this is only what we celebrate today, we will miss out altogether on something profoundly and beautifully Jesuit. It is not just the magis, nor the mission that we should value. Rather, it is Jesuit companionship for mission. This is what we as Jesuits ought to be especially joyful for today--we who claim in our documents and in our way of life that you and I, and every Jesuit, whether liked and disliked, we are all friends in the Lord. 

    Though Francis was alone in Asia, he was supported, encouraged and affirmed by his companions for the mission. We can so easily overlook this as we can be enamored by Francis’ great missionary work and celebrate it. It is also easy to overlook this gift of companionship for mission because it is hidden, folded in sheets of correspondence between Francis in the East and Ignatius and his brothers who remained in Europe. 

    Friendship with his brothers consoled Francis. He once wrote this line to them from faraway Asia: "we are so much alike in spirit and in love...that there is no reason to love or care less for one another in the Lord." One letter from Ignatius to Francis concludes poignantly, "I shall never forget you. Entirely your own, Ignatius." 

    Indeed, in sharing their lives and faith through letters, even as they were separated so far apart, they gave to one another an important gift. This is the gift of the rich, warm, protective and nurturing cloak of companionship for mission. They wove these cloaks for one another with threads made up of lines penned in warm friendship, with stitches made up of words expressing mutual care and deep concern, with knots of encouragement to keep loving the Lord and to keep persevering in their vocation and mission. 

    And Francis, Ignatius and the brothers cut these cloaks from no other cloth but the love of God. The love of God that Jesus himself draws from to be in companionship with us and so many others, and from which you and I are always invited by Jesus to keep drawing as much cloth as we need to do the same for one another and for those we serve.  

    If we are to catch a glimpse of Jesuit companionship for mission, it must begin--and can be fostered in all its possibilities and richness--where we meaningfully encounter the living face of Jesus. There is no other place but where we live our life in common, share our faith together and do our mission collectively and responsibly, even if it is one of us doing it alone while the rest of us pray and play. I find myself thinking about what this might mean for myself and for others who have lived here in our community, Faber Jesuit, for two, or three or five years and will depart in a few months’ time: will the friendships we have made here sustain us, and you too, for our future works, wherever we may be missioned to?

    Perhaps, when you and I have long departed from Faber and are scattered across this country and around the world, and doing our varied works, separated like Francis and Ignatius, the emails we will exchange to say “hello!” or the likes we will click on each other's Facebook posts, or our skype conversations of care and concern we hopefully can have will deepen what we are celebrating today--the beauty of our companionship with Jesus and with each other. And, more so, the beauty of our companion, Jesus--whom Francis once heard, as we hear today, and who we will hear again in that future time--saying to you and me in and through our myriad Jesuit friendships, "know that I am with you always, yes to the end of time."



    Preached at The Chapel of the Holy Name, Faber Jesuit Community, Brighton, Boston
    photo: from fabric depot (internet)


    Posted by
    Labels: Breaking Open God's Word Jesuitica
    0

    Add a comment

  7. Year A / 1st Week of Advent / Sunday 
    Readings: Isaiah 2.1-5/ Psalm 122  / Romans 13.11-14 / Matthew 24.37-44


    This evening, my brother Jesuits and I 
    will decorate our house with Advent greens. 
    We will forgo the Christmas tree and lights, 
    the shiny baubles and trimmings for another two weeks. 
    We will do this to remind us of what Advent is about: 
    a time of quiet anticipation for Jesus’ coming. 

    In the same way, our Advent liturgies, prayers and songs 
    can help prepare us for Jesus’ coming. 
    They will direct our minds and hearts to his two-fold coming into our lives: 
    his second coming at the end of time that we await for 
    and his coming to birth as one like us
    that our Christmas celebrations commemorate.

    When my Jesuit companions and I are done with decorating, 
    we will gather around a simple Advent wreath. 
    In these darkest and shortest days of the year, 
    we will light the first Advent candle 
    and recall God’s endless desire to come to us in Jesus. 
    We will also call to mind our own need for God through Jesus. 

    Over the next three Sundays, 
    we will progressively light  the remaining Advent candles. 
    Doing this will remind us to make more room for Jesus 
    in our hearts and in our community. 
    We want to make room so that Jesus, our True Hope, can grow and flourish, 
    as he once did in the secret darkness of Mary's womb.

    I’d like to suggest 
    that these two images of waiting expectantly for Jesus 
    and of making room for him 
    are worth our prayerful contemplation on this first Sunday of Advent
    and in this first week of the Advent-tide.

    It is worth our attention in prayer and in action
    because Jesus says to you and me today, 
    “Stay awake! For you do not know the day nor the hour the Lord will come.” 
    His call is for us to be vigilant.

    Why should I be more attentive to Jesus’ exhortation, you might ask? 
    Isn’t this the same message I hear each Advent?
    And, am I not aware that Jesus loves me and is with me everyday?

    The monks at the Trappist monastery at Spencer in western Massachusetts
    remind us why we ought to  pay attention to Jesus’ call. They write:
    “Perhaps one good reason that Jesus so urgently exhorts us 
    to be attentive is that he comes so often in ways 
    so unassuming, so ordinary, so unremarkable, and also almost forgettable. 
    We need to keep alert or we’ll miss out.”

    Yes, we need to keep alert or we’ll miss out.
    Miss out on what? 
    On Advent as the Church’s gift of a graced time 
    for us to better know who this Jesus is,
    this Jesus who walks with you and me each day,
    this Jesus who has come once before 
    and will come once again.
    We will not miss out on Jesus when we remain alert 
    to his presence by making room for him.

    We can however miss this gift of Advent altogether
    because our Christmas preparations can distract us:
    the many shopping trips for presents; 
    the endless fussing over the perfect Christmas meal; 
    the merry-go-round of Christmas parties to attend;
    and may be, even, our dogged holiday planning 
    to get away from it all and from family and friends at this time.

    Yes, Advent can enlarge our hearts to better receive   
    the certain and good news of Jesus’ coming. 
    But this is only possible when we practice it as Advent waiting
    --this expectant anticipation for Jesus. 

    Advent waiting ought to be our right and proper disposition for this season.
    After all, this is how we naturally come before God 
    and before one another in love: 
    we stand, we open ourselves up and we wait before another with hope
    --hoping for their love that we can only await expectantly for, 
    never demanding it.

    And when this love is bestowed on us, 
    we will experience nothing less than being blessed.
    I believe those of us who have fallen in love, who have married, 
    who know the goodness of friendship with a friend and with God, 
    can say, "I am richly loved."

    To wait in this way by making room to receive 
    is to allow all things in our life to come to fruition as God intends it, 
    in God’s time and in God’s ways.

    We can see this kind of waiting in Mary.
    At the Annunciation, she makes room to receive God’s Word.
    She bears it within her, nurturing it to birth at the anointed time
    --at Christmas when her waiting climaxes in her bearing Jesus into the world. 

    If our own Advent waiting is to truly bear fruit at Christmas, 
    we must be practice waiting like Mary did--by first making room.

    Indeed, it is only in making room and waiting for what will certainly come 
    that we will fully experience the true joy of being blessed 
    by what and by whom we first earnestly hope for.

    Consider how a feast is truly festive when there has been some fasting first.
    Or, how love finally blossoms when a friendship is first respected.
    Or, how the divine and sublime can only be grasped 
    when there is first some sublimation.
    Indeed to look ahead to a celebration, to a marriage, to the holy, 
    yes, even, to Christmas, we must first learn to wait.

    What we need as we wait is wakefulness.
    The is the kind of wakefulness Paul encourages the Christian Romans to have.
    We hear this in the second reading: “awake from your sleep. 
    For the hour of our salvation is nearer now than we first believed.”

    For the monks, this kind of wakefulness is the key to proper Advent waiting.
    It is because Jesus comes toward us usually in silence and obscurity. 
    This is how they describe his coming:
    "Hidden first of all in the warm womb of a pregnant virgin mother, 
    he then lives a hidden small town life as a carpenter and wandering preacher. 
    Then in the excruciating hour of his death on the cross, 
    all his beauty and power will be hidden, smeared and obscured 
    by the blood and spittle and scorn of his passion. 
    And finally even in his joyous resurrected return to his disciples; 
    he will sneak in through locked doors to whisper, 
    'Peace” and to ask quietly for something to eat."

    Their observation must startle, if not shock, us.
    Startle and shock us 
    out of our complacency and even arrogance that we know
    what Jesus means when he says, "Stay awake."

    It must startle and shock us because 
    this Jesus wants to come and to meet us as we are,
    not as we would like to imagine ourselves standing here on Christmas Day,
    all decked out in our best finery, all laden with gifts galore,
    all ready to feast and be merry.

    Today, our readings proclaim 
    that Jesus wants to come and to be with us, 
    as we are, here and now.
    He wants to especially meet us in our own hiddenness,
    in those hidden spaces of our lives: 
    the hidden closets, the hidden skeletons we have,
    even the very spaces we are trying to hide ourselves in, away from him. 

    Now, if we dare to embrace Jesus’ call
    to make room for him as we await his coming, 
    we will be surprised.
    Truly surprised to find out that he has in fact already come into our lives,
    even as we are preparing to welcome him.

    Jesus has already come into our lives, 
    including those dark recesses of our lives.
    He has already come to be with us and to labor for us and for our salvation.
    Yes, Jesus, our real Hope, is nearer than we think.

    My sisters and brothers,
    our Advent journey is just beginning.
    It would be wise for us then to adopt the kind of looking ahead 
    that we will need for Advent.
    This way of looking is Isaiah's way of looking ahead towards God's coming
    that we read about in our first reading.

    Therefore, let us look, let us see, let us keep our gaze on him 
    who is coming to be with us---Jesus, 
    who will illuminate our darkness, 
    who will gather all peoples, 
    who will bring peace,
    because he is the Lord who always comes to us as Emmanuel, God-with-us.




    Preached at Blessed Mother of Teresa of Calcutta Parish, Dorchester, Boston
    photo: from www.rangetraveler. com


    Posted by
    Labels: Advent Breaking Open God's Word
    0

    Add a comment

  8. Thanksgiving Day
    Readings: Sirach 50:22-24 / Responsorial Psalm 138 (R/v 2bc) / 1 Corinthians 1.3-9 / 
    Luke 17.11-19

    Our Gospel Acclamation this morning encourages us to give thanks in all circumstances.

    Today, at Thanksgiving, we especially give thanks as we remember the many blessings in our lives: relationships that matter; simple, everyday things that sustain us; and extra-ordinary events that have uplifted or challenged us to become better. As Jesuits, we can also be thankful for the faith we have, the gift of vocation we share and the promise of ordained ministry our studies are preparing us for. All of this is indeed cause for much thanksgiving. And today, in a more intentional way, our focus on whom and what we are grateful for should--no, must--lift our hearts up in celebration.

    Our gratitude should lift us up like the Mary we find in the Magnificat. We should be amazed as she was at the great things the Lord has done for each one of us. These are the many marvels the Lord has labored for us and our wellbeing in small and big ways, through joys and difficulties. These should fill us with nothing less than wonder. 

    The wonder that we know with our heads but we sometimes forget to relish wholeheartedly with our hearts. The wonder that we have received so much, not because it is our right or entitlement but because all is gift. Gifts given from the One whose gracious desire is to care for us with "love beyond all telling." 

    Yes, what we celebrate today is this love of God. This love of God who is always with us, always accompanying us as we accompany one another in our common journey to the Kingdom. Yes, we give thanks by counting God’s blessings.

    But we celebrate something equally profound today. Something we often overlook as we cast our grateful gaze onto what we presently have, what we’ve been given this past year, what we have "harvested" in our individual and communal endeavors. We can become aware of what this is by reflecting on what we are celebrating here. 

    Eucharist. Thanksgiving. What this something is is our ability to give back to God what God first gave to us, more in deed than in word. To be able to offer thanks is itself God’s gift to us. Yes, this too is worth counting among our many blessings.

    We offer bread and wine, fruits of the earth and the vine, back to God. And we offer these with our certain belief that in consecrating them, they will become for us the Body and Blood of Christ. What we offer in thanksgiving then is the gift of Jesus in our lives, he whom God first gave to us for our redemption and he who shows us how to properly give thanks to God--eucharistically. This is Jesus whom we now offer back to God as our gift.

    And it is through him, with him and in him, that we can also offer our very selves. Offering ourselves, however broken or holy, back to God. Offering ourselves always with faith in God. Offering ourselves with the hope that God will make real God’s promise to transfigure us into the Body of Christ in God's tender mercy and saving love. This is the most appropriate thanksgiving we can make today. It is right and just that we do this here and now, and together.

    I’d like to suggest that it is this Christ-like capacity to give thanks to God, this Eucharistic gift-giving our baptism bestows on us, and which we grow into by practicing gratitude, that is what we can also be grateful for today. Only then can we proclaim this as the good news of God’s gift-giving to others.

    Let our wonder then at God's many gifts, in particular, the gift to be able to say, “thank you, God”, today fill us with much gratitude. And let us pray that this wonder and this gratitude will move us, like they did Mary, to always sing of the greatness of the Lord in our lives and in our world.



    Preached at the Oratory of Campion and Pro Houses, Faber Jesuit Community, Brighton, Boston.




    Posted by
    Labels: Breaking Open God's Word
    0

    Add a comment

  9. Year C / 34th  Week / Sunday--Solemnity of Christ the King, Lord of the Universe 
    Readings: Samuel 5.1-3 / Psalm 122 (R/v cf v1) / Colossians 1.12-20 / Luke 23.35-43


    Today is the last Sunday of the Church’s liturgical year. 
    It began with Advent twelve months ago. 

    Then, the Church declared this liturgical year to be the Year of Faith. 
    This was to be a time for us to deepen our faith:
    to turn our lives more and more towards Jesus 
    and so enter into a deeper relationship with him. 
    In short, this past Year of Faith was the Church’s way of inviting us 
    to a renewed conversion to Jesus in our lives.

    On this last Sunday and in this last week of this liturgical year,
    we might want to pause and take stock of how we have lived our faith 
    during these past twelve months of the Church’s calendar. 

    I believe there would have been many moments 
    when we did live our faith well.
    These were times when we were in closer friendship with Jesus. 
    And our closeness to Jesus helped us live 
    with more Christ-like care and love for our family and friends.
    Let us celebrate these.

    However, there would also have been times 
    when we didn’t live our faith in the Christ-like ways we should have.
    These were moments when we were far from God. 
    And this, in turn, did affect how we interacted with others.  
    Let us be honest about these.

    You and I know these instances of our wrongdoings: 
    when we have hurt others with our gossip;
    or when we have pained them, especially those in real need of our care, 
    by turning our backs on them; 
    or, when we have refused them our love 
    by not forgiving them, even when they have apologized for their mistakes. 

    Yes, we might find such examples, and may be, a few more, 
    of not having lived our Christian love for God and neighbor well
    when we look back on this past liturgical year.
    Recognizing them, we might probably be remorseful. 
    And when we experience this, 
    we might find ourselves drawn to the two thieves 
    hanging on their crosses beside Jesus in today’s gospel passage. 

    We might think of ourselves hanging on our own cross of shame. 
    That cross that makes you and me want to hide from Jesus: 
    to hide because we feel that we keep repeating the same sins,
    and so we embarrassingly less Christian.

    And, we might also think of ourselves hanging on our own cross of regret.
    That cross that makes us want to repent and ask Jesus for his forgiveness:
    to ask for forgiveness because
    you and I really want to turn our lives around and to be closer to Jesus and others.

    Perhaps, our honest reflection on what we have done 
    and what we have failed to do this year
    might lead us to feel a lot like the two thieves  
    --to feel like the crooks that they are.

    And yet here is Jesus still with us. 
    Jesus hanging on the cross with us, indeed for us,
    we who feel like crooks
    as we honestly see ourselves reflected back to us in the two thieves.

    This is Jesus, bloody and in pain, 
    who dies for us so that we are saved into eternal life with God.
    This is Jesus the Church says to you and me today: 
    “look and see him on this Cross before us in this Eucharist,
    and celebrate him as your Christ the King.”

    But what kind of a king is he 
    who is spat on and scourged, crowned with many thorns, and crucified to death? 
    What kind of king is he who willingly suffers 
    on an instrument of torture and death
    instead of saving himself with power and might?

    I’d like to suggest that our first reading can help us understand 
    the kind of king Jesus is, 
    and who he is as king in our lives.

    Like David who is called to a kingship of shepherding Israel,
    Jesus is King because he is first and foremost a shepherd. 
    He is the shepherd 
    who takes care of his flock, 
    who protects his sheep, 
    and who goes out to search for and save the one lost sheep, 
    at the expanse of the ninety-nine. 
    He is the shepherd 
    who guides them on the right path, 
    walking with them through valleys dark,
    and who leads them home to dwell with him 
    and to feast with him at his table.

    Yes, this is the kingship of Jesus we celebrate today.
    This is a kingship that shepherds us into right relationship with God again.

    Jesus is King who suffered with the thieves on the cross, 
    and with us in our struggle to live our faith well this past year. 
    Jesus is King who forgave the thief on his left,
    as he forgives us again and again for failing him and others, 
    Jesus is King who sacrifices his life to save us 
    so that we can be with him in paradise, as he promised the thief on his right.

    Yes, we may be crooks because of our sinful ways,
    but to Jesus we are much more.
    To him, we are meant for nothing less
    than to be embraced into eternal life with God. 

    And even here and now, we are much more to Jesus 
    who today calls us to continue to live our faith in the coming liturgical year.
    This will begin next Saturday evening when 
    the Church’s prays its first Vespers of Advent.
    I believe that  Advent is always God's graced time 
    when Jesus calls us to keep on growing in our faith
    because we are always worthy enough 
    to walk with him and to work with him 
    to bring about God’s kingdom in our lives and the lives of others

    How so, you may ask?

    Let me suggest that we can glimpse an answer 
    by understanding the word “crook” with faith-filled eyes.

    In English, the word “crook” has two meanings. 
    The first is that of a thief. 
    The second is that of the curved branch or stick
    a shepherd uses as a staff for his work.

    He uses a crook to shepherd the sheep, 
    to move them along, 
    and to herd them finally into the safe confines of the sheepfold 
    where they will find rest and nourishment.

    If you and I are crooks, 
    we are only crooks to Jesus in this second sense of the word.
    In the hands of Jesus, the shepherd of our lives,
    we are the crooks he uses to show his love for many others.

    No matter how bad, miserable or poorly,
    you and I might think that we have lived our faith this past year, 
    I believe, Jesus has used us well
    to bring light, love and life 
    into the darkness, emptiness and nothingness of another’s life.

    Really, you might ask? Yes, really. 

    Consider how Jesus has worked through your everyday concern for your family 
    to give someone that assurance she is loved unconditionally?

    Consider how Jesus has reached out through your actions of care 
    to help the less fortunate know they are not abandoned but taken care of?

    Consider how Jesus has embraced another through your smiles and encouragement
    to lift him out of his pain and suffering?

    Indeed, if we dare to peer through our regret and remorse
    of not having lived our Christian faith well this past year, 
    we will discover, even be surprised by, the brighter truth 
    that Jesus has used our faith, no matter how limited, 
    to bring about greater faith in the lives of many others. 

    And this is how Jesus makes out of our limited faith 
    a proclamation of his Good News to others.

    Indeed, this is the delight I experienced when I first read these lines
    the Singaporean poet Anne Lee Tzu Peng penned:
    We are all crooks caught in the hand of the Chief Shepherd;
    he uses us as hooks to bring the strays back.

    Sisters and brothers, can this not be our delight also
    as we celebrate the Solemnity of Christ the King today,
    and our Thanksgiving to come this Thursday?

    I’d like to suggest that it can be our delight 
    when we accept and celebrate that Jesus comes 
    as King not to judge and condemn
    but to judge us as his own,
    good enough to be with him and to be beside him.
    We are his beloved crooks, 
    lovingly held in his hands and wisely wielded for his mission.

    He judges us in this way because we are to him worthy partners 
    in his good work of shepherding each other and many more
    into the green pastures of eternal life, 
    into that divine place of feasting and of resting,
    into that heavenly space saved for us to live the fullness of life in God’s loving fold.
    Yes, into that one place you and I can truly go rejoicing to,
    that space, our home, the Lord’s house.




    Preached at Blessed Mother of Teresa of Calcutta Parish, Dorchester, Boston


    Posted by
    Labels: Breaking Open God's Word
    0

    Add a comment

  10. Year C / 32nd Week--Friday / Ordinary Time 
    Readings: Wisdom 13. 1-9 / Responsorial Psalm: 19 (R/v 2a) / Luke: 21.26-28


    The first snow flakes earlier this week
    made me think of one of my favorite winter past-times: 
    walking in the snow. 

    A place I often go to walk is Mount Auburn Cemetery. 
    In wintertime, snow envelopes its undulating landscaped lawns 
    and leafless trees and stubborn shrubs of various kinds pepper this white landscape. 
    Tombs and memorials of all shapes and stones poignantly complete the still silent scene. 

    Like many who visit Mount Auburn in the cold, white days of wintertime,
    walking there can be a sobering experience.
    Yet, I find it delightfully uplifting to do this. 
    For as I walk amidst those who have gone before us
    --some prominent Bostonians, many ordinary folk--
    I come again and again to realize
    that here in this space life--not death--quietly abounds. 

    The stick-like trees harbor buds that will burst forth in spring. 
    The pain of separation gives way to thankful remembrances 
    when family and friends come to pay their respects. 
    And seeing them pray quietly for their beloved dead 
    reminds me each time that our Christian faith assures us 
    that the dead are in God’s embrace 
    and death is no more. 

    In these moments, I often think about 
    Edith Stein’s rebuttal to Martin Heidegger. 
    He philosophizes that in the face of death, 
    we can only fret and live in angst.
    Stein counters him: in the face of death, we don’t see nothingness; 
    rather, we experience the fullness of life,
    a fullness that allows us to say “I am!”

    If you and I look at our lives too with eyes of faith, 
    we will find ourselves in spaces where God keeps saying, “I am here!” 
    so that we can say, “I am too.” 

    And this fidelity of God to us is the beauty our first reading invites us 
    to pause and see, to recognize and savour this afternoon. 
    More importantly, this beauty calls us 
    to this invitation we heard in our gospel acclamation:
    “stand erect and raise your heads because your redemption is at hand."
    Indeed, such beauty can be reason enough to live bravely, to live hopefully.

    At this time of year, however,
    when our nights grow longer into the darkness, 
    when winter’s chill is fast setting in and freezing much around us,
    when we are buried deep into the papers we are writing or grading,
    when these last few weeks promise to dissipate away so quickly,
    it can be hard to see the beauty of God in our midst.

    And yet, our first reading demands that we must see again God’s beauty, 
    that we have to appreciate the beauty of God in our lives.
    Wise words for these final weeks of our semester to go; 
    wisdom for our long winter trek into the dawn of a new spring.

    Where can we see this beauty of God in our lives?
    Let me offer three snapshots.

    When our mistakes that hurt others
    are embraced by the surprising warmth of their forgiveness and reconciliation. 
    This is God’s compassion saying, "I am with you."

    When our anxiety of completing all the readings and finishing all the papers
    is soothed into calmness by a friend’s encouragement or a teacher’s kind extension.
    This is  God’s truth whispering, "I am for you."

    When our self-worth that is put down or dismissed by another
    is uplifted and strengthened by a family member who comforts, accepts and affirms us.
    This is God’s love humming, "I am beside you."

    Indeed, God dwells and works for our wellbeing
    in no other place than in our lives, in our everyday time, 
    where God dispels the shadows we might find ourselves in
    and brightens even more the everydayness of our lives.  
    God is there, as God is here with us at this Mass,
    because of who we are to God--God’s beloved.

    I'd like to suggest that it is important for us 
    to think about God’s beauty at this time
    because it can be fuel
    for the long haul of our Christian journey.
    It is fuel because it can keep us moving forward 
    as we let our daily living be animated by the wondrous truth 
    that God gives us his divinity and all its bliss 
    in exchange for our humanity and all its misery.

    As the Trappist Fr Simeon from Spencer Abbey observes: 
    “If God has come to invite us to share his divine life through all eternity, 
    the process begins when Jesus first comes into our own time and space 
    to dwell within our shabby lives and hearts
    -- sinful, worldly, self-centered, and yet full of the hope 
    that his teaching, touch and presence 
    will gradually transform us into radiant children of God.”

    And it is precisely this truth
    that can assure and comfort us in this time
    of long nights, of cold chill, of anxious worries, 
    and of the uncertainty about how this year will end and next year’s will begin. 
    It can because  
    what we experience is God's abiding beauty in our lives:
    the beauty of "God’s self-emptying love that continues 
    to descent into the heart of human darkness
    as Jesus’ Spirit that fills that void with light and love,"
    as Fr Simeon also writes.

    This is beauty 
    that stays with us, that warms us, that assures us 
    that we can still have hope 
    to soldier on to finish this semester well
    and to end this year brightly.

    Sisters and brothers, will it not do us good then
    to go forth from this chapel into the world, 
    no matter how soiled or stained it might be,
    and to see it, as Gerard Manley Hopkins saw it, 
    charged with the grandeur of God?
    And seeing this beauty, let us be enriched
    so that we can live well and happily
    these final weeks of this semester and this year,
    together with one another and with God.



    Preached at The School of Theology and Ministry, Boston College.
    photo: walking in the snow, december 2011, chestnut hill reservoir by adsj


    Posted by
    Labels: Breaking Open God's Word
    0

    Add a comment

"Bukas Palad"
"Bukas Palad"
is Filipino for open palms
Greetings!
Greetings!
Peace and welcome, dear friend.
I hope you will find in these posts something that speaks to you of the God who loves us all and who always holds us in the palm of his hand. Blessings!
The Liturgical Calendar / Year C
The Liturgical Calendar / Year C
Faith & Spirituality
Faith & Spirituality
Tagged as...
Tagged as...
Blog Archive
Blog Archive
Fall in Love, Stay in Love
Fall in Love, Stay in Love

"Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in love in a quite absolute way final way. What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination, will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning, what you do with your evenings, how you spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything."

Pedro Arrupe, sj, Superior General, 1965 - 1983

About Me
About Me
My Photo
is a 50something Catholic who resides in Singapore and works for the Church. He is a priest of the Roman Catholic Church.
Disclaimer
Disclaimer
©adrian.danker.sj, 2006-2018

The views I express in these pages are personal. They do not speak for the Society of Jesus or the Catholic Church.
Loading