O Come Emmanuel: Homily for the 1st Sunday in Advent

 Veni, Veni Emmanuel!


Captivum solve Israel!

 

"O come o come Emmanuel!  

And ransom captive Israel!"

 

Despite being the first day of the new liturgical year, advent begins without fanfare on the first of the four Sundays before December 24th.  It ends with the joyful commemoration of Jesus’ flesh and blood arrival into this world. .  

Advent ends celebrating that Jesus, fully God and fully man, was born into and lived on the same planet, on which we live and breathe, study and work, celebrate and mourn.  

 

The word Advent derives from two Latin roots ad and venire which mean “to come to.”  But the literal translation of the roots does not convey the full meaning of Advent.  In his book Benedictus, Pope Benedict XVI explained that advent is the Latin translation of the Greek word parousia which means presence, but even more specifically means arrival.  

 

Arrival is the beginning of another’s presence, it is not the fullness of that presence. 

 

Consider a child. The moment a mother’s pregnancy is known the world changes never to return to what it was before even if the child is the victim of an abortion any time during term, even if the child is stillborn. The presence of that child in the world changes it for many.

 

A child’s presence is apparent with the first awareness that a woman is pregnant. Throughout pregnancy the child is present in the lives of his or her 

parents, grandparents, and others.  That presence ripples out as the date of birth nears.  The child’s  birth makes his or her presence known to the wider world, a presence that will ripple outward for the rest of his or her life. But, that presence is never complete, it is always in the process of becoming and evolving. 

 

Even after death the presence of another does not end.  Everyone in the world is being influenced by the presence of others  who are distant or dead.  

Parents.  Siblings. Teachers.  Mentors.  Friends.  And others.  Their presence influences how we live our lives.  Even when present only in memory they influence what we decide and how we act.  Their presence in our lives—be it tangible or remembered—may soothe and comfort us during times of stress. 

And sometimes that presence may be the source of continuing anxiety and pain.  No matter if it is comforting or painful, it is impossible NOT to respond to another’s presence.  Even “ignoring” that presence is responding to it.

 

Jesus’ presence is an advent presence. It is a presence that is always a “coming to,” a presence of "coming toward."  It is always dynamic.

 

During advent we recall that Jesus is present in this world and is always becoming newly present to this world,  He is present in our lives but also becoming newly present in our lives as much as we allow that presence. 

Jesus presence is always a becoming,  Advent recalls the beginning of His presence. but we have yet to experience the fullness of that presence. 

We will only know the fullness of Jesus' presence when death takes us from life to eternal life.  

 

Jesus is present in our  daily lives in three tangible ways.  We only have to look, listen, and taste, to experience that three-fold presence. 

 

He is present in the community of believers who participate in the prayers of the Church,most particularly in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.  

 

Jesus is present in the words of the Gospel proclaimed in the assembly of believers or meditated upon in the silence of one’s room.

 

And, Jesus is present most tangibly, truly, and substantially in the Eucharist, 

the bread and wine, that will soon be consecrated, broken, and shared.   

 

Advent is not a countdown of shopping days until December 24.  Advent is not the time to prepare for a holiday.  Advent  is the time to prepare for a Holy Day. 

It is a time to prepare to commemorate the birth of the Messiah. The Christ, The Anointed One.  We are scanning the horizon for the star that announces the coming into the world of the Son of God, Son of David, and Son of Mary. 

We are awaiting the King of Kings and the Prince of Peace,  He who is like us in all things but sin. 

 

As we begin Advent we recall that Jesus came toward and into this world

to save it and to ransom us from sin and death.  Thus we pray. . . . 

 

Veni, Veni Emmanuel!


Captivum solve Israel!

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Continuing to revisit and reprocess photos.  Several years ago I was stranded for three days by a 17-inch snowfall at 2600 feet in the Green Mountains.  One of the great graces of that particular yera.  It was soft and there was no wind.  It descended and remained in place.  I had a 4-wheel drive vehicle while there.  No difficulty getting around.  

Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

Feast of Christ the King

2 Sm 5:1-3

Ps 121:1-5

Col 1:12-20

Lk 23:35-43

 

The Feast of Christ the King. was added to the Church calendar in 1925 by Pope Pius XI. Given that Church history spans two millennia, ninety-seven years ago makes it a very new feast. Originally set for the last Sunday in October it was moved to the 34th Sunday of ordinary time, the final Sunday, of the Church year in 1969.  Next Sunday marks the beginning of Advent and a new liturgical year

with the Sunday Gospels coming mostly from Matthew rather than Luke.  It is significant that this feast  was moved to such a high profile position where it serves as a liturgical New Year's Eve as we begin the new cycle.  

 

While the first and second readings highlight images of kings the Gospel requires some thought, as far as kingly images go.   

 

The first reading told how the tribes of Israel anointed David as their king.  He was named king because he was able to rally the Israelites to conquer their enemies. Thus we heard, "it was you who led the Israelites out and brought them back." The kingly images in the psalm are more subtle.  However we hear of the strength of Jerusalem, the royal city, where stood the thrones of judgment of the house of David.  

 

The second reading from Paul’s letter to the Colossians appears in the Liturgy of the Hours. It is a song of praise and gratitude to God for placing us in the Kingdom of his beloved Son who, through his obedience to the will of the Father,  

redeemed us from sin and death. Then comes Luke’s Gospel. 

 

What kind of King is Luke describing?  

 

Who is this king who is mocked by the criminal crucified next to him?

 

Who is this King of the Jews about whom Pilate wrote on the sign he hung on the cross: INRI Iesus Nazarenus Rex Iudaeorum? Jesus the Nazarean King of the Jews.  

 

What kind of king is hung naked in front of a crowd?  

 

What kind of King is subjected to the most shameful form of execution possible?  

 

He is the King we are called to follow; if we choose to follow Him, if we have the courage to follow Him.  

 

The choice to follow Jesus the Eternal King is both conscious and deliberate. It is a choice we must make and renew on a regular basis.  We either choose to follow Jesus or we don't.  There is no alternative.  There is no partial commitment. No one can split loyalties between God and something else. 

 

Two early meditations in the Spiritual Exercises of St Ignatius of Loyola focus on the image of king and our choice to follow or not follow him. 

 

In the first meditation Ignatius instructs us to consider the characteristics of a good earthly king. That good king isn't lounging on his throne surrounded by hangers-on and yes-men. He is down in the dirt and dust with the rest of the people. He is sharing in their struggles, shoveling mud after a disaster, not standing around in a starched shirt and white construction helmet waiting for photo ops.

 

After considering a good earthly king, Ignatius directs us to contemplate Jesus, the Eternal King.  The King who is fully human and fully divine  who walked in the dust and the mud, who was soaked by rain and buffeted by wind, who sweated, shivered,  and learned carpentry.  The King who was--and still is--both loved and hated, who lived just as we do and who died just as we will.  

 

This King is Jesus who tells each of us, “Whoever wishes to join me must be willing to labor with me.”  At times that labor is neither pleasant nor easy.  While it is said “His yoke is easy and His burden is light”  it doesn't always seem that way.

 

In the second of the meditations, known as the meditation on the two standards, 

Ignatius instructs us to meditate on the choice that confronts all who call, or wish to call, themselves followers of Christ.  Under which of two standards, banners, or flags, are we going to live and die; the standard of Christor the standard of Satan? 

 

Do we choose Satan and the world or do we choose Christ and the Kingdom of God?  Do we choose the banner of the evil king or the banner of the Eternal King of the Universe? 

 

The choice is yes or no, black and white.  No one can have a foot in each camp.  

One’s loyalties cannot be split.  It is not a matter of following Jesus 

when it is convenient, safe, or socially acceptable only to follow Satan, the evil king, when it is more expedient.

 

St. Ignatius did not create anything unusual with these two meditations. Throughout the coming liturgical year Jesus will present us with the same choices many times over,in different ways.  Do we follow Jesus, the Eternal King, or do we not?  

 

Just as we make resolutions at the end of the old calendar year today, on the Feast of Christ the King, the final Sunday of the Church year and the cusp of a new one, we have the opportunity to choose.  We can choose to live and perish under the false values of this world of materialism, sensuality,  and a culture of death or we can choose to live and die under the banner of Jesus. The King who died to redeem us from sin and despair.

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The crypt in the Church of St. Casimir in Vilnius, Lithuania, is one of the most fascinating places I've ever shot.  I was in Vilnius for ten days to give retreats in a remote retreat house.  That was on weekends.  Stayed in the SJ community in Vilnius during the week.  Unfortunately the weather was dreadful with temps in the single digits Fahrenheit.  However, I made up for that in the church and the crypt. 

The church was built in the 17th century.  It had many iterations, was rebuilt, taken over by other religious groups and, in its last act before being reteurned to the Jesuits in 1988 was a the museum of atheism.  Only when returned to the Society was the crypt under the altar discovered.  I spend hours down there.  

The entrance to the crypt is the stairs behind the main altar.  The railing is at the end of the red carpet.

The wrought iron gates were unlocked I had them open, closed, and halfway between at various times. 

The yellow color cast was a mix of lighting and camera.  I prefer the shots in black and white. 

There is restoration underway, or at least here was.  There are five years old  

The relic of Jesuit Martyr St. Andrew Bobola, a Polish Jesuit who is considered the patron saint of Lithuania.  Boundaries were a little different in Bobola's time. 

Some of the walls are in better shape than others. 

I decided against opening any doors that were closed.  Part was fear of being locked in.  

The jaundiced look toned down just a bit.  But I still prefer the clack and white. 

Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

The End is Nigh: 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time

 Mal 3:19-20a

Ps 98:5-6,7-8,9

2 Thes 3:7-12

Lk 21:5-19

 

It is consoling to hear stories of discord and bad behavior in the early Christian communities, stories such as those described in the second reading.  It is consoling because it confirms that human behavior has not changed for the better or the worse over the past two millennia. Given that consistency in human behavior it is unlikely to improve in the 977 years remaining in this millennium.  

 

Discord plagued the early Christian community.  It was prominent among Jesus’ first followers and those who came to believe in him after the crucifixion. Thus, the answer to “what can we expect from humanity?” requires only two words:  not much. 

 

We are sinners.  Sinners loved by God to be sure but sinners nonetheless.  We simply refuse to admit or acknowledge the fact in our prayer or music. Before I entered the Society one of the popular songs for the student Mass at Dartmouth—one can hardly call it a hymn—was titled “Anthem.” It included  the incredible claim:   We are called, we are chosen, we are Christ—big guitar chord on CHRIST—for one another.  

 

Called?:  Yes

Chosen?: Perhaps

Christ for one another?:  Egocentric heresy.  

 

If anything we are the Thessalonians for one another:  fundamentally lazy, preferring the work of busybodies, complacent, and self-satisfied. That is hardly Christ-for-one-another-like behavior as claimed in that ghastly song.

 

One interpreter suggests that the Thessalonians’ behavior was explained by the fact that they assumed the apocalypse was just over the horizon.  Why work? The end is near.  The apocalypse has been a coming attraction for a long time now, actually since Jesus walked the earth. It ain’t here yet.

 

The readings from Malachi and Luke’s Gospel feature apocalyptic images of  

fire, catastrophe and discord that are beloved of those on the opposite end of the spectrum from the self-infatuated “we are Christ for one another” types.  These are the rigid literalists who read scripture the same way they read a cookbook.  

They interpret and over-interpret—and misread—the signs of the times to suit a particular agenda.  

 

We all have traits of both.  Complacency that we are called, chosen, and Christ-like for others,  while we fear the end with all that is in us and try to control that fear by writing the script for how we will prevent that end.  

 

Though it is not mentioned I think that there was an edge of frustration and irritation in Jesus’ voice as He spoke to the people.  Even at this late stage in his ministry, they  didn’t get it. They wanted specific facts:  When will the Kingdom of God arrive?  Where will it arrive?  How will we be able to tell it has arrived?  And they are willing to follow any charlatan who claims to know the unknowable answers.

 

Remember when the year 2000 hit?  Many religiously-based prognostications 

were bizarre at best and oftentimes delusional; as were the individuals making them.  People clung to the words of self-appointed evangelists and soothsayers.  

Given the Gospel reading this did not represent novel behavior. It was perfect example of same old, same old.  

 

Jesus cautions us against chasing after those who are pushing an agenda.  The take-home message from this Gospel passage might be that  the degree of skepticism toward claims about the arrival of  the Kingdom of God should be directly proportional to the certainty and detail with which those claims are put forth.  

 

What Jesus described in the Gospel is a description of both what is to come and the times in which we are living. Indeed, these are the times in which people have lived since He proclaimed these words.  Natural disaster, war, discord within the community and within the family are facts of human life.  Those who follow Jesus have been persecuted—and have persecuted—since  the crucifixion. That will not change.  

 

The first reading in today’s office of readings is from Joel.  It too is full of apocalyptic imagery: blood, fire, and columns of smoke, a sun turned to darkness

and a moon turned to blood, “At the coming of the day of the Lord, the great and terrible day.”  What are we to do?

 

The responsory from the breviary gives an answer:  “Be on your guard and pray for you do not know when the time will come.”  

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Photos are from the Church of St. Casimir in Vilnius, Lithuania.  Built in the early 17th century it has had a number of iterations haveing been taken over by the Orthodox, the Lutherans, the Commies, and ultimately being used as the museum of atheism (?!?).  It was returned to the Society of Jesus in 1991.

Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

Blessed Are They Who Mourn: Homily for All Soul's Day

Wisdom 3:1-9

1 Cor 15:51-57

Jn 11:17-27

 

"People don't want to let go. . . . They think it's supposed to last forever" 

 

"But it happens anyway . . . . it doesn't matter what you do, you can't stop it."

 

"This living . . . . this life . . . . it doesn't last forever"

 

"It was never supposed to last forever."  

 

These lines come from the poignant final scene of "The Shadow Box,"  Michael Cristofer's 1977 Pulitzer Prize winning play that was later made into a TV movie directed by Paul Newman and starring Valerie Harper, Christopher Plummer, and Joann Woodward,.  (The full movie is available on You Tube.  Type in “The Shadow Box 1980,” video quality adequate to OK.  It is not available on any of the streaming services).  

 

"The Shadow Box" reminds us of the limits of life.  It recalls the shock when we realize that our lives are finite. It brings into sharp relief the stunning realization that our lives, and the lives of those we love, will end, as they must end for all of us.  The play, set in a kind of hospice, explores the days as death approaches for three unique characters and their family members.  It does not ignore the strains on their relationships when it becomes obvious that death is approaching, when the realization hits that  "this living . . . . this life . . . it doesn't last forever."  It captures the difficult moment when the realization hits, "It was never supposed to last forever." 

 

Being with someone at the moment of death is to experience awe in the truest sense of the word.  The last blip on the cardiac monitor.  The moment when all movement stops.  A sigh as the final breath escapes the body.  Suddenly it is over.  A life.  A relationship.  An era. Everything has ended.  Everything has changed.  

 

" . . . in an instant, in the blink of an eye."

 

Paul described how we all die using one short phrase; In an instant.  In the time it takes to blink.  A mere  flicker in time.  

 

Though the illness that led to death may have been prolonged, though death may have been held off with medical technology, the transition from life to eternal life takes place in an instant.  In that moment when someone we loved dies we are thrown into the tasks of grieving, mourning, and being bereaved.  We are forced to begin the task of adapting to an absence in our lives.  

 

We don't want to let go.  We never want to let go. We think it is going to last forever. But it doesn't last forever.  It never will.  We rage against the knowledge that "It was never supposed to last forever."  

 

While the Church commemorates All Soul's Day  on the Second of November, we experience multiple private All Soul's Days throughout the year.  We observe those private All Soul's Days not in November but in February, or May, or the searing heat of August.  It is a private All Soul's Day as we commemorate the painful anniversaries of the death, as we prepare for another holiday without those whom we love, or recall a private memory. And the pain recurs. 

 

"The soul's of the just are in the hands of God and no torment shall touch them."

 

The first verse from Wisdom is a source of consolation though it may take months or years to feel it.  The souls of the just are in the hands of God.  The souls of those whom we loved have something more than we could ever imagine.  Those whom we mourn have returned to the hands of God.  We will never know the how, the what, or the where of the eternal life won for us through Jesus' sacrifice.  We can never know eternal life until we ourselves have died.  For now, we can only know through faith that the souls of those whom we loved and who loved us, are held now, and for eternity, in the hands of God. That knowledge does not in any way relieve us of the pains and tasks of grieving our loss, but it should at least dull the sharpest edges of grief.  

 

Paul posed two questions in the Letter to the Corinthians. Both are sarcastic. 

 

"Death where is thy victory?"

 

"O death, where is thy sting?"

 

One can almost hear the sneer in his voice.  Death's victory was snatched away through Jesus' passion, death, resurrection, and ascension. Hell's sting was defanged by the Body and Blood of Christ.  We know this through faith,  the faith Martha proclaimed in the gospel. 

 

Imagine the scene. Lazarus' two sisters, friends, and other family,  all gathered at the new tomb.  They felt the heaviness of grief on their shoulders, and the tears of sorrow on their cheeks.  Some were confused.  Others were angry, doubting God's goodness, and some of them cursing Him.  

 

"Lord, if you had been here . . . ."

 

"Your brother will rise." 

 

"I know he will rise . . . on the last day." 

 

And then Jesus utters the most consoling words imaginable: "I am the Resurrection and the Life; he who believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die."

 

And then we hear Martha's response: 

"You are the Christ, the Son of God . . . . "

 

Today we commemorate the souls of the dead: family, friends, members of our religious communities, and those who have no one to pray for them.  It is a day to visit the grave and place candles or flowers.  It is a day to attend Mass even though not obligatory.  It is be a day to sit quietly alone, perhaps absentmindedly fingering a rosary, as we recall, grieve, and pray for those who have died. 

 

Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine, 

et lux perpetua luceat eis. 

Requiescant in pace. 

 

Eternal rest grant unto them O Lord, 

and let perpetual light shine upon them. 

May their souls and the souls of the faithful departed

rest in peace.

 

Amen.

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 +Fr. Jack, SJ, MD