Veni, Veni, Emmanuel: Homily for the 1st Sunday of Advent

 

1 December 2024

Jer  33:14-16

1 Thess 3:12-4:2

Luke 21:25-28, 34-36

 

Today begins a new church year with a new cycle of liturgical readings.  The Sunday gospels will come primarily from Luke rather than Mark who is now so last year.  The first Sunday of Advent is a New Year’s Day on which the Church enters into a liturgically subdued mood.

 

Thus, the Gloria is omitted during most Masses.  The green vestments are at the dry cleaner having been replaced by violet.  The general instruction for the Roman missal notes that, “The organ and other musical instruments, as well as the floral decoration of the altar, should be used with a moderation that is consistent with the season’s character and does not anticipate the full joy of the Nativity of the Lord.”   

 

Advent is simpler, quieter,  less distracted and less distracting than the sometimes overwhelming liturgical opulence that marks Christmas.  The time will come to celebrate with all the stops pulled out.  However, advent is a time to reflect on what is coming and who is coming into our lives and the life of the Church. 

 

Benedict XVI explained the meaning of Advent in his short book of meditations titled, Benedictus. He wrote that Advent derives from the Latin roots 'ad'  and 'venire', meaning 'to come to' or 'to come toward.'  He noted that advent is the translation of the Greek word parousia which means 'presence,' but even more specifically means 'arrival.'  During Advent the Church is in a state of spiritual tension as she waits and scans the horizon.  Advent is a time of anticipation and preparation for the arrival of the Savior of the World, the King of the Universe, Jesus, Son of God and Son of Mary, the One who is coming toward us even at this moment.  That is why we are instructed to keep things simple and to minimize distraction, the better to focus our gaze.  During these weeks the Church rereads  the story of the promise to all people.  She meditates.   And she waits. Today’s  readings are clues to our yearning for that which is approaching and how we are to wait.

 

Jeremiah described the waiting and yearning for the Messiah that pervades the Old Testament.  The few verses proclaimed come from the middle of a prophecy of Jeremiah in which he reveals that God  will restore a desolate land and a struggling people, a people without pasture, flocks, or respect.  At that time Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will dwell in safety. 

 

The reading from Paul’s Letter to the Thessalonians is even shorter than Jeremiah.  Paul is exhorting the Church in Thessalonica on how they are to live.  Over the next twenty or so verses Paul instructs his readers to avoid fornication,  not to exploit others,  to work,  and to treat outsiders with respect.  He then adds the necessity of the virtues of purity,  charity,  industry,  and courtesy.  These would be reasonable New Year’s resolutions for all of us  though they are probably harder to keep than the standard ones to quit smoking, lose weight, or get in shape.  The moving toward of advent is also apparent in Jesus’ words to his disciples in Luke’s gospel.

 

Just as Paul advises the Thessalonians Jesus tells us that in preparation for that day we should not weigh down our hearts in drunkenness which makes it difficult to pay attention to anything. We should  not become so distracted by the demands of life that we fail to pray, fail to listen to the words of Jesus proclaimed at Mass, or read His words in the quiet of our homes. 

 

The reading from Luke’s Gospel today is not comforting. The apocalyptic vision of the Son of Man coming on a cloud is frightening.  What we are waiting for and the One for whom we are waiting is beginning His approach.  But the waiting is a sobering and disquieting experience. We watch.  We wait.  The words of the ancient Advent hymn Veni Veni Emmanuel describe the life of our Church and the attributes of the one for whom we wait. That hymn that will come to particular prominence with the ‘O Antiphons’ that begin on December 17 until December 23.  And so we pray:

 

O Come Emmanuel. 

Ransom captives. 

Ease our mourning. 

Show us the path of knowledge. 

Teach us the way to go. 

Disperse the clouds of night. 

Put death’s shadow to flight. 

 

We wait in and anxious and joyful anticipation.  Our joy is not complete.  But it will be soon.  

 

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The photos are fresh out of the camera from shooting this afternoon in the Jesuit Chapel in St. Mary's Hall.  I have the only Mass there tomorrow and will bless the Advent wreathe during the Mass.   

 Fr Jack, SJ, MD

Memorial Mass for the Dead (Carmel Terrace)

 

Wis 3:1-6,9

1 Cor 15:20-26

Jn 12:23-28

 

The sonnet begins with a challenge directed at death as if it were a person:

 

"Death be not proud,

though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadful, for,

thou art not so . . . "

 

It ends ten short lines later with gentle reassurance and a sense of hope directed to those who are dying and to those who survive and must go on.

 

"One short sleep past,

we wake eternally,

And death shall be no more,

death, thou shalt die."

 

In his tenth holy sonnet, the 17^th century Anglican priest and poet John Donne, tells the personification of death that he thinks very little of its reputation or its power.

 

We heard in Paul's First Letter to the Corinthians,

 

"For as by a man came death, by a man came also the resurrection. 

For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive." 

 

A few verses later we read Paul's declaration,

 

"The last enemy to be destroyed is death." 

 

It was these words that allowed Donne to end his sonnet as he did,

 

"And death shall be no more,

Death thou shalt die."

 

A quiet moment.  A slight pause.  And it is over.

 

Jesus victory over death does not mean that we will not die.  Dying can never be avoided. Even though we can sometimes postpone it briefly, we all die. But, we do not have to submit to death. We never have to submit to the nihilism of the sad pseudo-sophisticate who sniffs that death is nothing more than returning to the food chain.  That is true only if one chooses to consciously and intentionally reject the promise of Jesus' redeeming act. That act of rejection requires great effort and determination.

 

There are many challenges for those of us who must go on after the death of someone we love. The greatest of those challenges is grieving. Grieving is never easy. It is never quick. Grief never reaches so-called 'closure,' one of the most bizarre and phony concepts ever forced down the throats of a gullible public.

 

The first reading proclaimed,  

"The souls of the just are in the hands of God

and no torment shall touch them." 

 

It is not a stretch from the image of the souls of the just in the hands of God to Donne’s description,

 

“One short sleep past,

we wake eternally,

And death shall be no more”

 

We heard in the Gospel just proclaimed:  "Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there also will my servant be."  This is our task and our mandate: to serve and follow Jesus, who freed us from the thrall of death.  Only because of Jesus' saving act could Donne admonish death against being proud.

 

The words of the readings are a source of some consolation.  But that consolation can only be partial. The words can never fully ease the pain of the broken hearted, they cannot answer the questions of those who wonder how to go on after the death of a spouse, a child, a parent, a sibling, or a friend.  

 

Grieving is the most solitary and isolating of all human experiences.  Grief is the great leveler.  It brings both the peasant and the dictator to his knees in pain, rage, and sorrow.  Grieving sets off an insatiable hunger in the poor as well as in the wealthy gourmand, the jet-setter and the subway pass commuter.  Grief brings all of us to our knees, sometimes in prayer and oftentimes, perhaps most often, in pain.  It is, for each of us, an uncharted course through a wide variety of emotions.  No one can travel it for or with us.  At best others can offer support, a listening ear, and an understanding heart.  They should never offer the pseudo-therapeutic lie of ‘closure.’

 

No writer ever described the grief better than C.S. Lewis did in the opening sentence of the small diary he kept after his wife's death titled A Grief Observed.  It begins,

 

“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. 

I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. 

The same fluttering in the stomach,

the same restlessness, the yawning.

I keep on swallowing."

 

Grieving takes time. It takes energy.  It takes more than the week or two, or the maximum couple of months, that American society insists it should.  It never reaches closure. With time a loved one's death becomes part of a new reality.  Entering that new reality compels new ways of living and understanding for all who survive. 

 

In just a few moments you will hear

 

" . . . for your faithful Lord, life is changed not ended. . . . " 

 

The faithful is not limited to the one or ones for whom the Mass is being offered.  The faithful includes all of us here, struggling with our memories and thoughts, because our lives were also changed. 

 

And so today, as we remember those from the Carmel Terrace community who died we take comfort in the Church’s ancient prayer for the dead:

 

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 they rest in peace."

 

Amen.

 

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November is the month of All Souls. On Wednesday I will celebrate a Memorial Mass for the Dead who lived at Carmel Terrace in Framingham, MA. I've been going there for over 12 years. It has become my parish in many ways. I celebrate Mass there two to four times per week. There will be some families as well as the residents some of whom I've known for 12 years. We will use the funeral liturgies and prayers. Homily above.

The photos are from the Church of St. Casimir, a jesuit church in Vilnius, Lithuania. Construction was begun in 1604. There were several changes of ownership including the commies who transformed it into the museum of atheism. It was returned to the Society in the late 1980s.

 

 

 

 Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

 

Blessed are the Peacemakers: Homily for Veterans' Day

 

The names are familiar:

WW I:             Gallipoli, Verdun.

WW II:            Iwo Jima, Anzio, D-Day

Korea:            Inchon

Viet Nam:      Tet, the Fall of Saigon

Today:           The Gulf War and subsequent involvements.

 

The changes in the way wars are fought and the reasons underlying wars emerged from changes in society and changes in those who fight them.  Were any WW I veterans alive today they would not recognize anything about the way wars are fought or the way in which those who serve are trained and prepared for war.  The philosophical and theological understandings of conflict and war have also changed.  It is unlikely that either "Over There," George M. Cohan's patriotic WW I song, or Frank Loesser's WW II vintage "Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition" would be written today or become the hits they were at the time. Trenches, hand to hand combat, and bayonets were replaced by a powerful air force and bombs with extraordinary destructive potential.  Today missiles can be deployed by drone and computer. There is the risk of sophisticated chemical and biological warfare that is meant to kill non-combatants and children.  All of these developments have changed the experience of those called to fight wars and to defend against the threats of aggressors.

 

The response of American society to veterans has also changed. The ticker-tape parades and welcomes  given to veterans returning from battle after the World Wars contrast sharply with the vitriolic ugliness dished out to veterans of Vietnam a violence created and sustained by so-called 'peaceniks.' Many of those veterans’ are still suffering from the trauma experienced at the hands of peace lovers when they returned home.  I will only comment on athletes, professional and college, taking a knee during the National Anthem by ignoring further comment. They are beneath contempt and,  as this is sacred space, I am constrained from using certain words and phrases to describe them. 

 

War defines the generation that fought itand the generation that follows, the veterans' sons and daughters. 

 

My dad, born in 1905, was too young for WW I.  However, he served four years in Europe as a physician in the Army medical corps during WW II. 

Like many veterans, he rarely spoke about it.  Alas, by the time I spent four years at the VA Hospital in White River Junction, Vermont, working daily with PTSD patients, some of them veteran’s of WW II, he had been dead for twenty-five years and there was no opportunity to ask the questions that I realized I should have asked.  Questions I still wonder about it. 

 

The sacrifices veterans made--the sacrifices those serving today continue to make--are oftentimes discounted or ignored. Future plans, family life, education, jobs . . . all  of these are put on hold when one is called or volunteers to serve in the armed forces.  Injuries may short circuit some plans. The risk of death needs no elaboration. Sometimes military service opens up previously undreamed of opportunities and paths of life.  It has “straightened out” more than one juvenile-delinquent-in-training.

 

The plight of the one serving in the military is, as was true for the veteran when he or she served, is one of anonymity and hiddenness.  The fame of the veteran is in the hiddenness of his or her service, doing a job day by day with little recognition or appreciation. The task of those of us who are descendants of the veterans is to keep their memories and the stories they did share with us alive.  By keeping those memories alive, we learn from them.

 

We hear in the Beatitudes  "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God."  Sometimes peace can only be accomplished through war.  Peace may only be possible  when enemy threats from the outside

are crushed in the fight.  Ideally swords will be pounded into plowshares

and spears will be turned into pruning hooks. But at times plowshares must be forged into swords and pruning hooks back into spears. 

 

The reality of the human condition is that we are sinners.  At times those sins manifest in actions that threaten the lives and safety of others.  At times those sins ignite the fuse that leads to war.  This has been true since the beginning of time and it will be true until the end of time despite bumper stickers that urge making peace.  Thus our gratitude to those who served.  Our thanks to the veteran who risked everything to ensure the safety and freedom we enjoy.

 

"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God."

 

We thank them.  And we pray for them. 

 

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A choice: homily for veteran's day or the widow's mite? Easy. The widow can wait until three years from now when the gospel appears again.

It is a solemn day demanding prayer and contemplation. I particularly pray for the Gold Star Mothers (an aunt was a double gold star mother). Can't wrap my mind around it. And while not official, there were a lot of gold star father's who saw their dreams die with their children

The photos are from my home town, Plymouth, PA in front of what used to be the high school (class of '67). Every year on this day the band and others would assemble at the base of the large statue for a memorial service. The other one was only added much later. I knew some of the guys on the plaque. Their names haunted me back in 2011 when I found myself wandering the streets of Saigon with the camera . The actually still haunt me at times.

 

 Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

 

Hear O Israel: Homily for the 31st Sunday of Ordinary Time

 

Dt 6:2-6

Ps 18

Heb 7:23-28

Mk 12:28-34

 

“Hear O Israel

The Lord our God

is Lord alone!”

 

These words begin the shema, the central prayer of Judaism.  Observant Jews recite it twice daily.  It is written on the small scroll that is held within the mezuzah, the small container affixed to the door posts of Jewish homes.

 

The Shema became central to Judaism beginning in the late Second Temple period,that extended from 530 BC to AD 70.  The scroll encased within the mezuzah is inscribed by a qualified scribe trained in law and scripture related to his task. as well as how to carve the quill and write the verses, which are written in indelible black ink.  It is encased in the mezuzah which devout Jews place on the doorposts of their homes.  The mezuzah serves as a reminder of God’s commandments.  With time many came to see it as something akin to an amulet protecting the home against God’s anger. 

 

The shema  unites the reading from Deuteronomy with the Gospel of Mark. 

 

Jesus’ replied to his interlocutor's inquiry about which was the first and most important commandment by directly quoting the shema:  "Hear, O Israel . . . "  It was a succinct way to outline what one must do to ascend the mountain of the Lord, to be numbered among the saints. But then Jesus went one step further when he added, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” 

 

One of the early rabbinic sages described the commandments to love of God and to love one’s neighbor, as containing all of the Torah with the rest serving as commentary.  As Jesus' reply to the man continues  we are reminded that He did not come to abolish the ten commandments.  He came to perfect them by placing them in the context of love for God and for others. The scribe’s response, “Well said teacher, Your are right . . . . “ and his summary of Jesus’ answer showed his understanding.

 

Jesus changed the focus of religious observance from multiple laws governing diet, work, and other minutiae of life to love for God and neighbor.  Two commandments as opposed to six hundred some laws?  Sounds simple on the surface.  But, as is true of much of what Jesus taught, apparent simplification is, considerably more complex and difficult in the end.  

 

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The photos were taken a few years ago at the Charles River Basin across the street, actually Storrow Drive, from Mass General.  One of the real gems.  During fellowship at the General I ran along this three to four times per week, especially on Fridays.  Great place.  

Fr. Jack, SJ, MD