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 rootsdoes not convey the truth and reality 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 but it is not the fullness of that presence.

 

Consider a child.  The moment the mother’s pregnancy is known the world changes.  And that world never returns to what it was, even if the child is the victim of an abortion.  The presence of that child in the world, even if it was brief such as a miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant death changes the world in ways that can never be fully appreciated.  This is particularly true of the world inhabited by the parents, grandparents, and the rest of the family and friends.

 

A child’s presence is apparent with a woman’s first awareness that she is pregnant.  The news of that presence ripples out to the wider world such that 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.  Birth makes the child’s presence more real to the wider world. But, that presence is never complete, it is always in the process of becoming and evolving.

 

The presence of another never truly ends.  Everyone in the in this chapel is being influenced by the presence of others in their lives who  may be far off or dead.  Parents.  Siblings. Teachers.  Mentors.  Friends.  And others.  Their presence influences our lives.  Even when present only in memory they may influence what we decide, how we act, and the choices we make.  Their presence in our lives--be it tangible or remembered-- may soothe and comfort us during times of stress.

 

Alas, for some, 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 another’s 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 it.

 

Jesus presence is always a becoming,  Advent reminds us that it is the approach of his presence but we have yet to experience the fullness of that presence, a fullness we will only know after we have died. 

 

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 and during meditation  in the Gospel in the silence of one’s room.

 

And, Jesus is present most truly and substantially present 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.

 

Advent is a time to prepare for the commemoration of 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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All of the photos are from the  National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in D.C.  I went over there frequently for Mass before I was ordained.  Celebrated or concelebrated a number of Masses there.  It is enormous.  Always went over early with the camera.  

 

 

Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

Thanksgiving Day 2025

 

Sir 50:22-24

 

The first Thanksgiving meal did not take place up here in MA. It took place in Jerusalem

over 2000 years ago.  It is a Thanksgiving we recall daily throughout the world. 

 

The word "Eucharist" comes from the Greek word eucharistia, which means "thanksgiving, the practice of giving thanks to God. The giving of thanks at the last supper, is a moment recalled in the words immediately before the formulae for the consecration of the blood and wine as the True Presence of Our Lord. In only a few minutes you will hear the words, “For on the night he was betrayed, he himself took bread and, giving you thanks he said the blessing. . . “Similar words are repeated at the consecration of the wine.  With time the word eucharist also came to mean the sacrament itself as well as becoming a synonym for the Mass.  And, the very last thing you will say at the end of this Mass is “Thanks be to God.”

 

The first reading from the Book of Sirach is taken from the end of the book.  The writer instructs the reader to praise and bless God for his wondrous works and as the source of all good things.  He then pronounces a blessing for peace, gladness of heart, and the knowledge of God’s goodness. These verses of Sirach were the inspiration for Martin Rinkart to compose the beloved hymn “Now Thank We All Our God” in 1636.  It is most likely being sung in any number of Thanksgiving services and celebrations today.

 

There is a an ancient Chinese saying, that is appropriate for today. 饮水思源 translates as "When you drink water, think of its source," The saying succinctly captures the spirit of gratitude and reflection called for today and every day.  It reminds us to remember the people and efforts that have shaped our lives. It reminds us to recall and thank God

who is the source of all things.

 

During this month of All Souls in particular it encourages a deeper connection with

and prayer for those who went before us, those who helped us to grow and mature, and who oftentimes sacrificed more for us than we realized at the time. Perhaps we will never fully realize it.

 

Thus the importance of celebrating the Eucharist today in particular. The importance of giving thanks to God for all He has done and doing so in words of Martin Rinkart,

“with hearts, and hands, and voices . . . .”

 

Have a blessed Thanksgiving Day.

 

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Mushrooms. One of my fond memories of childhood is going with Dad to pick muschrooms up on Plymouth Mountain. Dad definitely knew the god ones. When Mom was cleaning them she would parboil them in small batches. I one looked off she tossed 'em all. Canned mushrooms obviously do nothing for me. Sunday would have been my Mom's 109th birthday.

Saw this surfer on the beach. Took these in May-June 2011 which, in Australia, is winter. Thus the wet suit.

Heading up to find another wave.

For some reason this made me laugh. 

 

 This is much more effective in color than in black and white. A lot warmer to the eye.

 

Fr. Jack, SJ, MD 

Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

 

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, a mere one hundred years 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 thus a new liturgical year.  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 a new cycle of readings, . 

 

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

 

The first reading described 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 criminals crucified next to him?  Who is this King of the Jews about whom Pilate inscribed INRI: Iesus Nazarenus Rex Iudaeorum on a sign he hung on the cross:

 

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

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

 

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 Jesus and something else. Two meditations in St. Ignatius’ Spiritual Exercises focus on the image of king and our choice whether to follow Him or not.

 

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 rather than  standing around in a starched shirt and white construction helmet, posing 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 Christ or 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 or important to get ahead.

 

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.  to  either 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 suffered and died to redeem us from sin and despair.

________________________________________________________

 

The photos are from the closest thing I shot of a castle.  Loyola, Spain the basilica of St. Ignatius.  From before covid when I was in Spain to present a paper.  Last time I left the country.   

 

 

A line of trees

Something drew me to this weathered scene.  Would be impossible to artificially create this kind of aged look.  

The color of the stained glass in the smaller Jesuit community chapel was exquisite.  Non-figurative but glorious colors.

The main altar at the Mass closing the conference.  The statue of Ignatius is wayyyy up there.

The hills surrounding the castle of Loyola

 

.  

Fr. Jack, SJ, MD≠
 

 

Be on your guard and pray: Homily for the 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 such as those we heard 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, human behavior is unlikely to improve in the 900 plus years remaining in the current millennium.  Discord plagued the early Christian community.  It was prominent among Jesus’ first followers as well as those who came to believe in him after the resurrection. 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.

 

I worked at Dartmouth before I entered the Society. One of the popular song choices for the student Mass at the Dartmouth Catholic Student Center—one can hardly call it a hymn—was titled “Anthem.” It included  the incredible claim:  

 

“We are called, we are chosen, we are Christ for one another with a big guitar chord on CHRIST. 

 

Called?:  Yes

Chosen?: Probably

Christ for one another?: 

Now way. At best an egocentric statement  reflecting total ignorance of the meaning of Christ. 

 

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 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, over-interpret, and misreadthe signs of the times to suit a particular agenda. 

 

We all have traits of both.  Complacency that we are called, chosen, and Christ-like 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 it. 

 

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. The same can be said about the individuals making those prognostications.  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 persecutedsince  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 the answer:

 

“Be on your guard and pray

for you do not know

when the time will come.”  

 

_______________________________________________

 

 

A monk on the way to vespers

 

 

Fr. Jack, SJ,  MD
 

Slaker of Thirst: Homily for the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica

 

Ez 47:1-2,8-9,12

Ps 46: 2-3,5-6,8-9

1 Cor 3:9c-11,16-17

Jn 2:13-22

 

Water is the source of life and slaker of thirst.  Everything on earth depends on it. Human history, both violent and peaceful was, and is, in large part, the story of water and access to it.  We have seen, and will continue to see, serious crises worldwide because of periodic droughts. It gets ugly.  We can go without food for days. We cannot survive long without water. 

 

Water.  Flowing from the Temple in the eschatological promise of Ezekiel.

Water.  Making glad the city of God in the Psalm.

Water.  Giving us eternal life in Jesus through baptism.

 

Today's readings reflect the basic and elemental nature of this feast. The Feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica is a sign of unity with, the Chair of Peter which, St Ignatius of Antioch noted, “presides over the whole assembly of charity.” 

 

The name of the feast may be confusing.  We are not celebrating a building. The Church building of the Lateran was destroyed and rebuilt a few times over the centuries.  Facades were replaced and restored.  What stands today is not the original.  We don't celebrate A Church today.  We celebrate The Church.

 

The Church into which one enters exclusively through the waters of baptism

 

The Church which can have no other foundation than Jesus Christ. 

 

Jesus, the foundation from whom living waters flow in all directions, to all peoples,  if they choose to bathe in those waters.   If they are willing to drink of the living water that is Jesus. 

 

Today’s gospel is taken from the second chapter of John’s gospel. It is an interesting chapter in that there is a massive shift in scene and tone from the first and second parts of the chapter.  The first twelve verses narrate the wedding at Cana. The thirteen verses that we just heard describe the Cleansing of the Temple at Jerusalem.

 

In this jump we move from miracle to sign.  More importantly, we are forced to confront our notions of who Jesus is and how he acts.  For those for whom zeal for God’s house is a relative thing it is an uncomfortable confrontation between their own delicate sensitivities and the reality of Jesus’ fury. 

 

In his splendid commentary on this Gospel the late Jesuit Father Stanley Marrow wrote,  “One puzzling aspect of the narrative is how generation after generation can read or hear this account and yet persist in clinging to their cherished image of Jesus.   . . . .a Jesus so “gentle and mild” that he is incapable of “overthrowing anything, not even the reader’s smugness. . . . The Jesus in the pages of this or any other gospel is not exactly a standard-bearer for bleeding hearts. . . .the aim (of the gospel) is not to provide us with the biography of an inspiring hero, proportioned to the size of our ambitions, conformed to our ideals, and meeting our currently prevailing notions of what constitutes greatness.”

 

The Jesus of the gospels is not a Jesus of relativism, a Jesus of  accommodation or negotiation.   The Jesus of the gospels is not a wimp, a sissy,  or a doormat.  He did not say to those desecrating the temple, “I’m sorry and I don’t want to offend you but . . . I must ask you to think of what you are doing and to stop doing it . . . if you don’t mind.”

 

Jesus called a spade a spade.  He called sin for what it was and still is. He did not cave to secular society.  He certainly did not tolerate desecration of His Father’s house.  The Jesus of the gospels acted with force when He had to, thus the flipped tables and the whips. We do well to remember that.

 

Human life cannot survive ithout water. Without zeal for God’s house, without zeal for preaching His word The Church cannot and will not survive.

 

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The photos are from St. Vincent Archabbey in  Latrobe, PA.  I made two retreats there, one before ordination and one the following year.  St. Vincent is the first Benedictine Abbey in the U.S., established in 1846.  The original abbey was destroyed by a fire.  In addition to the Abbey.  St. Vincent has a college and a seminary.  In addition the abbey has been the source of chaplains for Penn State for years.   A number of their vocations come from the Penn State.  

 

Of course one cannot mention Latrobe PA without noting that it is the home of Arnold Palmer and, perhaps more significantly for Penn State alumni the home of Rolling Rock beer.   

 

 

 

The spires of the Abbey Church seen from a bluff high above

A monk at prayer

The tabernacle

The Abbey Church.  It is large. 

Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

 

 

 

 

 

 

Requiem Aeternam: Homily for All Soul's Day

 

Wisdom 3:1-9

 

"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 are from the poignant final scene of "The Shadow Box"  Michael Cristofer's 1977 Pulitzer Prize winning play. It was later made into a TV movie directed by Paul Newman starring Valerie Harper, Christopher Plummer, and Joann Woodward.

 

"The Shadow Box" reminds us that our lives are finite. It brings into sharp focus the agonizing realization that the lives of those whom we love, must end, as ours must also end. It recalls the words in the first preface of the Mass for the dead, “indeed for your faithful, Lord, life is changed not ended.” The change is not only for the one who died but happens in the lives of those who survive, who must go on living without the one who died.

 

The play, that is set in a hospice, explores the final days of life for three characters and their loved ones.  It does not ignore the strains on relationships when it becomes obvious that death is near, nor does it avoid the regrets as one looks back.  It acknowledges the pain when we finally realize  "it doesn't last forever" and captures the difficult moment when the gut realization hits, "It was never supposed to last forever."

 

Being with someone at the moment of death is to experience awe in its fullest sense.  The last blip on the monitor.  The moment when all movement ceases.  The sigh as the final breath escapes the body.  A life is over. Everything has ended.  Everything has changed.  Even though the final illness may have been prolonged and death temporarily held off with complex medical procedures and technology, the change from life to eternal life

occurs in an instant. 

 

At that same moment we who remain are thrown into the tasks of grieving and  mourning  as we are forced to begin adapting to an absence in our lives.  We don't want to let go.  We never want to let go. We do think it is going to last forever. But it doesn't.  It never will.  We rage against the knowledge that we have carried around that  "It was never supposed to last forever." 

 

Though the Church commemorates All Soul's Day on November 2, We experience private All Soul's Days throughout the year.  That happens, for example, when we see the anniversary of a death approaching. Those private all soul’s days may cause us to dread another holiday without the one who died. It is a private All Souls’ Day when we suddenly recall something that no one else would know except the one we are grieving.

 

"The soul's of the just

are in the hands of God

and no torment shall touch them."

 

The beginning of the reading from Wisdom is consoling, though it may take many months to experience that consolation.  The souls of the just are in the hands of God.  The souls of those whom we loved know something we cannot imagine. Those whom we mourn and for whom we pray,particularly on this day, have returned to the hands of God. 

 

We will never know the how, the what, or the where of the eternal life that was won for us through Jesus' surrender to the Father’s will until we too have died.  For now, we can only know through faith that the souls of those whom we loved and who loved us, are held for eternity in the hands of God. That knowledge does not in any way relieve us of the pain of mourning or the tasks of grieving, but it may at least dull the very sharpest edges of grief. 

 

Today we commemorate the souls of the dead: family and friends as well as those who have no one to pray for them.  It is a day to visit the grave even if only through our memories, and place candles or flowers.  It is a day to attend Mass.  It is a day to sit quietly so as to recall memories, to grieve, to give thanks for that life, 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.”

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The photos are from All Saint's Day in Slovenia where it is seen as All Soul's Eve (and is a national holiday).  I was blown away.  

 

 

The candles surrounded the funeral chapel in the municipal cemetery in žale which the community visited to pray at the Jesuit section. 

The view as far as the eye could see in the huge cemetery.

A family plot at the cemetery in  Preddvor up in the mountains.

The crucifix in the center of the cemetery

The village church.  It was packed to overflowing during Mass with people standing on the steps.  We processed down after Mass to be greeted by several hundred people standing at their family plots.

 

The village of Bašlj, Sloveni

 

 

 

 

Fr. Jack, SJ, MD