The first words of the Bible are “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth,” and then, in very poetic language, the account of creation follows: light and darkness, the sun, moon, and stars, earth, land and sea, plants, animals, and finally humankind. This is God’s creation.
The Gospel of John begins with a similar phrase: “In the beginning…” However, it is not the creation account that follows, but what was before even that — “In the beginning was the Word.” Then comes another poetic passage about who the Word is and what he does.
But why do we hear these verses today? It becomes clear when we read, “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” These words point to the child in the manger. They reveal who this newborn child truly is—a human child, but not only that. His origins go back further and deeper than ours. We are people begotten of men, but Jesus is “God from God, Light from Light,” as the Nicene Creed states. He is God’s own Son, who has become man, taken on flesh, our mortal humanity, and become one of us.
God became man; this is what we say about the Christ Child in the manger. That is the focus of today’s Gospel. When God became man, He brought with Him the divine light that shines in the darkness—a light that brightens every shadow and dark corner as brightly as the noonday sun.
Why? Because He knows that we often wander in darkness—darkness of sin, death, sickness, war, and much more. We can become lost in a harsh world we don’t understand. We seek answers even when we don’t know the questions. That is why the Word became flesh, why God became man. So He could shine His divine light into the darkness of this world and our hearts, so that we might know joy and so that we all might find our way home to Him.
History records for us an interesting footnote. It was during the dark winter of 1864 at Petersburg, Virginia, where Robert E. Lee’s Confederate army faced the Union divisions led by General Ulysses S. Grant. The war, now three and a half years old, had transitioned from glorious charges to the muddy realities of trench warfare. Late one evening, Major General George Pickett, one of Lee’s generals, received news that his wife had given birth to a healthy baby boy. Throughout the line, Southerners lit large bonfires to celebrate the event. These fires did not go unnoticed in the Northern camps, prompting a cautious Grant to send a reconnaissance patrol to investigate. The scouts returned with news that Pickett had a son, and that the fires were celebratory. Interestingly, Grant and Pickett had been classmates at West Point and knew each other well. To mark the occasion, Grant also ordered bonfires to be built.
What a strange night it was. Fires blazed on both sides of the lines for miles. No gunshots, no shouts, no fighting. Just light celebrating the birth of a child. But that didn’t last long. Soon, the fires died out, and darkness took over again—both of the night and of the war.
The good news of Christmas is that in the midst of great darkness, there came a light, and the darkness was not able to overcome the light. It was not just a temporary flicker; it was an eternal flame. We need to remember that. There are times, in both world events and our personal lives, when we feel the light of the world will be snuffed out. But the Christmas story affirms that no matter what happens, the light still shines.
The theologian Robert Alden wrote, “There is not enough darkness in all the world to put out the light of even one small candle.” That being true, then the divine light born in a manger in Bethlehem is more than adequate to dispel the darkness of this world eternally.
In 1946, the first car phone service was launched. It was big, clunky, and expensive. In 1964, Ma Bell rolled out a newer generation. It wasn’t until 1973 that the first truly mobile phone call was made. Martin Cooper of Motorola called Joel Engel, his rival at Bell Labs, to say, “Joel, I’m calling you from a cell phone… a real handheld portable cell phone.” Yet, it wasn’t until October 13, 1983, that the first mobile phone network went online. The phone was the Motorola DynaTAC 8000X. It weighed 2.5 pounds, took ten hours to charge, and provided 30 minutes of talk time.
Today, 348 million people live in the United States, and it is reported that 331 million of us have a cellphone, which we use to watch countless millions of cat videos every day. I suppose none of us really knows all that those little devices can do, but one interesting feature comes to us from Uncle Sam—Wireless Emergency Alerts, or WEA.
Once or twice, we’ve had it alert during a service. It gives the government the power to send a message to every cellphone in a selected geographic location. It’ll override the silent features and everything else with a loud, blaring horn. I’m sure you know it. With this feature, the US government can send a message to every cellphone in the country (unless it is turned off), and, on average, almost all 331 million cellphones will receive it within two minutes. Why am I thinking on this?
In Holy Scripture, the image of the shepherd represents faithful leadership. The Psalmist says, “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.” Jesus says, “I am the Good Shepherd, my sheep know the sound of my voice.” However, the image of the shepherd in Holy Scripture is dramatically different from how the shepherd was perceived in society.
They were viewed as thieves, uneducated outsiders with little to no synagogue attendance, and were considered equal in depravity to dice-throwers, pigeon-racers, and tax collectors. They were ritually unclean because of their work with animals, and their testimony should never be trusted. Scripture speaks highly of them, but for the most part, they were seen as some of the lowest of the low. So, why, of all people, would the angels first announce the birth of the Messiah to shepherds, and why were they chosen as the first visitors to this newborn King?
It may not have been as efficient as the system we have today, but in Rome, there was one who could have quickly spread the message across the known world—Caesar Augustus.
Caesar Augustus is widely considered the greatest ruler of the Roman Empire. He came to power in 27 BC and ruled for forty years. Under his reign, there was the Pax Romana—the Peace of Rome, a period of almost two centuries of relative peace under Roman rule, and it was at its height under Caesar Augustus.
During his reign, the Romans had 250,000 miles of roads, 62,000 of which were paved to support the rapid deployment of military troops and trade. Sure, you had slavery, high taxation, and suppression, but what a small price to pay for Caesar and his cronies to live in comfort.
Caesar considered himself the son of God and the savior of the people, but let’s say he, instead of those dirty shepherds, heard the angel’s message, went to the manger, saw, and believed. Jesus could have been swept out of that dump and given a royal palace, servants, and everything He would ever want or need. The whole crucifixion business could have been dispensed with. How?
Caesar, using his own version of the Wireless Emergency Alert system, could have used those 250,000 miles of roads and the messengers, who were constantly running to and fro, to spread the word of this new King while keeping Jesus safely cloistered away. Within two months of Jesus’s birth and Caesar’s visit to the manger, the message would have been broadcast to the entire empire. Not as fast as we could today, but a heck of a lot faster and more efficient than a couple of untrustworthy shepherds with no means of communicating to the rest of the world.
The words of Judas Iscariot in the rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar, “Why’d you choose such a backward time in such a strange land? If you’d come today you could have reached a whole nation. Israel in 4 BC had no mass communication.”
Not only could Caesar have communicated the message more quickly, but he could have commanded and put into law that Jesus was the true Son of God, that there would be no other gods but the Father, and that anyone stupid enough to disagree could be put to death. How great is that?
Here, we’ve been trudging along for 2,000 years to make Jesus known and loved, but if the angels had gone to Caesar Augustus, the world would have become Christian almost overnight and would have remained so until 476 AD, when the Roman Empire fell. That’s when whoever rose to power would have ushered in a new god, required everyone to worship it, and put to death those who disagreed. And the world would have fallen into step with little to no resistance. Why?
God chose shepherds when he came into the world because Jesus would not be managed by politicians and used to further agendas. That type of system is always doomed to failure. Instead, Jesus came so that hearts would be changed. This does not happen with commands and dictates. It doesn’t happen with power and threats. It happens when the humble and meek, the lowly and despised—the shepherds—hear the angels’ message and submit themselves, body and soul, to the One who calls them into His presence and reveals Himself to them.
In a sermon preached in the early fifth century, St. Augustine said,
“Shepherds were watching their flocks by night. Shepherds—simple men, humble men, poor men—were watching, and the angel of the Lord stood by them. Not to kings, not to scribes, not to the wise of this world was the birth of Christ announced, but to shepherds.
Why shepherds? Because they were humble; because they were vigilant; because they were keeping watch. Pride does not keep watch; humility does.”
Jesus had no desire to conquer worldly empires. He came to conquer sin and death, so that those who believe in Him and call on His Name might receive forgiveness of sins and eternal life. This could never be accomplished by the dictates of Caesar. St. Leo the Great said, “Truth sought not the halls of kings, but the hearts of the humble.” Starting with shepherds has taken longer, but through those very humble beginnings, the world has never been the same.
This evening, we are the shepherds gathered in this place. We came not by compulsion or command, but because we too have had our hearts changed, made new. Somewhere within our souls, the angels spoke, saying to us as they did to the shepherds, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.” We have heard those words, and like the shepherds, we visit the manger, kneel before our infant King, and believe. In his sermon, St. Augustine went on to say,
Let us imitate the shepherds. Let us keep watch over what has been entrusted to us. Let us guard Christ in our hearts. Let us proclaim Him by our lives.
Our God and King has drawn near, come, let us adore Him.
Let us pray (also from St. Augustine): Let the just rejoice, for their justifier is born. Let the sick and infirm rejoice, for their Savior is born. Let the captives rejoice, for their Redeemer is born. Let slaves rejoice, for their Master is born. Let free men rejoice, for their Liberator is born. Let all Christians rejoice, for Jesus Christ is born. Amen.
Dorothy Sayers is not one of those capital “S” saints, but she is on the Episcopal/Anglican Church calendar for her contributions to writing.
Her father was an Anglican priest, so she knew the church arena well, and she had a talent for conveying the Christian message in ways that made it more understandable for the general public. One of these writings was the radio play The Man Born to be King.
In one scene, she has a family driving out to see this new prophet in the land, John Baptist. There’s quite a bit of interaction from the crowd, but I’ll mostly share with you the words of John.
JOHN BAPTIST: Men and women of Israel! Once more, once more I call you to repent. And quickly. For God’s Kingdom is coming as the Prophets foretold. Not in some distant future. Not a year or a week hence. Not tomorrow. But now… Are you ready for it? You know very well you are not. For years, you have been saying, “Some day, some day the tide will turn. Someday, someday Messiah will come, and all will be well with Israel.” But your hour is upon you-Messiah is at your very gate—and what will he find when he comes? I see a worldly priesthood, a worldly ruler, a worldly people—a nation of shopkeepers and petty bureaucrats, their hearts fixed on cash and credit, and deaf and blind to righteousness. Sackcloth and ashes! Sackcloth and ashes! The Kingdom is at hand, and you are not prepared. Now, now repent of your sins and the sins of the whole nation. Now let God wash away your guilt in the clear waters of Jordan. Wash and be clean, that you may be fit for the task that is laid upon you, for the great and terrible day of the Lord is at hand.
The Religous leaders show up.
JOHN BAPTIST: Some of you, I see, are Pharisees. Religious men, keepers of the Law, patterns of respectable piety, what are you doing here? (with sudden violence) Hypocrites, humbugs, brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the vengeance to come?
CROWD (indignant murmurs): “Well, I never.. insolence. Upon my word,” etc. (mingled with) “That’s right! Give it to ‘em hot… confounded lot of prigs.”
JOHN BAPTIST: Yes, I know what you will say: “We need no repentance. We keep the Law. We are the privileged children of Abraham. God will look after us, whatever happens.” Don’t flatter yourselves. God doesn’t depend on you. He can find His children everywhere. He could raise them out of these desert stones, which are no harder than your hearts. You too will be lost if you don’t repent and do better. Messiah is coming like a woodman with his axe, and all the rotten trees, all the barren trees, will be cut down at the roots and thrown into the fire. All of them.
When the crowd asks what they must do to be saved, JOHN BAPTIST says,
Be generous. Do more than the Law demands. You, there, with the good coat—you don’t need a cloak as well. Give it to the naked beggar beside you. And you with the picnic basket, how about sharing it with some of these poor children! (his voice rising harshly again) Renounce the world—weep, wail, and beat your breasts—and await the Kingdom in fear and trembling.
When the religious leader asked who he was, JOHN BAPTIST says,
JOHN BAPTIST: I am the herald of God’s Kingdom. I baptise, but only with the water of repentance. There is a far greater man coming soon. I shan’t be worthy so much as to tie his shoe-laces. He will baptise you with spirit and with fire.
CROWD: Where is he? Show us the Messiah! Show us the Christ!
JOHN BAPTIST: Christ will come among you like a man thrashing corn. He will gather the grain and burn the chaff. There will be a great purging of Israel… Make ready to meet him. Draw near, confess your sins, and be baptised in Jordan. (Source)
When it first aired, the atheist got all bent out of shape because the BBC was promoting Christianity on the radio, and the conservative Christians got all bent out of shape because she hadn’t used the traditional King James Bible version. However, the general public loved it, with students being let out of school early to catch the latest installment. And, for added credibility, if needed, C.S. Lewis told Sayers that every year, he used the print version of the play for his Lenten Devotional. That’s good enough for me.
When it comes to daily devotional books that you might read as part of a spiritual practice, we most often think of ones that are uplifting and joyful. Something to give a good start to the day. I’ve come across several that I quit pretty quickly, but some I get very involved with. Few are specific for priests, but there are a couple, and one that I discovered several months back is TheDignity and Duties of the Priest, by St. Alphonsus Liguori.
In the first few pages, I thought it would be inspiring and uplifting. There was a quote by St. John Chrysostom that was setting the tone—“Priests should be so holy that all may look to them as models of sanctity; because God has placed them on earth that they may live like angels, and be luminaries and teachers of virtue to all others.” I read that and began to feel good about my calling, but then it took a turn. A couple of pages later—“In a word, [the priest] that is not holy is unworthy to approach the altar, because by the stains that he brings with him, he contaminates the sanctuary of God. Let him not approach the altar, because he has a blemish, and he must not defile my sanctuary.” On the next page, a quote from Saint Augustine further illumines this: “To the Lord is more pleasing the barking of dogs than the prayer of such priests.”
It was such a wonderful book—and I mean that—but there were mornings when I would look at it and say, “You’ll get your turn. Give me a minute.” Then I would read and get smacked again—“At present, says the holy church, I am not persecuted by the pagans, for the tyrants have ceased, nor by the heretics, because there are no new heresies; but I am persecuted by the [priest], who by his scandals robs me of many souls.” For such a priest, Liguori tells us, “The end shall be, first, abandonment of God, and then the fire of hell.”
I kept reading—it actually changed my understanding of the priesthood—but I kept wanting him to throw me a bone. Give me some sign of hope, because there were times I felt convinced I had no chance of heaven.
Now imagine you are Jewish and living during the time leading up to the birth of Jesus. You attend synagogue every Sabbath. You understand the teachings of the Torah and sincerely want to follow them, but you find that every turn, you stumble over one aspect of the Law or another. The only way to enter God’s Kingdom is if you are without sin, but no sooner have you made the appropriate sacrifices at the Temple for the forgiveness of sins, you fall into another pit. You want to be holy, but there seems to be no hope.
Now, imagine you’re living in the small city of Nazareth. One night, after a long, hard day, you’re making your way home. As you walk, you recall all the times you’ve failed God, and you understand the consequences of those failures. Yet, until you can return to the Temple again to make the necessary sacrifices, your salvation remains in question. In your fear and frustration, you stop along the way and lean against a wall just to have a moment of quiet. Then, you see a strange light begin to shine out of the window of the house you’re leaning against. Just as you’re about to move on, you hear the sweetest voice begin to speak, and it stops you in your tracks. You have no choice but to listen.
“Greetings, O favored one, the Lord is with you!” There’s a brief pause, then you hear, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. And the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.”
Another pause, then you hear a young woman’s voice, “How will this be, since I am a virgin?”
The response comes immediately: “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore, the child to be born will be called holy—the Son of God. And behold, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son, and this is the sixth month with her who was called barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.”
Imagine you’re listening outside the window as all this happens. You realize that it is an angel of the Lord speaking to the girl. What he offers is not only salvation for the girl, but for the whole world—yourself included. The angel is offering the hope you are so desperately seeking. You know that through the Son of God, whom the angel is speaking about, you will receive forgiveness of sin, you will be given the freedom to serve and worship God without fear, and that you will be set free from the sting of death. In that moment, you understand all of this, but you also realize that everything depends on one thing—the young woman’s response.
St. Bernard of Clairvaux wrote in a sermon about that moment—a moment when all of creation held its breath, waiting for Mary to speak: “You have heard, O Virgin, that you will conceive and bear a son; you have heard that it will not be by man but by the Holy Spirit. The angel awaits an answer; it is time for him to return to God who sent him. We too are waiting, O Lady, for your word of compassion; the sentence of condemnation weighs heavily upon us…. Tearful Adam with his sorrowing family begs this of you, O loving Virgin, in their exile from Paradise. Abraham begs it, David begs it. All the other holy patriarchs, your ancestors, ask it of you, as they dwell in the country of the shadow of death. This is what the whole earth waits for.”—Mary, what is your answer? On one side is condemnation and death, and on the other is the forgiveness of sins and life eternal.
As I read Liguori’s book, I kept asking, “Is there any hope?” And for you, standing outside the window, listening to the angel’s words, you’ve asked the same question: “Is there any hope?” Yes, there is. The greatest of all hope. Why? Because “Mary said: Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it done to me according to thy word.” Mary said yes, and Hope Incarnate, the very Word of God, the Son of God, Christ Jesus the Lord, was conceived in the Virgin’s womb.
There is often confusion about why the Blessed Virgin Mary is held in such high esteem, but the answer lies in those few words of hers, for all of salvation—ours, the world’s, all of creation—hinged on her response.
That great Archbishop of Canterbury from the 11th century, St. Anselm, said, “To Mary God gave his only-begotten Son, whom he loved as himself. Through Mary, God made himself a Son, not different but the same, by nature Son of God and Son of Mary. The whole universe was created by God, and God was born of Mary. God created all things, and Mary gave birth to God. The God who made all things gave himself form through Mary, and thus he made his own creation. He who could create all things from nothing would not remake his ruined creation without Mary.”
If I could accomplish one thing today, it would be to increase your devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary. Our salvation is through Christ Jesus alone—no one comes to the Father except through Him—however, it was through Mary and her yes that Christ took on our flesh and, through that same flesh, was able to give us hope. As I’ve told you before, this hope we possess is not mere wishful thinking. Our hope in Christ Jesus is an unshakable knowledge and expectation of what the Father has promised all along. What is that promise? We read it in the:
“He has shown the strength of his arm, he has scattered the proud in their conceit.
He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty.
He has come to the help of his servant Israel, for he has remembered his promise of mercy,
The promise he made to our fathers, to Abraham and his children for ever.”
The Father has promised that we will be with Him in His Kingdom, where there will be no end, and it all started with Mary’s “Yes.”
Mary’s life is devoted to guiding us to her Son, our Savior, Jesus Christ. Offer your devotion to her. Respect her as Queen and mother, and through her intercessions, you will be drawn deeper into your relationship with the One True God.
Let us pray: Hail, holy Queen, Mother of mercy, hail, our life, our sweetness and our hope. To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve: to thee do we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this vale of tears. Turn then, most gracious Advocate, thine eyes of mercy toward us, and after this our exile, show unto us the blessed fruit of thy womb, Jesus, O merciful, O loving, O sweet Virgin Mary! Amen.
Pray for us, O Holy Mother of God, that we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.
The American Film Institute has several “Top 100” lists: 100 best movies, 100 best musicals, 100 best heroes and villains, and so on. They also have the “100 top movie quotes.” Way down in the 80s, we have lines like, “Yo, Adrian,” and “My Precious.” Moving up into the 40s, there is “Shane. Shane. Come back,” and “Stella! Hey, Stella!” Then breaking into the top ten, there are “Go ahead, make my day,” and “I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse.” Number one on the list, you’ve got to love Rhett Butler—“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a….” However, the one I’m thinking of today comes in at number ten, spoken by Travis Bickle, played by Robert De Niro, in Taxi Driver. The line: “You talkin’ to me? You talkin’ to me!?” (Source)
In our Gospel reading, when John the Baptist confronts the Pharisees and Sadducees, I can picture them glancing at each other, then at John, and in their best Robert De Niro impression, asking, “You talkin’ to me?!” And then John firing back with number forty-four on the AFI list, “I see dead people.” Okay. Enough of that.
As we know, John’s criticism didn’t stop with the religious leaders. He was an equal-opportunity rebuker, and later, he would criticize Herod for marrying his brother’s sister, which landed him in jail and eventually led to his beheading. Yet for the prophets, including John the Baptist, they were almost always upsetting someone and finding themselves in danger.
In the Acts of the Apostles, the first deacon was Stephen. He said to the religious leaders, “You stiff-necked people, uncircumcised in heart and ears, you always resist the Holy Spirit. As your fathers did, so do you. Which of the prophets did your fathers not persecute? And they killed those who announced beforehand the coming of the Righteous One.” (Acts 7:51-52) They then proceeded to stone him to death.
Despite the dangers of the job, the prophet’s role is to stir up the people and point out their errors, hoping they will return to God. In fact, they are responsible for the souls of the people before God. Speaking to Ezekiel, the Lord said, “So you, son of man, I have made a watchman for the house of Israel. Whenever you hear a word from my mouth, you shall give them warning from me. If I say to the wicked, O wicked one, you shall surely die, and you do not speak to warn the wicked to turn from his way, that wicked person shall die in his iniquity, but his blood I will require at your hand. But if you warn the wicked to turn from his way, and he does not turn from his way, that person shall die in his iniquity, but you will have delivered your soul.” (Ezekiel 33:7-9)
Prophet: a dangerous job before the people and before God, yet God calls those He chooses. The Prophet Jeremiah said, “The Lord put out his hand and touched my mouth. And the Lord said to me, ‘Behold, I have put my words in your mouth. See, I have set you this day over nations and over kingdoms, to pluck up and to break down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plant.’” (Jeremiah 1:9-10)
The Lord chooses and sends His prophets to speak His words, not their own. Knowing this, you might think they—dare I say, “We”?—would respond accordingly, but it was said, “The Lord, the God of their fathers, sent persistently to them by his messengers, because he had compassion on his people and on his dwelling place. But they kept mocking the messengers of God, despising his words, and scoffing at his prophets, until the wrath of the Lord rose against his people, until there was no remedy.” (2 Chronicles 36:15-16)
The same was true with John the Baptist. The people heard what was said, but they did not respond according to the will of God. Instead, they became angry with these messengers and persecuted them, often putting them to death. Thank goodness we are not like them. We accept criticism and correction very well. When someone offers Godly corrections to us, we don’t get angry. No, sir. We might get even, but we don’t get angry! Right?
Let me ask you this: you hear John the Baptist crying out, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” How do you respond? The human thing to do is to look at everyone around you and say, “Darn tooting! Y’all need to repent! Get right with the Lord!” The whole time, thinking John the Baptist couldn’t possibly be talking to you. Or what about this: Christian groups love to quote this one from 2nd Chronicles: “If my people who are called by my name humble themselves, and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and heal their land.” (2 Chronicles 7:15) What’s the first thing to go through your head? “If those left-wingers or the fascist right (I too am an equal opportunity rebuker) would just learn to pray and follow Jesus, then this whole thing could be sorted out overnight!” Can I get an “Amen”? Why do we think this way? Isn’t it obvious? This call to turn from wicked ways is about them, and has nothing to do with me!
However, the prophet confronts us and says, “Oh, yes, it is. It is all about you. You are the one who needs to get right with God.” Like everyone else, we don’t much like hearing it, but we must be willing to listen to the words of John the Baptist—“Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”—and allow those words to be spoken to us personally and as the Church. We must let God correct us so we are not the ones provoking His wrath. Through this process of correction, we are allowing him to perfect us. As the Lord told the church in Laodicea, “Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline, so be zealous and repent.” (Revelation 3:19)
How can we let the prophets’ words speak to us and correct us? There is a powerful phrase from Martin Luther: “The Cross tests everything.”
If we test our thoughts, actions, and deeds the same way the Pharisees and Sadducees evaluated theirs, we respond like they did—“You talking to me?” However, if we test those same thoughts, actions, and deeds by the Cross, we may discover a different outcome. It might not be what we want to hear, but it will be God’s truth.
I wonder, if we are willing and brave enough to look closely, which part of ourselves, our lives, our being would we hesitate to put to the test of the Cross? I suspect there are aspects of all our lives that are much safer tucked away in their own personal niches, their own special places of worship within our souls, even illuminated with one of those little votive candles—areas that are far too cherished by the Great “I” to be put to such a test. Yet, if we did, if we nailed those silly notions to that most sacred tree, the Cross, well, they would likely scream out in protest and blasphemy, just like the wicked thief did who was crucified with Jesus. But in the end, we would be set free from those things that bind us.
The prophets deliver messages to a world that is broken, but their messages are also for us. Jesus says, “He who has ears, let him hear.” (Matthew 13:9) I pray that if you hear in your soul John the Baptist calling you to repentance, don’t be like those who become proud and angry. Instead, submit to the call of repentance and accept the forgiveness of sins; for as St. John tells us, “If we confess our sins, [God] is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” (1 John 1:9)
Let us pray:
O God, You raised up St. John the Baptist to prepare a perfect person for Christ. We call upon St. John’s intercession to properly prepare us with a true sense of repentance to receive Your grace and salvation. Make us faithful to Truth and justice, as You did Your servant, John the Baptist, herald of Your Son’s birth and death. Lord, may You increase Your life within us. Amen.
I came across a poem that I thought Mary Alice would like, but also one that feels as though she lived it. It is often attributed to St. Augustine, but it is much more contemporary than that. It was written in the early 20th century by German musician and teacher Georg Goetsch. The title: I Praise the Dance.
I praise the dance, for it frees people from the heaviness of matter and binds the solitary to community. I praise the dance, which demands everything: health and a clear spirit, a poised soul and a shining body. The dance transforms the soul into a dwelling of light.
O human, learn to dance, for otherwise the angels in heaven will not know what to do with you.
The dance is wholly from the beginning. It is the movement of creation itself, the becoming of all things, their passing and their re-becoming. The dance turns the deepest, holiest things into visible and living form.
Dance, because the whole of creation dances: the sun, the stars, the earth— they all move in rhythm and harmony. So too should you move in rhythm with God.
The author told us,
O human, learn to dance, for otherwise the angels in heaven will not know what to do with you.
I can assure you, you do not want to see me dance. It’s not pretty, but I do understand the deeper meaning of the author’s message.
He is telling us that in this life, we are meant to find joy. We should learn not only to experience God through prayer and study but also to encounter Him in the people we meet. We are called to seek out ways in this lifetime to love, show compassion, practice our faith, and give of ourselves. Living this way allows those around us to experience glimpses of heaven—the eternal life to come. From what I’ve learned, Mary Alice was just such a person. She was one who learned how to dance in her soul and showed others how to do the same.
You might think that someone who has lived such a life would face no troubles, but we know that’s not true. I recall the time St. Teresa of Avila was crossing a stream in winter. She lost her footing and fell into the icy water, then complained to the Lord about all her suffering. Jesus said to her, “Don’t complain, my daughter, this is how I treat My friends.” To which Teresa responded, “If this is how you treat your friends, it’s no wonder you have so few!”
Mary Alice, also a friend of Jesus, had every reason to complain just as St. Teresa did, but like St. Teresa, Mary Alice did not lose her faith. She heard those words of Jesus we read in our Gospel and lived them—“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me.” Despite her suffering, she held onto her belief, her faith in Jesus, so that on this day, we can confidently say that she is dancing with the angels in God’s Eternal Kingdom.
Those of us gathered here today are saddened by our loss, but we can also rejoice in knowing that Mary Alice, through the power of the resurrection, is now truly home. We can also rejoice in the knowledge that a place has been prepared for us, and on the day of the Lord’s choosing, he will gather us to Himself, where we will all be reunited in the very presence of His glory. As the Psalmist declares, “This is the Lord’s doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes.”
Peter Paul Rubens – The Miracles of St. Francis Xavier
Francis Xavier was born in Navarre, Spain, in 1507. He later moved to Paris, where he studied for the priesthood and there he met St. Ignatius of Loyola. Together, along with four others, they formed the Society of Jesus—The Jesuits—and became renowned missionaries.
Francis would live out this missionary zeal. In 1537, he moved to Lisbon, Portugal, and then traveled on to India. In one of his early letters to Ignatius from India, Francis shared the following:
“We have visited the villages of the new converts who accepted the Christian religion a few years ago. No Portuguese live here—the country is so utterly barren and poor. The native Christians have no priests. They know only that they are Christians. There is nobody to say Mass for them; nobody to teach them the Creed, the Our Father, the Hail Mary and the Commandments of God’s Law.
“I have not stopped since the day I arrived. I conscientiously made the rounds of the villages. I bathed in the sacred waters all the children who had not yet been baptized. This means that I have purified a very large number of children so young that, as the saying goes, they could not tell their right hand from their left. The older children would not let me say my Office or eat or sleep until I taught them one prayer or another. Then I began to understand: “The kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”
“I could not refuse so devout a request without failing in devotion myself. I taught them, first the confession of faith in the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, then the Apostles’ Creed, the Our Father and Hail Mary. I noticed among them persons of great intelligence. If only someone could educate them in the Christian way of life, I have no doubt that they would make excellent Christians.
“Many, many people hereabouts are not becoming Christians for one reason only: there is nobody to make them Christians. Again and again I have thought of going round the universities of Europe, especially Paris, and everywhere crying out like a madman, riveting the attention of those with more learning than charity: “What a tragedy: how many souls are being shut out of heaven and falling into hell, thanks to you!”
“I wish they would work as hard at this as they do at their books, and so settle their account with God for their learning and the talents entrusted to them.
“This thought would certainly stir most of them to meditate on spiritual realities, to listen actively to what God is saying to them. They would forget their own desires, their human affairs, and give themselves over entirely to God’s will and his choice. They would cry out with all their heart: Lord, I am here! What do you want me to do? Send me anywhere you like—even to India.”
He saw all those priests hanging around Paris just twiddling their thumbs, and thought, if they could see what I see, if they had any passion for souls, “They would cry out with all their heart: Lord, I am here! What do you want me to do? Send me anywhere you like—even to India.”
Even the Apostle Paul teaches us that not all are called to be preachers and teachers, so not all are called to be missionaries; however, each and every Christian can pray the first part of that statement: “Lord, I am here! What do you want me to do?”
It’s a little scary to do this because you never know what God will say or ask, but whatever it is, it is His desire for your life. Pray the prayer—“Lord, I am here! What do you want me to do?”—then, when you hear Him calling, respond like the Prophet Samuel did when the Lord called to him: “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” (1 Samuel 3:9)
Dietrich Bonhoeffer writes, “If we want to be part of these events, Advent and Christmas, we cannot just sit there like a theatre audience and enjoy all the lovely pictures. Instead, we ourselves will be caught up in this action, this reversal of all things; we must become actors on this stage. For this is a play in which each spectator has a part to play, and we cannot hold back. What will our role be? Worshipful shepherds bending the knee, or kings bringing gifts? What is being enacted when Mary becomes the mother of God, when God enters the world in a lowly manger?”
What is taking place when God–Jesus–enters the world? It was just a few weeks ago that our Gospel lesson was quite similar to today’s, focusing on Jesus’ prophecies about the end of days. The problem with such readings is that we can become so caught up in the “what ifs” and “looking for signs” of the events themselves that we overlook the most important part.
So, if we look behind the curtain of all these events, what is really happening? From Bonhoeffer: “What is being enacted when Mary becomes the mother of God, when God enters the world in a lowly manger?”
Since this is the first Sunday of Advent, the start of the Church year, it helps us understand because Advent should inspire a deep sense of anticipation — an expectation of something new.
We talk of “wars and rumors of wars,” about one person being taken and another left behind, and about staying awake— yes, we are to do these things: watch, pray, remain alert as we seek Jesus coming again—but there is much more to it than this.
Almost everyone knows at least rumors of the Book of Revelation with all its wormwood, four horsemen of the apocalypse, and bowls of God’s wrath. Most are aware of the Second Coming of Christ. St. John reports, “I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse. And He who sat on him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness He judges and makes war. His eyes were like a flame of fire, and on His head were many crowns.” John continues, “He was clothed with a robe dipped in blood, and His name is called The Word of God. And the armies in heaven followed Him. Out of His mouth goes a sharp sword, that with it He should strike the nations. And He has on His robe and on His thigh a name written: KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS.”
As Christians, we hear those words and feel like the home team just won the big game at the last second, but what is it all really about? What is the purpose? The Book of Revelation has twenty-two chapters. Most of it focuses on the end of the world—apocalyptic writing. However, at the start of chapter 21, John writes, “Now I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away. Also, there was no more sea. Then I, John, saw the holy city, New Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from heaven saying, ‘Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and He will dwell with them, and they shall be His people. God Himself will be with them and be their God. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.’ Then He who sat on the throne said, ‘Behold, I make all things new. It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End.’”
God says, I do all these things so that I may make all things new. At that, our excitement that the home team won is slightly diminished. It is like what we were talking about a few weeks ago—waiting! We have to keep waiting for the Lord’s return, but now we also have to keep waiting for things to be made new.
Well, that’s just great! When the Lord returns, I will start to experience this new life. In the meantime, it’s the same ol’ same ol.’” Thanks for playing. Please try again. St. Paul helps us understand that this “New” is not only in the future but also something we can experience today. Paul writes, “if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” (2 Corinthians 5:17) Yes, the Kingdom of God is a future event, but it is also a present reality.
However, we still can’t get all excited because we look around at the state of the world today and say, “Well, Father John, if this is the new Kingdom of God, then I’ll take what’s behind door number three.” And there is the rub. Today, we only see in a mirror dimly, for although we are made new in Christ Jesus, the world has not yet been made new. Paul says in his letter to the Romans, “For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.” (Romans 8:22-23)
Creation suffers, and so do we, but we are a new creation. No longer subject to eternal death, but only a short sleep before the Great Day of the Lord’s return, when all is made new.
We live in this in-between time—the now and the not yet—so we wait. As frustrating as that may seem, this waiting is what Advent is all about. Bonhoeffer writes, “Celebrating Advent means being able to wait.” However, he goes on to say, “Waiting is an art our impatient age has forgotten. It wants to break open the ripe fruit when it has hardly finished planting the shoot… Whoever does not know the austere blessedness of waiting—that is, of hopefully doing without—will never experience the full blessedness of fulfillment. For the greatest, most profound, tenderest things in the world, we must wait. It happens not in a storm but according to the divine laws of sprouting, growing, and becoming.” Yes. We will watch, pray, and remain alert, and we will also wait.
Yet, in the midst of this waiting and becoming, God offers us glimpses of future blessings through the gifts of one another and the sacraments of the Church. Therefore, today, after Confession and before the Peace, we will offer the laying on of hands and anointing with oil. Through this sacrament of Unction—of healing—I pray you will see and perhaps experience the new life God is offering you, and that it will give you the courage and strength to wait with perseverance for the newness to come.
Let us pray: God of Love, Your son, Jesus, is your greatest gift to us. He is a sign of your love. Help us walk in that love during the weeks of Advent, As we wait and prepare for his coming. We pray in the name of Jesus, our Savior.
Before 2011, beer was considered a soft drink in Russia.
It is impossible to hum while holding your nose. (As you will all be curious about that one, and not hear the sermon until you try, go ahead.)
A group of cats can be called a clowder, or a cluster, or a glaring, or a nuisance, or a pounce, or a clutter.
More than half of the world’s population is under 30 years old.
The plastic tip on the end of a shoelace is called an “aglet”.
The Caesar salad was created in Tijuana, Mexico, by an Italian immigrant named Caesar Cardini.
It’s always good to be teachable and to learn new things. I never even thought about holding my nose while trying to hum until I read that (and tried). I would like to say that as I prepare sermons and teachings, I already know and understand it all, but each week I learn something new or gain a deeper understanding. This week was no different, even though it was something I already knew, I saw it with more clarity and fullness.
Today is the last Sunday of the Church Year: Christ the King Sunday—the day we celebrate the Kingship of our Savior, Jesus. When I reflect on this and the Kingdom of God, I’ve always viewed it as a Kingdom outside of myself. A Kingdom that I can walk through and work in. A Kingdom that I, if it is God’s will, can help move forward. But this week, I heard Jesus’ words in a different way. Which words were those? “The kingdom of God is not coming in ways that can be observed, nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There!’ for behold, the kingdom of God is within you.”
For me, Christ is the King I come before, kneel before, and desire to serve to the best of my abilities. I try to do His bidding as a faithful servant in His Kingdom, which is around me. However, what happens when I say, “Not only do I live and work in the Kingdom of God, but the Kingdom of God lives and works within me?” I understand God’s Holy Spirit working in me, just as I understand accepting Jesus into my heart, but what does it mean to have God’s Kingdom working within me?
What prompted me to meditate on this were the words in the notebook On Prayer by Origen of Alexandria, a second-century priest. He writes, “The kingdom of God, in the words of our Lord and Savior, does not come for all to see… Thus it is clear that he who prays for the coming of God’s kingdom prays rightly to have it within himself, that there it may grow and bear fruit and become perfect…. The Father is present in the perfect soul, and with him Christ reigns, according to the words: We shall come to him and make our home with him.” And a little further, Origen says, “There should be in us a kind of spiritual paradise where God may walk and be our sole ruler with his Christ. In us the Lord will sit at the right hand of that spiritual power which we wish to receive. And he will sit there until all his enemies who are within us become his footstool, and every principality [and power] in us is cast out.”
Listen to these words:
“God is the King of all the earth!” (Psalm 47:7)
“The Lord reigns; let the peoples tremble!” (Psalm 99:1)
“Who would not fear you, O King of the nations?” (Jeremiah 10:7)
“King of kings and Lord of lords.” (Revelation 19:16)
“The LORD is king forever and ever.” (Psalm 10:16)
What if we said that Jesus is Lord, Jesus is King, out there, but also in here? What if we understood that this King of all the earth can and will conquer His enemies in this world, but can also conquer the enemies within our souls? What would happen if you let the King of kings and Lord of lords reign within you to rule not only over your external life but also over your internal one? St. Paul tells us that “our God is a consuming fire.” (Hebrews 12:29) What if we allowed that consuming fire to burn within? Allowed is the right word because, so often, we hold God in check.
Do you remember the story of Charlemagne, the Holy Roman Emperor? He wanted to conquer the world for Christianity and insisted that all his soldiers be baptized. They did. All but one hand was submerged, and in that hand they held a sword. It was a statement that declared there bodies belonged to God, but that hand and that sword belonged to Charlemagne. When we say we want the consuming fire of the King of kings to reign within us, like those soldiers, we sometimes tuck away a few things in a fireproof room, because we’re willing to let God rule most of our lives but keep a few exceptions. Those few exceptions are the problem. Those few exceptions are what prevent us from fully submitting to the Kingship of Christ, which then causes a ripple effect, impacting not only the Kingdom of God within us but also the Kingdom of God in this world.
All I know about her is that her name is Amy and she is on the internet. (I promise this is not some weird story about me falling in love with the operating system on my computer.) Amy is someone who posts content online, and I’ve seen two of her posts. Anyway, she tells the story of going to the grocery store. At the checkout, standing in line in front of her is a man in his 70s. As they wait, one of the cashiers approaches and says, “Sorry, this line is closed, you’ll have to go to that one.” Amy does so, but the older man looks a bit confused, so he continues to stand there. After a minute, the cashier returns to him and repeats herself, and he understands. He moves toward the line she is in, but since she’s shifted, four more people are now behind her. Amy steps forward.
“You were in line in front of me,” she says. “You can go ahead of me.”
“Are you sure?” he asks. “Are you sure I was in front of you?” Amy assures him that he was, and he says, “Thank you for your honesty. It doesn’t happen very often anymore, and I really appreciate you being honest.” She tells him it’s no problem, but he continues, “It is such an odd world that we live in now, and I don’t know what to think of it anymore.”
She says, “Yeah, it is an odd ball world. I agree with you. It’s odd. Things are not going well for society right now.”
He responds, “Sometimes I’m happy that my life is almost over so that I don’t have to live in this world anymore.”
Amy later asked herself, “What if letting someone get in front of you in the line at the grocery store is a massive gesture of kindness? We have to do better as a society.”
If letting someone in front of us in line at the grocery store is the greatest act of kindness we can perform, then there’s not only something wrong with society, but also something deeply wrong with us. If someone is happy that they are nearing the end of their life because of how they are treated in the world, then the One who said, “Love one another as I have loved you,” is not the King of our lives. What is the solution?
Today in our Gospel reading, we heard about Jesus’ crucifixion. After those standing around and one of the others who had been crucified with Him finished taunting Him, the good thief said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” He had no hope of reaching Heaven for himself, but he at least wanted to be remembered. However, Jesus said to him, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”
In this context, we see paradise as something to come; however, what did Origen say? “There should be in us a kind of spiritual paradise where God may walk and be our sole ruler with his Christ.” We are to create within ourselves a paradise where the King of Heaven and the “King of all the earth” can be the King within so that He might rule every aspect of our lives, and that, my friends, is a scary thing. St. Paul said in his letter to the Hebrews, “It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.” (Hebrews 10:31) It is a fearful thing to fall into God’s hands to be ruled, but I will guarantee you this: it will be a far more fearful thing to fall into His hands to be judged.
Within, many choose to establish their own kingdom and sit on a throne they’ve created for themselves so they might rule over their own lives. However, a wise person will realize that within they can create a paradise for the very Kingdom of God, and within that Kingdom, there can be a throne where the King of Glory is permitted to take His rightful seat. Your soul and this world need the Kingdom of God.
Allow yourself to be consumed by the fire of God so that He may reign in your life as the Righteous King.
Let us pray: May the light of Christ, the King of all, shine brighter in our hearts, that with all the saints in light, we may shine forth as lights in the world. Amen.
Candle in a Cave 