Keynotes for December 2006

December 3, 2006

First Sunday of Advent
Jeremiah33:14-16
1Thessalonians3:12-4:2
Luke:21:25-28,34-36

During the canon of the Mass, as we focus on the Son of God, the priest declares for himself and you and me that we are "ready to greet him when he comes again." Did you know that this statement is being said every day on your behalf? And are you, indeed, ready to greet our Lord Jesus? Honestly, I have to admit that I am not up for this just yet. From my reflection on today's readings I learn that this degree of readiness requires me to meet four criteria. That is, I must be 1) on alert, and upon entering his presence: 2) stalwart, 3)accountable and 4)submissive to further formation.

Our final meeting with Jesus is not likely to be a birthday party or a walk in the park. He himself describes it by saying:

For that day will assault everyone
Who lives on the face of the earth.

An assault means an offensive, violent attack, physical and/or verbal. An assault comes with threat of contact, damage, bodily harm. Jesus, of course, would never inflict that kind of assault on anyone, though he allowed the whole world to exact it upon himself. Nonetheless, his language today tells us we must brace ourselves for a shock. "People," he says, "will die of fright in anticipation of what is coming upon the world." He promises roaring of the sea, nations perplexed by signs in the stars, the moon, even the sun. For this kind of coming he would have us all on alert, for he cautions:

But when these signs begin to happen,
stand erect and raise your heads
because your redemption is at hand.

He wants us to have the strength to escape these tribulations. He also wants our hearts strengthened, as Paul puts it, "to be blameless in holiness before God our Father." In other words, he would have us sturdy enough not merely to fend off the menaces, but stalwart enough to square off and look him straight in the eye. Such a stance "before the Son of Man" calls for rehearsals, practice, drills. It calls for right conduct, especially from us who volunteer like militiamen "to abound in love for one another and for all," and to follow Paul's instructions on how we are to conduct ourselves.

We already know that on this day we will be called to an account. We know it as the day of reckoning: our good works recorded on one side of the ledger, our misdeeds on the other. And here to remind us is Jeremiah, quoting the Lord's promise of a "just shoot" that shall arise out of the house of David, the one who will "do what is right and just in the land." After his work of restoration, Isreal and Judah shall themselves be called "The Lord our justice." From Jeremiah and his fellow prophets the people of ancient times learned that God did not make them for their own leisure, pleasure or entertainment. He expected them, as He expects us today, to return to Him in plenteous harvest, full measure, pressed down, flowing over. And even though our redemption has been earned for us by our Savior, it will nonetheless be demanded of each of us to match his efforts, to balance out the accounts deed for deed. A weigh-in of debits against credits, so to speak, is part of being ready to greet him when he comes.

For this reason all of us have to be amenable to further transformation, change, cleansing, purification, even into the moment when we enter His presence. Father Richard Veras observes, "The way I use my freedom in this life will prepare me for the ultimate moment when I will accept or reject salvation." We cannot afford to bring with us even one drop of grudge, pouting, sulking, or clinging to our own defenses. We have to be drilled and primed for that last minute and its split second decision. If our accounts come up short, we will be sent off for further remolding, reshaping, refinishing, that is, if the Lord is still willing to grant them. So at every Mass I am still privileged to attend, the great proclamation: "Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again," will be there to remind me of my requirements. I will try to pray for the congregation and myself that WE are "ready to greet him when he comes again." I have finally come to realize what backbone it takes to say these words. And I am hoping this aspiration reinforces my posture so that I can withstand Jesus' scrutiny.

December 10, 2006

Second Sunday of Advent
Baruch5:1-9
Philippians1:4-6,8-11
Luke3:1-6

Have you ever gone out to a favorite hilltop with some companions to watch the sun rise? Remember that gradual, almost imperceptible transformation of the landscape as it ever-so-slowly bursts into glory? This phenomenon is perhaps the most revealing analogue to the Advent of Christ that our human eyes can behold. Just as we today can know the precise minute of the sun's emergence on the horizon, so were the gospel writers then careful to note the coordinates of time and place of that first word of salvation proclaimed by John the Baptist. Like a certain allignment of stars, the vectors of history: three tetrarchs, two high priests and a governor in Tiberius Caesar's reign, all configurate to one exact point in time. On this day dawned the new humanity that Paul envisioned for the Philippians and his other congregations:

that your love may increase ever more and more
in knowledge and every kind of perception,
to discern what is of value, so that you may be
pure and blameless for the day of Christ.

While the higher reaches of human nature somehow loom into focus at some exalted vanishing point, the deeper crevasses of fear and ignorance and sin simultaneously begin to relinquish their shadows. Human intelligence is tempered by the emergence of the Word, as God's grace gradually highlights the landscape of the world.

This is the great event that the prophet Baruch was anticipating when he
urged his listeners:

Up, Jerusalem! stand upon the heights;
look to the east and see your children
gathered from the east and the west
at the word of the Holy One.

His was a vision of the rising Son of man casting the splendor of God's glory to the four corners of the earth. Today we have the opportunity to join him, to sit upon some precipice and observe how the lofty mountains are made low, and the age old depths and gorges are filled to ground level. Suddenly we realize these avalanches are the modulations not of vast physical masses, but of our very perceptions. As shifting streams of light play upon the cliffs and slopes, trees and lakes, valleys and streams, they evoke the scintillations of color and texture in our hearts. Baruch was enraptured with the splendor of God's enlightenment. And well he should have been, for he was given a rare sneak preview of what the coming of Christ would do to the world.

Today, even as the saving power of Jesus abounds in our midst, the humdrum of daily routines can dull our sensitivities, and then we fail to be stirred by the prospect of his final coming. Maybe from time to time we also need a sneak preview. Perhaps we are at a juncture where we should go back our to our favorite spot in the hills and take a fresh look at the sunrise. Or perhaps we simply need to fall to our knees and beg for that keenness of perception, the discernment of values that renders us pure and blameless, the dawning in our souls of the splendor that continues to come with an ever increasing Love.

December 8, 2006

Immaculate Conception
Genesis3:9-15,20;
Ephesians1:3-6,11-12;
Luke1:26-38

When God called Adam and Eve to account, He demanded " Why did you do such a thing?" Their souls must have frozen into an estrangement, bleak and terrifying. Suddenly they felt the impact of their offense, and perhaps even realized that all of their lineage, for as many aeons as it would last, would be alienated from God by what they had just done. The stigma of disobedience was forever cast upon the human race's relationship with its Creator. But God in his wisdom also foresaw all this, "before the foundation of the world," as Paul says. Paul assured the Ephesians that "In love God destined us for adoption to himself, through Jesus Christ." God's ultimate plan was to choose us in Christ, and as each person is ushered into His eternal presence, they will be restored to a purity without blemish. The amazing thing is HOW the destiny of the human race would find recovery, and how all of this would unfold.

Eve, the natural mother of the entire living race, would be followed by Mary, the woman overshadowed by the Holy Spirit, who would concieve in her womb and bear a son, God's very own Son. And to make her a vessel fit for this privilege, God would see to it that she herself was conceived without the stigma, the ugly birthmark left by that first disobedience. So, from her soul unstained and body unsmeared by original sin came forth the Infant whose blood would subsequently wash us clean and restore to us the pristine purity demanded for the Father's presence. For nothing will be impossible for God.

Thus it was from our mother immaculate that our estrangement from the Father began to be assuaged and absolved; through Mary's purity and Jesus' sacrifice we were readmitted back into the intimacy of His love. Now we can talk to Him in familiar terms, because we have been embraced again into His family. Through this mother's cooperation, our adoption was made possible. The death and resurrection of His Son completed our adoption process, this time, irreversably.

But the keeping of ourselves clean from the stains of other sins is left up to ourselves. At our final meeting with the Lord, where we are expected to present ourselves "holy and without blemish before him," ( Paul's words), this is the charge we must hold squarely in our own hands. Could such responsibility become more bleak and terrifying than what Adam and Eve faced? Frankly, I think it could, for anyone who disdains to place him/ herself at the mercy of our Immaculate Mother and her ever-forgiving Son.

Even though none of us was concieved without sin, yet now we are all charged with a commission similar to Mary's. Just as she was impregnated with the infant Son of God and entrusted to enflesh his tiny body, nurture it full gestation and give it birth, so we as a church of unified members are expected to become and show forth the Body of Christ. At our confirmation the Holy Spirit comes upon us as it once came upon her. At our receptions of the other sacraments, the power of the Most High overshadows us in a manner similar to hers. Once she said, "May it be done to me according to your word," she became for us the great conduit of grace, in that she produced for us and delivered to us Jesus our brother, the One who chose to be our Life and our Way to salvation. Like siblings who hold a tiny brother for the first time, we cradle him into our hands and say with Mary, "May it be done to me according to your word." That is, through us may your mission as you envision it continue to be accomplished.

Or, with the use of our free wills, we can choose to go a way of our own determination. But that would not only offend the Mother who abounds in affection for ourselves;

it would be tantamount to insulting her pristine innocence and exquisite purity. That would throw us back into the post-offensive state of Adam and Eve, with its chilling emptiness and haunting loneliness.

December 17, 2006

Third Sunday of Advent
Zephaniah3:14-18a
Philippians4:4-7
Luke3:10-18

John the Baptist stirs up the peoples' expectations. Paul urges the Philippians to rejoice because the Lord is near. But it is the little known prophet Zephaniah who actually explains to us humans WHY we should feel so cheerful. He says that God wants to mix with us, that He will rejoice with gladness over us, just to live in our midst. Even more astoundingly, this prophet proclaims that the Lord "will sing joyfully because of you, as one sings at festivals." God is singing? aloud? like at a celebration or concert? Yes, when the source of all gladness bursts into song, how can we not be swept up in the exhilaration? What response can we make other than to join Him? Its the kind of glee expressed in a favorite hymn:

Through all the tumult and the strife
I hear that music ringing;
It sounds and echoes in my soul
How can I keep from singing?

Amid all our daily distractions, what can possibly hold us back when we are told we have been rescued from judgments, from enemies and misfortunes? Zephaniah is urging us today, as he did Zion and Israel, to shout for joy and sing with gusto. Little wonder that every December countries around the world bring forth their traditional songs of mirth, carols, and with chorus after chorus attune them into a worldwide crescendo. The King, the Lord, a mighty savior, the One who came as a baby, is again in our midst to renew us in his love! Paul's exhortation does not just pop up spontaneously, out of the blue. What he is saying is that we must make our kindness known to our fellows just as we make our requests and petitions known to God. His wish is that we "merry gentlemen" rest in the peace that surpasses all understanding, a peace that is brought only by the One who comes singing the song of our salvation.

We would scarcely have been aroused to an openness, ie. to be in a mood receptive to tidings of such gladness, had there not been one annointed by the Spirit of the Lord to warm us up, as it were, to excite us out of our doldrums. This was the job of the precursor, John, who baptized with water, in anticipation of the One who "will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire." John unfolds for us, as he did for crowds, tax collectors and soldiers, the personal gifts hidden within ourselves, gifts for mutual respect, justice and charity. He shows the soldiers how to trade their domineering habits for a sense of equality, the tax collectors how to find joy in doing what is fair and right, others in the crowd how to emerge from the waters moved by the Spirit to share their food and clothing. Such inner stirrings induce the converts to wonder if John himself might be the Christ. Only at this point are they ready for John to plant in their minds the real seed, a glimmering prospect so much brighter and more tremendous, of the One who is to come. Up until this moment the peoples of earth were scarcely able to dream of a God so eager to energize their talents, a God so hungry for the same intimacy and tenderness they lavished on their own offspring, a God so robust He would come and sing and even dance with them.

So, once again 'tis the season to be jolly. Because now we find in our own hearts the very nucleus of this explosion of cheer. To paraphrase:
Through all the air waves amplified
I hear that music ringing;
It sounds and echoes in my soul,
How can I keep from singing.

December 24, 2006

Fourth Sunday of Advent
Micah5:1-4a
Hebrews10:5-10
Luke1:39-45

Which should be the matter of greater concern: that God might withdraw from us or that we will withdraw from Him? Periodically throughout the Old Testament the people of Isreal did have this feeling that their God was abandoning them. They knew He could. They sometimes thought He would retract His gifts, hide his presence, even withhold once and for all the providence to which they had become so accustomed. But among them also grew the hope that a Messiah would come to shepherd them as his flock.Their fears subsided when they imagined him ruling Isreal for endless days to come. In the responsorial psalm (80) of today's Mass we pray as they once prayed:

May your help be with the man of your right hand,
with the son of man whom you yourself made strong.
Then we will no more withdraw from you;
give us new life, and we will call upon your name.

So God did send his Son to be with them (and us). It was an irrevocable decision. It was a deed He never took back. And it put human history on a new trajectory that could not be reversed. In Micah's prophecy we witness the promise of this Emmanuel, this Lord-with-us. In Mary's visit to her cousin we learn how God actually did it. In the letter to the Hebrews His intention is irrefutably confirmed. In so many words, God is saying to us: Now that you have my Son, I can nevermore withdraw from you.

Micah shows how God will temporarily withdraw from the other clans of Judah so that He might focus on tiny Bethlehem, an inconspicuous little settlement among them. "The Lord will give them up," he declares, until it is time for the child to be born and thereafter re-gather the children of Isreal, "the rest of his kindred." This is not God doing another disappearing act. They must allow for His unusual approach. Then they will have a leader who will stand firm in the Lord's strength and shepherd his people. They must trust in Him, and his greatness will come to be recognized the world over for his singular gift, that peace which the world cannot give. From all this God so much as says He will never again turn away.

The incident at Elizabeth's house is another case of the unexpected and totally unpredictable. It was God again saying, Look I am here, and with you I am going to stay. Baby John, still forming in Elizabeth's womb, is incited to a spasm of joy by the sound of Mary's voice. Its seems the earthly presence of Jesus is suddenly so imminent that it startles him. Thrilled by a call to his own unique, personal destiny long before it was to unfold, he gave forth an instinctive response. And the call came disguised as a greeting from the mother of their Lord, the one whom Elizabeth proclaimed Blessed are you who believed

that what was spoken to you by the Lord
would be fulfilled.

As much as to say, Emmanuel, Lord-with-us is right here because you trusted in his promise. Elizabeth trembles. When it sinks in that the mother of her Lord has come to her, she is beside herself with joy. Despite her old age, Elizabeth had cooperated and conceived a son, and Mary had followed suit. Both were fiercely determined--no matter what the obstacles-- to see that their Lord never departed from His people again.

The holocausts, burnt offerings and sacrifices of the Jews, repeated as they were through their long history, did not delight the Lord. Thus, the writer of the letter to the Hebrews now sees clearly what Jesus meant when he said, "Behold, I come to do your will." Jesus meant that the offering of his own body would replace the sacrifices, and supply the expiation that all of those combined could not fulfill. "I come to do your will" also meant that Jesus had come to stay, permanently. God places his body in our hands, literally, day after day, to show us that no more will He ever withdraw from us.

But what does that tell us about the initial concern expressed above? Is it still possible that WE might withdraw from Him? Where does the danger now lie? Perhaps in our own complacency? In certain presumptions that we might still hold fast to? Whatever our obstacles be today, it is going to take the same fierce determination that Mary and Elizabeth had for us to pursue, full throttle, the grace to conquer them. With His Son in our midst, God will never back off. But a lukewarm attitude, negligence, indifferrence on our part--these are the perils that constantly threaten us.

Christmas Vigil. Isaiah62:1-5
Christmas Midnight. Isaiah9:1-6
Christmas Dawn. Isaiah62:11-12
Christmas Day. Isaiah52:7-10

Jesus could have come to earth as a full grown man, and completed His mission that way. And the human race could have been started with human babies parented by angels. Once these little ones reached majority, they could have begun to propagate the rest of the human family in the same way as it actually happened. But God's plan called for the opposites of both. At the onset of time two adults started the generations of mankind, and centuries later our salvation was initiated through an infant. Today we ponder God's reasons for doing it this way.

From a Christmas meditation we overhear the prayer of Saint Tychon:
O Son of God who ceased not to dwell in his Father's bosom!
What did you behold in me of merit?. . .What use, what interest,
what good did you find in me that you came to seek me?
And in the gospel for the fourth Sunday of Advent we likewise hear Elizabeth say:

And how does this happen to me
that the mother of my Lord should come to me?

What is more, the four passages from Isaiah chosen to begin each of the Christmas Masses all harp on a variation of the same theme. In the vigil Mass we find a people who were once forsaken and desolate; at midnight there are hints they were ravaged by war, plundered and abandoned to dark defeat; in the Mass at dawn we learn their city was once shunned like a plague; to start the daytime Mass the prophet alludes to the ruins of Jerusalem, with sentinels stupified and slumped in despair of any further good news. Persistent degradation and deprivation entrenches a deep sense of inadequacy. Beleaguered Zion had become like the team at the bottom of the league who can never win for losing. Or like a younger child in a large family whose older siblings are always scoring higher marks. We used to have a name for this mental disposition. We called it an inferiority complex.

So how did Jesus, by coming as a baby, rouse up a traumatized Israel and restore a battered world to health? In each of the four Introits we encounter an Isaiah who is surprisingly filled with enthusiasm and high hopes. In the vigil he exults that God will embrace His people like a bridgroom marrying a virgin, like a builder who delights in a new helpmate. At midnight he envisions the abolition of warfare:

every boot that tramped in battle,
every cloak rolled in blood,
will be burned as fuel for flames.

He flat predicts the child born to us, the son given to us will bear the dominion on his shoulders. He dramatized how warriors once bound in rags and dying in trenches from their skirmishes will be supplanted by an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes and cradled in a feeding trough, the child of serenity who will awaken under the soft, warm breath of the animals. Could a Jesus who came to this earth as an adult have set the stage so disarmingly? Such a tiny embodiment of endearment, innocence, sweetness and charm, no grownup could ever impersonate. The infant before whom all armies halt in their tracks, all weapons disappear, all of our defenses melt. Wonder-Counselor, God-Hero, Father-Forever, Prince of Peace. In the dawn Mass Isaiah forecasts that Zion shall become the population magnet. The new cluster of believers, "too small to be among the clans of Judah" shall be "Frequented" and abound with visitors. The fourth and last Mass begins with the barefoot messenger skipping across the mountain slopes to bring the glad tidings that "Your God is King!" In giving us His Son in the form of an infant the father is in so many words saying to us: now there is no further reason for your growth and development to be impeded, even by your own thoughts and perceptions. For I in coming to you as a tiny, helpless human creature, I show you that I myself can begin as nearly nothing except that same raw potential for development unto perfection.

Remember the hayseed in the Hush Puppies commercial? He was a country bumpkin in the backwoods running barefoot. Then one day he puts on a pair of Hush Puppies. Suddenly eyes light up, a grin crosses his face, clenched fists reach for the sky and he shouts, "I kin wear shooes. I kin be SOMEbody!" In delightful caricature his personal awakening captures every human soul in the throes of self discovery. Encapsulated in the Hush Puppies eureka-moment is the exuberance of the whole world at Christmastide, as we, like fresh Isaiahs, come to envision the achievements, the glory and the grand culmination that Mary's boychild has made possible for us. Redemption, resurrection, salvation, it is all in store for us now, just waiting for our final assembly. So, come let us adore him.

December 31, 2006

Holy Family Sunday

1Samuel1:20-22,24-28
John3:1-2,21-24
Luke2:41-52

Does God have as much confidence in our ability to trust in Him as we have willingness to confide in Him? That he took on the form, substance and nature of a man, and became a son subject to a human father and mother proved that He does have full faith in our ability to trust in Him. But what of our consent to confide in Him?

Samuel's mother Hannah demonstrated trust when she brought her baby boy back to the temple to be raised as a perpetual nazirite. When Hannah first prayed for a child, some inner zeal must have made her vow to give over what was not hers to keep. When God granted her prayer to have a child, she knew she would have to give him up, extremely hard as that would be for her. God listened to her prayers, and consented, and allowed her to concieve and bear this infant. Hannah, in return, had to fulfill her part of the expectation. In consigning her baby to the elders of the temple, Hannah displayed extraordinary confidence. She trusted that he would be raised in accord with the Lord's plan. She trusted without reserve that her God would provide for his welfare.

In John's letter to his community we catch the hint that, to become a Christian in those days must have taken much courage and fortitude. To the world at large Christians were a wierd sect, an odd bunch whose words and actions made little sense. John reminds his followers:

The reason the world does not know us
is that it did not know him.

They felt so shunned and reproached that it must have made them at times question whether they themselves were doing the right thing. As they looked into their hearts, examined their consciences, they found they were doing nothing wrong. From this John assures them

Beloved, if our hearts do not condemn us,
we have confidence in God, and receive from him whatever we ask,
because we keep his commandments and do what pleases Him.

They felt they were upright and blameless before the Lord, yet He did not go easy on them. He repeatedly sounded the depths of their commitment, and He kept finding that they responded in full measure.

Jesus entrusted his care and upbringing to a human father and mother. In the temple he shows us that we can have the same level of trust in him. As the gospel episode unfolds, we follow Mary and Joseph in search for their lost son, and we share in their mounting sense of anxiety. When they suddenly do find him, calmly sitting among the temple teachers and conversing about matters of Scripture, we can imagine what a gamut of emotions must have streaked through these distraught parents: relief, chagrin, pique, exasperation, pride, perplexity, outright anger mixed with joy? Yet the way he explains his own behavior is just like God gently telling us: Look, I have always put all my trust in you, so why should you have trouble placing the same confidence in me? Easy for God to say. After all, God can do anything. But not that hard for us either, actually. When we plumb the experiences of Hannah, the Holy Family, and the Christians of John's community, we come to experience the closeness, the intimacy, the bonds of trust proclaimed in the psalm:

Happy they who dwell in your house!
Continually they praise you.
Happy the men whose strength you are!
Their hearts are set upon the pilgrimage.

If you would like to have KEYNOTES for
the Sunday readings e-mailed to you each
week, send your e-mail address to
realtorbob1@juno.com.