Today’s Liturgy has us on the edge of our seats. As tomorrow’s night turns to day, our salvation will be closer at hand than ever. Our Savior Jesus Christ, the promise of the ages, will be born to us as one like ourselves. “And suddenly there will come to the temple, the LORD whom you seek,” Malachi prophecies, and his words could not be more true. The Gospel, too, has us yearning, as the Forerunner is born and all wonder at what will become of John. Little do they know the significance of that event! Today’s “O Antiphon” speaks of Emmanuel, God-with-us: “O Emmanuel, king and lawgiver, desire of the nations, Savior of all people, come and set us free, Lord our God.” Come, Lord Jesus; come quickly and do not delay!
Category: The Church Year
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Advent Penance Service
I know a lot of people who get depressed this time of year. Probably you do too. Many people are missing loved ones who are far away from home, or who have passed away. Some of my friends have a touch of seasonal affective disorder, and so they are depressed when we don’t see the sun as much on cloudy days like today, or when it gets dark so early as it does during this time. Some people also look back on another year almost finished, and they lament what could have been, or what actually has been. If there is any reason for being a little depressed at this time of year, it often seems like the joy that other people are experiencing during the Christmas season makes the pain even worse.
So for whatever reason, many of us experience darkness during this season, when so many seem to be rejoicing in light. In essence, that’s what Advent is all about. The season of Advent recognizes the darkness of the world – the physical darkness, sure, but more than that the darkness of a world steeped in sin, a world marred by war and terrorism, an economy decimated by greed, peacefulness wounded by hatred, crime and dangers of all sorts. This season of Advent also recognizes the darkness of our own lives – sin that has not been confessed, relationships broken by self-interest, personal growth tabled by laziness and fear.
Advent says that God meets all that darkness head-on. We don’t cower in the darkness; neither do we try to cover over the light. Instead we put the lamp on a lampstand and shine the light into every dark corner of our lives and our world. Isaiah prophesies about this Advent of light: “The light of the moon will be like that of the sun, and the light of the sun will be seven times greater [like the light of seven days].” This is a light that changes everything. It doesn’t just expose what’s imperfect and cause shame, instead it burns the light of God’s salvation into everything and everyone it illumines, making all things new.
Our Church makes the light present in many ways – indeed, it is the whole purpose of the Church to shine a bright beacon of hope into a dark and lonely world. We do that in symbolic ways: the progressive lighting of the Advent wreath symbolizes the world becoming lighter and lighter as we approach the birthday of our Savior. But the Church doesn’t leave it simply in the realm of symbol or theory. We are here tonight to take on that darkness and shine the light of Christ into every murky corner of our lives. The Sacrament of Penance reconciles us with those we have wronged, reconciles us with the Church, and reconciles us most importantly with our God. The darkness of broken relationships is completely banished with the Church’s words of absolution. Just like the Advent calendars we’ve all had reveal more and more with every door we open, so the Sacrament of Penance brings Christ to fuller view within us whenever we let the light of that sacrament illumine our darkness.
And so that’s why we’re here tonight. We receive the light by being open to it and accepting it, tonight in a sacramental way. Tonight, as we did at our baptism, we reject the darkness of sin and we “look east” as the hymn says, to accept the light of Christ which would dawn in our hearts. Tonight we lay before our God everything that is broken in us, we hold up all of our darkness to be illumined by the light of God’s healing mercy.
Each of the days of Advent, we have been praying the “O Antiphons” which the Church gives us in Evening prayer each day. Yesterday’s “O Antiphon” spoke of the light we celebrate tonight: “O Radiant Dawn, splendor of eternal light, sun of justice: come, shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death.”
Tonight, our sacrament disperses the gloomy clouds of our sin and disperses the dark shadows of death that lurk within us. The darkness in and around us is no match for the light of Christ. As we approach Christmas, that light is ever nearer. Jesus is, as the Gospel of John tells us, “the light that shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”
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Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Advent: Come, O King of all the Nations
We hear a similar song from Hannah and Mary today. In fact, many Biblical scholars suggest that the song of Mary we heard in today’s Gospel is a restatement of the song of Hannah that we have in today’s psalm. Whether or not that is true, it is clear that both women give birth to a child by the grace of God, and both women’s sons are destined for greatness. Samuel’s strength is a foreshadowing of the strength of Jesus Christ who will overcome sin and death.
Samuel becomes a great king, but it is Jesus who becomes King of all the Nations, which is the title of Jesus we celebrate in the “O Antiphons” today. The verse from vespers prays, “O King of all the nations, the only joy of every human heart; O Keystone of the mighty arch of man, come and save the creature you fashioned from the dust.”
Today we anxiously await the strength of Christ, King of all the Nations, the only joy of every human heart. He alone can save us from our sins. He alone can unify the hearts of all humankind, putting to an end, once and for all, the sad divisions that keep us from the communion we were always meant to have with one another.
And so we pray, Come, O King of all the nations. Come, be our strength, be the One who leads us in the ways of righteousness, be the joy of every heart that seeks you. Help us to find the peace that only you can bring. Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly and do not delay!
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Monday of the Fourth Week of Advent: O Radiant Dawn
There’s a little more light today. As we get toward these last days of Advent, we find ourselves in a time when more light is beginning to shine. All of the candles on our Advent wreath are lit, and the only thing that can make it brighter is the coming of our God in all his glory, dawning brightly on the earth.
Today’s “O Antiphon” tells us as much. Today we hear “O Radiant Dawn,” and the antiphon for Evening prayer is this: “O Radiant Dawn, splendor of eternal light, sun of justice: come, shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death.”
This light is the source of the joy of which Zephaniah the prophet speaks today. He tells the broken people Israel that God has forgiven their sins, and that he continues to walk among them, which should be cause enough to remove their fear. That enduring presence among the people Israel, of course, is a foretaste of the enduring presence that we experience in the Incarnation of Christ.
Mary and Elizabeth celebrate that light in today’s Gospel. Mary’s greeting of Elizabeth is an act of hospitality, and Elizabeth’s welcome, along with the Baptist’s reaction in his mother’s womb, is an act of faith. That faith incredibly affected the salvation of the whole world.
And all of this light continues to shine on our sometimes-dark world. A world grown dark and cold in sin is visited by its creator, and that world is changed forever. The darkness can never now be permanent. Sin and death no longer have the last word for us, because that was never God’s will for us. We have hope for eternal life because our God eagerly desires us to return to him and be one with him.
And so we pray, Come, O Radiant Dawn, shatter the darkness that sometimes reigns in our cynical world. Give us the warmth of your light to warm our hearts grown cold with sin. Shine on all who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death. Come, Lord Jesus. Come quickly and do not delay!
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The Fourth Sunday of Advent
Hopelessly insignificant. That’s what they are. Bethlehem-Ephratha; the tiniest region of a tiny nation – almost too small to be among the clans of Judah. An old, childless woman, whose hope of progeny has all but dried up, and whose aged husband left her for days at a time to minister as priest in the temple. A young virgin who has not yet known relationship with a man. Hopelessly insignificant. And yet, all of these play a major part in today’s Liturgy of the Word.
We are in the closing days of the year. For so many, this has been a horrible year. Horrible is almost too tame a word for it. The economic downturn has led to so much sadness and disappointment that many have questioned whether they are worthy of God’s attention. For others, the typical disappointments may have added to the problem: relationships that have soured or are ending, sin that has gone unconfessed and unforgiven, patterns of addiction that have not been treated, illness that has caused pain and grief and fear, death of a loved one that has left the survivors questioning God’s will. How insignificant we seem; how hopeless the situation appears for us in these dark Advent days.
But, in these last days of Advent, the Church gushes forth hope that cannot be contained. These last days find us praying the “O Antiphons” – antiphons that are sung before and after the Magnificat in Vespers, the Church’s Evening Prayer. These antiphons call on Christ to come to us under his many wondrous titles. Today’s antiphon is “O Key of David” and the antiphon for Vespers is this: “O Key of David, O royal Power of Israel controlling at your will the gate of heaven: come, break down the prison walls of death for those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death; and lead your captive people into freedom.”
And the Key of David is the key to unlocking the hope that the Church would turn loose on the insignificant ones in today’s readings. Because Bethlehem-Ephratha is just big enough to give birth to the Savior, born of David’s line; the aged couple are not too far gone to give birth to a prophet, and the young virgin is not too young to significantly affect the salvation of the world by just saying yes to God’s will. And more than that, because the Key of David has unlocked unimaginable hope in the lives of all these insignificant ones, we know beyond the shadow of a doubt that God’s hope will obliterate the insignificance and sadness of our own lives with hope beyond all telling.
And let me tell you, dear ones, that’s not easy for me to say. Because for me to prophecy hope to you during these difficult times is very hard for me. And it’s hard because I know how much some of you are hurting this year, and I’ve heard from you the disappointments you are suffering. And as your father, that breaks my heart. And yet, God has asked me to prophecy hope to you this Advent, unimaginable and unbelievable hope, and so that is the message I bring to you today.
I have no idea what that hope is going to look like for you. And I haven’t a clue when it’s going to come. But as I have prayed about these readings during Advent, I know that is the message that God wants us to take away. The hope that comes from God is enough to break forth upon the earth and take away darkness, disappointment, sin, death and pain. It wasn’t just something that happened in tiny little Benjamin-Ephratha two thousand years ago, but instead it is something that absolutely lies in store for all of us who give ourselves over to God’s hope.
And I don’t mean the kind of false hope that says, “hey, hang in there, things will get better.” That just doesn’t work when you’ve lost your job, or your house, or a loved one, or even the thought that God cares for you. I would never tell you that things will get better when your significant other is abusing you, or your family is close to living on the street, or your loved one is dying. And I know how hard it is to hang in there when your family is overscheduled, and you desperately want to get the kids out the door to be at Church on time, and little Annie was up sick last night, and Jimmy can’t find his left shoe for the fourteenth time in the last two days, and despite your heroic efforts, you walk through the doors of the Church late. “Hang in there” is a horrible thing to say to someone who’s at the end of their rope.
And so I think the hope that Jesus brings us and that the Church would have us receive today is a much different hope. This is a hope that opens the way to freedom for all of us who have become imprisoned by sin and sadness and disappointment. It is a hope that says that whatever present anxiety we are currently experiencing is not God’s will for us, and that while that anxiety may not magically go away tomorrow, that there is no way our God will let us walk through it alone. That was true enough for the young virgin in today’s Gospel who had no idea how this pregnancy would turn out, but said yes to God’s plan anyway. Mary’s journey led her through fear and sadness and pain to glory, and the Church courageously believes that her journey is ours too, if we would just say yes to the hope God offers us.
We will find that hope is easier to accept when we are in relationship with our God, as Mary was. Sin keeps us from that, and it is sin that desperately wants us to believe that we are unworthy of hope. Thankfully, through the grace of Christ, the Church provides a way for sin to be overcome so that we can confidently approach the throne of grace, and that is through the Sacrament of Penance. If you have not experienced God’s grace this way so far in Advent, I urge you to come to our Penance Service on Tuesday night at 7:30. We will have eleven priests available to hear your confession and put you back in the path of hope.
Now, having said that, I fully understand that there are many of you here who have not been to confession in many years. I get it. I myself was away from the sacrament for years before God worked on me and brought me back. So here is Father Pat’s “Consumer’s Guide to the Sacrament of Penance:” If you have been away a long time, it will be hard to go back, but go anyway. Be honest with the priest and tell him that it’s been years. Even tell him if you’re not sure how to make a confession. If he doesn’t welcome you back warmly and help you to make a good confession, you have my permission to get up and leave and find a priest who will. Because it’s my job to help you make a good confession. And it’s a privilege and a responsibility that I take very seriously. The priests who will be here on Tuesday do too. Nothing must stand in the way of you receiving God’s mercy and grace and forgiveness, because that is the way we come to know God’s hope.
Today we pray, O Come, O Key of David, come. Open wide the doors that have held us captive to hopelessness, break down the walls that keep us from accepting you, and free us all from sin and death. Come, Lord Jesus, come. Come quickly and do not delay!
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Friday of the Third Week of Advent: O Root of Jesse
As I mentioned yesterday, in these late days of Advent, we pray the “O Antiphons.” Today’s antiphon is “O Root of Jesse” and it is found as the antiphon for the Magnificat in Vespers: “O Flower of Jesse’s stem, you have been raised up as a sign for all peoples; kings stand silent in your presence; the nations bow down in worship before you. Come, let nothing keep you from coming to our aid.”
Zechariah in today’s Gospel certainly knew what it was like to stand silent in the presence of the Root of Jesse. Having been promised a son by an angel of the Lord – what one might consider a very trustworthy source – his disbelief moved him to silence in God’s presence. Here is a man who, one would think, should know better. But maybe his years of childlessness have led him to accept a life that was not God’s will. Certainly we could not blame him if the angel’s message was a bit unbelievable; we who have the benefit of so much science would probably be a little harder on the angel than Zechariah was.
When you’re accustomed to living without hope, any sign of hope can be met with an awful lot of skepticism. Would Elizabeth and Zechariah ever give birth to a child? How would that even be possible? Would God save the world from the darkness of sin and death? Why would he even want to? Can God be born here among us, giving us rootedness and a solid foundation for our lives? Why would he even care?
Better to be silent than to voice our lack of faith and hope. Then, in the stillness of our hearts and souls, maybe God can give rootedness to our scattered lives, bring hope to a world grown dark in sin and economic decline and war and too much death. Today’s Gospel has God bringing hope to a elderly, childless couple. God forbid that we would doubt that he could bring hope to us too.
We pray today: Come, Lord Jesus, come root of Jesse, give rootedness to our lives that are sometimes adrift in despair or apathy, give hope to a world grown cold in darkness and disappointment, give life to a people burdened by sin and death. Come, let us stand silent as we await the dawning of your hope in our lives, let nothing keep you from coming to our aid. Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly and do not delay!
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Friday of the Third Week of Advent: O Sacred Lord
I love these late days of Advent. The expectation of the Savior is heightening, the time of deliverance is at hand, the Lord is near. During these days, we sing the “O Antiphons:” the call for Christ to come and visit us under his many titles. Yesterday was “O Sapientia” or “O Wisdom.” Today is “O Adonai” or “O Sacred Lord.” The antiphon for Vespers this evening prays: “O sacred Lord of ancient Israel, who showed yourself to Moses in the burning bush, who gave him the holy law on Sinai mountain: come, stretch out your mighty hand to set us free.” We pray for the Lord of our salvation to come quickly and not delay.
This was the message Joseph received in his dream. No, the child to be born was not a random child born out of wedlock. He was instead the hope of the nations, the Lord of Lords, the one who would save his people from their sins. Just as Isaiah foretold one who would be called “the LORD our justice,” so Joseph would name his child Jesus, a name which means “the LORD is salvation.” We await the coming of our Savior who is our salvation, our justice, our hope of eternal life. He was long desired of every nation, and he is needed in our hearts today.
It was necessary for Joseph to set aside his plans for his life so that salvation could come to all the world. His decision to dismiss Mary quietly was a just one, considering he could have exposed her to shame. But even that just decision was not God’s will. Joseph went to God in the stillness of his heart, and was open to his angel’s message in a dream. Openness to God’s plans is necessary for all of us if we would be one with the Lord.
And so we pray, come O Sacred Lord, do not delay. Fill our hearts with your presence and come to us with your great salvation. Free us from our slavery to sin, open our hearts to your will for us, and bring us into your presence. Come Lord Jesus, come quickly and do not delay!
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Wednesday of the Third Week of Advent
“Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?” John the Baptist was certainly voicing the question others probably were asking; they may have been envisioning quite a different kind of savior, one who was strict and zealous, who sought to restore Israel to international greatness. But Jesus makes it clear that he is a Savior who comes to heal and bind up wounds, to forgive sins, and to bring people back to God. People today are still asking if Jesus is the one who is to come. And they are asking us. Our lives must give witness that Jesus is still restoring sight to the blind, giving new strength to the lame, cleansing those whose infirmities keep them marginalized, helping the deaf to hear, giving new life to those whose dead in their sins, and preaching the good news to the poor. The watching world needs to see all of that in us.
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Tuesday of the Third Wek of Advent
I was watching a television show called “Chopped” on the Food Network Sunday night. On this show, they start with four chefs, and they give them a basket of really different ingredients, all of which they have to use, to make either an appetizer, main dish, or dessert, depending on the round. The dishes are then presented to a panel of three judges who are chefs and restaurateurs. These judges critique each dish and, of course, pass judgment. As each course goes by, one of the contestant chefs gets “chopped” or eliminated, while the others continue to compete. The winner gets ten thousand dollars.
On this particular episode, one of the chef contestants had a real problem with arrogance. He couldn’t see how anyone could possibly make a dish better than his, even though his always came out looking ragtag, and from what the judges said, tasting the same. He would not listen to any of the critiques, because, well how did these people know anything? He survived the first round, but was quickly eliminated in the second round, mostly because the judges got tired of his arrogance.
That came back to mind when I read today’s gospel reading. Jesus tells the chief priests and elders, “tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the Kingdom of God before you.” That had to be horrible news. Because those chief priests and elders were living what they thought was a good life. They were the “decent people” of society. Nobody could be noticed by God before they were, surely. But Jesus says they certainly are. Why? Arrogance – again.
Like the arrogant chef, those chief priests and elders refused to listen to any kind of criticism. John the Baptist had preached repentance, and the tax collectors and prostitutes, the riff-raff of society, had listened, and were gaining entrance to the kingdom of God. Meanwhile, those so-called decent folks, the ones who should have known better, were in for an eternity of wailing and grinding their teeth.
The arrogant chef merely lost out on ten thousand dollars. The arrogant chief priests and elders had lost out on quite a bit more: eternal life. Today, we all pray for the grace to overcome our arrogance and accept correction for the sake of our salvation.
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Thursday of the Second Week of Advent
One of the amazing truths to ponder in this season of Advent is the nature of and reason for the incarnation. Why did God choose to save the world by entering into it as a creature? Why did he assume our fickle flesh in the lowliest form?
There is a theological principle that says something like “whatever was not assumed was not redeemed.” He had to assume, take on all of our weaknesses, so that he would be able to redeem all its brokenness. What great comfort it is that our Advent leads to the Birth of a Savior so wonderful in glory that the whole earth could not contain him, but also so intimately one of us that he bore all our sorrows and grief. It is amazing that God’s plan to save the world took shape by assuming our own form, even to the point of dying our death.
That’s what I thought about as I reflected on today’s first reading. Israel was pretty low and lacking in power, in the grand scheme of things. Almost every nation was more powerful than them. Yet they were not unnoticed by God – indeed they were actually favored. God’s plan for salvation takes place among the weakness in all of us. God notices that weakness, takes it on and redeems it in glory.
That’s the good news today for all of us who suffer in whatever way. God notices our suffering, in the person of Jesus he bore that same suffering, and in the glory of the Paschal Mystery, he redeemed it. God may not wave a magic wand and make all of our problems go away, but he will never leave us alone in them.
And it all started with the Incarnation. The birth of one tiny child to a poor family, in the tiniest region of the lowliest nation on earth. God can do amazing things when we are incredibly weak
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