Caritas Christi Urget Nos

Category: The Church Year

  • Thursday of the Second Week of Ordinary Time

    Thursday of the Second Week of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    It’s interesting that in the Gospel reading it’s the unclean spirits who recognize the holiness of Jesus.  The religious leaders of the time didn’t get it, and sometimes I think we don’t either.  The author of our letter to the Hebrews today puts it rather clearly: “It was fitting that we should have such a high priest: holy, innocent, undefiled, separated from sinners, higher than the heavens.”  I think we tend to get rather easily the immanence of Jesus: that he is our friend, that he is close to us.  And that’s good because it’s absolutely true.  But sometimes we miss the transcendence of Jesus: his holiness and the fact that he is above and beyond anything we can possibly imagine with regard to grace and divinity.

    If we knew and appreciated the holiness of Jesus, we would never enter the church without a trip to the Tabernacle, even a brief one.  We would call on him to bless all our endeavors and plans because his ability to act on behalf of his beloved comes from his place in the Blessed Trinity.  We would conscientiously genuflect and bow in adoration of him at all the appropriate times.  We would be careful of how we used the name of the Lord in our speech.

    It’s a great gift to us that Jesus is both immanent and transcendent: he is both near to us and far beyond our wildest imaginings.  We can never know him fully, because there is infinitely more of him to know.  That’s what keeps our spiritual lives fresh: we can come to know Jesus and be one with him, but there is always more of him to grasp, more that we can learn, more that we can experience, more that we can love.  That’s why spiritual growth is a life-long process, really a life-long gift.

    And so, today we should take time to step back and see how it is that we have come to know Jesus.  We are grateful for what has been revealed to us, and eager to find what is still to come.  We are grateful that he is close to us, and we rejoice that he is beyond us in ways we cannot even come close to knowing.  If even the unclean spirits are impressed at the holiness of Jesus, then we have to be too.  We have the word of God and the ministry of the Church to remind us of who Jesus is.  Everything we say and do should reflect what the unclean spirits said: “You are the Son of God.”

  • Tuesday of the Second Week of Ordinary Time

    Tuesday of the Second Week of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    We know how the interactions between Jesus and the Pharisees affected the Pharisees.  They hated every moment, and sought occasion to put Jesus out of the picture.  But I cannot help but thing that for Jesus, these occasions had to be rather frustrating.  Here are the most educated of the Jews, the people he came to save, and they just were not getting the point.

    Jesus’ point is that the Sabbath is not the goal in and of itself. What is important is that God should be glorified in everything that we do, not that we spend time criticizing what others are doing. Perhaps had the Pharisees provided something for the worshippers to eat, those who were hungry would not have had to risk violating the law.

    Today’s readings speak to all of us about our true vocation as worshippers. We were made – all of us – to give glory and honor to God. In order to fulfill that vocation, our worship then must be authentic and joyful and a serious priority. We must get all the details right – not the miniscule details crossing every “t” and dotting every “i” – but the details of taking care of one another, and making our worship mean something in our lives.

    We were made to worship God in Spirit and truth. We can do that by making every moment, every action of our lives, an occasion of worship. The Son of Man is Lord even of the Sabbath. May his lordship in our lives lead us to fulfill our vocation as a worshipping people.

  • Second Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Second Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    We are in many ways a nation of “doers.”  We spend a lot of time measuring productivity, looking for results, documenting procedures, making things happen.  I think that many of us, myself included, if we were asked, just want to get things done.  I think of the old Nike commercial: “just do it.”  Call it the American work ethic or whatever you’d like, but our motto very often is, “don’t just stand there – do something!”

    Today’s Liturgy of the Word flies in the face of all that kind of thinking.  And because of that, some of us, myself included, are going to squirm just a little bit today.  Because today’s Scriptures don’t call us to do anything.  Instead, they call us to listen, to wait, and to be.  And none of that is going to come easy for us anxious doers.

    Samuel received the call to listen.  We’re told he didn’t really know the Lord just yet; he would have been too young.  His mother, childless, prayed that she would be able to give birth, and promised to dedicate that child to the Lord if she did.  She received what she asked for and when Samuel was weaned, gave him over to the Temple to be in the Lord’s service, under the care and mentorship of Eli, an aged prophet.  And so it is while Samuel is living in the Temple that he hears, with the help of Eli, the call of God for the first time.  When they both finally figure out what’s going on, Samuel gives the reply that Eli had instructed him to make: “speak, Lord, for your servant is listening!”

    And that whole “your servant is listening” part is key.  Because it’s not like the Lord doesn’t speak to us ever.  Instead, I believe he’s speaking all the time.  It’s just that most of the time, we’re not listening.  It’s kind of like having a radio but not turning it on.  Just because it’s not on doesn’t mean that radio stations aren’t broadcasting.  It’s just that we’re not listening.  The same is true for God.  Just because we haven’t tuned in doesn’t mean that God isn’t calling, directing, consoling, answering, or loving.  It’s just that we can’t notice it because we haven’t taken the time to stop talking ourselves and listen.

    Sometimes in our faith life, to be quite blunt, we need to shut up and listen.  We ourselves talk a whole lot.  And all that talking is an obstacle to real prayer.  Whether we’re talking to the person sitting next to us, or talking on a cell phone (at the same time as we’re eating breakfast, reading the newspaper and driving to work – don’t laugh, I’ve seen it!), whether we’re emailing, or instant messaging, or texting – we’re talking all the time.  And all that talking can really drown out the still, small voice of God that is speaking to us and trying to lead us in the everlasting way.  We have to be honest today and admit that most of us really need to stop all that talking and say with Samuel, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”

    It’s the Psalmist today who urges us to wait.  Psalm 40 is a very beautiful prayer, so I hope you’ll all go home today and mark it in your Bibles and read it all during the week.  There is so much of it that can become our own personal prayer in the days ahead.  The first verse of today’s selection from Psalm 40 says, “I have waited, waited for the Lord.”  That seems harmless enough, but let me read it another way: “I have waited …  waited for the Lord.”  That’s the reading I think the Psalmist is getting at; there isn’t any other reason in Hebrew that the word would have been repeated.  And I think we can all identify with that sentiment at one time or another in our lives.

    How often have we prayed for someone or something, and prayed, and prayed and prayed?  How often have we seemed to wait and wait and still not get a response?  This, in large part, is cultural for us too.  We are a people who expect all life’s problems to be sorted out and fixed in a half hour or hour during prime time, minus, of course, the many commercials.  But that’s not how God works.  God’s time is not our time, and so often that’s really frustrating.

    But our waiting has to be a trusting wait.  It has to be a wait imbued with the real hope that God will stoop toward us and hear our cry, as he did for the Psalmist.  This might mean realigning our hopes and dreams with what God wants for us.  It might mean that God is calling us to go in a new direction.  It might mean waiting until we are ready to hear and accept the way God is answering that prayer of ours.  It might mean waiting until the time is right.  As the Psalmist goes on to say, God doesn’t necessarily want our sacrifices or sin-offerings.  Instead he is looking for us to say “Here I am, Lord, here I am, I come to do your will.”  God is willing to wait for us to be able to say that.  Are we willing to wait too?

    In today’s Gospel, Jesus asks his disciples to be.  Not to do anything, just be.  To live, to follow, to be with him.  When John the Baptist’s disciples begin to seek out Jesus, he says to them, “What are you looking for?”  It’s a question, I think, that takes them a little off-guard.  They don’t have a ready answer – they may have had hopes and dreams of what the Messiah might be like, but here he is in the flesh.  What is it that they’re looking for?  They respond with a question too: “where are you staying?”  For them, it’s enough to get near Jesus, to see what he’s up to.  And so Jesus extends the invitation:  “Come and you will see.”

    He doesn’t give them the itinerary.  He doesn’t list his goals and objectives.  He doesn’t offer a resume or prospectus or promise he will do anything for them.  He just asks them to be: “Come and you will see.”  Because it’s in the living that the plan will unfold.  We have to be with Jesus to see the Gospel come to fruition, to take root and spread.  If all we’re concerned with is checking things off our to-do list, we will miss Jesus entirely, this Jesus who broke all the rules of divinity to come and be with us.

    Now, please understand, I’m not going to tell you that getting things done isn’t worthwhile and necessary.  I get that.  Sometimes, I get that a little too much.  But spiritual growth doesn’t happen very well if that’s all we’re concerned about.  And so, as much as it  makes a lot of us, myself included, squirm, the spiritual life is about listening, about waiting, and about being.  We have to quiet down, slow down, and just be if we want God’s Spirit to take us to places we never thought we could go.

    So maybe this week is a time to make a renewed effort to do that – as incongruous as that may sound.  It will be a real effort for us to quiet down and slow down and just experience life.  But it will be worth it.  Maybe that will give some of us the opportunity to spend time just being in front of the Tabernacle this week.  Or maybe in listening to God’s word in Scripture, or even just being more present to what God is doing in our lives.  The rewards are all there in today’s Liturgy of the Word, too: Samuel’s words – every one of them – were effective; the Psalmist had God stoop toward him and hear his cry; the apostles witnessed the greatest act of love in history.

    And we can too.  All we have to do is to listen, wait, and be.

  • Saturday of the First Week of Ordinary Time

    Saturday of the First Week of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    In today’s Gospel, we have the epiphany of Jesus manifested as one who identifies with sinners.  That is not, of course, to say that he was a sinner; quite the contrary, we know that Jesus was like us in all things but sin.  But today we see that he is certainly concerned with calling sinners to the Kingdom, and concerned enough that he will be known to be in their company.  He eats with them, talks with them, walks with them.

    This of course, riles the Pharisees.  And for good reason; Jewish law taught that sinners were to be shunned; they were cast out of the community.  But Jesus has come to say that he hates the sin but loves the sinner, that nothing in us is beyond the power of God to redeem.  Nothing that we have done can put us so far away from God that we are beyond God’s reach.  And God does reach out to us, in tangible ways, in sacramental ways, in the person of Jesus and in through the ministry of the Church.

    Sin is a terrible thing.  It’s often cyclical.  Because not only does the judgment of the Pharisees make sinners feel unworthy; but also does the guilt that comes from inside the sinner.   The more one sins, the less worthy one often feels of God’s love, and so the more does that person turn away from God, and then they sin more, feel less worthy, turn away again, and so on, and so on, and so on.

    But Jesus won’t have any of that.  Instead, he walks into the midst of sinners, sits down with them and has a meal.  He is the divine physician healing our souls, and those who do not sin do not need his ministry.  But we sinners do, and for that we should be always grateful.

  • Thursday of the First Week of Ordinary Time

    Thursday of the First Week of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    Today, Jesus manifests himself not just as one who came to do flashy deeds and heal the sick, but as one who does will that we would be made clean.  If we take the miracle we have in today’s Gospel at face value, then it’s really nothing special, to be honest.  Jesus comes off as a doctor with perhaps supernatural powers.  But when Jesus performs a miracle, there’s always something deeper he’s getting at, always something more profound that he intends to reveal.  The healing of the leper reveals that Jesus is one who intends to heal us from the inside out.

    “If you wish, you can make me clean.”  It’s kind of a weird statement, don’t you think?  On the face of it, it’s obviously true.  Jesus can do anything he wishes.  So it really seems to be a test of what it is that Jesus wishes to do.  And in the light of continuing epiphany, Jesus reveals that he does, indeed, wish that the leper – and all of us too – would be made clean.  Notice that the leper doesn’t ask to be healed of his leprosy, although being made clean could certainly be construed to mean just that.  And Jesus doesn’t say, “I do will it, you’re healed.”  He says instead, “be made clean.”

    I think Jesus intends for the leper, as he intends for all of us, that his sins would be forgiven, and that he would indeed be clean on the inside just as much as on the outside.  This may even have been the deepest desire of the poor leper’s heart, as it certainly may be for all of us.  To be made clean inside and out is certainly within the power of Jesus’ abilities, if he would just will it.  And today, we don’t have to tap dance around the issue or walk on eggshells to see if Jesus wills our complete healing.  We see that he certainly does, and for that epiphany we should continue to rejoice.

    The author of the letter to the Hebrews exhorts us to live a life faithful to the Gospel today – while it is still “today” – and not to be deceived by sin.  The Psalmist exhorts us not to harden our hearts on hearing the Lord’s voice, as we so often do.  And so we bring our unfaithfulness and our slightly-hardened hearts and all of our uncleanness to the Lord, and with the leper invite him to make all of it clean.  He does will it; and so may we be made clean!

  • Monday of the First Week of Ordinary Time

    Monday of the First Week of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    It seems like just yesterday that John the Baptist was baptizing Jesus in the Jordan River.  Oh wait, it was just yesterday!  But today’s reading fast forwards a bit and takes us to a time after John has been arrested.  John isn’t dead yet, not yet out of the picture, but clearly he is decreasing, as he says in another place, so that Jesus can increase.

    And Jesus is certainly increasing.  His ministry is kicking into full swing, and he begins by preaching that the kingdom is at hand – a theme that will continue his whole life long.  And he begins to call his followers.  Simon and Andrew, James and John, two sets of brothers, two groups of fishermen, give up their nets and their boats and their fathers and turn instead to casting nets to catch men and women for God’s kingdom.

    As the author of our first reading from the letter to the Hebrews tells us, in times past God spoke in partial and various ways and through prophets – including, actually, John the Baptist.  But now God doesn’t need the prophets anymore.  He is speaking – and acting – directly through his Son Jesus, the heir of all things, the one through whom God created the universe, the refulgence of God’s glory.

    You know, even though today is the first day of Ordinary Time, we continue some aspects of Christmas and the Epiphany right up until February second, the feast of the Presentation of the Lord.  So today’s Gospel fits right in with that.  Today’s Gospel gives us a little more light to see what Jesus is up to.  He calls us all to repentance and to accept the Gospel and the Kingdom of God.  He says to us just as he said to Simon, Andrew, James and John: “Come follow me.”  The year ahead can be an exciting spiritual journey for us.  Who knows what Jesus will do in us to further the kingdom of God?  We just have to answer that wonderful invitation – “Come follow me and I will make you fishers of men.”

  • The Baptism of the Lord

    The Baptism of the Lord

    Today’s readings

    Let’s reflect on two things today: the violence and the voice.

    First, the violence.  Back on the first Sunday of Advent we read from the book of the prophet Isaiah.  That particular reading was focusing on how bad things had become.  People were cheating one another, especially the poor and the powerless.  Corruption was just kind of accepted as the way things were.  Worst of all, people had become rather callous or indifferent to it all; they were jaded and just accepted that bad was the new good.  I was thinking that the things Isaiah lamented could well be lamented in our own day.  The poor seem to get poorer, and more powerless, especially today as companies fail through the greed of a few, affecting the livelihood of thousands.  Corruption in our government has led to scandal in the highest office in our state.  And worst of all, we’re not surprised by any of it any more.

    On that first day of Advent, Isaiah wrapped up his lament of all that nonsense with the frightening words: “Would that you would rend the heavens and come down.”  It’s a pretty violent prayer that he’s praying.  Isaiah is acknowledging that very little is going to attract our attention any more, so the best God can do is to violently tear open the heavens, a kind of barrier between God and us, if you will, and come down.  Only by God’s walking among us and being one of us can things ever be made right.  We need that kind of violent act of God because nothing else has worked.  The flood didn’t work, the wandering in the desert didn’t work, the captivity in Babylon didn’t work.  Maybe those things worked for a while, but we fickle humans soon forgot the lessons we learned in those momentous events.  To get our attention and keep it, something truly earth-shattering, or rather heaven-shattering, had to happen.

    Today we celebrate that that’s exactly what happened.  We gather here today on the last day of the Christmas season, during our continued celebration of Epiphany that began last Sunday.  Epiphany means “manifestation:” we celebrate that God appeared among us, was made manifest among us, became one of us.  Last week’s epiphany was the three magi coming to meet the Christ child with their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.  They worshipped the child who would be king, would be our priest, and would die for our sins.  Today’s epiphany finds Jesus to be an adult, approaching the rivers of the Jordan for baptism.  As he enters those waters of baptism, he isn’t really changed or made holier by those waters.  No, he makes the waters holy by entering them himself.  Through this act, all of the waters of baptism, including the ones that bathed you and me, have been made holy.  And most importantly, that violent act that redeemed us happened: coming up out of the waters, the heavens were torn open – those are the words Mark uses here – “torn open.”  The barrier between God and humanity is sundered now, God has entered human history once again and in a decisive and heaven-shattering event.

    Second, the voice.  The voice in our Gospel story continues the epiphany, that voice comes from those heavens which have been torn open.  First, the Spirit descends on Jesus in the form of a dove, and then the voice roars out of those open heavens: “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.”  For that brief moment, we see the entire Holy Trinity together at one moment.  We have Jesus coming up out of the water, the Holy Spirit descending upon him, and the Father’s voice roaring out of the heavens.  The epiphany is complete: God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit are made manifest at the waters of the Jordan.  God has valued his creation of humanity so much that he appears among us in force, in the completeness of the Trinity, with all of the love that that Holy Trinity gives to us.

    Significant here is what the voice says in that moment.  “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.”  In saying that, the Father confirms the manifestation of his Son in  the world, gives him a Father’s blessing, and empowers his work of redemption.  The words are words of mission – being the Son means that he represents the Father in every act and word.  Now I don’t know about you, but I didn’t hear any voices at my baptism.  At least I don’t think so; I was a baby.

    But probably even those who were baptized as adults don’t remember any kind of extra special voice.  But the thing about baptism, is that we’ve all heard that voice at numerous times since, haven’t we?  Whenever we were faced with choices: the easy way out or the way of integrity; the truth or a lie; an opportunity to help someone, or move on; an effort to correct a wrong or turn a blind eye – didn’t we hear an interior voice reminding us who we are by our baptism?  “You are my beloved child with you I am well pleased.”  Didn’t we pray for guidance to make the right choices and strength to follow through on our decisions?

    At those decisive and testing moments did we turn to God for help?  Because the violence and the voice should be strong enough hints about God’s love for us to do that.  Or have we ignored the violence and the voice, turned instead toward more selfish motives, and become just as jaded as those Israelites who needed Isaiah to pray that God would rend the heavens and come down?

    Jesus’ baptism today is a decisive event.  It meant mission for him: God had the special act of human redemption to accomplish in the person of Jesus.  It meant authority for him: as God’s Son he had the authority of the Father to accomplish what desperately needed to be.  Our own baptisms mean mission and authority too.  We are given a mission of some kind – something specific God wants us to accomplish.  And we have the authority to do that mission by being called sons and daughters of God.  In our own baptism God says to us too: “You are my beloved Son – You are my beloved daughter, and with you I am well pleased.”  The rite of baptism says that explicitly.  After the act of baptism by water, the priest or deacon says, “They are now called children of God.”

    And so, on this feast of the Baptism of the Lord, this Epiphany day, this last day of the Christmas season, we celebrate vocation – the realization that every one of us has a mission as the result of our baptism.  We know that every person has a vocation. Every person is called on by God to do something specific with their life that will bring not only them, but also others around them, to salvation. Parents help to bring their children to salvation by raising them in the faith. Teachers help bring students to salvation by educating them and helping them to develop their God-given talents. Business people bring others to salvation by living lives of integrity and witness to their faith by conducting business fairly and with justice and concern for the needy. The list goes on. Every vocation, every authentic vocation, calls the disciple to do what God created them for, and helps God to bring salvation to the whole world.

    And so, to celebrate this week of Vocation Awareness, I invite you to do three things.  First, encourage people to embrace their God-given vocation.  Invite them to consider life as a priest or religious brother or sister.  Parents and grandparents are especially important in helping children know that a religious vocation is a viable option for them.  But everyone can encourage someone they know to embrace the vocation God has given them, whatever that vocation may be.  Second, I invite you to pray for vocations.  Pray for more men to accept the call to priesthood and men and women to accept the call to the religious life.  Pray for those preparing for their vocations: priests and religious in formation, and couples preparing for marriage.  Pray for the faithful living of all holy vocations in the world as a way to build up the kingdom of God.  And third, live your own vocation – whatever it may be – well.  When we do that, we’ll never have to worry about a priest or religious shortage, because if we all live our vocations faithfully and in holiness, then that witness will provide vocations of every kind to build up the Church.

    It’s all about the violence, and the voice.  God cared enough for us to rip open those heavens and come down.  And he continues to speak to all of us through our baptisms: “You are my beloved child; with you I am well-pleased.”

  • Friday After Epiphany

    Friday After Epiphany

    Today’s readings

    Today I used the readings from Epiphany because I was celebrating Mass with the school children.

    You know, I think it’s very important that we pay real close attention to where the wise men went, and what got them there.  These astrologers weren’t people who knew about Jesus.  But, as they told King Herod, they saw Jesus’ star at its rising, so they must have heard about Jesus somehow.  I just think that it’s interesting that as soon as they saw the star, they came to look for him so they could worship him.

    We know about Jesus, you and me, so we don’t have to spend a lot of time looking for him.  We know that he’s always present to us when we open the Bible and read about him.  He’s present to us when we come to church and celebrate Mass together.  He’s present to us when we receive the sacraments.  He’s even present to us when we gather together in his name for any reason.

    But sometimes, we can lose sight of him.  Sometimes we become selfish and so we shut others out, or bully them, or say mean things about them.  When we do that, we can’t see Jesus in them.  Sometimes we don’t make it to church to celebrate Mass on Sunday.  When we miss Mass, we don’t get to hear about Jesus in the Gospel or receive him in the Eucharist, or see him in the others who are gathered to pray.  Sometimes we go a long time without opening the Bible and reading it.  Then we don’t get to hear about how much God loves us.

    When we lose sight of Jesus, it can seem like the world is a very dark place.  We soon discover that shutting people out only makes us lonelier.  We soon discover that spending too much time thinking about ourselves instead of attending Mass and helping others and loving as we should, well that only makes us more lonely too.  Sometimes when people get too wrapped up in themselves, they can become depressed and the world seems very, very dark.

    And it’s then that we need a star, isn’t it?  Just like those wise men, those astrologers, looking up into the heavens, studying the stars and planets found a very special star, a star that told them something very important was happening, sometimes we need that kind of sign in our lives too.  And that’s when, maybe, someone comes along and says just the thing we need to hear.  Or maybe they are able to help us with a problem that’s been so frustrating for us.  Or maybe they invite us to come to Mass with them and sit with them.  When they do that, they give us some light, a kind of star, that guides us in the right way.

    And when we get that kind of light in our lives, we have to share it too.  Because that light comes from God himself, we’ll never run out of it by sharing it.  So sometimes it will be our turn to be the star for someone.  It will be our turn to say just the right thing, or help with a problem, or invite someone to Mass, or whatever they really need.  When we all start sharing the light of the star with others, our world doesn’t have to be dark any more.  It can be a very beautifully bright place, and it can help everyone to see the best in the world, the best in each other, and the best in themselves.

    At the end of the story, the wise men get a message in a dream, and they decide to take a different way back home to their own country.  When we have seen the light of Jesus, we too can be changed.  And when we’re changed, we might find ourselves taking a different way in life.  All we have to do is the same thing the wise men did: follow the star.

  • Thursday after Epiphany

    Thursday after Epiphany

    Today’s readings

    The feast of Epiphany is a celebration of the fact that Christian life looks like something.  Because Jesus has appeared on the earth and taken our own human form, because he has walked among us and lived our life and died our death, we know what the Christian Way looks like.  We know that the Christian life consists of embracing our humanity, with all its weaknesses and imperfections.  We know that it consists of living our own lives well, mindful of the needs of others, forgiving as we have been forgiving, and spreading the light of the Gospel wherever it is that God puts us.  The Galileans in the synagogue in today’s Gospel were amazed at Jesus’ speaking words of grace.  We too are called to do this so that all will speak highly of us and recognize in us the presence of Christ.

    Because Christ is still manifest among us.  Every encounter with someone else is an opportunity for Epiphany.  It is an opportunity for us to look for the presence of Christ in that other person, and for them to see Christ at work in us.  How we do that depends on the situation, certainly, but it must always be our top priority if we are eager to be called Christians.  John’s words in the first reading are clear, and are words of indictment on those times we forget to be the Epiphany to others: “If anyone says, ‘I love God,’ but hates his brother, he is a liar; for whoever does not love a brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen.”

    Christ is made manifest in all of us and among all of us.  In the ordinariness of our lives, we can find Christ’s grace abundantly blessing us, or we can reject it.  If we make it our priority to be Christ’s presence in the world in every encounter with a brother or sister, we may find that we are blessed with epiphany upon epiphany, constantly growing in God’s grace.  This is all part of our faith, of course, and it is this faith, as John tells us, that conquers the world.

  • The Epiphany of the Lord

    The Epiphany of the Lord

    Today’s readings

    I’m going to make things pretty simple today.  If someone asks you what my homily was about, you’ll be able to sum it up in just four words: “Walk toward the light.”

    And that’s good advice, I think, for us who walk around in what can be a very dark world.  Today’s first reading speaks of that darkness: “See, darkness covers the earth, and thick clouds cover the peoples…” We’re not talking about some kind of simple darkness that is cured by simply turning on a lamp.  This darkness is pervasive, not just physical darkness, but a darkness that has psychological effects, and even affects communities and nations.  When Isaiah speaks of the thick clouds covering the peoples, that’s what he means: “peoples” means nations.

    And we don’t need to look too much farther than the newspaper or evening news to see that darkness.  The year ahead of us might seem rather foreboding.  I took my mother shopping in the pre-Christmas days, and as I drove through the shopping areas, I wondered what they’d look like in a year.  The economic downturn is a very dark place for so many people right now.  The wars raging in the Middle East, in Afghanistan, Iraq and Africa, all over the world really, those are dark places for combatants and non-combatants alike.  And let’s not even begin to speak about the scandal in the governor’s office and politics in general.  There’s plenty of darkness to go around, and it doesn’t seem like there’s enough light in all the universe to make it better, to illuminate that darkness, to help us to break free of it all.

    There may be darkness in our own lives too.  Maybe we have patterns of sin of which we cannot seem to break free, maybe there are family difficulties that cloud our day-to-day living, maybe there are old hurts among family or friends that prevent us from moving forward in grace.  Even our own personal and spiritual lives can be such dark places at times.

    Today’s Liturgy acknowledges all the darkness and invites us: “Walk toward the light.”

    Because the light that we have to scatter all that darkness comes from God himself.  Isaiah says again: “but upon you the LORD shines, and over you appears his glory.”  A darkness as pervasive as the one that covers all peoples takes a very bright light to scatter it.  Does this mean that all that darkness will go away immediately?  Of course not.  But it does mean that God has provided a way, lit up a path, for people of faith to take baby steps if necessary to walk toward that light.  We see that light in the Church, through the Scriptures, in the Sacraments, in our celebration of the Eucharist, in our interaction with each other as people of faith.  Those thick clouds may make it pretty hard to see at times, but ultimately they are no match for the bright light of the glory of the Lord.

    Isaiah goes on to point out that all that light isn’t intended just for us.  When we have approached the light, we need to share that light with others.  “Nations shall walk by your light,” Isaiah says, “and kings by your shining radiance.”  Having received the light of the glory of the Lord, we are meant to spread it over our corner of the world.  We are meant to radiate that light as a beacon in a dark place, so that all peoples – all those peoples that were covered by those thick clouds of darkness – can see their way to the Lord too.  We spread that light by changing our lives.  We spread it by being people of integrity.  We spread the light by paying it forward, by giving of ourselves, by having concern for those in our lives and those the Lord puts in our lives.  We spread the light by reaching out to those in need.

    And what is wonderful is that spreading the light never leaves us in the darkness.  There is always more light to shine on us.  Listen to Isaiah again:

    Then you shall be radiant at what you see,
    your heart shall throb and overflow,
    for the riches of the sea shall be emptied out before you,
    the wealth of nations shall be brought to you.

    The glory of the Lord is never diminished by shining on others.  In fact, when we share that light with others, we only receive more, so that our hearts are throbbing and overflowing, beholding all the riches that we could ever hope to find.  We may find a talent we never knew we had, one that can reach others for Christ.  We may find a new energy that comes to a spiritual life that was previously rather listless.  We may find new challenges, new opportunities, and always new grace.  The riches and wealth of our God is never exhausted.

    All we have to do is walk toward the light.

    The word “epiphany” means “manifestation.”  Today, and in the next couple of weeks, we will see Christ’s lordship manifested in a few different ways.  Each of these epiphanies will call us to a deeper appreciation of who Christ is in our lives and a deeper reflection on our own discipleship.

    The light that we walk toward today is very-likely life-changing.  The Magi came to seek the light in today’s Gospel reading.  All we get from Matthew is a description of the encounter.  But we have no idea what the encounter did in the lives of those wise astrologers.  We don’t know how it changed them, what it cost them, where it ultimately led them.  We see that the light was not intended just for the Jews, but also for all of the nations, pagans and religious people alike.  All could come to the light, all could be affected by the light, all could experience the true light of the world.

    And in just the same way, we have no idea how walking toward the light will affect us.  We don’t know how it will change us, what it will cost us, where it ultimately will lead us.  All we know is that, coming to the light, we will be changed, with the promise of grace upon grace.  Just as the Magi were led to return by another way, we too might find ourselves taking another way in our lives.  Epiphany is not the end of the story; it is just the beginning for us. What difference will what is manifested to us today make in our lives?  Will we accept the one who not only lies in a manger as a newborn, but will also be rejected?  Throughout this liturgical year we will hear Jesus’ preaching, observe his works, follow him to his death and then experience his resurrection.  We will be exposed to the light many times and in many wonderful ways.  It will be a year of many epiphanies for us.

    May this coming year find us walking toward the light countless times and in countless ways, and open to the many riches of grace that the Lord has in store for us.