Ash Wednesday

Joel 2, 12-18 + Psalm 51 + 2 Corinthians 5: 2—6,2 + Matthew 6,1-6, 16-18

26 February 2020 At St. Peter and St. William Churches in Naples, FL

         There is some kind of rule we have all heard about that instructs us not to talk about politics or religion at a party or over dinner. As a frequent guest at the table of many friends. I find it curious that in the last eight or ten years, no one talks about politics over supper. In fact, no one talks about politics anywhere except to trusted friends who think and feel the way we do, and we are careful to sort out those who agree with us. Of course, inviting a priest to dinner does mean that some passing item in the news or some trivial question about religious customs might come up, but it’s always in passing, and never about anything troubling or challenging. If an issue about religion might even possibly cross over into politics, someone will politely and quickly change the subject. I find it a little odd that topics and issues so important to our lives together have suddenly become private matters that no one will talk about openly. It’s a little risky to ask someone if they are Independent, Democrat or Republican. But then, why ask? Anyone who really watches and listens to someone closely and pays attention to what they say or think is important could probably figure that out.

         It’s all a part of some new kind of privatization that has taken hold of us. This whole age of “Me first” is part of it. This whole way of thinking that my rights supersede your rights, and I can say anything I want to no matter how it might offend you is part of it. If you take offence, there must be something wrong with you. It can’t have anything to do with me, because I have a right to say and do anything if I feel like it. The consequence of this is just pushing us further and further from one another, tearing up loving families, and ruining wonderful relationships that once were light hearted, fun, and life-giving.

         We are about to do something that breaks that rule I mentioned a minute ago. We are going to publicly mark ourselves as sinners, and we’re going to go public about it. After Mass, if you go to the grocery, the bank, or anywhere else, people are going to see you and know something about you. Best of all, I hope and pray, you will see others marked in the same way. These ashes on our forehead – it’s no private matter. Neither is sin. The secret, or the taboo about private religion will be revealed. In a very real sense, the biggest secrets of our lives are going to become public. People will know. They will know you went to church on a Wednesday. The smart and the wise will know that in spite of all our efforts to cover it up and look good, we have sinned., and when you see another with the mark of sin on their face, you’ll know that you are not the only one, and that you are part of a people who are not afraid to admit it and are now committed to doing something about it.

         This is a public act, not something we do alone or in secret. In a world where no one seems able to accept and claim responsibility for what they have done or not done, this is unique! It is a public act that announces to anyone who looks at us that we know we are sinners, and we accept the responsibility for our actions and for what we have failed to do. On top of that, we have set ourselves on a forty-day program to right some of the wrong, to change what we have done and do something better. This is not about giving up chocolates, deserts, movies, or pop-corn. This is about sin and getting it out of our lives. It is about confronting that “”me-first” attitude that looks at others as though there here to serve us. It is about confronting and stopping whatever pushes us away from others and therefore from God.

         Take these ashes today, and take responsibility for what you have done. I will. Then, do something about it so that it does not continue, so that sin is no longer so powerful, and that finally the unity and peace that God so desires for us will be within reach.

Leviticus 19, 1-2 17-18 + Psalm 103 + 1 Corinthians 3, 16-23 + Matthew 5, 38-48

23 February 2020 at St. Peter & St. William Churches in Naples, FL

Retaliation is this world’s response to almost everything. We see it from playgrounds to Congress. It has left us paralyzed in every effort to seek justice, to care for the poor and oppressed, to protect human life, and discern the common good. In fact, too often these days, “the common good” has been reduced to my win and your loss. Too often the old “eye for an eye” is used as an excuse for finding a better way that brings a stop to offense. Those who rely on that excuse don’t seem to get it. That Old Testament response was a way of establishing some limit making the response proportionate to the offence. It simply meant that is someone put out one of your eyes, you could not take both of theirs. It was way of stopping excessive revenge in a pay-back kind of world. Jesus will have nothing of this, and he proposes for his followers a very radical reinterpretation of the Old Testament rule. He uses some interesting and slightly humorous examples to illustrate his proposition.

Think about this. How do you use your right hand to strike someone else on the right cheek? You would have to turn your hand over or stand upside down. The only other way is a backhanded slap, which in almost every society is more of an insult than a physical assault. It’s silly. If someone is taken to court and ordered to surrender their outer garment, the example suggests that the debtor should offer the inner garment as well, which means they would be standing naked in the court. This is more than silly, it is absurd! In the final example, a disciple should offer to carry a Roman soldier’s heavy pack for more than what was required. In fact, it was a Roman law that a soldier could not require someone to carry their pack more than a mile. Going further was an offence for the soldier. Offering to go further is absolute foolishness. You don’t have to, and puts the oppressing solder at risk. To put all of this another way: turn the other cheek to a bully; give all you have to those who don’t need it; or pay a traffic ticket when you only get a warning. This is what Jesus proposes to us who are his disciples. Remember that just last week, the Gospel insisted that just doing the minimum, just keeping the rule was not enough for disciples. The Scribes and Pharisees do that, and we have to go further.

Retaliation and revenge have no place in the heart and the lives of true disciples of Jesus Christ. There is no rationalizing or getting around what Jesus expects of us. To make it even harder, he concludes this instruction by presenting the alternative to revenge and retaliation: love. He’s not talking about romantic affection here. He’s talking about respect and something we call, benevolence, which means wishing for goodness. When we take our offenders or our enemies to prayer, we are becoming more perfect which is to say, more God-like and more holy. Reconciliation is a lot more god-like than retaliation. It simply gets down to the fact that God prefers reconciliation to retaliation all the time.

It seems to me there are two ways to take away something of what is revealed here. One is challenge and the other is comfort. The challenge is the revelation of God’s will, that we be holy and perfect. It requires a conviction that reconciliation is the only way to peace and that retaliation and revenge can only drive us further away from each other which cannot be the will of God. The other revelation here has to do directly with God and God’s relationship toward us. The comfort is that God does not use retaliation and revenge. The God revealed in Jesus Christ is God who does not punish those who do wrong, even those who betray and murder his only son. So, we walk away today with a challenge and with hope: a challenge to put retaliation and revenge out of bounds. This is not an option for us. There is a better way, a more perfect way, a more holy way, and it is the way of God. We leave here with hope that God is not waiting to punish us. God does not resent our failures and sin. God uses the power of love and respect to transform our lives when God’s will is revealed and sought seriously by his disciples.

Perhaps, as we approach this altar today, it is time to address and settle the disputes in our lives that have led to resentment and a desire for retaliation or revenge. We cannot lead a holy life with any of this in our hearts. It is totally incompatible with the presence of God. It drives God out of our lives and our hearts. The Word of God has spoken calling us to cherish our adversaries more than we cherish our grudges. We do that first by creating alternatives that express our reverence for the dignity of all God’s children. We need long thought and a lot of prayer to become creative, transforming holy images of our God.

The Gospel of nonviolent resistance is very serious — yet humorous to boot. This Gospel calls us to cherish our adversaries more than we cherish our grudges. We do that by not letting anyone get away with denigrating others, and creating alternatives that express reverence for the dignity of everybody involved. We need long thought and prayer to become creative, transformative, holy images of our God, and that is what will lead us to perfection.

16 February 2020

Sirach 15, 15-20 + Psalm 119 + 1 Corinthian 2, 2-10 + Matthew 5, 17-37

St. Peter the Apostle & St. William Churches in Naples, FL

We get a lot of instructions from Jesus today, part of his continued commentary on the Beatitudes which we might have heard on the Fourth Sunday of Ordinary Time had we not celebrated the Feast of the Purification two weekends past. Matthew is really clever with the way he starts this section, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law, BUT.” That word, “but”, is a really clever way of teasing our expectations. It makes us stayed tuned for what is to follow. Yet, when he goes on, I’m left scratching my head over what it means to fulfill, and that is exactly where Matthew wants us to be today: wondering about what it means to fulfill the law.

Perhaps we might think about it this way. Most of us think that when we are obeying the law, whatever law it is, we are doing the right thing and doing what is expected. That is what the Scribes and Pharisees thought and taught; just keep the law. That is why they got so bent of shape when Jesus cured someone in a synagogue on the Sabbath. He broke two laws! He did some work on the sabbath, and he touched someone who was sick.

The conflict that gets in your face over this is whether or not just keeping the law is fulfilling the law, since the purpose of the law is to express the Will of God. What this Word of God calls into question is the minimalism of keeping the law when there are greater needs.  A law is fulfilled when we do more than the law requires. The fulfillment comes from recognizing that doing the minimum is not enough. It’s just enough to squeak by and not be accused of anything, certainly not being accused of any greatness.

The law says: “Do not steal.” Well, ok; I don’t take anything that isn’t mine. What greatness is there in that? How does that fulfill the law? How about not stealing, but at that the same time giving something away to someone who might steal because of their need? The law says: “Do not Kill.” Well, OK. It doesn’t look as though there is anyone who has murdered in here, but does that fulfill the law? How about giving life, or doing something that makes life more bearable for someone on the margins of life? Is it really God’s will that we just pass through this life on earth and never kill anyone? Is that all God asks of us? We know better.

Matthew knew and warns that in every religious community there are scribes and Pharisees, learned but self-serving people, and hypocrites whose external religious masks can hide an irreligious heart. We are a people called and taught to surpass the scribes and Pharisees. There is a call here to righteousness that is not achieved by just keeping the rules. There is only one Righteous One. It is God. In seeking righteousness, we are on a path to become like God. At the beginning of this chapter, Jesus revealed to us what God is like and how we might become like God – by practicing and living in Beatitude. When we become poor in spirit, meek, merciful, pure, and clean of heart, the law will be fulfilled, and there will be no more killing, no more infidelity, lust, divorce, lies, or broken promises. Best of all, we will be living without anger, and will be at peace with ourselves and with one another just as God intended.

9 February 2020

St. Peter the Apostle & St. William Churches in Naples, FL

Isaiah 58, 7-10 + Psalm 112 + 1 Corinthians 2, 1-5 + Matthew 5, 13-16

These verses follow immediately the Sermon on the Mount that provides us the Beatitudes, which describe a style of life that reflects the image of the one who made us. As Matthew has Jesus commenting further on the Beatitudes, Jesus calls us the salt of the earth with a warning that we can become so bland that we are unable to enhance anything. Then he calls us light like a city on a hill. This is a light that cannot be hidden. So, everything we do gives witness to our faith or the lack of it which is salt that has lost its flavor. We cannot hide. Everything we do, everything we say, every decision we make reveals our faith, and sadly sometimes it isn’t much like flat salt – no flavor. By itself, salt is useless. By choosing this image, Jesus confronts the greatest challenge to the Gospel, individualism. We are not here for ourselves. We are here to bring out the best in God’s creation. The bottom line to this is simple. Our lives must make a difference in this world, or there is no use, no purpose, no reason for us to take up space on this earth. People ought to know we are Catholic, not just by where we are at this moment, or by crucifixes or sacred images in our homes, but by the way we live, by the way of treat other people, and by the simple consequence of just knowing us. People who are “salt of the earth” are not just virtuous in themselves. They bring out the best in other people.

It all comes down to what we heard from old Simeon last week as he stood in the Temple holding the Christ Child and proclaiming him to be a light to the nations. Now, that Christ proclaims us to be that light. The question is whether or not we illumine this world or become nothing more than light pollution, which is defined this way: “the brightening of the night sky caused by street lights and other man-made sources, which has a disruptive effect on natural cycles and inhibits the observation of stars and planets.” There is a lot of bright light around these days, but it does not illuminate anything that matters. What good is a light that only shows people’s faults and shortcomings? Who needs a light that shines on their sinfulness? No wonder some people might prefer the darkness.

The light we become in Christ illumines this world. It brightens dark days and dark lives. It shines on grace and beauty. The light of Christ which we are called to be shines on kindness and hope. Think about it for a minute. No one looks directly at the sun which is the source of light in this world. But, because of the light from the sun we can see. We can see color, and beauty. We all know how dark, gray days bring us down after several of them a row, and how we long for light and the sun. What Jesus expects of us is exactly what the sun does after dark and cold winter days many of us know from up north. When we who are truly disciples, followers, and one with Jesus Christ come into a room it ought to brighten up and bring smiles and comfort, hope, and trust. We have no right to judge others, but we do have an obligation to examine ourselves and decide what we must do because we are salt and light.

2 February 2020 This homily was never delivered in liturgy, but simply prepared for this use while I am on vacation in France.

Malachi 3, 1-4 + Psalm 24 + Hebrews 2, 14-18 + Luke 2, 22-40

The Law for the Hebrew people (Leviticus 12) commanded that a woman who had given birth to a son should not approach the Tabernacle for 40 days; after which time she was to offer a sacrifice for her purification. By another law, every first-born son was to be considered as belonging to God, since the first-born sons had been spared in Egypt. They were to be redeemed by a small sum of money. With this historical context clear in our minds, we can dig deeper into what Luke is revealing to us in these verses today.

It is the first visit of Jesus to the Temple, and in Luke’s Gospel, there will be others. Think of it this way: on this first visit it would seem that the Temple sanctifies and redeems Jesus. On the last visit, it is Jesus who sanctifies and purifies the Temple as he proclaims it to be the House of God, House of Prayer, driving out money changers and others who made profit from the Temple. In some ways it seems odd that this one conceived without sin, who is Blessed among women would need to be purified, and that the one who has come to set us free from slavery to sin would himself need to be ransomed in this ritual way. But this odd arrangement of things is exactly what Luke wants to put before us shaking off preconceived ideas about how God should work and opening us to the new wonder of a Divine plan that does not match our human ways and expectations.

The hour has come for Emmanuel to take possession of his Temple. Two remarkable and memorable figures emerge from the commotion of that busy Temple. Mary and Joseph cannot have been the only ones observing the law that day. It was a busy place, a meeting place, a place of commerce and exchange as well as a place of sacrifice and prayer. We could get an impression from the later story that it was more about commerce and exchange than sacrifice and prayer. It had to have been noisy not just with the sounds of buyers and sellers, but with the animals themselves caged for purchase and eventual sacrifice. Out of all that comes these two, Simeon and Anna. They are for us representatives of the Old Testament, longing for and waiting for the Messiah, and they unite their voices to celebrate the happy coming of the child who will renew the face of the earth. What I find remarkable is that these old people whose eyes dimmed with age are able to see in this child what others cannot and will not see in the years to come.

Eighty-four-year-old Anna begins to speak about the child to everyone who was looking for the liberation of Jerusalem, and you wonder if anyone is listening to an old lady who is there every day. Then old Simeon steps up. Some traditions suggest that he was blind. Yet, he can see something no one else can see. He proclaims this child to be “the light and glory of his people.” Then, he gives back to Mary the child she is about to offer to the Lord. The two doves presented to the priest, who sacrifices them on the Altar, are the price of the ransom paid. The whole Law is satisfied. This child is set free now to proclaim liberty to captives, and sight to the blind.

My friends, today is the Feast for Light for those of us who wait in prayer and fasting. Some hide in the darkness because of shame or guilt. We do not want to admit the truth of our lives even to ourselves, let alone others. It is the things we have not done that often matter the most. Often, we live in a night of fear not knowing what will come next or how we can handle it. A sense of powerlessness lurks around us. A black hole of sorrow and grief can suck the life and light out of our world. There is the darkness of ignorance and confusion making us blind to our own goodness and identity as God’s children.

The light we proclaim like Simeon today reveals mercy and forgiveness in the shadow of guilt and shame, presence and courage in the night of fear, compassion and hope in the black holes of sorrow and loss, a way forward in the blindness of ignorance and confusion, and life in the darkness of death. The flame of God’s love consumes the darkness. It fills us, and it frees us to go in peace just as God promised. We have seen salvation, and Simeon’s song has become our song.

Isaiah 8, 23-9,3- + Psalm 27 + 1 Corinthians 1, 1-13 + Matthew 4, 12-23

St. Peter the Apostle & St. William Churches in Naples, FL 26 January 2020

The voice in the wilderness that we know as John the Baptist has been silenced, and now the one he announced is found in Galilee, an unlikely place. Galilee is prosperous, a kind of international territory through which trade routes passed and local industry thrived, like fishing. In those days, it was quite a distance from Judah and the holy city of Jerusalem to the south. Between the two lies that unfriendly place called “Samaria.” Matthew places the beginning of the ministry of Jesus in Galilee to confirm the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy which we just heard again after reading it on Christmas. Zebulun and Naphtali are in Galilee. It is a place that suffered greatly after conquest by the Assyrians, a conquest made easy because of internal corruption and intrigue in high places. Isaiah writes to console and lift the hopes of these people.

We should not listen to this Gospel and think that these four named and called in these verses were poor and had nothing to lose by falling under the spell of this man from Capernaum. It is not so. There are plenty of clues here to suggest that they were men of means, professionals at their trade, family men who worked and did well enough to own their own nets and boats. They had something leave behind, an established business, and they did it. What I believe Matthew wants to stress is the initiative and the personal impact of Jesus, and Peter and Andrew’s readiness to follow him immediately. A light has come, says the prophet, and these men are drawn to the light.

When we proclaim this living Word of God today, it is not to recall an invitation back in the past. It is to awaken us to the fact and the truth that this light, Jesus Christ, is calling yet again. His call to discipleship is addressed to each one of us. No matter what our life-style or social situation may be, we are called to follow him and it will mean we leave something behind. There are things in each of our lives that keep us from being faithful disciples. There are too many things in every life that contradict our baptismal calling. We tolerate or ignore too many social structures that are contrary to the Gospel of love and respect for human dignity. Each of us has to name for ourselves, in our own time and place, how we must radically turn our hearts to the following of Jesus and leave behind whatever it is that keeps us from being a true and committed  disciple.

The world in which we live is still confounded by corruption and intrigue in high places, just like Galilee. It waits in darkness full of fear, illness, pain, sin, guilt, loneliness and way more besides. The light of Christ is needed here as much as it ever was in Galilee. Disciples of Jesus Christ called to follow him are the only hope for this world, the only hope for light in the darkness. Let me remind you that on the day of our Baptism, a candle lit from the Easter Candle was handed over to us into the hands of a parent or god-parent.

We take courage today in the face of violence that is as global as terrorism or as local as abused families, encouraged to hope in God’s deliverance as today’s Psalm proclaimed that God may work through the surprising presence of our sisters and brothers, so that we may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of our lives.

Isaiah 49: 3, 5-6 + Psalm 40 + 1Corthians 1, 1-3 + John 1, 29-34

Deacon Retreat: Diocese of Venice in Florida 19 January 2020

As we end these good days we have spent together, John the Baptist appears before us, and perhaps in spite of all the great deacon/saints in history like Stephen, Philip, Lawrence of Rome, Francis of Assisi, or a Deacon named Vincent who is the great martyr of Spain, there is still John the Baptist. Even though no Bishop ever laid hands on him, I believe his presence through this Gospel is a significant way to close this year’s retreat and return home.

Thomas Merton has been quoted as saying, “If you want to identify me, ask me not where I live, or what I like to eat, or how I comb my hair, but ask me what I am living for.” It is an intimate question that forces us to identity our deepest values. At the same time, when I say that I am living FOR something, there is recognition that I am incomplete and longing for something more than what I am now.

John the Baptist was living for God’s promised future. John admitted that what he did was only the beginning. It wasn’t just for the sake of virtue that people had to clean up their lives. They did it to get ready for something more. John was water; he was waiting for fire.  John awakened the desires of his disciples. With him, they began to understand what they were seeking, what they were really living for, John knew that they shared his desire and that, though he could not fulfill it, God could and would.

Today’s meeting with John the Baptist invites us to ask Merton’s question, and as ourselves what we are living for and for whom we live. What is it we long for? Asking those questions demands courage. Longing is not a comfortable feeling or way to live. It exposes an emptiness and recognizes how incomplete we are. It’s easier to think about wishes and wants: a favorite food, happy and successful children, a winning team, or nice vacation. Those things are easy to attain, but they don’t really make a difference in life, and are quickly seen as shallow and incomplete because we always want more.

Leave here today with the words of Merton in your mind. The more you cultivate the virtues I have spoken of here, the more what you live for will be revealed. Live for Worthiness. Live for Communion and Holy Intimacy. Live for Justice with indignation, and live to emulate because as you do, there will be room in this world for what is more beautiful and more divine than we can imagine. As Deacons of this Church, like John, you baptize with water and pray for that fire Jesus Christ still brings to us: not fire that destroys, but a fire than brightens the night, warms the cold, and draws us from the darkness into the Light. Perhaps, if someone asked what you were living for, you might be able to say: I’m living for the fire and the light. If you are the deacon that carries the Easter Candle, think of that this coming spring. Now, let us take food for the journey home.

12 January 2020 at St. Peter the Apostle & St. William Churches in Naples, FL

     Isaiah 42, 1-4, 6-7 + Psalm 29 + Acts 10, 34-38 + Matthew 3, 13-17

The Baptism of Jesus Christ by John the Baptist has by this time in history lost its shock value, and hardly raises an eye-brow much less a question. But at the time Matthew was writing, there was a serious issue that he wants to put to rest. The disciples of John used this event to justify their continued following of John’s preaching since John was for them the real prophet because John baptized Jesus. To address and attempt to settle that issue, Matthew has a dialogue between Jesus and John over whether Jesus should submit to baptism by John.

However, who is more important is not really the issue here. The fact that Jesus accepted the Baptism of John turns out to be the first revelation of how Jesus presented himself as Emmanuel: an unimaginable, exceptionally humble, incarnation of God in the midst of humanity. His baptism reinforces the message we have heard in the Christmas story. God has chosen to be with us not as an awesome ruler of the universe, but as one who chooses solidarity with us in all our weakness. The Baptism of Jesus reveals Emmanuel as one of us.

This is the unique message of Christian people unlike every other world religion. We can imagine and can accept a God incarnate, sharing all our limitations in order to reveal limitless love. Here is the unique Christian God: a Trinity.  In this moment of Baptism, the Trinity is revealed. God speaks, Jesus stands, and the Holy Spirit descends up on him.

As a faithful Jew, Jesus perceived that John was a prophet. This baptism is a proclamation that God is up to something and John was an integral part of it. In asking for baptism, Jesus was seeking and submitting to God affirming John’s message. The detail of this baptism shows us how discernment of God’s will confirmed that Jesus was doing the right thing. It’s a dramatic scene. Imagine it. He came from the water the heavens were opened for him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove coming upon him. He knew the Scriptures. He knew that he was called to be the servant of God Isaiah had prophesied. That voice, heard again later at the Transfiguration, was a public confirmation that Jesus was the longed-for son of Israel, the son in whom God was well pleased.

What this says to us is that God’s solidarity with us is total. God is with us in every circumstance: in hope and love, in weakness and sin, disgrace and desperation. The way to union with God necessarily passes through this kind of presence Jesus shows us. If we want to know God we can only do so with solidarity, through sharing one another’s need and weakness so profoundly that we also share one another’s joys. Then we will know God because God will be acting in and through us. The baptism of Jesus brings Jesus into communion with us. Our baptism invites us into union with God and all of God’s own. The baptism we tell of today was a sign of his communion with us. Our baptism calls us into communion with God and one another. That’s all there is to it.

5 January 2020 St. Peter the Apostle & St. William Churches in Naples, FL

     Isaiah 60:1-6 + Psalm 72 + Ephesians 3:2-3a, 5-6 + Matthew 2:1-12

Fun as it might be to sing, “We three King of Orient Are”, and no matter how long and how often we set up our Christmas nativity scenes, this Gospel never says that there were three, and it does not say they were kings. So, if we are going to let this Gospel speak to us we have to pay more attention to Matthew than to these little traditions no matter how old they are. The Gospel is older.

This is a feast about an Epiphany, an unveiling, or a revelation. It is not a feast about three kinds of the orient. For all we know, there may have been a whole caravan of them. What Matthew tells us is that they were from the land of the rising sun. That’s the orient which in those times probably meant what we today call Iran. “Magi” is best understood to mean astrologers or magicians. Perhaps they were Zoroastrian priests. What is most important is that they were religious seekers. They were not Hebrews, so they did not have the Scriptures to guide them. So, they relied on their way of knowing God which was through nature and the night skies.

What we are left with once we get those details right is a contrast between those who seek God, and those who have no interest, even though they know something about God’s plan. The contrast here is between these “Magi” and those Scholars of Herod, who even though they know what is to come, they do nothing and they stay home. These Magi were open enough to look beyond the limits of their own wisdom. They were so hungry for more meaning in life that they went to a foreign land and consulted the wisdom of an alien tradition. When they learned what they could from those Hebrew Scholars, they continued on the way their own lights led them, and finally they met the mother and child and realized they had found what they were seeking.

When Matthew tells us that they departed for their country by another way, what he is telling us is that they were not the same as they had been when they set off on the journey, and we know nothing more about them. We are given here a story of the unexpected and the unfinished. These religious seekers brought nothing for Herod and his great royal court. They were not impressed nor interested in that power and that kind of authority. They sought what was simple. They sought real meaning and were led to a simple family.

As we close the Christmas season once more, Matthew invites us to a kind of double vision. We must realize that all our theology and catechisms must lead us to encounters with God. If they do not, we are like those scholars in Herod’s court, and will shall miss the very presence that saves us. At the same time, with that other eye, the more we become like the Magi and look beyond our little world with openness to new horizons and revelations, the more likely we are to find what we all seek, a home with the living God.

1 January 2020 at St. Peter the Apostle Church in Naples, FL

Numbers 6, 22-27 + Psalm 67 + Galatians 4, 407 + Luke 2, 16-21

We are on “theological thin ice” when we call Mary “The Mother of God.” No one gave birth to God, but there is truth in saying that Mary gave birth to the Son of God. It takes some spiritual maturity to get this right, and when we do, some important things are then said about you and me. Divinity taking on human nature changes our knowledge of who we are and of our destiny. It allows us to understand God’s nature more fully; but this does not mean that understanding God, ourselves or our role in the divine drama is simple. It isn’t. It isn’t easy, and we don’t always fully understand what God is doing, and how God’s plan is going to work out.

Mary didn’t either, and I think that is what draws us to church today; the fact that what Christmas means, and how it is supposed to work out is not easy to understand. Those shepherd boys who showed up and told Mary and Joseph what they had heard must have come as a complete surprise. Luke tells us that others must have been there too, and they were amazed at what the shepherds had to say. That does not mean they understood what it was all about. In fact, I think it suggests that they might have been standing around shaking their heads. To be amazed does not suggest understanding. It might at first bring disbelief or confusion since none of this makes sense. It does not fulfill their expectations, and it isn’t the way they thought a messiah was going to come.

We must not romanticize our sense of Mary’s role. There is no reason to believe that she understood what it meant that her son was Messiah. There is no reason to believe that she understood the way in which Jesus was the Son of God. She could never have known that her son would die as he did, much less understand the significance of it. What matters, and what is important is that even though she did not understand, she believed. She kept faith with God, and that meant raising her son like every other Jewish boy, teaching him Torah, feeding and caring for him.  What she shows us all and what we are reminded of this day is that we can accept God’s ways and even be major players in God’s plan even when we do not understand the ways of God. There is nothing wrong nor any weakness in not understanding. What matters is that even when we do not understand we keep faith with God, and do what Mary did. She just pondered. That’s the word this translation uses. It means, that she just remembered – she remained close to and joined in faith with God.

God’s ways are revealed to us over time and in the development of tradition.  Because Mary became the Mother of God, the Son of God was born among us, and it is through Jesus what we are adopted into God’s family. By becoming “Mother of God” she allowed us all to become children of God, and celebrating and remembering that truth is a good way to begin this New Year. We are God’s children who can cry out: “Abba! Father.”