“That you may have life in his name.” The name of Jesus. Is there any other name we want life in? If so, it’s a life that will die a thousand deaths. If we think some other person can give us life, then we’re barking up the tree of death. That tree will crush us. We have life in the name of Jesus of Nazareth, and life in him only. So, be rid of any false beliefs that some weak person with some earthly power can give you life. They will give you death with a smile on their faces. Only the face of Jesus is one of truth. And he doesn’t make the news. They like only fake stories, which is why they don’t cover the resurrection. What isn’t fake or a lie or phony is one of the great verses in the entire Scriptures, spoken by someone who can’t believe what he’s seeing; “My Lord and my God.” “You got that right, Thomas. He is your Lord and your God, and don’t put any false ones before him, Thomas. Reject the false gods of unbelief running rampant in your world at present, Thomas. And Thomas, please understand, comprehend, and work into your life what belief consists of. You, Thomas, are to give your life to him to the point of dying for him, as he died for you. Belief, Thomas, finds the place where you freely offer your heart and soul in love to him. As well as your mind and your strength. Anything less than that, Thomas, is what your future friend St. Paul will call lukewarm faith. You’re better off taking a cold shower outdoors on a cold winter morning, Thomas, than pretending and claiming to be a devout follower who wallows in destructive belief, because you, Thomas, refuse to believe your honest friends. Friends who offer you the best news you ever heard, rather than all those intentional lies and fake news perpetrated by the pagan idol worshippers. Thomas!” How can we not have a love/hate relationship with St. Thomas on Divine Mercy Sunday? On the up side, he’s a very likeable Apostle. How can we not love someone who, by his words and actions, forces Jesus to show up in Person? If any of you could do that, you would be my best friend. Jesus had already lost Judas, the one who would have been better not being born. He wasn’t going to lose another one. Not over his dead or alive body. Thomas forces Jesus to come back to them in his risen state, causing all of them to be overjoyed, again. “We love you, Thomas. Thanks for getting Jesus to show up! You’re my best friend.” “But Thomas, on the downside, I dishonor the fact you didn’t believe me when I told you I saw him alive. I hate the fact that you were an unbeliever, even if only for one week.” Peter must have said, “Thomas, if I can’t convince you that the Lord is risen and appeared to us, then how can I convince all those pagan worshippers out there? How can I convince leaders of nations, Thomas, or Caesar in Rome, or Washington? Thomas, if a dear friend like you won’t believe me when I speak the truth about the Master’s resurrection from the dead, then how can I preach this Good News to anyone? Who’s going to listen and attend to the news that is true for the life of the world, with not one bit of fakeness in it?” I don’t know about you folks, but I don’t hate any unbelievers; or any who claim belief and walk a path of destruction; or any who mutilate their bodies; or any who assault our religious freedom while they’re protected by some in powerful positions who prefer a stunted sort of belief; or any atheist for that matter. I hate them about as much as I hate St. Thomas, which is not at all. I have no room for that. If I reel on them in a homily, it’s because I hate their unbelief, or twisted belief, their wrong path of destruction while taking others with them. I hate the fact that the Devil is using them as a tool, instead of being used by Jesus as an entire toolbox, like St. Teresa of Calcutta was. I hate the pretensions of holiness when forgiveness of mortal sins is in order. And, I hate their attacks on fellow Christians who are holy and devout, like the Little Sisters of the Poor, because they prefer a human idea to be raised higher than God’s revelation in the Scriptures. I hate all these large and small victories for the Devil as he works through people. St. Thomas is an apostolic paradox. He can force Jesus to show up in Person. And, he can cast aspersions on the resurrection of Christ. He can mutilate belief in our Lord’s resurrection, and all the great and glorious promises that accompany it. Don’t be a St. Thomas by way of telling Jesus he’s still in the tomb. Don’t be disbelieving, telling him he has to show up in Person. He’s always with us who believe in the truth of the Eucharist. Be a St. Thomas by proclaiming and faithfully living the Good News. And, like St. Thomas, die for the Lord Jesus one day in the future. Make him your last thought before you see him in Person, and having life in his name.

As St. Paul writes, “Seek what is above.” Which doesn’t mean we sit here or stand there looking into the sky for hours and hours, staring at nothing. “Seek what is above” is the direction of a believing heart that knows there is something after this life that God has prepared for those who love Him. “Seek what is above” is the perfect verse to accompany John’s Gospel and this resurrection scene where Mary Magdalene goes on to become the first witness to our Lord’s victory over death. After witnessing the empty tomb, a tomb I’m glad to say I stood and knelt in, Mary runs off to Peter and the rest of them hiding in the Upper Room. Peter and John decide to have a race to check out Mary’s story. Peter the lug comes in second place behind John the sprinter. When they arrive at the tomb on earth where Jesus had been buried a few days earlier, they breathe in the emptiness of the space once occupied by a dead body. Now, I believe we all know that dead bodies, under normal circumstances, do not wake up a few days after death and decide to walk over to the market for some lunch. They remain as dead as a doornail. Which is pretty dead. But that’s not the case here. God the Father made a promise to Jesus his Son. About 33 years earlier he said, “If you humble yourself, become an obedient servant, take on human flesh that will die, and you carry a Cross for all their sins ever committed, and nail every one of them to that tree, and die for all of them as the perfect sacrifice, I will raise you on the 3rd day after they crucify you.” And Jesus said, “I’m all in.” And that’s what Mary, Peter, and John witnessed. Not a stolen body by body-snatchers. Not the wrong tomb. They knew where he was. No tomb switching. They didn’t shift Jesus from here on Friday to there on Saturday; go down three tombs, take a right, and he’s now the last tomb on the left. None of that false, phony stuff. “You die for the world, Jesus, and I will raise you on the 3rd day of your death.” Friday, Saturday, Sunday. And that’s what they saw on earth, in their personal witness to the empty tomb. The correct tomb; the correct address; no one home. Which way did he go? “Seek what is above.” As we live our lives of faith in the Son of God, who loved us to the end, we will never in this life find him in his tomb. Trust my witness. I’ve stood and knelt in that tomb where he was buried. There’s no body; no dust, no bones. Even St. Peter’s bones remain in the tomb underneath the altar at St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. “Peter is here” says the ossuary. It’s amazing how accurate they got the right spot for the altar in the early centuries of the Church. But Jesus’ tomb? There’s nothing! Just like before creation, before God said, “Let there be light.” There was nothing. The nearest thing to a person in that tomb, dead or alive, is a Franciscan in a long brown robe standing outside the entrance respectfully and kindly shuffling groups along saying, “Time to move on for the next group. You need to seek what is above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God.” This all means today, the day of our Lord’s resurrection, that our hearts, not so much our eyes, are to search in the upward direction for our daily need for Jesus. It’s one of the great beauties of prayer. That as we sit or stand on earth, communing with our Savior, seeking his presence and intercession, that our eyes look down on the earth, or into his tomb, while our hearts rise and capture a portion of his victory over death. Jesus is dead only to those in this world who doubt and lack belief that God would carry out his promise of raising his Son from the tomb. We have no business sitting in that false, hopeless belief. If we seek what is above, we will be affected by and converted to what is above. If we, like Mary, Peter and John look into the empty tomb of Christ, and see and believe like John did, then he will come down to us, from above. From above, where life continues, and where the gift of life is forever. This is God’s promise to us on this Easter Sunday morning.

The feet will get dirty and dusty again. Just like eating regular food. Hunger awaits a few short hours later. But as the feet get dusty and smelly again, and as the stomach growls at our brain for more food, what remains and stays consistent is the act of service. An act of humility and love. When our Lord washed the feet of his Apostles that night in the Upper Room, that act of humble service from the Master to his Disciples was, to borrow phrases from the first reading, a memorial feast and a perpetual institution. Long before Jesus showed them how, there were many acts of humble service performed, from one person to another, or one group to another,. The two sets of brothers alone - Peter & Andrew, James & John – they were not fighting each other all the time like some families will. My brothers and I used to fight over a wiffle ball game. These two sets of brothers – all fishermen – obviously helped one another, and their fathers, in ways of love and concern, especially with some profit at stake. This was before Jesus called them from their boats to come follow him. But with Christ, this perpetual institution of humble service to others in seen in a very different light through the action of Jesus washing their feet. The everlasting institution of humble Christian service is now centered in what we celebrate this Holy Thursday; the Body & Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ. To receive the Eucharist, to receive Christ Jesus in real terms, and then not be a humble servant; to spouses, to family, friends, strangers whose names we don’t know, is to perform some level of unworthiness in our reception of the Eucharist. What the Lord makes perpetual and a memorial feast is the reception of him tied into being a humble servant. Which is why it all happens on the same night. It sounds ideal on paper, because it is. It’s the perfect relationship in this life, if there is one. It’s a pure imitation of Christ. To live our reception of him as Catholics to perpetually be the sustenance that beckons us to love one another. That goes to the heart of what Jesus is teaching and commanding them in this scene where he wraps a towel around his waist. And, of course, the Eucharist, and the opportunity to even receive the Lord, is perpetually connected to priesthood. To Holy Orders. This is all God’s doing, his work, his plan, his way of loving one another. So, this act of Jesus washing the feet of the Apostles had nothing to do with dusty feet. Jesus refers to Judas in this Gospel as not being clean. He’s not referring to any dust on any part of his body. He’s unclean in betrayal, which is the real filth. The Lord also does not refer to some cultural expectation of the time. Washing the feet of a guest who comes to your home for dinner was expected so they didn’t get the carpet dirty. But our Lord takes this cultural expectation and raises it to a perpetual institution of humble service in our reception of the Eucharist. Washing of the feet symbolizes today our coming forward to receive his Body & Blood, then remembering hours and days later that what we say and do is to remain worthy of that reception. And there’s no better example than Jesus washing their feet on this night, and then saying the next day, “Father, forgive them, they not what they do.” The Eucharist himself, performing the humble service of mercy in his worst moment of agony.

I’m sure we all can think of one or more persons we’ve been blessed to know closely or intimately, one who has lost their life in this world but has gained it for life eternal, who continue to produce much good fruit. It’s like they speak from beyond the grave, get antsy from beyond their resting place, or they touch us from beyond the spot where Jesus will call them forth on the last day, and they remain influential in this world of space and time. We know the Saints in the Communion are seen as such. The much fruit that continues to be borne from the lives of St. Damien of Molokai, St. Therese of the Little Flower (“I can do more good in heaven than here on earth”), St. Bernadette, St. Padre Pio and his hours of hearing Confession and absolving sin each day. The cream of the crop of examples of bearing good fruit for the Lord long after they stopped breathing in this place. But the ones I refer to are not so much the bigshots, but the ones we’ve known personally. The people whose lives were splendid examples of sacrifice as they stood next to us. Examples of Christian friendliness, compassion and understanding, of holding fast to the joy of God’s revealed truth while remaining all things to all people in order to save some, in the spirit of St. Paul. Like St. Joseph, they were examples of holy protection, a blessed silence, a person of action. The strong, silent type, as we say. They didn’t ramble on to the point of getting winded, causing others to run away. They exuded calm and confidence that life is good, that God has created us for the good, and that the Lord pushes us to produce much fruit, even after we call it a day in this world. There’s the old adage that says 6 months after you’re dead, no one’s going to remember you, except maybe your spouse. Even that’s a maybe. And that could be true for most of us. But not being remembered 6 months after our demise in this world is not as bad as it sounds. Having our names in the Book of Life forever, the book carried around by St. Peter at the front gate, is of much greater importance. Our Lord is preparing for death. In John’s Gospel, his self-awareness and knowledge of things to come is off the charts. In technical, spiritual lingo, we call this high Christology; Jesus pretty much knowing all things – in his Divine nature – before they happen. We’ve arrived at the point in Lent where his death is coming down the Pike at a high rate of speed. And, there isn’t a State Trooper in the world who can catch up to him, pull him over, tell him to slow down, and stop him from arriving at a place called Golgotha. Jesus is riding the world’s fastest Harley-Davidson ever made, and he cannot wait to get there. All of us; we can wait to arrive on the hill of our personal Golgotha. We enjoy life too much. As we should. It’s God’s greatest gift. But God’s greatest gift in his Son is not only his birth and life, but also his death. And his death is the only death where we can rightly and properly say it was pure gift. He’s in a hurry to get there at this point, not because he hates his life. But because loves life. He loves your life, with all its weaknesses and faults. Whether you like your own or not, he loves your life. And mine too. Should Jesus say, “Father, save me from this hour. I’m too fearful. I don’t want to die for them. Let’s change the plan. Find someone else to stand in for me. See if Moses or Elijah is available to carry a cross. Check every corner of heaven and find someone – anyone – to replace me.” Of course he shouldn’t say that! We don’t have a wimpy God. Or a wimpy Son of God. Our Lord is the toughest Marine. He’s the best Navy Seal. He’s an Army Ranger times a zillion. He doesn’t back down. His grain of wheat, his Body of Christ, his Temple must die for us, so that much fruit will be produced. What sort of fruit? Fruit that is produced for longer than 6 months after we die. Like yourself, I know plenty of people in my life who were supposed to be forgotten shortly after their Funeral Mass. But years later they continue to bear much fruit as an extension of their life on earth. These are the ones our Lord refers to. The average Joe or Jane. The common people, of whom Abraham Lincoln once said that God must love because he made so many of them. Find your niche. Find your virtue that will produce fruit long after our death. It was for this purpose that Jesus came to his hour.

It’s a rather odd mix to go out into the darkness at night for the purpose of encountering the Light of the world. As we pass through another Lent with a pandemic holding on for dear life, one of the spiritual images of Lent is to head into the desert. For anyone who has ever physically been in a desert, there is the odd mix of total darkness – no streetlights – coupled with enough stars to keep us counting for years on end. The darkness of the desert ground encounters every night the countless bright lights shining above. The reason we are invited by the Church to enter the spiritual desert is that our personal darkness, either brought on by ourselves through sin, or maybe sent down from above for testing purposes, that our internal darkness encounter through prayer, fasting, and almsgiving the Light of the world. Lent is raised up as a time to kick ourselves into gear, and bring any darkness to the Lord and say, “Forgive me, Lord.” Or “Help me, Lord.” Or “This is yours, Lord, because on my own I cannot handle it.” Whatever our darkness is. This is our takeaway for the 4th Sunday of this fast-moving Lent and her 3 readings today. In the 1st reading, the Israelites encounter God in the misery of Babylon. God uses the Persians, of all people, to lead His people back to the Promised Land. Did you ever receive help from someone on a very important matter that you never expected from them? And they came through for you? That happens to Israel with Persia. Receiving assistance from unexpected sources has a wonderful Scriptural precedent. The darkness of Hebrew captivity in Babylon encountered God using the unexpected light of the Persians to return freedom to a whole nation. In the 2nd reading, St. Paul so lovingly reminds us that we were dead in our transgressions. We were breathing; we had mobility; we enjoyed some Coney Island hot dogs. But as we did all that and so much more, we were dead. And what happened in that total darkness of hating ourselves and others? As St. Paul writes, “God … brought us to life with Christ.” The darkness of sin encountered the light of Christ, and lost. And it was pretty lopsided in our favor. Through God’s grace, his favor, his love, we have been saved through faith. We didn’t deserve it. We did nothing but cause trouble. Yet, we have the light of life. In the Gospel, the uncertainty of Nicodemus, as the story goes, causes this curious Pharisee to search out Jesus in the night. What is this good Pharisee curious about? He feels the push of the Spirit to go and find out for himself who this Jesus really is. He cannot do so in the daylight because his Pharisee cohorts will see him and accuse him of befriending this guy claiming mighty things about himself. Have you ever been accused of being too close to Jesus? If so, you have a badge of honor. So, to prevent his being treated roughly, Nicodemus must approach the Lord in a sneaky way in the darkness of night. He brings the darkness of his uncertainty of who Jesus is, the Divine Son of God, and walks it directly in the darkness of night to the Light of the world. With all these very familiar verses in this Gospel; that “God so loved the world that he gave us his only Son, so that those who believe in him might not perish, but might have eternal life.” And, “God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him.” What rises above even these incredibly hopeful verses from John chapter 3, is Nicodemus taking his darkness, his uncertainties, his questions, his fears, and bringing them to an encounter with the Light of the world. This Gospel also says that people preferred darkness to light. Such darkness will be chasing us until the heart stops beating. Be it our cooperation with sin; be it the physical, emotional, or spiritual suffering we have thrust upon us. The darkness is forever chasing us in this world of anxiety and uncertainty. But may we prefer the light. The light of his virtues. The light of faith. The light of hope and his unconditional love displayed so well on the Cross. It’s beyond sad to witness anyone prefer darkness over light. You just want to shake them out of their boots and say, “Prefer the Light! He prefers you!” Whether we seek Jesus in the daylight or the night, in solitary or busy places, may we bring every ounce of our darkness to him, the Light of the world, following in the footsteps of Nicodemus.

“God is Spirit, and those who worship him must worship in Spirit and truth.” “Moses cried out to the Lord, “What shall I do with this people? a little more and they will stone me.” “And hope does not disappoint.” Thanks be to God. Just a few of the verses we heard proclaimed on this 3rd Sunday of Lent. There’s a lot of water involved here. They’re thirsty and angry in the desert, those Israelites, and poor Moses has to deal with their…baloney. (I’d rather use another word, but not in Church). Poor Moses deserves to be hanging out forever in the highest of heaven’s halls, just below that lovely couple from Nazareth, Mary and Joseph, for putting up with all the Israelites….baloney. Their unbelief. Their rotten golden calves. Their idolatry and false god worship. Moses should have said, “You know, if you want to go back to Egypt, buy a bathing suit, swim back across the Red Sea, and keep walking south until you see the pyramids. Go ahead. Go back to your slavery and sin. God is not going to stop you from destroying yourself. Go back to your fleshpots.” But that’s not the message of Lent. Or the message of the desert we are to be in right now. God has parted the Red Sea for us. That large liquid boundary that separates slavery to sin from freedom. Slavery to the senses, from, well, love God, neighbor, and self. But some feel the urge to return to Pharaoh, for whatever bad reason, when Jesus gives us the grace to be on this side of the Red Sea. It’s a beautiful thing to hear proclaimed the story of a woman who Jesus met at the Well of Jacob, who, in one fell swoop, she swam from the Egyptian side of the Red Sea to the side where we embrace the Messiah. Where she now walked with the Savior. With his hope that does not disappoint. With his crosses that we carry. With his good works accomplished in his Name, and not ours. It’s a beautiful thing to be distracted to the point of leaving a dropped bucket at the Well, forgetting the original purpose for going to the Well, running back to the village in an altered state of heart and mind, telling your friends, “Could he be the Christ? I think I want to work for him.” The bucket left behind at Jacob’s Well by the woman from Sychar, that poor, old, filthy, dirty, rotten, used-up bucket, is the most fitting picture, the perfect image of our Lent. If a dropped bucket could speak, the Samaritan Woman’s bucket would have spoken thus as they walked to the Well of Jacob; “Woman, can you walk any faster? Give me a drink. I’m thirsty. Hurry up and fill me up! Fill me to the brim with that water that’s going to make you thirsty again. Put me to use! I’m not into pretty pleases. Just do it, woman!” The bucket, carried so faithfully by the Samaritan Woman for years, finally arrives at the Well, looks up from her hand and says, “Who’s this guy? He looks like he’s up to something. He looks like he’s up to something good, and I don’t like that! Remember woman, you belong to me. Your faith is in me, this dirty little bucket of yours who found that new live-in boyfriend you have. I taught you how to worship your own body, your own selfish pleasures, your hatred for the Hebrews. I taught you all that “good” stuff. Woman, don’t forget who formed you and shaped you in that garden. You belong to me. Now fill me up!” Well, the Samaritan Woman may as well have been deaf as a doornail as the bucket was yakking away. Because after a few minutes of conversation with that Israelite from Nazareth, the bucket looked up from her hand, and became frightful, because he, the Israelite, was causing this to happen as he spoke to her: one finger, two finger, three finger, four finger, five finger. A dropped bucket, with no longer a possibility of filling it up with the filthy water of slavery to sin. I won’t tell you what the bucket screamed as she ran back empty-handed to the village, yelling, “Hope does not disappoint.” It can’t be spoken in this holy space. The story of Lent is not Moses saying, “What shall I do with this people?” under the threat of his life, now and forever. The story of Lent is bringing our personal, dirty, dusty, filthy bucket to Jacob’s Well, not to fill it with water that will cause us to thirst again, but to encounter Him, who causes water to spring up to eternal life. The Apostles went into town so HE could have a one-on-one with HER. Her and HIM, alone, long enough to get the point across of how thirsty he was for her faith in HIM. A conversation so life-changing that it resulted in her dropping her entire past, and now walk toward the future that says, “Hope does not disappoint, for the love of God was poured into HER heart through the Holy Spirit at work within us.” No wonder why I love this woman so much. She embraced the full effect of that encounter with Jesus, all the way to dropping her bucket. In the story of Lent, may we do so also, running away from the sinful past, and embracing his mercy.

Allow the Spirit to drive you out into the desert for Lent. Not to be tempted by the Devil, although that may happen over the next 6 weeks. But rather to be rid of all the dirt from the body so that we may be a sacrifice pleasing to God. A wonderful fragrance. The first Sunday of this holy season each year centers on the Lord Jesus being pushed out into the desert, where nothing but dirt, creatures who crawl, and a hot daylight sun and cool nights are encountered. There’s no better place on God’s green earth, or God’s brown earth, to remove the internal dirt from our bodies. Passing through Lent without symbolically going through the desert of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, is a wasted Lent. And 2021 – nor any year – is a year for wasting Lent, moving forward like all is fine and dandy right now, when we know it isn’t. Christians are not pretenders, pretending like the pandemic is made up. Pretending like so many people are not hurting at this time in body, mind, and spirit. Pretending like our students away from the social setting of school, away from friends and classmates, tied down to a computer for hours a day as a way of expanding the depth of their knowledge. Pretending, “Ah, they’ll get over it eventually. They’re pretty durable.” Pretending like certain groups and governing bodies have not become exceedingly selfish and self-serving, looking out for number one. Pretending like Tom Brady just won another Super Bowl … for the Patriots. I’ve been guilty of some of that pretending. We are not pretenders. We do not pretend that, once Ash Wednesday has arrived on the Church calendar, that our spiritual lives are not different from the week before. We’re not meant to pretend such things. I fear that some of us Catholics do walk through this holy season of opportunity, this season of desert and repentance, this season of intense prayer, sacrifice, and giving until it hurts, without removing any dirt from our body, mind, or soul. “Ah, what do I need that stuff for? What difference is it going to make?” said the crochety old man. “I’ve done it a thousand times! It hasn’t done anything for me!” “Well, old man. Maybe if you do Lent correct, it will do wonders for you. You might even love Jesus a bit more by the time Holy Week rolls around.” Go out into the desert. Put aside all the stuff we pretend is not real, or not bothering us deeply. Place it aside and enter an area in your life where you’re in a zone between you and the Master. Where you’re first, second, and third thought is zoned in on receiving God’s mercy, forgiveness, and unconditional love. One, two, and three. You ask; he extends the gift. Even a crochety old man like me can attain such an easy goal. Give it a real try. No pretending this Lent, 2021. As the Spirit drove Jesus into the real desert of ancient Palestine, make a 6-week covenant with God, in like manner of Noah, whom God made one with forever. Create a small holy space in the wider space of the desert of your world. And in that smaller open space, be in intimate communion with the God who created you. Allow yourself to make a real difference for yourself. No pretending like it cannot happen. And no pretending like we don’t need God’s mercy. Because we do. In his love for us, he’s ready to give it at no cost.

Masses for Ash Wednesday, February 17, will be held at 7:00 a.m., 9:00 a.m., 4:00 p.m., and 6:00 pm.

I have a priest friend who believes that at this point in his priesthood, and over the past couple of years, that God has graced him with the gift of healing. This does not mean that everyone in his presence will be healed of whatever ailment they happen to have. It goes much, much spiritually deeper than any simple, easy understanding or approach. Quite honestly, trying to figure out the mind and generosity of God in the serious matter of healing is exceedingly difficult. My own experience where a couple of healings have seemingly occurred that resulted from a simple blessing, and once or twice a sacramental anointing of the sick, is that healing will happen when most unexpected, and possibly when one is not even looking for it. Of course, God will do what God wants to do when He wants to do it and whomever He wishes to do it through, or do it to. God is indiscriminate with his holy, generous love and compassion with the grace of physical and spiritual healing extended to his most sacred creation, that being us. But please know this; God healing any person of any illness above and beyond the laws of nature and medical science is real. I’ve seen too much to believe otherwise. One of the great graces of priesthood is so many believers telling us their story of the most intimate closeness to Jesus from a personal experience in their life. And so many of you have one or more of these stories, and more than a few of them involve the grace of being healed, or witnessing a healing on the spot, or some time later. Trying to figure out how God operates with the grace of healing, all the guessing and unpredictable understanding was totally simplified when Jesus began his ministry. He was ground zero for healing illness. He spoke and it happened. “I do will it, Mr. Leper, be made clean and become Mr. Non-Leper.” Where the Lord is ground zero for every healing in the history of the world that has ever and will happen, be it a Christian, an atheist, or anyone whom God chooses to extend this grace to, what contributes to the ground zero of God healing, is our love and genuine concern for the well-being of another, or even oneself. The question could arise from this Gospel story, “Is the leper being selfish by asking Jesus to heal him with the likelihood there are numerous other lepers surrounding him? What about the others?” It’s unlikely he was the only leper in that separated colony of sickness. Why didn’t he ask Jesus to heal his brothers and sisters first, and himself last? One of the better Christian actions we can behold is to be present with someone who is very ill, and listen to that person be genuinely concerned about the welfare of their family and friends before their own health. To answer the above question, “No, the leper was not being selfish.” He appears to be the only one who wanted to be directly touched by God through the gift of faith. His faith that Jesus could and would make him whole was a much bigger deal than the healing itself. As awesome as the healing was, and any healing is, his faith in the Lord is what started him on a path that will one day lead to his being raised from the dead. The Person who cured the leprosy is the same Person who will raise the leper’s body, and give him a body that will never know illness or death again. Do we believe this? In this Gospel we see two fundamental parts of our Catholic faith, with one of them being the most fundamental belief we can have. First, we see the excitement of evangelization. The leper becomes a spoken witness to the great things of God, even though Jesus told him to be quiet about his healing. That’s a strange request the Lord makes a few times in the Gospels. Here, it seems to be related to Jesus’ own safety and mobility. Because when the leper spreads the good news, it became impossible for the Lord to enter a town openly. To no one in this Church has the Lord said, “Don’t tell anyone.” To all if us he says, “Tell everyone the great things God has done for you.” The excitement of evangelization remains a fundamental part of our discipleship for Christ. And the second one, the most fundamental belief we hold onto for dear life, is the path to resurrection, and our belief in it that we don’t take for granted. The singular healing of the leper tells us of God’s absolute power over all things life and death. The leper’s healing is an easy warmup when compared to raising the bodies of all mankind one day. In this healing of the lone leper, Jesus spoke, and the healing was complete. In the blink of an eye. Which is the exact amount of time, according to St. Paul, that it will take our bodies to be reunited with our souls, when God will be all in all.

We would think that preaching with authority and driving out hell’s demons, that Jesus would be on the top of his game like Tom Brady will be tonight when he wins another Super Bowl. While drawing closer to the top of his game when crushing demons and restoring health to God’s children, we know about our Lord that, as time moved forward from this stage in his ministry, that driving out demons is not the top of his game. Greater advancement toward the top of his game is seen in the Lazarus event in Bethany, calling his friend out of the tomb. Or in the daughter of Jairus being woken from sleep. His raising others from the dead. The top of the game for Jesus on this Super Bowl Sunday is twofold; first, the day of his death, being the completion of his mission accomplished in pure obedience. And second, the resurrection of his body on the 3rd day. These two “top of the game” events cannot be separated in the same way we cannot separate our Catholic faith from our politics; in the same way we cannot separate Christ the Bridegroom from the Bride his Church, a separation, where it exists, being one of the great heresies of modern time. He’s on the top of his game when dying and rising, never to die again. Here, early in his public ministry, our Lord takes a big step toward the ultimate Super Bowl victory of life eternal. An easy cure of a mother-in-law; “That was an easy one. Wait till you see what’s coming.” From this easy cure to attacking and expelling the spirits who rebelled against God… a more serious step than calling out a fever. We talk for a moment about the top of our game, and the good steps we can take to keep moving forward to the resurrection of our bodies. A good place to begin is with Job in this Sunday’s first reading, who goes directly to the bottom of our game with the final words in this reading, “I shall not see happiness again.” I used to think that as a Red Sox fan. It was like, “You know, they are never going to reach the top of their game.” Then Mr. Ortiz showed up and changed all that. “I shall not see happiness again” is actually the perfect place to begin regarding the top of our game, right smack on the bottom. These words of Job, to carry them forth to our present day lives, say that Jesus does not teach with authority; that his curing God’s children is a side-show; that the demons are not scared of him and don’t listen to his voice; Lazarus remains in the tomb when called out; a son is not given back to his mother in Nain; and worst of all, Jesus stays in the tomb after his crucifixion, forever. As Christians, our reaction to the words of Job is very, very simple; we reject them. To say, “I will not see happiness again” does not belong to us. It belongs to those with no faith. We reject the words of Job. Rejection is a very important part of our faith in Christ. We reject despair and despondency, the tools of the Devil. We reject all worldly ideas and practices that separate us from the love of God. Instead, we accept the great holy truth we draw closer to each passing day; that we will see happiness again. A level of happiness described best as indescribable joy. From Job to St. Paul, we take one giant step toward the top of our game. Paul, after his being struck by Jesus on the road to Damascus, was always in a mood of evangelizing. When he saw his happiness again after Jesus nailed him to the ground – one of God’s greatest all-time moves – Paul became all things to all people, in order to save some. He was an evangelizing machine, at the top of his game as an Apostle. Founding communities, establishing churches, preaching the word. Paul was in love with his Savior. He did all things for Christ. Are we in love with our Savior? Do we do all things in our lives for Christ? Do we evangelize through words and deeds, and do we preach his word? Are we closer to Paul than Job in terms of happiness? Are we all things to all people in order to save some? If yes, this would be for us the equivalent of Jesus driving out demons. A big step on the way to the top of our game. In the Gospel, as everyone looks for Jesus in the early morning hours, he shows us another big step that is much easier than driving out demons, all those spirits who made the wrong eternal choice because they aligned themselves with the wrong leader known as Satan. Jesus makes the good choice of prayer. He and his Father as One! Communing with the God who loves us and desires our happiness both now and future. I simply remind all of us of the fundamental importance of daily prayer. To make time for prayer is to make time for our Savior. It could be the largest step we take in this world that leads us to the top of our game. Jesus cured a fever; he drove out demons; but in his 24-hour cycle where the entire town was at his door, his prayer alone with God was his largest step. May we be wise enough to follow in his footsteps as we journey to the top of our game.

In our Catholic faith, the resurrection is what is lovingly referred to as “the end game.” The resurrection is also “the beginning game” for the rest of eternity, when the spirit will be called back into the body – like Lazarus – as easily as the unclean spirit leaves the man possessed by it. The unclean spirits will cease at the voice of Jesus, and the eternal spirit, for which we have been created, will be welcomed home to the sinless body. In the first reading today from the Book of Deuteronomy, for those who caught it, there is a back and forth between Moses and God speaking what is referred to as resurrection language. It’s spoken centuries prior to Jesus being raised by God the Father. Moses speaks to the Israelites in their attentive listening,” A prophet like me will the Lord, your God, raise up for you among our kin.” Have we ever said anything prophetic, that when it happened, it went miles beyond our prophetic statement? I remember when I was 32 or 33 years old about 3 centuries ago, wearing a brown uniform Monday-Friday for what seemed like 120 years, delivering boxes instead of souls, and I was at dinner with a brother and friend, and out of the clear blue I said, “You know, if I’m not married by the time I hit 40, I’m gonna become a priest.” Well, at the age of 40, without recalling I spoke those words until some time much later, I went into seminary. As always, God gets the last laugh. Moses does this in today’s reading. When he said that God would raise up a prophet for Israel, of course he was speaking about some unknown great Prophet who would lead Israel in the perfection of the commandments, pleasing God to no end. What Moses didn’t see in his prophetic words was a great Prophet walking out of a tomb, raised up after being dead for 3 days, never to die again. God heard the prophetic words of Moses and ran with them, taking them an entire universe in length, far beyond what Moses said. God loved what Moses said so much that he returned the favor to Moses with His own words, “This is well said. I will raise up a prophet like you,” Moses. Where Moses was speaking a great prophet, God was speaking a Son and a Savior. The resurrection language of raising up spoken centuries before becomes manifested, and begins to be drawn out to its fullest extent, in the Person of Jesus Christ. In Mark’s Gospel this Sunday, we see two direct ways in which resurrection language draws much nearer to the real event of Easter Sunday morning. The first direct way is the reaction of the people within earshot of Jesus. Their reaction resembles that of the Israelites when Moses spoke to the people. Except here, for the first time in human history, the reaction reaches a crescendo. It’s the reaction of being astonished at the Lord’s teaching; a new teaching with authority. New, yes. But more the fulfillment of what Moses predicted in his prophetic statement. The hearts of Jesus’ listeners were stirred beyond any previous generation of God-fearing people. For us, it begs the question in this present time of religious relativity when it’s believed that one religion is just as good as another, “As Christians, are we still astonished at his teaching? His teachings that come to us directly from his Church? Do his teachings still move us with authority? With heaven’s force consisting of grace and mercy? Or, are they just another set of beliefs among many?” If we lose the reaction of the people in this Gospel; if we cease to be astonished at his teaching on the Eucharist; if we falsely believe the Bread of Life is symbolic, or something to chew on every Sunday, then our faith is in need of recapturing some astonishment in Christ. His teachings are astonishing and authoritative because he is raised up, and he will do the same for us. The second way which Moses’ resurrection language is directly manifested is the Lord’s complete power over unclean spirits. If you’re fighting with unclean spirits in your life, please know that your Savior is more powerful that they. This step of power over the unclean spirits is a large step on the way to the joy of resurrection. The unclean spirits in our world remain very powerful. They continue to overtake bodies, minds, and spirits. We need no more proof than the easy destruction of human life in all stages, with so many people who cooperate with the unclean spirits of death rather than the Spirit of Life. On their own, unclean spirits are extremely powerful. Much more powerful than we are on our own. Sorry for the bad news. That’s one really good reason to keep our Savior close. Because the good news is that Jesus crushes them. He crushes them like the best Patriots team would crush a high school football team. This manifestation of Jesus’ power allows us some comfort in the holy truth that the sufferings of this world are nothing when compared to the glory God has revealed to us in Christ Jesus our Lord. In other words, persevere, because the prophetic statement of Moses to God of raising up a prophet has come to pass. Our faith in him, and his authoritative teachings and power work to our eternal benefit, when your body and mine will be carried by the angels into life eternal, which is the end

It begins with one Person, with the hope of ending with a crowd in heaven. Jesus was walking along by himself that day praying his Rosary. He was intentionally in the area of John the Baptist. He knew that John, the voice crying out in the wilderness, would not be able to keep his voice silent if John saw him walking along praying his Rosary. That would be somewhat akin to us seeing someone famous – maybe an athlete – and we say to those in our company, “Hey, that’s such and such a person! There’s Tom Brady. All by himself. I thought he was in Tampa!” John could not remain silent when Jesus was upon him. Something good always came from his voice when Jesus was in close proximity, such as, “It is you who should be baptizing me.” Or, “Behold, the Lamb of God.” At times, not remaining silent will produce good results, especially if some force or agency wants you quiet about some holy truth pertaining to God. Such as, human life begins at conception. Behold, the Lamb of God. John spoke, and it’s good for us that he did. His words about Jesus walking by resulted in two of his own disciples, Andrew and some unnamed friend of Andrew, leaving John and running after the Messiah, and John didn’t mind one iota. That image is symbolically rich. Decreasing from the creature John, a passing Prophet who fulfilled his calling to perfection, to increasing their faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. As Jesus walked by, they ran after him. Obviously, they caught up to him because he said to them, “What are you looking for? Why are you tailing me so closely like a road rager? like they were up to no good. But they were up to good. Are we still up to good with Jesus? “Well,” they said, “we want to know where you are staying.” And Jesus replied, “Come and see. Come and see that the Son of Man has no place to rest his head, unless, of course, I can rest it in your hearts.” That’s the only place in this world where the Savior, who created this world, can rest his head with thorns sticking out. And his arms with nail marks, his legs with the same, and his side with a spear mark. In your heart. Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ? That your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you? Whom you have from God, and that you are not your own? That’s exactly what happened that day when Andrew and his disciple friend, and later that day Peter, after Andrew his brother told him, “Come and see what we found.” What happened was, they were no longer their own. The process of transferring the ownership of themselves had begun. They didn’t quite know that yet. They still had some really hard times ahead, like knowing their Master was being crucified on a certain Friday; and some moments of incredulous joy to witness, like watching their Master call a 4-day dead man out of a tomb. Or even better, witnessing him alive after crucifixion. They didn’t know yet that he was working on owning them. Unlike us. We know he owns us, right? We know this basic Christian truth, correct? We’re not afraid to admit this, right? We do know that we are not our own. That we have been purchased at a price. And, we were not on sale when he purchased us. We were in sin, but we were not on sale. Because, God never cheapens us, like we can do to the unborn or the elderly who are dying. The elderly: the most beautiful people in the world, all of whom have an incredible story to tell. Yet, we have a political faction in this country today that wants to cheapen them. Treat them like they’re 50% off. Like their lives are on sale. Get rid of them. These people who have an incredible story to tell. Just sell them. They cost too much to keep around. No thanks. I’ll stick with my Lord. He never cheapens us. That’s why he died for us. Because we’re worth it. Jesus too has an incredible story to tell, without him making it to old age. A story of him purchasing us for life eternal. A story of calling us to do his bidding without fear. A story of chasing after him, catching up with him, and never going South on him unless you’re traveling to Gettysburg. A story of our bodies being members of Christ. It’s not a good story. It’s the greatest story ever told. When preparing couples for marriage, I love telling them that I don’t want them to have a good marriage. After their quizzical look, I tell them I want them to have a great marriage. And what advances a marriage from good to great is chasing after your Savior every day of your life as a couple, and you will never stop chasing him until you see him face to face, and enter his embrace. Well, at the end of this Gospel, it was time for a name-change. Simon becomes Cephas, which means Peter, which means Rock, upon which he has built his Church. There’s some rich reality in a name-change. The reality of now belonging to the Lamb of God. As our lives grow in age, I pray wisdom accompanies the age. The wisdom of chasing after our Owner until the end. It began with one Person, with the hope of ending with a crowd

I’ve been blessed to stand aside the Jordan River twice, each time on two different trips to Israel. The first time was the area believed to be where John baptized Jesus. At that point, the River is about 15 feet wide. And as far as its deepness; a short person can step into the water without drowning. Also, the water at this stage of the River is pretty muddy. We don’t know if it was this color the day Jesus was baptized. If it was, he cleaned it up. The second time at the River Jordan was near the source of it. Near the beginning up in Caesarea Philippi, in northern Israel where Jesus told Peter he was the Rock of the Church, and that the gates of hell would not prevail against her. It’s just a light stream at this point, the water very clear, looking drinkable. One could probably jump from one side to the other while stepping in the river just once. The Jordan River is not the Mississippi. And, it’s not the Missouri, the Ohio, the Allegheny, the Ganges, the Thames, or any other river with great amounts of water flowing powerfully along, where you could get caught up in a current and die, never to be found again. The Jordan River is small, tiny, not a major River by any means. It remains a source of water for the Sea of Galilee, feeding the sea made famous by Jesus walking on it; made famous by Jesus calling his first 4 Apostles from their boats to come and follow him all the way to a martyr’s death and heaven – only half of that sounds enticing; and, the sea made famous where the Lord sat along the seashore with Peter and a few others, eating a post-resurrection breakfast together, Jesus asking Peter 3 times, “Simon, son of John. Do you love me?” Three times, of course, to wipe away Peter’s three sinful offenses in his denials of knowing his Savior, which caused Peter to weep bitterly, as it should have for any person with a good conscience. So, from all this information connected to the River Jordan, I pass on a couple thoughts on this day of our Lord’s Baptism, the One who didn’t need to be baptized by a mere mortal like John, as great as his Prophet status was. Because, truth be told, who of us can baptize the sinless Son of God? Only through his approval can one do so. The first thought that concerns our faith as connected to the Jordan River is its lack of a strong current capable to take us under, leading to death. The Jordan River is gentle in this regard. However, the Jordan brings forth a great spiritual reality – a powerful current - found only in this River, that extends through the baptismal font in every Church. It’s the strong current that has caused us to already die with Christ, and for Christ. This happened to us the day we were baptized. In a world going somewhat paranoia, we recall for our benefit that we’ve been caught up in the powerful spiritual current of the Jordan, and that we have already died once. We died to sin, in order to live for Christ. And to live for Christ is to live in holiness. Yea, we all fall apart at times, as did all the great Saints in the Church except for the Mother of God. But when we fall apart in our little world, if we return momentarily to being a pagan Gentile, we act on the message that accompanies Baptism; to repent. Being baptized into the death of Christ, dying once already as we have, opens the door to future acts of repentance. May we never forget this gift. The physical current of the Jordan River is gentle, as it was the day John baptized Jesus; the day Jesus showed us how we initiate our lives into his, when we became the imprint of his being, where the two of us have become one flesh in Baptism. But the other current in the Jordan – this tiny River – is stronger than any current found at any ocean or river. It’s the current that allowed our souls to die for Christ, so that we may rise to new life in his resurrection. The current of the Jordan River is an interesting dichotomy found only in that River. The second thought as connected to the Jordan and its current is further connected to St. Peter’s three denials of Christ. We know that every time we sin, large or small, mortal or venial, we destroy some percentage of our relationship with the Lord. Peter, we know, messed up in a huge way. He got scared and denied he knew his Savior. Fear will do this. But our Baptism, thanks be to God, has opened the door to repentance and absolution. Unlike Judas, who went his own way, Peter never reached the point of despair. He never lost the future mercy that accompanies Baptism. Jesus certainly made it easy for the lead Apostle by asking him 3 times, “Do you love me?” The same question he asks us every day of our lives. But on the seashore as they ate breakfast, Peter experienced the loving mercy that emanates from the heart of Christ, made possible for us through Baptism. Let’s take advantage of this incredible gift freely given to us, a gift that always returns us to right relationship with God. The earthly source of all these gifts from above is found in the tiny Jordan River and its unique current that no other river or ocean can match.

It’s good for all of us to have a second mother. We love our first mothers, hopefully, for bringing us to term and giving us the gift of life. In a nation where that is not always the choice – that ever dangerous word – we thank our dear mothers for choosing life. The bond created through a mother and child, though, is a unique one that lasts a lifetime, we pray. Our second Mother is who we celebrate today. And she’s the same second Mother for each of us. That makes all of us family. Her holiness is unmatched, even beyond our birth mothers. In my lowly estimation, her loveliness is second to none. I’ve had the good habit for years now calling her the most beautiful woman who ever lived. And her beauty has nothing to with a Miss America or Miss Universe pageant. Rather, her beauty is realized in the absolute perfection of her womanhood. She is the number one woman who matches to perfection the term that St. John Paul II coined, “The Feminine Genius.” And that phrase has little to do with having Einstein intelligence. It speaks to the perfection of the female gender as created by God through the inside of Adam. Mary, our second Mother for eternity, is second to none when leading our good souls to the many victories of her Son. Many of the popular Saints in the Church do the same; the list is thankfully long. They lead us to Christ, where we belong, through their inspired prayers and our imitating their imitation of the Lord. Simplicity, prayer, mercy, good works, humility … all these virtues they perfected in a lifetime. Some of those lifetimes were very short. But our second Mother, the holy Mother of God, the holy Mother of Jesus, she remains our best source for reaching our goal of being one with her Son after we call it a day in this quick life. As Luke writes in the Gospel, Mary, our second Mother, kept all that was said about her Son, reflecting on them in her heart. All the newspaper articles, all the journals, all the photos of Jesus playing soccer, scoring the winning goal to win another championship for Nazareth, these were all gathered into the scrapbook of her heart, where a mother does her best work. She left all the newspaper articles, the journals, the sources, and whatever else to a few writers who compiled the scrapbook known as the New Testament that speaks to the important parts of her Son’s life, leaving out much we don’t know about him. Our second Mother knows everything about her Son’s human life, beyond the Gospels and Letters. She could have told the writers like Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, and Paul certain things about her Son that no one else knew. But if she did, this world would not contain the number of books. This is how well our second Mother knows us too. For which we are blessed. We all can use a second Mother. We have one in Blessed Mary, the most beautiful woman who ever lived. The Mother of God, whose depth of love and knowledge of her Son Jesus is shared with us. May the Holy Mother of God continue to lead us to her Son in this New Year and beyond.

Is it possible the star the Magi saw and followed was the same star that returned last week after a short hiatus of 800 years? It was last seen in the 13th century in the sky, lighting up the heavens. Of course, now we know it was caused by the closeness of Jupiter and Saturn with her marvelous rings. And, of course again, we live in Worcester, so it turned out to be a cloudy evening last week, thus a clear visual of what happened in the solar system was not viewed with the naked eye from our location. San Diego we are not. But the star was there, beyond the cloud cover. It is cause for legitimate inquiry as to whether this is the same astronomical phenomenon that caused the Magi to pack up and travel a great distance. If it was in fact the very same wonder in the sky that piqued their curiosity, causing them to say, “We must see what this is all about.” Well friends, after almost a year of pandemic uncertainty, upheaval, and the topsy-turviness of what’s going on, where a large degree of fear and complacency has settled into the spiritual lives of one too many, don’t you think the time is ripe, after 8 centuries of disappearance and distance, that we commit ourselves wholeheartedly to following the star? How’s this: I believe God’s timing, and how He plays around with the stars and planets, is perfection. And His message from last week’s closeness between Jupiter and Saturn is a statement from above that wonderfully calls us to continue crossing the desert of our lives amidst the uncertainties of this world. We know we live in a time when the cloud cover of Worcester is before us. Pandemic and all. A dangerous time when complacency in our relationship with Christ is closer to many of us now than previously in our lives. The opportunity to shut down the practice of our Catholic faith is at our doorstep. That is the reality right now. You choose by your presence to allow that highly dangerous spiritual condition to not enter your heart through paralyzing fear or anything else coming our way. You must hold your ground in like manner of the Magi, who encountered all sorts of snakes and travails as they entered the desert at the start of their destination. Most notably, toward the end of their destination, the travail of a rabid, raging King Herod insane about controlling the subjects in his kingdom. They made it through him, the Three Wise Guys, and they found the true King for whom they searched out. A fundamental part of our Christian faith, and not allowing said faith to whittle away like it has for some good people, is to behold an accurate understanding of the times in which we live. And to recognize for our spiritual benefit the symbolism and timing of events that take place. This is what the Magi experienced and acted on. It brought them to the pinpoint location of the newborn King and the world’s salvation. The Magi had a choice. They could have become lukewarm toward the appearance of the star and said, “Gee, look at that bright star appearing to call us to some movement. Oh well, time to go to bed. Good night, star. We’ll see you in 800 years.” Lukewarm faith is worse than no faith. Even St. Paul said so. Lukewarm faith leaves behind all the potential that advances someone to the faith of a Saint. Instead, the Magi understood the signs of the time. They saw that Someone up there was inviting them to move forward and locate the greatest stable on earth. This is why, for us Gentiles turned Christian, the Magi are our dear friends in the faith. They teach us we must keep moving forward in this New Year. The bright star appeared last week after an 800-year hiatus. Despite the Worcester cloud cover, it was there. We can say, scientifically, it would appear no matter what. True enough. But life and faith are more than scientific timing and coincidence. At least for people of faith it is. I believe the timing of the star’s appearance, timed with a worldwide pandemic, not to mention the political atmosphere, the star God created and called into existence is a sign of pure hope. The cloud cover says there is more uncertainty to address in the foreseeable future, which we can handle through God’s grace. The journey across this present desert has with it a few more sandstorms and King Herod’s. But persevere we must, and persevere we will. This is a present time to cherish your Catholic faith, and hold onto it like a martyr. Die for your faith before you would ever lose it. This would be for us a perfect copy of the Magi.

If we’re ever told something that seems amazing, or just too difficult to believe, and we’re presented the opportunity to go forth, see for ourselves and check it out, then we would avail ourselves of the opportunity. We wouldn’t sit back on the couch of our lives, let something amazing – some amazing event – pass us by if we had the chance to see the results firsthand. Only someone who lacks good sense and curiosity would allow the great event to pass by without a firsthand visual. The shepherds were told of an amazing event; the birth of a child who was born to change the world for the better. Actually, for the best. Adam & Eve did their rotten duty in the Garden of Paradise, turning the perfection of Paradise into a rundown building on Cambridge St in Worcester. Or some other street I don’t mean to pick on. Some time later, after we were lost in space somewhere, along comes the second Adam to overturn the bad choice of the first Adam. When the second Adam – Jesus – was born, the event did not remain silent. The great event in the silence of the night became the talk of the day among the shepherds, the first to be told of the great event. And what was their reaction when hearing the news of the birth of Jesus from none other than angels in heaven? They got off their couches, left the bag of Doritos in the corner of the sofa, and went to see firsthand the facts about this great event. Sit back they did not. Their curiosity got the best of them. And then the shepherds did something that continues to address our lives and the lives of everyone touched by the great event of Christmas; they spoke about it to each other. They talked about Jesus. They shared conversation about his Mother, and likely Joseph too. They talked about the great event of salvation being born. They talked about God-is-with-us, Emmanuel. They stopped talking about the sheep they were tending, and the many hours of overtime they worked, and how things were at home, and how the family was doing, and news of the local sports team. They put aside all the talk of their routine daily life events, and replaced with talk about the great event. They spoke about the things of God. And how God has favored us in a way that is truly far beyond comprehension that any one person or group of smart people could ever expect as a favor. There are still numerous folks who find it too incredible to believe that God did this for us. All the secondary chatter was placed aside by the shepherds, and these lowly, simple peasant workers had the wisdom and goodness to bring to the forefront the great event they had witnessed firsthand. I guess the closest we’ll get today to witnessing this great event of Jesus’ birth firsthand is twofold; to look at the stable here and meditate for a bit, or, to see a parent lovingly hold their newborn child with the greatest love and care. Although we are the shepherds of today, the shepherds of yore were blessed to see the great event firsthand, in person. However, their reaction going forth from the stable and speaking of the great event; that has not changed. Nor can it change in a world that needs our Messiah ever more. Any Christian who does not talk about Jesus Christ in their lives is a Christian who speaks way too much about the daily events in their little world, and not nearly enough about the great things God has done for us. Do not be that Christian. Follow the lives of the simple shepherds who were invited to get off their couches and witness something amazing. Something beyond human comprehension. An event that reveals the depth of God’s love for us. Get off your couch – if you’re sitting on it - and make Jesus part of your daily conversation, replacing some of the useless chatter. Bring this great event we celebrate today front and center to our lives. To do this means we will overcome all the political correctness and religious-shutdown running rampant in our culture. Be brave and wise as a shepherd, let Christ be your light, and part of our every day conversation, in imitation of the shepherds. That’s what a good shepherd does. Merry Christmas.

“Now this is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about.” What follows these words in Matthew’s Gospel is not the straight, narrow and easy road we would expect from heaven’s plan. What follows are some pretty hard decisions for Joseph: avoid the divorce; take Mary into your home as a mother with child; assist her in every way to give birth to the Son she carries. Joseph will do all this. A messy road from the start though, like driving up a mountain road with twists and turns, then downhill quickly. Joseph saw in Mary’s stomach his relationship going downhill quickly, with no brakes to stop the disaster. But this is the sort of stuff that lies behind the greater purpose of Jesus’ birth. The Incarnation offers greater purpose and meaning to all our messiness left behind by none other than Adam & Eve; most notably the messiness of death they left us with. The birth of Jesus, the Word becoming flesh, making his dwelling among us, taking on the fullness of our mortal nature in every way but sin; his birth offers us the hope we need to overcome the separations (especially in time of pandemic), the divorces, our personal sufferings and those of loved ones, the financial woes and addictions. His birth is the one light God sent from the throne above to allow some joy to settle within us. A Christian without joy is missing a very large part of being a Christian. Was Joseph bummed out after discovering Mary pregnant with a child not his? He would not be human if he was not bummed out, disappointed, distraught, weeping in the silence of night. That small space of time between Joseph discovering Mary’s pregnancy and the appearance of Gabriel in a dream was a time of total bewilderment. His life drove over the mountain; his carpentry work became meaningless to him; the ice cream stand was sold out of his favorite flavor. Now that’s rock bottom. St. Joseph the just man was graced by God to gain some perspective on his personal downfall. The pregnant child inside the womb of his wife Mary was the answer to his prayers. In the same way he remains the answer to every petition we speak out loud or silently. Joseph coming to understand through Gabriel the greater purpose of these seemingly crooked events that confronted him; that’s the very same understanding that graces us with the favor of seeing the greater purpose of our lives too. And the understanding that raises our dignity above the clouds is this: that God has sent to Israel – and the new Israel – a savior, Jesus. If our hearts are absent this understanding, then we remain in Joseph’s space of time between seeing Mary’s stomach grow, and the appearance of the angel Gabriel in a dream. That space of Joseph’s time was by far the worst time in his life, and the worst place that any Christian can place ourselves. That place of hopelessness. Jesus’ birth commands us to live in hope. We are not hopeless. God has come to us. God has become us. We still experience the same hard issues that Joseph did in his trying space of time. It will remain with us until Jesus returns. Until Jesus is “born” again before us, calling our bodies home in the resurrection. But let’s not speak and act like Joseph’s dream of understanding never happened. It did happen, by God’s favor. It happened so that we can be assured that the messiness is worth putting up with, because the light at the end of the tunnel has moved from the end of the tunnel to be born in front of us in a stable. Let’s never speak and act like the dream was only a dream. It wasn’t. It was a dream – a real communication – where God, through Gabriel, enlightened the entire world that we matter to him. The new Israel. The Church. The People of God. And this Christ-child, the Good Shepherd, carries us on his shoulders from that bad space of Joseph’s time of uncertainty, to the greater purpose of who we are; which is to be with him forever, as so many of our loved ones have already come to know with lasting joy. “Now this is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about.” And this is why his birth came about too.

“Yes, Lord, you may build the house.” The great King David had a great idea; “Let’s build a house for God, made of the best cedar wood. We’ll build it in the best location. On a mountain if need be. Inside, we’ll build the best furniture made by the best craftsmen, like a St. Joseph. We’ll call in the construction workers to build an inground pool in the backyard in case God wants to take a swim. Nothing but the best for God. We’ll move him out of that old, ugly, smelly, dirty tent he’s been residing in forever, and move him into a new address with all the worldly trappings.” King David’s great idea. So God said to King David through the Prophet Nathan , “Tell King David to go take a hike. He won’t be building me any houses. Bad idea.” So much for David’s generosity that God flung back in his face. “Yes, Lord, you may build the house.” What a difference between David, the greatest King in all of Israel by far, and this lowly servant woman from Nazareth. David wants to build a house for God, and gets turned aside. Mary gives God permission to build a house in her tabernacle. David wanted permission from God, somewhat. God wanted permission from Mary, for certain. “May it be done to me according to your word. Yes, Lord, you may build the house.” Anyway, the Temple got built, not by David as we know, but by his son Solomon. David was wandering in the netherworld after death by the time the first construction workers showed up. Despite that, David’s house idea was a good one, even though God left him out of the project. David was on to something. Like when we’re on to something good, and know it’s what God really wants. St. Francis of Assisi had a David inclination. God said, “Yes, Francis, build that house of poverty and simplicity.” God would borrow David’s idea, and use it for the world’s salvation. God would dwell in the Temple in Jerusalem, close to his people. They could come and visit him, spend time with him, and pray to him. That’s the same search for closeness we seek in the presence of the Eucharist. But the Temple of bricks and mortar in and of itself cannot save a single sinner anymore than the Green Monster can. Beautiful visuals they are; immense, superb craftsmanship, but no life or breath in them. In our weakness and sin, we needed a Temple – a sinless one – living and breathing, matching our makeup. And God left it up to Mary of Nazareth to decide if that was happening through her human perfection. ‘Yes, Lord, you may build the house.” Our God loves us so much that He didn’t like the idea of some earthly King building him a house, telling him “You have to move from that tent to the Temple, and don’t forget to take the fish tank.” A fair question; “Who is God in this case?” Sounds like it would be the human King. Instead, in preparation for the perfect humility and obedience of Jesus, God humbled himself before the Virgin, not through a Prophet, but through the angel Gabriel who stands before God, asking her, “Will you be the Mother of my Son?” As the entire court of heaven and all its inhabitants held their breath for the answer, waiting those few critical seconds that seemed like an eternity to see if the ball was going to be caught for an out, or fly over the Green Monster for a home run, Mary pondered a split second and said, “May it be done to be according to your word. Yes, Lord, you may build the house.” The house that our merciful God wanted was built. David had the idea. God borrowed it. Mary carried it in her and brought him to birth. We await the birth of that house in a few days, in a stable. The house of salvation, for us. the house of mercy, for us. The house of knowledge of the ways of God, for us. The house where God becomes up close & personal, for us. Eventually, a house with a Cross in it; and a house with an empty tomb. “Yes, Lord, you may build that house in me; you may build that house in

Imagine if you went out into a desert at night, no lights, no cameras, no action. Just dead silence, with a wolf’s howl or a snake’s hiss occasionally. So you go out to the dead silence in the pitch darkness, and you bring along with you a bullhorn. Press the “on” button, place the horn to your mouth – in the dead silence and the pitch black – and as loud as you can through the bullhorn you begin to recite the Our Father. How far will your voice carry over the extended plain, over flat land and sand? Will your voice be heard for miles? Would you get the attention of a walking creature, like a fox, the name Jesus called King Herod? Most likely your voice crying out in the desert, especially with a working bullhorn, would be heard through echoes for a handful of miles. That is one big-mouth! I know a few who need no bullhorn. John the Baptist had lots of practice at being a voice crying out in the desert. Living out there for years, having no one to talk to most of the time. Maybe he was present with some others once in a while. Some tourists on a bus may stop by here and there saying, “Who’s that weird-looking guy? Is he eating a grasshopper? Get your cameras out!” We know how tourists are. And from John’s angle; “Here comes another bus of nosy people again!” But most of his adulthood John was likely a hermit. A hermit with a big mouth, an oxymoron if there ever was one. The desert is the most perfect location on earth to have your voice travel for miles. The echoes continue on and on and on, until it fades into the darkness. The Baptist’s is the biggest voice, the biggest mouth that ever entered and left a desert, culminating at a River. From no water to holy water. He owned a crying voice that could be heard for miles in every direction. But John didn’t cry out just anything. It’s not like John told bad jokes through his bullhorn, wait for the silence of his bad joke to stop, then hear if a laughing hyena’s call would return his way. There were no bad jokes in the voice of John the Baptist. Rather, his voice was one of reason, of concern, a voice of holiness and conviction; a voice of truth and light; a voice that, yes, prepared the way of the Lord. John’s was the most excellent voice for conversion through the repentance of sins that carried throughout the desert of our world. His voice is still heard today for those who wish to pay attention. His was a good, godly voice crying out in the desert, all the way to the River. He carried his bullhorn with him. Tourists thought is was a jar of honey. It was his big mouth. We’re created not only for listening. Two ears; one mouth. Not just two ears, being a virtue to attentively hear the other, especially the cry of the poor. But also a big mouth. Now, when a person is a labeled a big mouth, it’s almost always an insult, is it not? When’s the last time “Hey, big mouth!” sounded like a compliment? But there’s at least one situation, one central part of our lives where a bullhorn is a very good tool for us saying to the world as Church, “Make straight the way of the Lord.” Those are words meant not only to be heard in the silence of our listening; they are meant to be spoken through a bullhorn to a word in dreadful need of hearing them. “Make straight the way of the Lord.” This straightness begins with each of us personally. We’re responsible for our straightness. We don’t blame any of our crookedness on others, like adults in a certain walk of life so easily and immaturely do (if you know who I mean). We cannot cry out in the desert, “Make straight the way of the Lord,” if our straightness is rather crooked. That would be a bad joke, where a sneering laugh echoes back our way from the pit below. It’s the holiness and faithfulness of John the Baptist that allowed his voice to penetrate the hearts and minds of the crowds awaiting a Messiah. “Who are you?” they ask. Are you Elijah or Moses, or Mary or Veronica? “No,” he answers. Honesty is a great virtue. Especially when confessing our sins. Then “What are you?” they ask him. What sort of creature are you John? What sort of creatures are we? As we close in on our Lord’s birth, may we draw closer to the sort of creatures who do not shy away from symbolically standing in the middle of the desert, with a bullhorn, with the “on” button lit up, a voice crying out, “Make straight the way of the Lord.” May these words never be a bad joke for us or others, but words that testify in our lives to the light of Christ.

As we journey through life, there are some parts of the journey where we might not want to know absolutely everything about a given situation. For example, when someone becomes ill, they may not wish to know a diagnosis. Some of us would say the more we know the better chance of recovery. Unless there is no cure. But some of us don’t want to know any potential bad news connected to our health. Which is why many guys – and a few ladies too – will not visit a doctor for years. This knowing or not knowing something important about ourselves leads to a curious question about the Immaculate Conception; “How well did Mary know that she was conceived a sinless creature in her mother’s womb, St. Anne? That God’s favor, grace, and power had filled her? Did Mary come to know in her adult years that she was conceived without original sin for the singular purpose of carrying the Divine child in her tabernacle?” Makes for a healthy, very spiritual meditation to ponder Mary’s self-knowledge. Would she want to know that God protected her from the ravages of evil, and the Evil One, and that He created in her being – body, soul, and spirit – the most perfect creature of all time? We know in Our Lady’s visits to St. Bernadette in Lourdes, France in the 1850’s Mary identifies herself to Bernadette as the Immaculate Conception. Did she know this on earth, or, did she learn this about herself after she was assumed into heaven? Whereas Tom Brady is the greatest quarterback of all time, poor Tom cannot hold a candle – or a football – to the greatness of Blessed Mary. Yet, as the Magnificat tells us in the first chapter of Luke’s Gospel, Mary calls herself a lowly servant. The best kind. The Gospel today is the story, not of the Immaculate Conception, but of the Annunciation, the conception of Jesus in Mary. We have in Scripture no explicit story of Mary’s conception in her mother’s womb. I suspect the very first reason for the lack of Mary’s conception story in the Bible is because her entire life is centered in the conception and birth of Jesus. If we could have asked her during her lifetime, “Mary, do you fully understand who you are and how God has favored you so?” She would likely answer, “Who I am is far less important than you worshipping the fullness of my Son. I want you to know and love him as I know and love him. With all your being. If you do this, who I am will be understood with joy.” And that’s the key understanding of this most beautiful Marian celebration. A celebration that we as Church, as proud Catholics, we embrace the infinite goodness of this Most Holy Woman and Mother. We unite our souls with her sinless creation and sinless life. Unlike Eve, who faltered in the Garden, dragging Adam into the pit, this Lady from Nazareth faltered not! Whether aware of this good news or not, she lived every day in the perfection of her virtues. And her greatest perfection and virtue were the words, “This is my Son and Lord. I invite you to walk in his path as I do.” May the Immaculate Conception pray for us. Amen.