Monday, Memorial of St. Francis Xavier
(Isaiah 4:2-6, Psalm 122, Matthew 8:5-11)
During Advent we are to wait patiently and purposefully but also with anticipation for the coming of the Lord. Because many busy themselves in commerce and revelry, it is hard to appreciate the import of these adverbs.
We wait patiently by reflecting on the significance of Christ’s coming. He will show himself to be what we have claimed all along – the Son of God, the Creator of the universe, and the Lord of history. All nations will recognize him as “Lord” as the centurion does in the gospel passage today.
Of course, we want to be regarded as his faithful subjects. Thus, we purposefully follow his commands day-by-day. Isaiah the prophet envisions those who remain faithful to God’s law being distinguished as “holy” like the Lord Himself. Christians see that Law revised to become essentially the grace of the Holy Spirit enabling us to conform to Jesus’ inestimable charity. Certainly St. Francis Xavier demonstrated this Spirit enhanced love as he labored tirelessly for the salvation of souls.
Waiting with anticipation may seem to conflict with waiting patiently. After all, when we anticipate something, we are ready to see it come about now. But there is a congruency about the two terms. After twenty centuries it would only be natural for Christians to give up the wait. We might conclude that Jesus erred when he said he would return or that we have mistaken his intent. However, his “com(ing) again in glory” is an article of faith that we cannot dismiss. So we tune up our ears and enlarge our radar screens to discern how exactly Jesus comes among us today, although not yet in full splendor. This uplifting creates an anticipation in us much like the holy people ready to enter Jerusalem in the responsorial psalm.
Homilette for Friday, November 30, 2007
Friday, the Feast of St. Andrew, Apostle
(Matthew 4:18-22)
Although we know very little about St. Andrew, Christians remember the date of his feast before that of any other apostle. November 30 is etched in our minds because of its closeness to the beginning of Advent. The feast does not really commence the season, but the Sunday nearest the date always is its beginning.
As Advent marks a new liturgical year, St. Andrew represents the newness of Jesus’ preaching. Andrew is considered to be the first disciple whom Jesus’ preaching attracts. Today’s gospel shows Jesus calling the fishermen Andrew and his brother Peter to follow him. They do so unreservedly by leaving their fishing nets “at once.” In John’s Gospel Jesus likewise encounters Andrew along with another man (not Peter) – both of whom are disciples of the Baptist. The two begin to follow Jesus when Jesus bids them to share his life. In both gospels Jesus precipitates a radical choice. His authority is totally irresistible like nothing ever before experienced.
The Church celebrates saints as models of the Christian life and as heavenly intercessors for our salvation. On this Feast of St. Andrew when we still await the beginning of Advent, we might keep in mind the twofold objective in a unique way. First, we might make the radical choice this year of contemplating during Advent the meaning of Jesus’ coming and not indulging in pre-Christmas revelry. Then we might pray to this saint, whom it is said suffered an agonizing death on an X-shaped cross, for the strength to see our decision through.
(Matthew 4:18-22)
Although we know very little about St. Andrew, Christians remember the date of his feast before that of any other apostle. November 30 is etched in our minds because of its closeness to the beginning of Advent. The feast does not really commence the season, but the Sunday nearest the date always is its beginning.
As Advent marks a new liturgical year, St. Andrew represents the newness of Jesus’ preaching. Andrew is considered to be the first disciple whom Jesus’ preaching attracts. Today’s gospel shows Jesus calling the fishermen Andrew and his brother Peter to follow him. They do so unreservedly by leaving their fishing nets “at once.” In John’s Gospel Jesus likewise encounters Andrew along with another man (not Peter) – both of whom are disciples of the Baptist. The two begin to follow Jesus when Jesus bids them to share his life. In both gospels Jesus precipitates a radical choice. His authority is totally irresistible like nothing ever before experienced.
The Church celebrates saints as models of the Christian life and as heavenly intercessors for our salvation. On this Feast of St. Andrew when we still await the beginning of Advent, we might keep in mind the twofold objective in a unique way. First, we might make the radical choice this year of contemplating during Advent the meaning of Jesus’ coming and not indulging in pre-Christmas revelry. Then we might pray to this saint, whom it is said suffered an agonizing death on an X-shaped cross, for the strength to see our decision through.
Homilette for Thursday, November 29, 2007
Thursday, XXXIV Week of Ordinary Time
(Luke 21:20-28)
In 1960 when the first of the baby-boomers were growing up, the popular entertainer Pat Boone addressed himself to them. Twixt Twelve and Twenty was the title of both a song and a short book Boone wrote. In these works he gave sound advice for navigating these often difficult years between childhood and adulthood. The song asks whether teenagers are old enough to understand the devotion that love entails. Of course, it answers its question positively but also notes how faith and trust must accompany love to avoid calamity.
When Jesus speaks of “the times of the Gentiles” in the gospel, he is also referring to in between years. He sees the time of the Jews as passing away with the imminent destruction of Jerusalem, an event which takes place in the year 70. But we should not take this to mean that God has abandoned the Jews. Rather, Jesus’ envisions what his apostle Paul writes to the Romans: God has turned His attention to the Gentiles or non-Jews so that their conversion will move the Jews to also recognize Jesus as Lord.
In these in between years before the fulfillment of time with the coming of Jesus, we are also to love faithfully as Pat Boone suggests. When we truly care for others, we do not have to worry about getting mud on our faces from the difficulty of it all. Indeed, we can lift our heads high at the signs of Christ’s coming because he means to save us.
(Luke 21:20-28)
In 1960 when the first of the baby-boomers were growing up, the popular entertainer Pat Boone addressed himself to them. Twixt Twelve and Twenty was the title of both a song and a short book Boone wrote. In these works he gave sound advice for navigating these often difficult years between childhood and adulthood. The song asks whether teenagers are old enough to understand the devotion that love entails. Of course, it answers its question positively but also notes how faith and trust must accompany love to avoid calamity.
When Jesus speaks of “the times of the Gentiles” in the gospel, he is also referring to in between years. He sees the time of the Jews as passing away with the imminent destruction of Jerusalem, an event which takes place in the year 70. But we should not take this to mean that God has abandoned the Jews. Rather, Jesus’ envisions what his apostle Paul writes to the Romans: God has turned His attention to the Gentiles or non-Jews so that their conversion will move the Jews to also recognize Jesus as Lord.
In these in between years before the fulfillment of time with the coming of Jesus, we are also to love faithfully as Pat Boone suggests. When we truly care for others, we do not have to worry about getting mud on our faces from the difficulty of it all. Indeed, we can lift our heads high at the signs of Christ’s coming because he means to save us.
Homilette for Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Wednesday, XXXIV Week of Ordinary Time
(Luke 21:12-19)
“Non sequitur” is a Latin expression that means a conclusion does not follow from the evidence given. Listening carefully to Jesus in the gospel, we might think that “not a hair on your head will be destroyed” is a non sequitur from all that he says before about betrayal, trial, and execution. But Jesus has something else in mind when he adds the assurance about one’s coiffure. He means that we will have an eternal, glorified life when we give testimony to him in the world.
The passage helps us understand the crucial difference between optimism and hope. We may think that the two words are synonyms; that is, that they carry the same meaning. Although optimism and hope share a similar confidence in a positive outcome, the two words are distinct. Optimism is an attitude expecting every situation to turn out well. It overlooks the possibility of harm to find a solution to every problem and a remedy for every threat, largely because of the person’s upbeat disposition. Hope, in contrast, admits the possibility of suffering for awhile but sees deliverance, in the long run at least, outside the self in the person or thing in which the person hopes. Hope is not as self-reliant as optimism, nor is it so sure that relief is just an instant away.
In facing trials – whether persecution for the faith, debilitating sickness, or other threat to well-being – Christians hope in Jesus Christ. He promises to deliver us when we cling to him. The deliverance may not exclude our suffering, but in the end he will save us. Jesus’ promise is confirmed by his resurrection from the tomb.
(Luke 21:12-19)
“Non sequitur” is a Latin expression that means a conclusion does not follow from the evidence given. Listening carefully to Jesus in the gospel, we might think that “not a hair on your head will be destroyed” is a non sequitur from all that he says before about betrayal, trial, and execution. But Jesus has something else in mind when he adds the assurance about one’s coiffure. He means that we will have an eternal, glorified life when we give testimony to him in the world.
The passage helps us understand the crucial difference between optimism and hope. We may think that the two words are synonyms; that is, that they carry the same meaning. Although optimism and hope share a similar confidence in a positive outcome, the two words are distinct. Optimism is an attitude expecting every situation to turn out well. It overlooks the possibility of harm to find a solution to every problem and a remedy for every threat, largely because of the person’s upbeat disposition. Hope, in contrast, admits the possibility of suffering for awhile but sees deliverance, in the long run at least, outside the self in the person or thing in which the person hopes. Hope is not as self-reliant as optimism, nor is it so sure that relief is just an instant away.
In facing trials – whether persecution for the faith, debilitating sickness, or other threat to well-being – Christians hope in Jesus Christ. He promises to deliver us when we cling to him. The deliverance may not exclude our suffering, but in the end he will save us. Jesus’ promise is confirmed by his resurrection from the tomb.
Homilette for Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Tuesday, XXXIV Week of Ordinary Time
(Luke 21:5-11)
The poem “Ozymandias” tells the story of finding a statue of an ancient Egpytian king. The statue sits in the desert shattered from top to bottom. Ironically there is a sign on part of the statue informing its viewer that this is a representation of the mighty “king of kings” Ozymandias. The poem reminds the reader that the greatest works as well as the greatest people are all time-bound. They do not last for centuries, much less until the end of time.
In the gospel Jesus relates to us the same prophetic message. People gaze starry-eyed at the wonders of the Temple, but Jesus tells them not to be impressed. The Temple, he says, will fall as it indeed did barely a generation after his death. Jesus also warns his disciples not to follow unreservedly the great personages who may claim to be him or like him. These men and women will also pass away.
We Christians give our allegiance to God alone. As the psalms tell us, his law is eternal and so we follow it. Yes, we try to make of the earth the best possible place to live. But our purpose here is not to become complacent. No, we want a friendly environment in the world so that we might come to know and love God more.
(Luke 21:5-11)
The poem “Ozymandias” tells the story of finding a statue of an ancient Egpytian king. The statue sits in the desert shattered from top to bottom. Ironically there is a sign on part of the statue informing its viewer that this is a representation of the mighty “king of kings” Ozymandias. The poem reminds the reader that the greatest works as well as the greatest people are all time-bound. They do not last for centuries, much less until the end of time.
In the gospel Jesus relates to us the same prophetic message. People gaze starry-eyed at the wonders of the Temple, but Jesus tells them not to be impressed. The Temple, he says, will fall as it indeed did barely a generation after his death. Jesus also warns his disciples not to follow unreservedly the great personages who may claim to be him or like him. These men and women will also pass away.
We Christians give our allegiance to God alone. As the psalms tell us, his law is eternal and so we follow it. Yes, we try to make of the earth the best possible place to live. But our purpose here is not to become complacent. No, we want a friendly environment in the world so that we might come to know and love God more.
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