Christmas - 2021

 John 1:1-5, 9-14

In the beginning, was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came to be through him, and without him, nothing came to be. What came to be through him was life, and this life was the light of the human race; the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world came to be through him, but the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, but his own people did not accept him. But to those who did accept him, he gave power to become children of God, to those who believe in his name, who were born not by natural generation nor by human choice nor by a man’s decision but of God. And the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us, and we saw his glory, the glory as of the Father’s only Son full of grace and truth.

 Understanding what is meant by “Word” is the first challenge for us. We think of "Word" as being a noun, an inanimate thing that rests in whatever place we position. We also tend to think of "love" as being a simple emotion or "abide" as a place of rest. When we think of God, however, all things are in motion and require energy to fulfill God's intention. To understand this amazing, mystifying and incredible passage we first come to understand God used "Word" to bring all things into being. 

God said, “Let there be light” and light appeared, light that can never be extinguished. I love the imagery “word” evokes. We communicate by words, we create with words, we express ourselves with words. Words can be wasted or dangerous but the word of God is never less than a complete mission and redemption for us. We believe in the word because the word believed in us first and created us to love the word. The word loved us first, last, and always. "Word" is not a noun it is a verb.

In the past week, we heard Father Shea use words to tell the story of Deacon Dick. His words created a vision that consoled our sadness and pointed us toward consolation 

I have often sat in the quiet during the Christmas season just gazing at our Christmas tree and whatever decorations we have put up that year. In my imagination, the many lights on our tree and those shining around the quaint English village we set up come to represent all of the people of my life who have shared the season with me. Often memories of Christmas’s past come to mind and the memories reflect the richness of my life. I hear Mary Kay Huber sing an incredible rendition of “O Holy Night” during the Christmas Eve service at the First Methodist church in Anaconda while the congregation sang along with her while raising and lowering a hundred candles which threw dazzling shadows around the walls and ceiling of the church. The memories pull at my heart 60 years later.

The lights bring back the words I spoke to baptize a baby named John we gave back to God 40 years ago this past week. I also see the lights shining in the eyes of my sons as they delighted with the first illumination of the tree 30 years ago.

We read and hear these words: What came to be through him was life, and this life was the light of the human race; the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.

Our Christmas lights dazzle and sparkle and bring us enjoyment but they are nothing compared to the light of Christ which first appeared with his incarnation. What amazes me is the light was always there, always shining in the darkness but we could not see the light until the words were spoken by Mary, “Let it be as you intend” allowed the word to become flesh. This is what revealed the light to us. It happened through the power of the Word.

Our very existence, our joy for the day and all days, our hope and consolation for the future exist in, through, and out of the Word. 

Credo verbum.

Creidim an focal.

I believe the word.

Fourth Sunday of Advent - Peace

Luke 1:39-45

Mary set out and traveled to the hill country in haste to a town of Judah, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the infant leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth, filled with the Holy Spirit, cried out in a loud voice and said,

“Blessed are you among women,

and blessed is the fruit of your womb.

And how does this happen to me,

that the mother of my Lord should come to me?

For at the moment the sound of your greeting reached my ears,

the infant in my womb leaped for joy.

Blessed are you who believed

that what was spoken to you by the Lord

would be fulfilled.”

I am always grateful for the iconic recitation of this passage in A Charlie Brown Christmas. It reminds us to join the chorus of praise that those shepherds of old heard, “Glory to God in the Highest and on earth peace among men with whom he is pleased.” (Lk 2:14). That the essential Christmas message is given from the most unlikely, and yet wisest, character of the show should not be lost on us. In his humility, clutching at his blue security blanket, Linus sees what no one else could and tells us what Christmas is all about.

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined”

Isaiah 9:2

As I write this, I anticipate that peace and joy is not the feeling our nation or world will be feeling as we roll up on the 4th Sunday of Advent, the last Sunday before Christmas. Snow is falling softly in fluttering quarter-sized flakes and the world outside has become blanketed with a few inches of white, fluffy snow. A currier and Ives portrait has been etched on the landscape outside my window. If I was to imagine what world gifted with Christmas peace, what would be imagined would be what I can see. A storybook Christmas scene, snow falling on barren cottonwoods and frosted pine trees. I love what I can see and I ache to hold on to the image and never let go. The world, however, will not allow the peace I see to linger. I am struck with the truth the peace I see is not what Christmas peace is all about anyway. Peace is not about what we can see, it is about what is in our hearts.

When Christmas comes, we will undoubtedly still be roiling from this long and arduous year, which has drawn us down into an abyss. The “results” of the election will still divide further our nation, families, communities, and parishes. The plague of COVID-19 and all the restrictions this pandemonium of fear has imposed will still be crushing to the spirit, to put it mildly. How will we find the peace we are promised? Where can we find peace when relationships are being ruptured by the debate over vaccinations?

The peace we expect to come with Christmas is elusive this year, perhaps even more so than usual as sorrow darkens our thoughts. The loss of our beloved Deacon brings sadness as we think first about all of the ways he loved and impacted us. Through the sadness, though, comes some first glimpses of peace as the promise of the incarnation reminds us death is just an illusion, and belief brings peace that leads to joy consolation. He has gone home. He is at peace. We rejoice for him but we still need to wipe the tears of today away to let peace find its way to us.

Where is peace? We are called to reject fear and to rejoice because the Prince of Peace is born again. Out of unseen places he appears. Christ has come and He remains with us through it all. The beauty of our faith is that we do not need to succumb to the anxiety our world generates. Sorrow need not be our legacy.

Rather, we can remain fixed upon that great luminary of the night sky that portends God’s victory over every evil that afflicts us. Liturgy declares in the ‘O antiphon’ for the day: “O radiant dawn, sun of justice: come and shine on those who dwell in darkness and in the shadow of death.”

This antiphon reminds me of one of my favorite scenes from the Lord of the Rings. As Samwise Gamgee and Frodo Baggins are making their way to Mount Doom, across the sickened and dark plains of Mordor, Sam sees a “white star twinkle for a while” in the dim and pale night sky. “The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end, the Shadow was only a small passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.”

Advent reminds us that we are born up by a star in the night sky. Hope is the virtue God gives to endure the trials of this life here, below the heavens, with certainty that the Prince of Peace will prevail as His light pierces the darkness. Christmas reminds us that our hope is not in vain. Christ did come, and he will come again when the time is right. In fact, the Lord is never late; he shows up precisely when he means to. This Christmas will be no different. Peace comes from the prince who teaches us Joy and life eternal will come. We believe it.