Advent and the Blessed Virgin Mary

(First Sunday of Advent-Year B; This homily was given on November 29, 2020 at the Church of Santo Spirito in Sassia in Rome, Italy; See Mark 13:33-37) 

We enter once again into the Advent Season, a time of great anticipation and joy.   The word, Advent, comes to us from the Latin word for coming, or adventus.  What we are focused on during Advent, of course, is the coming of Jesus Christ, the eternal Son of God.  In relation to the coming of Christ, the Church teaches us the importance of glancing backward, as well as looking ahead.

We glance backward in awe and wonder at the God who became man to save us from our sins.  Our readings are often messianic and fill us with that excitement that God intended when He sent Christ into this world as a child born in Bethlehem.  Isaiah's cry this morning leaves us breathless:

Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down, with the mountains quaking before you, while you wrought awesome deeds we could not hope for, such as they have not heard of from of old.

—Isaiah 64:1-4

At the same time, Advent is not only about glancing back in some nostalgic way at the coming of Jesus.  It is a time of preparation for the Second Coming, when Christ will come at the end of time (or at the end of our lives).  That is why, in the Gospel for this morning, we find not the child Jesus in Bethlehem but Christ in front of the temple, exhorting us four times to watch, to be vigilant, and to be ready for Him when he comes again:

Be watchful!  Be alert!  You do not know when the time will come … What I say to you, I say to all: ‘Watch!’

—Mark 13:33, 37

Every year we are given St. John the Baptist as a guide in the Advent Season.  He comes up in two out of the four Sunday Gospel readings (next week and the week after).  But I would suggest that, even more than St. John the Baptist, the person who teaches us most about what it means to glance back in wonder and look ahead in faith for the coming of Christ is the Blessed Virgin Mary.  Mary has much that she can teach us this Advent.

Firstly, Mary teaches us about waiting and watching for Christ under her title, Our Lady of Hope.   We are living in a time that is desperate for hope, especially in the midst of the global pandemic and all its consequences for our daily lives and our future.  Interestingly, when the great scholars of the Church write about hope as a theological virtue, they understand it as something rooted and grounded in the past.  

They mention the three faculties of the soul: intellect, memory and will.  The intellect is associated with faith (think of St. Anselm’s fides quearens intellectum and how faith helps to illumine the intellect and allows us to know God more deeply), while the will is commonly associated with the theological virtue of love (the more I will the good of the other, the more I exercise my love for that person).  But hope is associated with the memory.    We remember how faithful God has been in the history of Israel; we recall his fidelity through many centuries of the Church’s life; we can see, in our own personal histories, the tremendous faithfulness of God.  God has always provided, has always loved us; He has always forgiven and cared for us.  That memory inspires us to hope and to look forward with the same certainty that He will be there for us in the days to come.

The Blessed Virgin Mary beautifully expresses this theological virtue when she sings her Maginficat in St. Luke’s Gospel.  In that magnificent song of praise, Mary is glancing back at the Old Testament (specifically, the First Book of Samuel, and also the fidelity of God through the centuries).  She incorporates that song of praise in a new way to express her great hope in what God is doing and will continue to do in the days ahead.  Mary teaches us, this Advent, how to glance back with wonder, and look forward in hope for the coming of Christ.

Secondly, the Blessed Virgin Mary teaches us humility.  Without humility we will never see God, nor be ready to receive Him as we should.  The saints reveal to us that humility is the foundation for prayer and the spiritual life.  St. Teresa of Avila, writing to her sisters, uses the analogy of chess to make this point.  She says:

Now realize that anyone who doesn’t know how to set up the pieces for a game of chess won’t know how to play well.  And without knowing how to check the king, one won’t know how to checkmate it either . . . The queen is the piece that can carry on the best battle in this game, and all the other pieces help.  There’s no queen like humility for making the king surrender.  Humility drew the King from heaven to the womb of the virgin, and with it…we will draw him to our souls. 

—St. Teresa of Avila, The Way of Perfection, Ch. 16, #1-2

Our Lady drew the king from heaven into her womb and can teach us all about how to live in humility of life.  Humility is simply the acknowledgement of the truth about ourselves, nothing more and nothing less.  In her Magnificat, Mary sings, “For behold, henceforth all generations will call me blessed” (Luke 1:48).  For anyone else to say that would be arrogance, but with Mary it is perfect humility because it is true.  When we look at our lives, we see only what the Lord has given us and entrusted to us, and we do not seek to go beyond that.  We do not look to the work or life that someone else has, or consider ourselves to be something that we are not.  With the humility of Mary, we can draw God more completely into our souls this Advent. 

Finally, Mary teaches us about waiting and watching for Christ when we meditate on the word, “hic.”  Hic is the latin word for “here,” and if you have every been to the Holy Land then you know where I am going with this already!  That word is inscribed in many of the holy places that mark the significant moments in Jesus’ life.  Mary is also an intimate part of those moments.  

In the Basilica of the Annunciation in Nazareth, in the place where the Blessed Virgin Mary said, "Yes," to God, there is an inscription that says, "Hic Verbum caro factum est," Here the Word was made flesh!  At Bethlehem, it is announced that hic the Christ was born of the Virgin.  It is hic, in Cana of Galilee, that Christ performed His first miracle, and the Blessed Virgin Mary was deeply involved in that amazing event.  Mary knows how to find Christ in the present moment, and she longs to intercede for us so that we will not miss Him in the hic et nunc (here and now).  

St. Bernard of Clairvaux, in his own meditation on Advent, indicates that hic is the third Advent, which runs between the other two.  He speaks of Christ’s first coming, as a child in Bethlehem, and the Second Coming, at the end of time.  But he says that Christ is constantly coming into our lives in a hidden way, and this way is like the road that runs between the other two.  The Blessed Virgin Mary teaches us how to find Jesus on that road, and helps us to encounter Him hic.  Jesus is coming to us here, now, in the Blessed Sacrament of the Eucharist, and will come to us in many different ways when we make room for Him and anticipate that awesome gift of His presence.

In these next four weeks, we ask for the grace to learn from Mary to be people of hope, growing in humility, and aware of the presence of Christ in each of the moments of our lives.  May we truly be watchful and waiting for the coming of Christ this Advent.  

Christ the King and the Wheel of Fortune

(Solemnity of Christ, King of the Universe-Year A; This homily was given on November 22, 2020 at Church of Santo Spirito in Sassia in Rome, Italy; See Ezekiel 34:11-17 and Matthew 25:31-46)  

There is a concept in ancient and medieval philosophy that gets transferred into some of the art of the culture and eventually gets pulled into Christian art, as well.  The concept or image is called the “Wheel of Fortune.”  Now, it is not that TV show where they spin the multi-colored wheel and then guess the puzzle while the woman turns over the letters as they are illuminated.  As I mentioned, this is a concept from ancient and medieval philosophy.

The “Wheel of Fortune,” as we find it depicted in art, often shows Fortune as a woman blindfolded.  She spins a large wheel, and there are often four figures on various points around it; all of them are the same person at different parts of his life.  On the far left, and rising towards the top of the wheel as it spins, is a finely dressed man, energetic and pleased that he is moving up.  Next to him is a Latin phrase indicating the words, “I will reign.”  At the top of the wheel, seated on a throne and crowned, is the same figure, now with the indication, “I reign.”  Next, and almost falling off the wheel, is the man whose face is twisted in confusion and next to him is written the words, “I reigned.”  Finally, at the bottom, is the figure of that sorry man, his cloak sometimes stripped off, and the crown on the ground beside him, with the words, “I no longer reign.”  

The point of the “Wheel of Fortune” is that everything happens by chance.  Life, says this concept, is simply a random game in which some are fortunate and rule, while others do not.  Perhaps you may get the chance to play several different parts throughout your life, if Lady Fortune smiles upon you, but there are no guarantees.  

In the Sixth Century, with the Christian Philosopher Boethius, we find a renewed vision of that wheel.  In his great work, The Consolation of Philosophy, Lady Philosophy will come to Boethius and, very much like Virgil guiding Dante in the Divine Comedy, she guides him in the finer principles of the philosophical life.  When we reach Book Two, Lady Philosophy begins with a stern warning for Boethius to stay far clear of the malicious Lady Fortune!  

Boethius is not thoroughly convinced at first.  Cannot fortune be useful for many excellent things?  Good fortune, never, she warns him; it is fleeting and will deceive you.  Ill fortune may be instructive and helpful to see some clarity about the passing nature of life and the necessity to hold to the things that matter most (this is the sense that it gets picked up in Christian art, and we find the “Wheel of Fortune in stained glass in many cathedrals).  In the end, Lady Philosophy tells Boethius to hold fast to reason, and ultimately to love.  These are the things that remain stable, and they are a sure guide, whatever the fortunes of life may be.

I would borrow the wisdom Boethius gains, and apply it to our Solemnity of Christ the King this morning.  The readings for this great feast, and Christ Himself, teach us that life is not ruled and governed by chance!  Our lives are ruled by God, and His sovereign will.  It is through the gift of reason, complimented by faith, that we are inspired to use our free will to love, and we come to share in the life of God Himself.  There is nothing random about that.

There can be no greater example of this vision for us than Christ Himself.  Jesus Christ reigns, period.  He simply is Christ the King of the Universe.  Yet, as St. Paul tells us, “He emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men” (Philippians 2:7).  It is not by ill fortune or by chance that Jesus is stripped of glory and rejected by men.  It is by the will of God that He will lay down His life freely, generously, on the cross.  Christ the King dies for our salvation, and He is risen on the third day by the will of the Father.  He ascends into heaven where He will reign forever, not because Lady Fortune smiles at Him but because He is God and His will is to care for us and govern our lives.  We discover in the Gospel that He wants nothing more than for us than to share in His reign and in His life forever.

We must choose to act in accord with that awesome will and plan of God.  In fact, we discover in the readings for this weekend that we will be judged as to how we have used our reason, our free will, and responded to faith, inspired by love.  Or not.  

The Prophet Ezekiel clearly tells us, “As for you, my sheep, says the Lord God, I will judge between one sheep and another, between rams and goats” (Ezekiel 34:17).  In St. Matthew’s Gospel, Christ the King judges all humanity as to how we have responded to the invitation to love the weak, the poor, the wounded, the lonely, the hungry, the thirsty, the little ones.  For those that respond well, using their free will in accord with their faith and the virtue of love, they are told: “inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world” (Matthew 25:34).  It is a remarkable and amazing reality.

In 1942, at Oxford University, C.S. Lewis delivered an essay entitled, “The Weight of Glory.”  In that essay, he writes about this amazing call that we have been given, to share the very life of God and to enter into His glory.  He says that there may be a danger for me to think too much of my own glory (isn’t there always a danger of this), but what is not possible is for me to think too much of my neighbor’s glory.  To want them to enter more deeply into the life of God and to share in God’s kingdom is always a project we can throw ourselves completely into.  

But, C.S. Lewis writes, because of this call to share in God’s glorious kingdom, we must also realize that there are no “ordinary” people.  No, he says, you have never met an “ordinary” person.  Those that we meet each day, those we marry, or ignore, or work with, ride the train with or pass by in the street, they are not “ordinary.”  They are men and women destined to share in the glory of God, or what he calls potentially hideous creatures because they may have rejected that awesome call.  He says everyone we meet could be someone so glorious and marvelous that, if we were to see them now as they one day will be, we would be tempted to fall down and worship them; or someone so hideous, because they have become what God never intended, that they would be something we would find only in a nightmare.

Every day, writes C.S. Lewis, we are helping each other to one or the other of these two possible ends.  In the choices that we make, and in the things we do, how we use our reason and freedom, act on faith, are inspired to love, we help our neighbor towards one of these two directions.  

As we celebrate the Solemnity of Christ the King of the Universe, we pray for the grace to make the right decisions, to live our lives well by the way we relate to God and those around us.  Because we are not ruled and governed by the “Wheel of Fortune,” but by the will of God.  We are called to share in His eternal reign and His eternal glory, and to help our neighbor to share in that same awesome reality. 

Entrustment of the Heart

(Thirty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time-Year A; This homily was given on November 15, 2020 at Church of Santo Spirito in Sassia in Rome, Italy; See Proverbs 31:10-31, 1 Thessalonians 5:1-6 and Matthew 25:14-30) 

We have come down to the end of the Liturgical Year, in these last two weeks of Ordinary Time, and then we begin a whole new season in Advent.  Every year, during this end of the liturgical cycle, we are given readings which invite us to reflect on the “four last things”: Death, Judgment, Heaven and Hell.  

Certainly it is not common, nor is it easy, to reflect on these last things.  Thankfully, the way the readings are organized can always be helpful.  You may or may not know, but the First Reading is always chosen to “harmonize” with the Gospel for all the weeks or Ordinary Time; it often provides an interpretive key for understanding the Gospel or at least helps to shed some light upon it.  The second reading could fit those other two readings, but it does not always happen that way.  This week, St. Paul is writing about the “Day of the Lord,” or the last judgment, which is exactly what the Gospel is drawing our attention to.

But what about our first reading, from the Book of Proverbs?  It seems to be just a simple and inspirational treatise on marriage.   It talks about the faithful wife and what a treasure she is.  That does not sound very apocalyptic at all.  The key to its “harmony” with the Gospel, however, is found in the second sentence of that reading:

When one finds a worthy wife, her value is far beyond pearls.  Her husband, entrusting his heart to her, has an unfailing prize.

—Proverbs 31:10-11

It is immediately after that verse—this entrustment of the heart—that we hear of this beautiful, holy wife, who places great care in pouring out her loving concern for her husband and home.  More than that, she also “reaches out her hands to the poor, and extends her arms to the needy” (Proverbs 31:19-20).   There is something very feminine, receptive and giving about the way she responds to this husband who entrusts his heart to her.  

In 1988, St. John Paul II wrote an Apostolic Letter to women called Mulieris Dignitatem (On the Dignity and Vocation of Women).  In that letter he writes about what he calls the “feminine genius,” that remarkable ability that women have to receive and to be attentive to love, and how they offer that love to the world.  The Blessed Mother is an exemplar, in the way she receives the Savior of the world and then offers Him freely as a true mother.  “The moral and spiritual strength of a woman,” writes St. John Paul II, “is joined to her awareness that God entrusts the human being to her in a special way.”  

The context he talks about is the progress of science and technology, and how that has led to material well-bering for some but has also placed a divide on the many, the needy.  He says that as a result there exists a great insensitivity to humanity, people left out on the margins that no one is caring for.  Women, he says, have a particular ability to respond to that reality because they are first in the order of love (see Mulieris Dignitatem, #30).  Is this not the same thing Pope Francis has been saying for his entire papacy, this need to care for the needy and those on the peripheries?

In Proverbs, from the entrustment of the heart the faithful wife is receptive, active, and free to offer that love to the world around her.  But here is the connection with our Gospel.  In that parable Jesus says, “A man going on a journey called in his servants and entrusted his possessions to them” (Matthew 25:14).  

Of course, we know that the “man” is God, and He did not simply entrust His possessions with them.  Like the husband in Proverbs, He entrusted them with His heart!  He gave each of them His heart, and in a different measure for each one (five talents, two talents and one talent).  He knew them.  He loved them.  What He wanted was the response of the bride in the Book of Proverbs; He wanted them to respond, love for love.  God is not a businessman in charge of possessions.  He is love straight through, and He simply wants us to become more like Him.  

Clearly, the servant with one talent does not see this.  He says, “Master, I knew you were a demanding person, harvesting where you did not plant and gathering where you did not scatter” (Matthew 25:24).  Is that true?  Is that what God is like?  No!  But this man thought so, and he acted not out of faith but out of fear.  He went off and buried what was entrusted to him in the ground.  His judgment is a harsh and surprising one.

St. Paul writes about the surprising day of the Lord, that it will come like a thief in the night (1 Thessalonians 5:2):

When people are saying, ‘Peace and security,’ then sudden disaster comes upon them, like labor pains upon a pregnant woman, and they will not escape.

—1 Thessalonians 5:3

What a terrifying reality!   But then St. Paul goes on to clarify, “But you, brothers and sisters, are not in darkness, for that day to overtake you like a thief.  For all of you are children of the light and children of the day” (1 Thessalonians 5:4-5).  We are the Bride of Christ!  We have received love and we live now in the light, giving love for love.  That is what happens in the Gospel for those two other servants.  We are told that they responded, they received well what was given to them and multiplied it.  Their reward?  “Come, share your master’s joy.”  That is what God wants for each and every one of us, to share in joy with Him forever.  We accomplish that by receiving the love He gives us, by receiving His heart, and responding.

Today we celebrate the World Day of the Poor.  Pope Francis reminds us of how attentive we must be to the poor, and how Christ identifies Himself directly with them (Matthew 25:40).  There are so many that are poor among us, those who find themselves in need.  There are also many who may be materially self-sufficient but suffer from other forms of poverty, as well.  There is so much suffering in the world we live in today.  We pray for the grace to be attentive to the many women God has placed in our lives, who teach us about the order of love and help us to understand what it means to respond to the entrustment of the heart.  God has entrusted each of us with His heart in the life and love we have in Christ.  May we return that gift, love for love, in all we say and do.

When the Bridegroom Came

 

(Thirty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time-Year A; This homily was given on November 8, 2020 at Church of Santo Spirito in Sassia in Rome, Italy; See Matthew 25:1-13)

One of the biggest challenges to our Christian faith, and one that is often used to refute even the existence of God, is the question of evil.  For centuries people have argued that a loving and all-powerful God cannot exist in a world where atrocities are committed and the innocent suffer.

Sacred Scripture is not silent on this difficult question.  St. Paul, in the New Testament, refers to it as the “mystery of iniquity” or the “mystery of lawlessness” (see 2 Thessalonians 2:7).  The reality of evil at work in the world is, on some level, a mystery and one that we cannot fully comprehend in this life.  

Yet, at the same time, there are some definitive answers that can help us understand many of the tragic events we witness in life.  One prime example can be found in the tremendous value God places on human freedom.  God wants us to be completely free in our decision to love Him and follow Jesus Christ.  He will not force or coerce us to follow the commandments or manipulate us into loving our neighbor.  

Along with that gift of freedom, however, comes the awful risk of its abuse.   We are perfectly free to love God and those around us, or to reject God and His offer of love and salvation.  We can love our neighbor, or we can choose hatred and sin.  

There is a tragedy that happened in Yemen in March 2016, however, that has the potential to open our hearts to the truth about God even in the midst of the mystery of human suffering and in the face of evil.  But first, it is helpful to understand some of the more recent history of Yemen.  

Yemen is located in the southern region of the Middle East and has been beset by civil strife and unrest since 2011.  More than 50,000 children died of starvation in Yemen in 2017, and the United Nations has stated that Yemen is the country with the most need of humanitarian aid on the planet, with 85% of the citizens in need.  Caritas Internationalis, other international aid organizations and many different religious groups have done tremendous work trying to help the people of Yemen, but the needs there are still great.

One of those groups is the Missionaries of Charity, the order founded by St. Theresa of Calcutta.  They operated a hospital in Yemen for elderly and disabled persons.   They were warned many times that their ministry was in a dangerous and volatile place, but they refused to leave the sick and suffering persons under their care.  Fr. Tom, an Indian priest who celebrated daily Mass for them, would often say, “Let us be ready for martyrdom.”   

It was no surprise, then, on March 4, 2016, that armed fundamental extremists breached the compound and killed several of the security personnel and other workers.  They systematically searched for and killed four of the sisters, as well.  But they knew there were five Missionaries of Charity in that place.  They searched for the last one, entering the walk-in refrigeration unit she was in several times, but failed to find her.  She alone survived to tell the story of what happened on that horrible morning.  

In the fax report that was sent some 12 hours after the attack, a detailed explanation of what took place is given.  The surviving sister noted how the Missionaries of Charity were attentive to their promises for prayer and service on the morning of the attack, making it predictable where they would be.  But instead of lamenting that fact, the sister goes on to express a hauntingly beautiful truth that focuses, instead, on Jesus Christ.  She said:

 “Because of their faithfulness, they were in the right place at the right time and were ready when the Bridegroom came.”

(emphasis hers)

When the Bridegroom came…

She was, of course, making a direct reference to the Parable that we listen to in the Gospel this morning.  Jesus tells the story of the ten virgins who are waiting in vigil for the bridegroom’s return.  Five of them were foolish and did not have enough oil reserved as they waited.  They needed to leave their vigil and purchase more.  Jesus relates: 

While they went off to buy it, the bridegroom came and those who were ready went into the wedding feast with him.  Then the door was locked.

—Matthew 25:10

The lamps represent the vitality of our faith, something that cannot be transferred to another person but represents a gift that has to be sought, received, embraced and lived.  We either respond to God’s invitation and express our faith in works of charity, or we do not.  The oil for those lamps, therefore, represents the good works our faith inspires.  Our lamps of faith must always be burning and the oil of good works must continue to attend us in lives of fidelity throughout this earthly pilgrimage.  

The message of the Gospel this weekend is challenging but beautiful, as it helps us to see that the heart of the Christian faith lies in our relationship with Jesus Christ, the Bridegroom.  There are two basic points that we can reflect on this weekend.

Firstly, we recall that our Bridegroom weds Himself to us in the midst of the “mystery of iniquity,” and in the moment of the Cross.  That hatred which caused the Son of God to be crucified is transformed into the act of greatest love and selflessness, God pouring out his life for us in Christ.  That is why we call that day “Good Friday.”  But the night before He suffers and dies, Jesus Christ, in a certain sense, professes “vows” to His Bride, the Church.  What are vows?  A bridegroom pronounces vows to his spouse when he promises her that he will give himself—body and soul—to her alone; he promises that their love will be fruitful, open to new life; and that he will remain faithful to her until death.  He gives to the Church, His Bride, His own body and blood in the Eucharist at the Last Supper.

Secondly, we as the Bride of Christ are called to fidelity.   We are called to have the light of faith in every aspect of our lives, and to be inspired by that faith to perform good works and love God and those around us.  We constantly keep those lamps burning with the sacraments, the teachings of our faith, and the countless ways that God inspires us to love.  We seek to grow in virtue and commit ourselves to being faithful disciples, especially when we experience the cross and times are challenging.  

Above all, we pray and strive this week for vigilance, to be always ready and watching for Jesus Christ in our daily lives.  We pray that we may be ready, “when the bridegroom comes.”