Fourth Sunday of Advent, cycle B

Luke 1:26-38

I visit with a man now and then who had a massive stroke at the age of 55. He can barely walk, can't use one arm, and can't really take care of himself. His mind was not affected. He's a man of faith, and even though he's in an assisted living facility, He has organized a bible study and rolls around on his wheel chair visiting the other people in the place. If you talk to him long enough, he'll tell you that he sees his situation as a blessing. He believes that God loves him, and put him in this situation, in these circumstances, for a reason. And if that is what God wants, that's what he wants.

Whenever we Catholics say the Hail Mary, we repeat the words the angel speaks to her in this gospel story – of course the original story was in Greek, so whether we hear the words differently in the gospel just read or in the Hail Mary isn't important. They are just translations.

But we call Mary blessed. The angel calls her “favored one”. Sort of the same thing. And most of us would see a relationship between being blessed and having good things happen to us, or at least avoiding bad things. But I wonder how blessed Mary felt when she learned that God was going to overshadow her and bring about a pregnancy; a child conceived out of wedlock. What would Joseph think. What would the people of the little village think? What would happen to her? And I wonder how blessed she felt when she saw her son crucified like a common criminal. And you could probably think of other times Mary wondered whether being God's favorite was worth it? I think that's something to take to our own prayers. For Mary and for you and I, there is no obvious relationship between good fortune and being one of God's favored ones.

So what does being favored mean? We can go back in salvation history and look at the favored ones. There was Abraham, whose life God upended – Abraham who was told to leave his country and wander in foreign lands. Abraham who seemed destined never to have children and then when God finally brought that about, he was told to sacrifice that child. Abraham who died with no sign that God was keeping his promise that he would become a great nation. Or Moses, whom God called from his life as a herdsman raising a family in Moab, to confront the Pharoah of Egypt. Moses who was given the task of leading a people through the desert and who cried out for God to take his life because the people he was trying to lead kept rebelling. Moses who after all those years was denied actually entering into the land God had reserved for the Israelites. Or think of Jonah, who tried to run away when God told him to preach repentance to the Ninevites, and ended up getting swallowed by a whale. Being favored or blessed does not mean getting good things. But it does mean that God is giving you a role in his grand plan; he lets us human beings participate in his ongoing creation.

I've heard it said many times that Mary was asked to be the mother of Jesus. Saint Bernard preached a famous sermon along these lines. What might have happened if she'd said no? But when you read this gospel carefully, you don't hear the angel asking. He's telling Mary what is going to happen. During Mary's time, there were all kinds of stories about gods who impregnated mortal women after seduction and sometimes rape. Mary probably had heard the stories of the Roman, Greek and Egyptian gods. I wonder if that was the point of her question, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” And then the angel goes into detail about what will happen, and how the child she will bear will inherit David's throne, will be the very Son of God. Never does the angel say “how about it, Mary? Will you do it?” It seems to me that Mary is told that God is going to radically change her life, and there's nothing she can do about it.

I think that's the fate of everyone. Every one of us can recall moments when our own lives were radically changed, without our consent. We all know people who through genetics or accident or disease were physically or mentally changed so that they don't enjoy what most of us take for granted. Can we say they are favored as well? I think so, because if we believe God loves each of us and wants us to be partners with him in building up his kingdom, then he must be offering his favor, his blessing, to everyone.

And that is where Mary's freedom comes in. Mary might not have had a choice about bringing Jesus into the world, with all the pain and sorrow that it would entail, but she did have a choice about how she was going to proceed forward. She would not be like Abraham who rather than wait on God decided to have a child by his wife's slave; she would not be like Moses who told God that he couldn't speak that well, maybe Aaron his brother? She wouldn't be like Jonah, who tried to sail away from his fate and later became angry with God for not destroying the city of Nineveh.

No, Mary when told what God had in store for her cried out with joy, “Do it to me, do what you said you would do!” Because Mary, free from any stain of sin, knew that the best thing a human being could do was the will of God. Nothing else mattered.

And that's the lesson of the Annunciation, the story we've just heard. Each of us is given moments when we are invited into God's plan. Very often it's not something we would choose if we had our way. Sometimes it's painful, sometimes it appears to be a great loss. Sometimes we are invited to accompany Jesus on the road to Calvary. And that's the challenge. Can we embrace God's will for us? Can we be like Mary and say, “Do it to me, do what you said you would do?”

Third Sunday of Advent, cycle B

John 1:6-8, 19-28

Today's gospel is the same scene as last Sunday's. Last week Mark told the story. This time it's John. Notice that there is nothing here about camel's hair or eating bugs dipped in honey. The Gospel writer tells us that a man named John was sent by God to testify concerning the light. The Gospel writer emphasizes that John was not the light.

Maybe John had received a special revelation from God. But then again, maybe not. John, after all, if we are to believe Luke, was the son of a Jewish priest. As you may know, the priesthood was hereditary, so John would have not only had the right to be a priest, he would have that as a duty. And we know that priests began their careers at a very early age – generally the teen years. The other thing that maybe points to John's priesthood is the fact that he is baptizing with water. If you were a gentile and wanted to become a Jew, part of the process requires a ritual bath which was arranged by the priest. In Orthodox Jewish communities even today the ritual bath is still used. Our ritual of baptism probably was derived from this tradition. I think the Pharisees saw the symbolism in what John was doing. When they asked him by what authority he was baptizing, it seems that they expected something like that, which was reflected in the guessing about his identity. They expected someone would come along and revitalize Israel, but surely it would be someone important.

John's job was to testify to the light. In his experience as a priest, I wonder if he became disillusioned. If he studied scripture, he must have read that Isaiah had quoted God as saying, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice” and yet every day priests were being paid to sacrifice animals – paid with money earned by hard labor. Maybe John had become disgusted with so many of the priests who really believed in nothing but enriching themselves; we know that most priests were Sadducees, who did not believe in the resurrection. We also know that the high priests were very tight with the authorities. John may have looked at the Pharisees as an alternative, but it wasn't much better. In their efforts to keep the law they were spending enormous amounts of time and energy working out exactly what the law was for every conceivable situation. And they were trying very hard to get everyone to do what they were doing. When John compared what was actually happening with what the prophets said God wanted of his people, he could see how Israel was missing the mark and when he preached and baptized, he was trying to jump-start a new Israel.

We've seen other prophets like John, people like Dorothy Day, Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela – people who looked at the world they lived in and saw that this was not the way things were supposed to be. And this vision became the force behind their heroic attempts to change the world, sometimes being imprisoned or even killed as a result.

But there is another type of testifying. Maybe an example is the kind of witness the apostles gave. The apostles had been through a marvelous experience. They had walked and talked with the Son of God himself; they had seen his miracles, they had listened to his preaching, they had been his friends and witnessed his life, death and resurrection. And this was the subject of their testimony. When you read the sermons of Peter and Paul and others in the New Testament, the subject is Jesus Christ and him crucified. When the authorities told the apostles to quit their preaching, Peter replied that if they were silenced the very stones would cry out.

Because of our baptism, we are also to be witnesses. Because of our confirmation, we are given the strength to witness. Jesus promised that when we were put on the spot he would give us the words we needed to say. We Christians who are adopted brothers and sisters of Jesus, who can claim God as Father, are in the world to testify as John did, so that all might believe.

And we also are supposed to witness in both ways. We too can look at the world and judge it; we can see how things are and how things should be. Being this kind of witness is hard, and can get us into trouble. It's a lot harder to publicly stand up for Christian values today than it was twenty years ago. But Jesus promised that those who were persecuted for his sake would inherit the kingdom of heaven. One way we can all witness is to learn why the Church teaches what she does, about same sex marriage, about abortion, about physician assisted suicide, about any of the current hot topics. When we understand these things then we are prepared to give an account of ourselves, as Saint Peter urged us in his first letter. Another way of course is to put our Christian principles into practice in some way, so that we are giving some of our time and some of our treasure to promote the kingdom of heaven.

But the other kind of witness, the testimony of the wonderful things God has been doing, is also our responsibility. When we look at our own lives, especially through the rear view mirror, we can often see that God was there when we didn't know it. Think back to the big turning points in your life, some of them good and some not so good. We can be sure that God was there, offering us grace, helping us grow, drawing us closer to him, because that's what God does, even though it hurts sometimes. And when we look at the Church to which we belong, the Church Jesus left us, that's something to be grateful for as well.

The early Christians told the world how things should be, and many died for that. And they told the world about the wonderful things God was doing, and because of that, the Church grew. If we Christians were brave enough to testify, think of how much better off the world would be. Isn't it time we realized that like John the Baptist we have also been sent by God to testify to the light?

Second Sunday of Advent, cycle b

Mark 1:1-8

One day in the old west a cowboy galloped into a little town. “Big Jake is coming” he said. The people all rushed into their homes, nailed boards over the windows and doors, and the ones that had storm cellars hid in them. The bartender was just finishing barricading a window when a huge man with an evil expression on his face burst through the door and demanded a whiskey. The bartender poured the drink, the man threw it back and glared at the bartender. He timidly said, “Would you like another?” The man replied, “I wish I could, but I'm getting out of town. Big Jake is coming.”

I love the gospel of Mark. No story of Jesus' infancy or geneology; nothing about how Jesus was the Word of God from all eternity; Mark just dives in with these verses about John the Baptist. But with Mark, you always have to be aware that he says a lot in just a few words. Look at how he describes John: Clothed in camel hair, with a diet of locusts and honey. It's a wonder that anyone at all followed him, right? People in those days were just as wary of wierdos as we are today. If we saw someone on the street wearing nothing but a camel's hair tunic and eating bugs dipped in honey, we would probably notify the authorities. But whether or not John actually wore camel's hair and had a diet as described, Mark's Jewish readers would get the point. They knew that in the first book of Kings Elijah, the greatest of their prophets, had been clothed in camel's hair. As for the locusts anytime you meet a locust in the Old Testament, something bad is going to happen. And the enemies of the Israelites are always being compared to locusts. Some people say that the idea of John eating locusts points to the fact that the new order he is bringing in to being will defeat once and for all the enemies of Israel. And the honey, well, we know that Israel was described as a land of milk and honey, and one of the psalms promises that God will feed Israel honey from a rock. Honey has to do with the promise of good things. John comes out of the wilderness – where Adam and Eve had been exiled. God is finally ready to set things right. And John baptizes people with water. If you were a gentile and wanted to become a Jew, you went through a ritual bath. John, whose father was a priest, had a hereditary right to the priesthood, and his baptism was the beginning of a new Jerusalem.

So this new Elijah comes to establish a new Israel, and you can listen to him and be part of it, symbolized by the honey, or you can reject his message and be on the side of the locusts.

So it is important to listen to John's message. The first thing he tells his followers is that Big Jake is coming. If you think John is great, wait till you meet the one he points to. We get that. But John is offering a baptism of repentance. As you've heard many times, the Greek word does not mean feeling sorry for your sins. It means “change your mind” or “turn around”. Probably another phrase would be “look at yourselves!” When we read about John in the gospels, that's kind of what he is getting people to do. He tells tax collectors to collect only what is due, because most of them collected as much as they could get away with. He tells soldiers to be content with their pay, because most of them took bribes and used their positions for extortion. He tells Herod that his marriage to his half-brother's divorced wife is unlawful. He calls the authorities a “brood of vipers” because they think being descended from Abraham makes them special.

Now the thing about repentance is that it is the easy part. Like John, who recognized his unworthiness, most of us are quite capable of recognizing our own faults and sins if we take a good look. We are even better, of course, in pointing out the sins and faults of other people, as was John. But if you are like me, and you are, the really hard thing is to break a bad habit, to get rid of those sins we confess over and over. It's much easier to just tell ourselves that these things aren't so bad, that other people are worse, that I just don't have the willpower I need. And we find that our lives don't change much from year to year, and we don't see the change we would like.

And that is John's issue. He can tell what's wrong, he can even get you to see what's wrong in yourself, but he can't fix it. You can't fix it.

But Big Jake can fix it. The one who is coming with the baptism of the Holy Spirit. Because as any member of Alcoholics Anonymous can tell you, breaking an addiction requires something more than yourself, call it grace, a higher power, something like that. And that's the longing in everyone's heart – that someone lifts the burden of sin from our shoulders, because we can't do it ourselves.

And that's what we should probably take away from our encounter with John the Baptist. Because even those of us who believe often seem to think that if only we had more willpower, if only we prayed more, fasted more, gave more to charity, disciplined ourselves, we could free ourselves from all that keeps us from being truly happy. And that's wrong. It is only when we open ourselves up to the fire of the Holy Spirit, it's only when we get out of God's way and let him work on us that we will finally make progress in our spiritual lives.

So how do we do that? We don't. We wait, we pray, we let go so that God will do in us what he has promised. It isn't easy because that's not how we who always want to be in control are designed. But at the same time, it requires no effort on our part.

So that is a purpose of Advent, to remember that we are a people in need of saving, a people who cannot save themselves. And we wait for the savior, but with the confidence that he is coming as he promised.

First Sunday of Advent, cycle B

Mark 13:33-37

One of the joys of my childhood, although it seemed a pain at the time, was the anticipation of Christmas. During those days, we referred to advent as a “little lent” and that of course called for sacrifice, which in those days meant giving up candy. I don't remember eating a lot of candy when I was young, and probably went weeks without it; I much preferred fresh fruit and jelly on bread. But when you give it up, you can't help but think about it every day. You'd get up in the morning and say to yourself, one less day till I can have candy again! And you would remind yourself that you were doing it as a Christmas present for the baby Jesus, and in your imagination you would think about how happy he would be. And you would get through another day of waiting. The anticipation of candy kept me alert and awake.

Jesus tells us to be alert, because we don't know when the time will come. Right before this passage we would have heard the beginning of Jesus' discourse – he tells us that no one knows the day or the hour, except the Father. What we are talking about of course, is the end of time, the return of the Son of Man, when everything will be made right, perfect justice will reign, and we'll have peace at last.

But lets face it, we can't be alert all the time. Even the apostles couldn't stay awake when Jesus suffered in the garden of gesthemene. And those wise and foolish virgins fell asleep waiting for the bridegroom.

That's why Jesus compares the situation to that of a household, a household where everyone is doing their work, and there is a watchman at the gate. We don't want to be found asleep, but we don't want to sit there at the gate all the time either. That is the point Isaiah makes – “would that you might meet us doing right”. In a way, each of us has to be a household, going about doing what we have to do, and at the same time anticipating that he might come at any moment.

Now Jesus is talking about the end of the age. But as we used to proclaim after the consecration, “Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.” The end of the age is not here, but the beginning of the end is; Jesus has risen and is already present to us in his word, in the eucharist, in situations where we gather together in his name, and indeed, through the events that happen to us every day, those times when Jesus speaks to us through his Holy Spirit. Now if you are like me, most of the time you are not conscious of his presence, or only vaguely conscious. That's because your mind is in the future, planning, worrying, often about things that have very little chance of happening. Or your mind is in the past, daydreaming, dredging up old hurts, playing the “what might have been” game. And yet the presence of Jesus, the presence of the Father, the presence of the Spirit, is only in the present. And being more in the present moment needs to be our goal.

One writer said that there are many ways to live in the present moment. His favorite method is the cultivation and practice of gratitude. When he wakes up in the morning, he calls to mind some specific thing for which he is grateful – like being able to see when he opens his eyes. He savors that, and gives thanks. Every time he sits down to eat, he is grateful that he has food, that it tastes good, that it is pleasant to eat. And he gives thanks and savors the food as a gift. All through the day, he pauses and gives thanks – for the work he is doing, for the friend he meets, even for something like a physical pain or a small injury, to remind him that he is mortal, or that he is given the privilege of sharing a tiny bit in Jesus' crucifixion. And when the day is over, he is grateful for the relief of sleep, the comfort of his bed. And the writer goes on to say that if you go through life practicing gratitude, you find more and more to be grateful for, and you discover that in every experience there is something for which to thank god.

You can see that there are other ways to live in the moment. You might, for example, wake up ij the morning knowing that somewhere today god will speak to you in some moment, through some person, or in some event. Your job is to stop every now and then and ask if that's happened yet? Or you might deliberately set out to notice beauty – beautiful music, beautiful nature, something beautiful – and be present to it, because wherever there is beauty, god is close. And there are some who use acts of charity to keep themselves awake. If you work for food for the soul, for example, you are seeing Christ in those people you serve, as well as in those people with whom you work.

And of course you can resort to the classic practices that help us live in the present – regular prayer, daily meditation; regular spiritual reading.

On this First Sunday of Advent we are also reminded of the church's contribution to keeping us awake – the liturgical year. Every year the church walks us through the events of Christ's life, death and resurrection. Our liturgical year is not like the fiscal year or the calendar year or the academic year, where most days are like each other and really commemorate nothing much. And it is good for us to try to live in the liturgical year more deeply.

So today Jesus tells us to be awake, and that takes work. I am going to resolve to take on a practice that will help me stay awake, that will keep me focused on the present, because that's where I must be when Christ comes again – doing what I am supposed to do, but ready at all times to throw open the doors to his presence. And I hope you all will begin this new liturgical year the same way.

Feast of Christ the King, 2017

Matthew 25:31-46

One of the disturbing questions that Christianity struggles with is what you need in order to be saved. Way back in the beginning the controversy existed – you can find it in Paul and James and all through the New Testament. Augustine believed that humans could contribute nothing to their salvation because of original sin; we were so bad that even our good actions were bad. And another preacher of that time, a monk named Pelagius, preached that we were basically good although soiled a bit, and we could work our way into heaven. The Mormons believe that everyone will go to heaven except for a handful of people, Judas being one. But the highest heaven will be for those who live according to the revelation given to their founder; in other words, you could work your way into the best heaven. And the Presbyterians would say that your eternal fate has already been determined, before you were even conceived. And there isn't anything you can do about it.

The gospel you've just heard is another one of those hard gospels. There are places in the New Testament that seem to indicate that salvation depends in some way on faith in Jesus. Martin Luther said it was faith alone that mattered. Our church is a little more nuanced, saying that faith is where salvation begins, and those who have faith demonstrate this through their works. The Catholics and Lutherans decided that they weren't that far apart.

But then Jesus throws a monkey wrench into this. Here he seems to say that the only thing that matters is works, is what we do. Because the sheep and the goats have one thing in common, they don't know that what they do for the least of their brothers they do for Jesus. Where is their faith?

And when I measure myself against what Jesus is saying, I'm not sure where I am. I do know that I could do a lot more for the least of my brothers than I do. How much is enough? How little is too little? Hard questions.

Sometimes it helps to look at the whole Gospel. Matthew is always emphasizing God's mercy and generosity. When Jesus gave his new commandments during the sermon on the mount, they were not “Thou shalt nots” like the ten commandments. They were the beatitudes – How blessed are the poor in spirit, for they shall see God. What a promise! And all the beatitudes are like that. Matthew talks about the person who sold everything he had so that he could acquire a field with a treasure in it – and a merchant who sells everything so that he can buy a very expensive pearl. Maybe these figures are not meant for us to emulate – maybe they tell us how God is willing to give up everything to find us, maybe we are the treasure, we are the pearl. And remember the parable of the king and the wedding banquet? The king threw the banquet for everyone, not just his friends. Everyone was welcome.

And then it helps to think of the two parables just before the gospel we've just heard. Two weeks ago we heard about the five wise and five foolish virgins. We focus on the foolish virgins, and lose sight of the fact that there is a great feast being held. It is ours for the taking and all we have to do is be alert. And last Sunday it was the story of the three servants who were given talents – huge sums of money. We focus on the man who buried his talent, but another message might be that God gives us everything we need in order to hear those words, “Well done, good and faithful servant, come share your master's joy!”

Jesus will tell his disciples at the end of his time on earth, according to Matthew, to go to all nations, baptizing them and teaching them. “Invite them to the party!” he says. “You are being given everything you need to do this”, he says.

And todfay it is as though Jesus is saying, “I know not everyone will ever hear the good news.” And we know that's true. It isn't that someday everyone on earth will have heard the good news, it's that billions of people have never heard the good news, through no fault of their own. And perhaps even they have a shot at the party.

These are the people Jesus is referring to – the human beings who never have the good news preached to them and never will. Even they are held in God's mercy. Jesus is saying, “Here is how I am going to judge them. If they see in even the least of their brothers and sisters someone to love, someone to be served, someone to not be stepped over and ignored, that's enough. But if they see each other as things, not worth their charity or love, well, they've lost themselves. And the apostles might have remembered the parable from Luke about the rich man whose only recorded fault was that he stepped over Lazarus every time he went out of his house, and didn't even see him.

If we read the Gospel of Matthew from the beginning to the end, it can be seen as a training manual for Jesus' followers, who are on this earth not for themselves but for the rest of mankind. They are given the knowledge they need, the graces they need, to spread his message; they are given the promise of someday participating in the great banquet. But God's ways are not like ours. God wants everyone there, and even those who never have the good news preached to them are still invited. And if they haven't heard the good news, they will be judged worthy by Jesus himself as long as they act with love toward their neighbors. Those of us who have heard the good news, however, will be held to a higher standard, for we are conscious of the fact that we are adopted sons and daughers of the Father and brothers and sisters of Jesus Christ, and as such we are meant to build his kingdom here on earth.

Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time, cycle A

Matthew 25:14-30

So this parable we just heard teaches us that hard work brings success. We are meant to work, and people who don't work deserve what they get. So this parable teaches us that God always gives us what we need when he asks us to do something. So this parable teaches us that we are not all equal; some have more talents, wisdom, knowledge, money – you name it – than others. That's just the way it is in God's world. So this parable teaches us that we work for the master, not for our own selfish purposes. So this parable shows that we will all be held accountable. But let me tell you a story.

There was this unscrupulous businessman who was one of the richest people in the world. Much of his wealth came from exploiting poor people, having an army of lawyers to find all the tax loopholes, and raping the landscape. He had several congressmen in his back pocket.

He had three accountants. One day he gave one of them five million dollars, another two million, and the third one million. And then he went on an extended business trip combined with a vacation.

The first two imitated the businessman; they played the stock market, bought property and fixed it up and sold it again for twice the price, raised the rent on apartment buildings they had purchased, forcing some of the tenants out into the street – but you get the idea. They even hired their own lawyers and accountants to manage and grow the money.

The third took his million dollars and buried it in the ground. He didn't want anything to do with the kind of activities that his colleagues were carrying out. He knew that when you got rich, most of the time it meant someone else became poorer; and besides, his Jewish religion told him that charging interest was sinful, and that people who were well off had a responsibility to lift up the poor, the wiodow, the orphan – not deprive them of shelter and food.

When the businessman returned, the first accountant said, “You know that five million dollars you gave me? Well, here is five million more!” And the businessman said, “Great! I knew I could count on you. I'm offering you a partnership in my business. The second accountant did likewise and he too was offered a partnership. But the third said “I know how you make money. I can't be part of a system that allows that. Here is your million dollars back.”

The businessman fumed and threatened and finally fired the third accountant, telling him he would see to it that he never worked as an accountant again. And he gave the million dollars to the first servant, knowing that that was the best shot at making even more money. And the third accountant eventually managed to eke out a living as a day laborer.

When you read the parable of the talents, your first reaction is that the master is Jesus. But he's not merciful, he is a “hard man who reaps what he did not sew and gathers grain from fields that he did not plant”. In fact, in Jesus' day if you were not royalty the best way to become very wealthy was to loan money to people at very high interest rates, and then when they couldn't pay, you would foreclose on their land or their homes. You might then offer a farmer a job as a tenant farmer on the land he previously owned, adding insult to injury. And of course it's hard imagining Jesus throwing his servant into outer darkness. A second point. Most of the time we hear this parable and think about talents we are born with and decide this is about people wasting their God-given talents instead of putting them to good use. But to Matthew and his audience, a talent was a huge sum of money. We don't know quite how much, but if you google it, a million dollars seems in the ball park. A common man could not expect to earn a talent in twenty years of labor. Third, when Jesus tells his stories, he often has us focus on the unexpected one – the Prodigal son who returns to the Father; the Samaritan who stops and helps when the priest and the levite don't; the publican who recognizes his sinfulness as opposed to the Pharisee who revels in his righteousness; the widow who won't stop bothering the unjust judge. Here, although the first two servants are commended by their master, we focus on the third.

So the master is not God and the talents are ungodly sums of money, and the master made his fortune by dishonest means, which would mean by abusing other people in some way or another. The first two servants find worldly success by imitating the master; but the third servant can't bring himself to participate in that way of life and takes the consequences. And maybe Jesus is telling his followers that in this world those who have little will have even that taken away from them. Maybe the parable is given as a kind of warning – if you refuse to participate in a system which destroys lives and causes poverty and increasing inequality, there will be unpleasant consequences.. But somewhere else Jesus said “What would it profit a man if he gains the whole world but loses his soul?”

Shadrach, Mesach and Abednigo chose to opt out of the system even if it cost them their lives. Saint Francis of Assisi spent his whole life choosing to turn his back on the way his world worked. Countless martyrs chose to die rather than compromise with unjust power.

Maybe this isn't a parable. Maybe Jesus is telling of an event that really happened in order to make his point. Maybe we need to ask ourselves whether we are unconsciously participating in an unjust system and whether we can do something about it.

Thirty second Sunday in Ordinary Time, cycle A

Matthew 25:1-13

When I was young, just starting out as a father, a husband, and a physician, I used to resent people and things that took up my time. Most of the time it was just a little resentment, and I would smile and probably no one knew. Sometimes I would be more demonstrative – cutting conversations short, looking at my watch, turning my attention to something else in the presence of the one who was stealing my minutes. Because my time was precious.

But when I had a few minutes to myself, I usually cracked open a book or looked at a magazine or turned on the television. And eventually I began to realize that the worst waster of the time I had been given was myself. And I think that's still true.

And probably I'm not the only one who abuses time. I know of people who get up in the morning and launch off on a long list of things to get done. They get upset when they are interrupted and they fall into their beds at night exhausted.

Jesus tells the story of the wise and foolish virgins today. Like all of his stories, once you've heard it you can't forget it, at least in essence. But there are several little things to think about. First, the ten young ladies (which is probably a better translation from the Greek) are entrusted with an important role. They are to meet the bridegroom and his friends and escort them to the banquet hall where he will meet the bride. In the days when there were no telephones or clocks people did a lot a standing around waiting, because if you were going to meet someone, sometimes the best you could do would be to agree on a particular day and place. The second thing is that all the young ladies fall asleep.

There was a popular song a few years ago which had the refrain, “live like you were dying”, and the singer went on to describe all the things he did after learning he had a fatal disease, and how glad he was that this had happened, because he would have never done all those things if he had been going along believing he had an indefinite number of tomorrows. And it's probably good advice. But no one can live like this all the time. When life throws us a huge setback or hurdle, we always adjust, because we like normalcy. No one can stare into the abyss forever. If you go to an assisted living facility and see people who've had strokes or lost limbs, They have adjusted to a new normal.

So even though our young ladies were anticipating meeting the bridegroom and the big party, they couldn't keep their senses heightened all the time, and they fell asleep.

When they hear the bridegroom and his friends coming, the rest of the story unfolds; the foolish ones run out of oil and go off to the village to buy more and they miss the party. The wise ones, having brought extra oil, fulfill their mission and join in the wedding feast.

Jesus tells us to be prepared, we don't know the day nor the hour, and this isn't the only time he says this. In fact it seems like Jesus says this or something like this a lot. And he is really talking about living in the present, I think. When I resented people stealing my time, I wasn't living in the present; I was living in a vague future where I would be doing something better with my time, something more worthwhile. And when someone is filling every moment with a list of planned tasks, she is not living in the present either, but looking forward to a time when all the tasks are done, and of course they never will be.

When the ten young ladies woke up, five were prepared for what they were there for, and five were not. You and I can't always be awake; we do have people and things that use up our time, so how can we learn to live in the present, to be where God himself is? God is not in the future or the past, but in the eternal now. So how do we keep our focus on the present? The monks of the desert had a lot of tricks. Each day was marked with certain prayers; at night some might sleep in the coffin in which they planned to be buried. The day had place markers as did the week,, the month, the year. Our church year beginning with the first Sunday of Advent helps us focus. But we need more than a Sunday mass. If we really want to be alert, we need to have a daily prayer life. Our first thoughts should be greeting Our Lord in something like a morning offering. When we sit down to eat, we should pause and bring our minds to God, who ultimately is the one who feeds us. Somewhere in the day, we should take ten minutes at the bare minimum to speak to Him in silence and without being disturbed, and longer is better. Towards the end of the day we should look back and try to see where God might have touched us, and where we might have done something that we could have done better. They say an unexamined life is not worth living; do we examine our lives every day? And finally, at the end of the day, we should give thanks. And don't forget the rosary. Even if you can't say a whole rosary, say a little bit of it. Think about one of the mysteries and say an Our Father, ten Hail Mary's and a Glory Be. You are saying the same prayer that many of the great saints prayed. Padre Pio called the rosary his weapon, and when he wanted something from God, he would use his rosary.

How is your prayer life? Could it be better? If you don't have regular times for prayer, even short prayer, please start today. I promise you that your life will change.

If we develop a prayer life, you can be sure we won't be caught off guard. We will have the oil we need when the bridegroom comes.