Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, cycle C

Luke 6:17, 20 – 26

Blessed are you who are poor, hungry, sad, and expendable.  Woe to you who are rich, full, happy, and popular. That seems to be what Jesus is saying. Notice that when Matthew gives his list of beatitudes he leaves wiggle room. “Blessed are the poor in spirit” Well, I may have a lot of stuff, but I'm poor in spirit. Or “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness” Well, I know I need to do something about my weight because I clearly eat too much, but I really would like there to be more righteousness, so I'm OK. Hey, Matthew's beatitudes? Easy-peasy.

The other thing about Matthew is that Jesus is talking from a mountain; he's like Moses, laying out the rules, but instead of “thou shalt not” Jesus is telling us who are poor in spirit and hunger and thirst for righteousness and are meek – we don't rock the boat, we don't speak up – we are blessed?

But Luke has Jesus standing on level ground – apparently surrounded by a large crowd of disciples and others, presumably many who had been cured or witnessed Jesus miracles. And as he teaches his disciples, the statements are stark; you can't spiritualize what he says. Blessed are you who are poor; woe to you who are rich. Blessed are you who are hungry; woe to you who are full now. Which side are you on? I am feeling uncomfortable because if I'm honest, I'm on the woe side. So what does Jesus expect of me? Shall I sell everything I have and give it to the poor and become a homeless person? Shall I eat just enough to stay alive and in reasonable health? And I'm happy now, I do a lot of laughing, especially at cat videos on the internet. Should I go around with a sad expression on my face and avoid anything that might amuse me? And can I help it if people speak well of me? I guess I could, because if I go around in rags pushing a shopping cart full of soda cans I intend to recycle while weeping and wailing, people would probably think less well of me.

I don't think Jesus is giving us a prescription as to how we are to live. That's what Matthew did. I don't think Jesus wants people to be poor and hungry and sad all the time; He doesn't want people to hate each other. After all if you remember the last few gospels he has been working miracle after miracle, and you can bet a lot of people who were poor, hungry, sad or lonely are a lot happier now. And he did tell his disciples: “These things have I spoken unto you, that my joy may be in you, and your joy may be made full.” And I think Jesus is saying that those who are rich, filled up, happy and popular are missing out on what he is offering.

And Jesus always has a point. I know in my case I can go a long time without thinking about God. It's a good thing I have regular times of prayer in my day; but even then, after prayer I say, “done with that, now what was I doing before?” If God wants to fill me up with himself, if God wants to bring me the kind of joy that only he can give, well, I suspect that given that I am rich, well fed, have a lot to amuse myself with, and most people I know have positive feelings toward me, there isn't much room for God to work. As Jesus said in another place, to a certain rich man, “You have already received your consolation”. Frederick Buechner, a writer and theologian, said this: “The world says, ‘Mind your own business,’ and Jesus says, ‘There is no such thing as your own business.’ The world says, ‘Follow the wisest course and be a success,’ and Jesus says, ‘Follow me and be crucified.’ The world says, ‘Drive carefully — the life you save may be your own’ — and Jesus says, ‘Whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.’ The world says, ‘Law and order,’ and Jesus says, ‘Love.’ The world says, ‘Get’ and Jesus says, ‘Give.’ In terms of the world's sanity, Jesus is crazy as a coot, and anybody who thinks he can follow him without being a little crazy too is laboring less under a cross than under a delusion."

Picture the scene once again. In Matthew, Jesus takes his disciples up a mountain, away from the crowd, to teach them, to give them the beatitudes with which we are familiar, the ones which are comfortable. In Luke, however, Jesus is surrounded by people who for the most part are poor, have been hungry, people who haven't go much to laugh at, people who have been at the bottom of toe food chain for most of their lives – and as he addresses his disciples, he says these are the blessed ones. And maybe eventually the disciples come to realized that the reason they are blessed is not because they are poor or hungry or sad or expendable, but because they had nothing to get in the way of the coming of the Lord into their lives. And that is the hard lesson. What is it about being poor, money poor, living from paycheck to paycheck, trying to get by on food stamps that draws Jesus to you? What is it about being so hungry you can't think of much besides food that draws Jesus? What is it that not being able to fill up you attention span with television and sports and video games and music and parties – just living one day after another in a bed in a nursing home – why are you blessed? And what is it about being someone who nobody needs, someone who is a burden on society, someone who is grudgingly and roughly cared for by a minimum wage employee, that wakes the compassion of Our Lord?

That's what you and I have to figure out. That's what is so urgent. That is why Jesus can look at me and say, “Woe to you, because you don't seem to be hearing what I'm trying to tell you.” And I don't know the answer. All I can do is pray, “Lord, these are hard sayings. Help me understand, but more importantly help me see what you want me to see and live the way you want me to live.”

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time, cycle C

Luke 5:1 – 11

When I was much younger, going to Confession, which is what we used to call the Sacrament of Reconciliation, was a big deal. It was usually initiated by parents or our teaching sisters, and we would usually confess weekly or at least every other week. We were pretty liberal; my grandparents would not receive communion on Sunday unless they had gone to confession on the Saturday before.

To prepare for confession we would make an examination of conscience; we would go through the ten commandments or some other list of potential sins and see if we could recall where we hadn't hit the mark during that last week. Our teachers told us that we had to confess every sin we could remember and how many times, otherwise we were in danger of making a bad confession, in which case we would have to confess that the next time. So there was a lot of pressure.

“I talked back to my mother five times,” I would confess. “I may have seen part of the test paper of one of my classmates, one time”. I had a bowl of vegetable soup on Friday, but it was th kind that had bits of meat in it, which I carefully put on the napkin but I may have eaten meat. One time”. I teased my sister 29 times during the past week. And so it went. Now the subject matter of a third-grader's confession may not seem like sin to you. Oddly enough, we knew the difference between what we called “mortal sins” and “venial sins”. And we also knew that there was a category of actions which didn't even qualify as sins – we called them “faults”. But our mind set was to think of everything that might remotely be a sin and turn it over to the priest. Because with absolution, we were no longer burdened.

Somewhere along the line after Vatican II Confession became Reconciliation and the emphasis was not on how many times you had committed a sin, but rather, to try to identify the roots of your sins, so that the priest might be able to help you deal with these flaws. Confession went from a careful examination of where you had missed the mark to something therapeutic. And that was good and bad. It was good, because we used to have a problem with scruples.. “Did I remember all my sins?” There was a time in my life, mercifully brief, when this used to keep me awake at nights. Another problem was that on Saturday when confession was happening, there might be three or four priests hearing confessions. It didn't take long to figure out which priest gave the lightest penances; the length of the lines would tell you. We would select our priest based on how nice he was. Father McCoy would languish in his confessional, while Father Hartman would be there for an hour after he was supposed to finish up.

But the bad thing was that I think the new way of reconciliation eroded our sense of sin. Today we hear Peter crying out, “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” Peter, who took care of his mother-in-law who lived with him; Peter, who ran a business and probably had a crew of fishermen he had to direct and pay; Peter, who as we will see in the gospels and the Acts of the Apostles, is always trying to do better, always picking himself up when he falls, admitting his mistakes. Peter, a man whom Jesus himself appoints to rule over his church. Peter, a sinful man? I guess I'm in trouble. But Peter was conscious of the fact that he many times missed the mark. It wasn't hard to sin if you were trying to be a good Jew and a good fisherman. Those purity laws were hard when you were out on the water and trying to grab a little lunch. When your feet got tangled up in the net, and you said, “Damn it!” or whatever first century Jewish fishermen said, another failure. And when you came home after a long night fishing it was hard to pray and study sometimes, especially when you missed supper and could barely keep your eyes open. And every Jewish man was supposed to study the scriptures every chance he got. No wonder Peter, whose personality comes through more than any other person in the pages of scripture, said, “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!”

Today, perhaps implicit in the Sacrament of Reconciliation, is the idea that if we can do something about those deep-seated tendencies that cause us to miss the mark we can save our souls. If I spend too much time on the Internet, well, all I need to do is develop some new habits so that I don't. If I am not as attentive to my wife as I should be, well, I can correct that; I'll make a resolution to make her breakfast every morning; at least I'll be slightly more attentive. And of course if I rob a bank or kill someone or commit some other serious action I'll confess that – we still think about those mortal sins.

In the olden days, when we got out of the confessional, we knew two things. We had been forgiven; every fault, every failing; God had put it out of His mind and we knew we were back in His good graces. But because we had scrutinized our lives so closely, down to even little things that no one thinks is a sin any more, we knew once again that we were sinners, and we knew that only God's grace could help us. Because next week we'd be confessing the same things.

“Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” If we do not recognize on a deep level that we are sinners, we don't really see why we need a savior. And that was the glory of the old way of going to confession and maybe we have lost something in the new way. Statistics show that the frequency in which even good Catholics take advantage of the Sacrament of Reconciliation has gone way down from the days before Vatican II. Most of us don't really believe that we are sinful men or women..

The wonderful thing about recognizing that I am sinful and in need of God's mercy, is that it's only then that I can hear the savior's words: “Do not be afraid; from now on you will fish for people.” Recognizing that I am a sinner is the best way to invite Jesus to take over my life and do with me whatever he wants to do.

Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time, cycle C

Luke 4:21 - 30

The summer after I was ordained a deacon, I took my family back to Montana. We went to visit my relatives in the little town of Belt. Two of my uncles and a cousin were farmers, and another uncle was a carpenter, but he was also the town plumber. They all decided it would be a wonderful thing if I could assist at the weekday Mass and give a sermon, and in fact they had already cleared it with the pastor. So I frantically scribbled some notes and got into an alb that hit me at the knees. Father had been working in his garden so he came in and stomped the mud off his feet and put on his vestments and off we went. It was obvious that father had not served with a deacon since probably seminary days, because we kept bumping in to each other. Finally I gave my sermon. After Mass my family took us all to the local diner where everyone – you guessed it – talked about the weather, crop prices, which kind of manure worked the best – things farmers know a lot more about than me. They did not try to drive me off a cliff, probably because I didn't say anything controversial or maybe because they weren't all that amazed at the gracious words that came out of my mouth.

This gospel always leaves me a little puzzled. Jesus goes back to his home town and preaches in the synagogue. We heard what he said last week, remember? “the spirit of the Lord is upon me because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor...” And then he says, “today this passage is fulfilled in your hearing. And the reaction of the people is very positive. When they ask “isn't this the son of Joseph?” I hear a suggestion of pride in the local boy who made good. But then Jesus seems to read their thoughts, that they are expecting him to work miracles and healings in his home town even more than they've heard he's been doing elsewhere. And after all, Capernaum is up in gentile country; shouldn't Jesus be putting more effort into helping his own kinsmen? Jesus says no, and reminds the people that a prophet is not without honor except in his own country. So far, so good. But then as though he wants to rub salt in the wound, he points out that god sent Elijah to a pagan woman even though there was a famine in Israel; and sent Elisha to cure a Syrian leper even though there were plenty of Jewish lepers around. But why throw him off a hill? Why try to kill him for these words? I might have walked away angry or disappointed, but I can't put myself in the mind set of the people of Jesus town.

Perhaps there is a clue, though. When Elijah walked the earth, his biggest challenge was that king Ahab had married Jezebel and she had started to establish the worship of Baal in the land of Israel. I'm sure you remember when Elijah challenged the prophets of Baal and ended up slaughtering all of them. And things weren't much better in the days of Elisha, when the king, having executed all his blood relatives, also attempted to import a pagan religion. The context here is that Jesus is pointing to a time when god was no longer being honored in the land he had given the Jews, and consequently had taken his business elsewhere. So I don't know if Jesus was comparing his home town to the Jewish people of the past, or whether he was indicating that he was making no distinction between the Jews and the gentiles in his ministry, but whatever it was, they reacted with burning anger.

But what can we bring away from this gospel? One thing is that god is not a vending machine. The people of Nazareth really expected that their native son would answer their needs, pretty much because he was one of them. I think when we don't get what we pray for, we might feel a little like this – I've done everything you asked, lord, and now I expect something back. Heal my disease, save my marriage, help me find a better job. But when Jesus performs miracles in scripture, even in response to a request, it's always clear that it is on his initiative.

Another lesson perhaps, is just because we belong to the church which has the fullness of truth, which has the real presence of Christ, which has the sacraments, does not make us entitled. If anything, our being Catholics gives us more responsibility. During Jesus' time the Jews understood that they had a twofold mission – to honor god by keeping his commandments, all 613 of them, and to be a light to the gentiles. They were good at the first, but not so much at the second. And we Catholics are not very good at spreading the gospel in our own society, even though that was the last thing Jesus said to his apostles before he ascended into heaven.

And finally, how do we react when we are confronted with a truth that we don't agree with? I think somewhere in our teenage years we go from accepting what others tell us to questioning things we don't agree with. That's good in a way, but if it puts blinders on us it's not good. If you support elected officials who take moral positions contrary to what the church teaches, on the grounds that you've decided that the church at least in that area is mistaken, or maybe you don't even care,, this is a problem. The church has had two thousand years to think about how human beings should live, and the reason for its teachings has to do with human happiness, in this life and the next. If we are to be a light to the gentiles, then we have to show through our own lives that the teachings of Jesus through his church make our society preferable to what is out there. The early Christians won converts partly because the society around them could say, “see how they love each other.”. Unfortunately, when you begin to enumerate many of the church's teachings otherwise good Catholics will find at least one or two that they disagree with. And conversely, when we witness a friend, a neighbor, a relative who is living a life that endangers his or her soul, are we willing to be prophets to them, or do we say “it's none of my business”.

Jesus could walk through their midst and move on to the next town. I, on the other hand, am usually concerned about being thrown off the brow of the hill.

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time, cycle A

Luke 1:1 – 4; 4:14 – 21

When I was about five, my parents were gifted with a coffee table sized bible, clad in white leather, illustrated with copious color pictures, with space in the beginning for entry of major events in the lives of the children – baptism, first communion, confirmation, wedding, or ordination or taking vows in a religious order. I don't recall if it was ever opened except by my sister and I when we wanted to look at the pictures. After all, in those days you could be a perfectly good Catholic without ever cracking a bible.

Fast forward to the summer of my first year in college. I had landed a job with the state Fish and Game department as a general laborer. Our task was to grow grain around a small lake. The grain was there to attract Canadian geese to land on the lake. We also had to take care of Canadian goose chicks that would be released at maturity in the hopes that they would remember the lake when they migrated. The State of Montana was sparing no expense in its attempt to convince the geese to make this lake a stop over point so that future goose hunters would not be disappointed.

One of the other laborers was a guy about my age and was a devout, and as I quickly learned, knowledgeable Mormon. We had many discussions in which I took a beating because he could quote the bible and I could not, and he wasn't interested in what the Baltimore Catechism had to say. So I resolved to become more biblically literate that summer, and borrowed a somewhat smaller bible from my grandmother, which I don't think had been read either. And it was the official Catholic version of that time, written with a lot of thee's and thou's and behold's. I got through it but I'm not sure anything stuck.

In college I took a couple of scripture courses but it wasn't until many years had gone by when I began to take the bible seriously and not only read it but read about it. And that's how I became a bible geek. And you should as well. If it's the word of God, we should read it and understand it, right?

Today in the first reading the people have the law read to them. That meant they listened to a recital of the first five books of the Bible, which took about half a day. Then they recommitted to follow the law – the actual 613 commandments, including the seven commandments given to the human race before Moses came along, and especially the ten commandments. But the law contained other commandments as well in the form of the stories and object lessons. Lot's wife, for example, disobeyed the command not to look back and was turned in to salt. Moses was told to strike the rock to obtain water, but hit it twice, and God decided not to allow him to physically enter the promised land. Cain killed his brother and God made it so that Cain wandered the earth for the rest of his life. If you knew the stories, you had an idea of what pleased God and what offended Him. And the commitment the people made to follow the law made them a people; they were bound together by the law.

And that's one thing the Bible does for us; it is common ground for Christians. We can be much better citizens of the United States if we know something about how the government works and the common values enumerated in the declaration of independence and the Constitution. And we can be much better Christians, and have deeper solidarity with other Christians if we are familiar with the founding document of Christianity. By the way, we've just finished the week of prayer for Christian Unity.

Jesus is involved with scripture as well in the gospel passage we just read. Jesus reads a few verses from Isaiah, and then applies them to himself; in other words, he looks for God's will in the words of the prophet, and when he recognizes it, he begins his ministry. There is a way of reading scripture called “Lectio Divina”, which is something like what Jesus is doing. In the case of the Jewish people listening to the law, they want to understand exactly what God wants from them; in the case of Jesus, he is allowing the Father to speak to his heart through the scriptures. In Lectio Divina, or Divine reading, we read a passage; pray over it, think about it, read it again, try to put ourselves into the picture. Many saints began their careers through a similar process. Saint Anthony of Egypt, who founded Christian monasticism, heard the words “leave all you have and follow me” and knew the words applied to him. He sold his inheritance and went to live in the desert.

Find a way to bring the bible into your life, or deepen your appreciation if you already read it. Most of us hear the bible passages at Mass; single out one of them, preferably for the Sunday to come, and take it to your prayers every day. Or, concentrate on one of the gospels and read it through, two or three times in the liturgical year, along with a good commentary. This is the season of Matthew, by the way. I never get tired of comparing the first three gospels. It's so interesting to discover how each author tells the story of Jesus differently, and John is completely different. I think I made a big mistake when I first set out to read the bible. I read it straight through, from Genesis to Revelation, and that is probably the worst possible way. And of course a wonderful way to fall in love with the bible is to form or join a bible study group. As you and your friends meet to socialize and discuss a bit of the bible, you will find that all of you have different insights, and possibly some questions that in turn will lead to further insights.

We know the writers of the New Testament were quite familiar with the bible, and that's not surprising. But sometimes it is a little surprising to realize that Jesus read the books of the Old Testament and obviously meditated on them and used them in his own prayer life. That prayer he offers as he dies on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” is the first line of Psalm 22; rather than a cry of abandonment, Jesus was probably praying what in the end is a very hopeful prayer. So today I hope you will resolve to make the bible a part of your prayer life.

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time, cycle C

John 2:1 --11

The country of Bhutan is located high in the Himalaya mountains bordered by China on one side and India on the other. It’s a poor country with few natural resources. Several years ago the king decreed that instead of measuring gross national product or crime statistics or the fraction of people living above the poverty level, as is done in most countries, Bhutan would measure the Gross National Happiness quotient, which may sound silly, but the number was based on nine dimensions including what other countries measure. The idea was that the government would put its resources into improving the happiness of people, and what didn’t would be discontinued. I’m not sure how it’s working out, but it’s not a bad idea – happiness as the major goal of a government.

Today we hear the story of the Wedding Feast of Cana. The Church has Isaiah’s vision of what God intends to do with the world as the first reading, and I’m sure whoever set up the readings wanted us to notice that Jesus is doing what Isaiah promised that God would do. It’s also interesting that John the gospel writer starts this story with “on the third day”. You hear those words every time we recite the creed – on the third day he rose again from the dead. John, who is writing many years after the Resurrection and at a time when Christianity is established in many parts of the Eastern Roman empire, surely wanted us to think about the Resurrection by using these words. But again, what does this have to do with you and me?

Once Jesus said to his disciples, “I tell you all these things so that my joy may be in you and your joy will be complete.” What is the difference between joy and happiness? It’s not entirely clear. One idea is that happiness depends on external circumstances, while joy is an interior state. But you can find happy people among the poorest people in the world, and miserable people who are healthy and rich; and I think you have to have joy in order to experience happiness. Certainly it’s hard to imagine a joyless person being happy.

John the gospel writer writes his story around seven signs. The other signs include healing the sick, giving sight to the blind, raising the dead, you know, stuff we expect Jesus to do. But for some reason he makes the first sign the transformation of water into wine at a wedding. At the request of his mother, don’t forget. I think we can conclude that Jesus wanted the young couple to be happy, as well as all the guests, who, if we read into the text, are probably losing their inhibitions and singing and dancing and maybe even wearing lampshades on their heads. Because the head steward is surprised that they are bringing out the good wine when everyone else is at the point where they are unlikely to appreciate it. And I suspect Jesus and his disciples were all enjoying the wine and the revelry – in another part of the gospels, he is accused of being a drunkard and partying with sinners.

You can’t be happy unless you are joyful. And Jesus, in the first miracle recorded by John, foreshadowing the Messianic banquet at the end of time; foreshadowing the joy his disciples will feel on the third day after his crucifixion, makes it possible for the party to continue, because he is full of joy and so is his mother who put him up to it. And so are the saints. Saint Lawrence was said to have said, “Turn me over, I’m done on this side” when he was being put to death on a griddle. Saint Thomas More, as he was about to lose his head, asked the executioner to spare his beard, because it hadn’t done anything to offend the king. Saint Thomas Aquinas was walking out to say Mass when the Blessed Mother appeared to him. As she began to speak, the story goes, he put his finger to his lips and said, “Shsh… I’m about to say Mass and this is the quiet hour.” You can see that joy is near the surface and in fact always bubbling over.

And Jesus tells us these things because he wants us to have joy. Joy means that we aren’t angry, we aren’t full of regrets, we aren’t anxious. Joy means that we live in the present, we gratefully accept what God is offering us right now, we are aware of his indwelling presence. And joy means that we learn to give ourselves up to others, because that’s where the greatest joy can be found. Some of my most joyful moments have come when I am putting myself out for someone else.

The Church is the body of Christ, the bride of Christ, the bearer of Christ down through the ages. The purpose of the Church is to carry out the will of Christ and the reason for the Church is that we might have joy and our joy will be complete. Not just in some heaven after we die, but right now.

Joy has to do with relationship. Those of us who have experienced marriage probably remember moments of joy at least when we first married and if we are fortunate, continued joy as we grow old together. Those of us who have been parents, remember the joy of holding a baby in our arms, of watching our child grow up. Those of us who have deep friendships know the joy of being with the friend even when there are no words exchanged. Much of what the church teaches has to do with relationships, summed up of course in loving our neighbor as ourselves. But of course the most important relationship is that with God and we Christians experience that through our relationship with Jesus, our elder brother, who says “Who has seen me has seen the Father”. And of course much of what the Church teaches has to do with forming and strengthening that relationship.

It’s a tragedy that so few people, even among faithful Catholics, do not take advantage of the treasure the Church has to offer. We seek joy in power, pleasure, possessions and prestige – the four p’s – and we struggle to make them ours only to find that once we have them, we just want more of the same. The treasure of the church on the other hand is satisfying, it’s lasting.

Today we should remind ourselves that Jesus is the lord of joy and has the power to turn water into wine. For who can not feel joy when they finally hear, deep in their hearts, those words that brought joy to Jesus and those words God says of us when we are baptized:: “This is my beloved, in whom I am well pleased.”

Baptism of the Lord, 2019

Luke 3:15-16; 21-22

The accounts of the baptism of Jesus in Matthew, Mark and Luke are very similar. There is no account in John. Matthew has a little dialogue between John and Jesus; John says, “I should be baptized by you” and Jesus replies, “let it be so for now, for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Now I have trouble with understanding Jesus’ answer to John, so I looked up several other translations of this passage. IN one, Jesus says, “do it, because God is finally putting things right beginning with this baptism.” another says “It’s the right thing to do. You need to baptize me to complete God’s saving plan.” I’m not sure those alternate translations help much. Jesus is baptized, the Spirit descends in the form of a dove, and God’s voice is heard saying “This is my beloved son in whom I am well pleased.”

Down through the ages, this short account has raised many questions and fed a few heresies as well. If Jesus was sinless, why did he have to get baptized? After all, John’s baptism was a baptism signifying repentance. What did Jesus have to repent about? Or is Jesus just going through the motions, pretending to repent? That doesn’t seem right, does it? And we have the Spirit descending like a dove. Although the gospel of John doesn’t have an account of the baptism, John says “I saw the Spirit descend upon him like a dove, and the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, “The one whom you see the spirit descend upon and remain is the one who will baptize with the Holy Spirit.” Does this mean that Jesus received the Holy Spirit at this moment? And was Jesus always the “beloved Son” and the Father is now recognizing this, or is there a connection between the baptism, the Spirit, and the recognition? There have been heretics down through the ages that have pointed to this passage and concluded that Jesus was just a human being who had been singled out by God. In any event, it’s important to understand this passage and see how it might apply to you and I.

The baptism of Jesus, though, is intimately related to our own salvation, so it’s worth a little time to break down what is going on here. First, we think of repentance as meaning that we are sorry for our sins. But that isn’t why John was baptizing nor why we are baptized. John’s baptism symbolized being born again; you would be immersed in the water and burst out, none of this pouring water over the head. Being born again meant that you were starting over, that you were seeing things with new eyes, that you wanted to personally recommit yourself to the ideals of your ancestors, who in that very spot had been led by Joshua from the desert to the promised land. John, after all, is preparing a new Israel to be led by a new Moses, to be ruled by a new David.

Jesus is baptized because he has entered into a union with this new people; as John says in his gospel, “the word became flesh and dwelt among us”, or as another translation puts it, “pitched his tent with us”. Saint Paul echos this when he says, “He was in the form of God but did not see equality with God something to be grasped at; rather, he took the form of a slave...” Jesus, the Son of the Father from all eternity, in intimate union with the Holy Spirit from before time began, has become one of us, like us in all things but sin. Jesus had to be toilet trained, learn to walk and talk and all the other things every human being must go through. His identification with us was complete. His humanity is our humanity. And when the Father sends the Spirit in the form of a dove, it is our humanity which receives the Spirit; it is our humanity which becomes capable of the Spirit living in us, praying in us, finishing the work that Jesus began as a human being – the creation and building up of God’s kingdom on earth.

John’s baptism was only a symbol; later Jesus will tell his apostles to baptize all nations; Ananias will baptize Paul and Philip will baptize an Ethiopian eunuch and Peter will order the household of Cornelius the centurion to be baptized. Baptism is no longer a symbol, it is a reality. Paul says, “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.”

Our Church teaches that with baptism we become new creatures and we are sinless at that point not because we are forgiven but because we are brand new in the eyes of God. And at that moment the Holy Spirit begins to live in us in a special way, giving us the theological virtues of faith – which makes it possible for us to believe what God has revealed about himself through scripture and the Church; hope, which gives us the power to desire heaven and to place our trust in Christ’s promises, and to rely on the Holy Spirit instead of our own powers; and charity – which gives us the power to love God with all our beings and love our neighbor as ourselves. Notice that these virtues are potentials. Like anything, if we don’t exercise them, they won’t be worth much; but if we do, we become saints.

And all this is possible because Jesus, the only begotten son of the Father, became human, and received the Holy Spirit as a human being in John’s baptism. The very first sacramental baptism was the baptism of Jesus, at which time God made it possible for anyone who shared Jesus’ humanity to share his divinity as well. And before Jesus performed a single miracle or preached a single sermon or healed a single sick person, the moment he was baptized was the moment the Father proclaimed him the beloved Son in whom He was well pleased. And think about this: At the moment of our baptism God proclaims this about us. As John said in his first letter “we love God because he first loved us.”

When a person is born and placed in the arms of his or her mother, it’s normal for th4 mother to feel love at that moment. And when you and I are baptized, God loves us before we’ve done anything.

Epiphany 2018

Matthew 2:1 - 12

When we look at our manger scene, we see a newborn baby, shepherds, a few farm animals, Mary and Joseph, and of course, three wise men. If we read the actual scriptures, we see that the shepherds and the whole stable scene took place around the time of Jesus’ birth. But it was almost certainly another time when the Magi visited. According to Matthew’s gospel, Mary and Jesus are now in a house somewhere in Bethlehem. Herod later orders that all male children under two years old be murdered, so based on the calculations of the scribes and advisers to Herod, it’s possible that Jesus may have been as old as two years when this all took place. When we put the shepherds and the magi together we miss part of what each evangelist is saying: Luke who gives us the shepherds is saying that the Savior first becomes manifest to the outcasts, the lowly, the unclean – represented by the shepherds. Matthew introduces us to the magi, who are learned, upper class, and most importantly, gentiles. The Magi who come to see the Messiah have learned about his coming through their observations of the sky and possibly through some exposure to the Jewish scriptures. They show that God is extending his salvation to all men, and incidentally, God reveals himself to human beings in other ways than through scripture. So on this feast of the Epiphany we rejoice in the fact that we gentiles have been invited into the Kingdom along with the Jewish people.

Matthew tells us that the Magi brought Jesus gold, frankincense, and myrrh. They may have brought other things as well, or maybe the infant Jesus decided to play with the boxes that those gifts came in. But we know the gifts are symbolic. Matthew is speaking to Jews from his own Jewish tradition. Gold recalls David, the king. David was not the first king of Israel; that was Saul. David was not the most powerful king of Israel; that would be his son Solomon. In fact, much of David’s life was running; he ran from Saul and his army, and he ran from his son Absalom, who tried to take over the kingdom by force. David was obviously a sinner, having committed adultery and murder. But to the Jews David was first and foremost a hero. Under his rule the entire Jewish people had been united and finally achieved peace, and David had begun the effort to build the temple

Frankincense recalls the priesthood. Priests kept busy sacrificing animals in the temple. One historian said that over passover about 250,000 lambs were slaughtered. But priests also burned incense. The rising smoke symbolized the prayers of the people.

Myrrh was probably the oddest gift to give a baby. It was used to embalm the dead. So Matthew’s message in these gifts is to remind us that Jesus is king, high priest, and will die for us. But we can look at these gifts in other ways. The Magi, after all are bringing gifts to the Christ child. This is a good time for us to ask what gifts we are bringing?

Certainly there is always a need for our gifts of gold – our possessions, as it were. Our church needs our support of course, but there are plenty of poor people who need what we have so much of. Jesus told us that what we do for the least of our brothers we do for him. God has blessed most of us with abundance; we live in nice homes, drive late model cars, go on vacations – some of us are willing to pay more for a specialty coffee at Starbucks than it would take to buy a decent meal at McDonalds for someone who is hungry. Is there an opportunity in your life to be more generous? It’s a good time of year to ask that question. In fact, that would make a great new year’s resolution.

Frankincense is associated with worship. We come to the weekend liturgy faithfully. But giving God an hour of our time once a week is sort of the bare minimum. How are we advancing in our spiritual path? Do we have a time for daily prayer? Do we say the rosary? We claim to believe the Bible is the word of God; Do we open it once in a while? Do we commit to finding out more about our faith through spiritual reading or listening to some of those great CD’s that are in the back of the Church? How about a little time before the blessed sacrament; maybe we could commit to attending a weekday mass or two in addition to the Sunday liturgy. In fact, setting more time aside for God would be a good new year’s resolution.

Myrrh was used for embalming, but it was more than a symbol of death. It showed that our human bodies are sacred and were honored by this attempt to preserve them. The reason our bodies are sacred is because they are meant to be used to build up God’s kingdom on earth. How are we building God’s kingdom? Some of you are catechists, some of you work in the soup kitchen or with food for the soul. Some of us visit shut ins or those in nursing homes or hospitals. Jesus made it clear that when we carry out corporal and spiritual works of mercy it is as though we are serving him directly. How are you building up God’s kingdom? Is there room in your life to take on something that will bring God’s mercy to someone else? That would make a good new year’s resolution.

The Christ Child is God’s supreme gift to mankind. The Magi brought gifts to Him. What gifts can we bring him in this new year?