So now our Lord and Saviour is born! All the Turkey and trimmings have been eaten, and many people head to the stores, looking for the latest cheap bargains. Around the world, there will be people buying things in boxes. And so today we celebrate The Feast of St Stephen the Martyr, this also has the alternate name of ‘Boxing day’. Boxing day is not about shopping, it is a day where we give boxes of gifts and food to the poor and needy in our society. It is a day of showing the Lords love to the less fortunate. But what has all this talk about boxes got to do with today’s feast of St Stephen?
St. Stephen was called by the Apostles at the dawn of the church from among seven Greek men who were of good reputation, who were filled with Spirit and who had wisdom. They were the first Deacons of the Church. They oversaw the welfare of the members of the church, they gave care to the poor, for widows and for orphans. This is the link that I see with the true meaning of the alternative name of ‘Boxing day’, about giving care and welfare.
According to tradition, Stephen was a young man, most likely still in his teen years. He was full of grace and power. He performed many miracles amongst the people in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. This however, did not go down well with those of senior rank in the temple court, and various synagogues would challenge Stephen with many debates and arguments, however, Stephen would always come out of them on top every time due to being filled with the wisdom of the Holy Spirit. This led to anger and before much time had passed, Stephen was charged with blasphemy, taken to the Sanhedrin to defend his case, which he did with great eloquence.
Stephen began with the promises given to Abraham and went all the way to the building of the temple during Solomon’s reign, before then directing his sights on the Sanhedrin itself. ‘How stubborn you are, heathen still at heart and deaf to the truth! You always fight against the Holy Spirit. Like Fathers like sons! Was there ever a Prophet your fathers did not prosecute? They killed those who foretold the coming of the righteous one, and now you have betrayed him and murdered him, you who have received the law as God’s angels gave it to you, and yet have not kept it! ‘ (Acts 7:51=53).
This led to a fit of anger and fury and the council dragged Stephen to the edge of the city to stone him to death, he had no true trial nor verdict. But Stephen still kept his faith until the finish, having a vision of the heavens being torn open with Jesus standing there at Gods right hand.
Stephen’s last mortal words were pleas to God for the forgiveness for his persecutors, that those sin would not be held against them. St Stephen is the Proto=Martyr, This is because he was the first victim of persecution of the church that is mentioned after the ascension of Jesus into heaven.
Life’s fulfilment =the eternal heavenly banquet rests squarely in God’s hands. This leaves us as children of God to love our neighbour, to care for this world, and to seek those things which make for peace, for joy, and for salvation. Stephen is such an excellent example for us to follow in our daily Christian lives, both in the way he cared for the poor and needy, and also by the way he forgave his persecutors and even prayed for them. May we strive to imitate the values in the life of St Stephen, for the glory of God within our own lives.
Let us pray:
Grant, Lord, we pray that we imitate the truth of the Christian life we lead following the example of St Stephen the Martyr, who we celebrate today. Mav we, as he did, love and care for the needy in our society in your ever=loving name and to your glory, and that also like St, Stephen, we can forgive and pray for forgiveness for all who may harm us. Through the Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
After 2000 years of Christmas sermons, in hundreds of languages, in different countries throughout the world, and by way of innumerable faith traditions, is there anything new or original left to be said about Christmas, and what it means, that hasn’t been said before? Perhaps not. However, like re-reading that favorite book for the 17th time, or watching that favorite movie or television show for the 358th time, even when you know exactly what comes next, what the very next word is going to be, often we find a new meaning or a new slant on something that is as tried and true as Christmas itself.
And so it is with me this year. The author of St. Luke’s gospel recalls the story of the angels bringing the news of Christ’s birth to the shepherds. Now, we all know that story. We’ve heard it many times over, and those of us who cherish “A Charlie Brown Christmas” will always, in some ways, always hear Linus quoting from Luke 2, no matter who is reading that passage of the Bible to us.
8And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.
10And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. 11For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.
12And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. 13And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,
14Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
15And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us. 16And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger.
17And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child. 18And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds.
19But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart. 20And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them. Luke 2:8-20 King James Version (KJV)
We know the story. We SEE the story in every Nativity scene we pass by. There is almost always a shepherd near the manger carrying a lamb on his shoulders and another lamb or sheep to be seen somewhere hanging around. It’s always seemed to me that the sheep and the shepherds were just THERE, minor players in a Christmas play, the “extras” assigned to the kids who didn’t quite measure up to the roles of Mary or Joseph; they enter stage left, ooh and aah over the baby, and exit stage right, singing “Go tell it on the mountain”, singularly unimportant and taking secondary roles to the more illustrious wise men (who in reality weren’t there at all) and most definitely playing supporting roles to the Holy Family, or just standing around as so much scenery, contributing to the mood and filling up the bare spots in the Nativity scene. I overheard a conversation recently that made me really think about the shepherds. While visiting some friends, their cat jumped into the midst of the family crèche and knocked over the obligatory shepherd. It was chipped. The younger daughter of the family was somewhat distressed, and to make the little girl feel better, the mother said to her, “Don’t worry about it, Honey. It’s just the shepherd. He’s not all that important.” I didn’t think much about it at the time, but when reading the Scripture appointed for today, it struck me. Not all that important? But weren’t they? Who WERE these shepherds? Why were they there in the first place? Why did THEY get the news of Christ’s birth in such a spectacular way? Who were they that they should be eyewitnesses of God’s glory and receive history’s greatest birth announcement?
In Christ’s day, shepherds stood on the bottom rung of the Palestinian social ladder. They shared the same unenviable status as tax collectors and dung sweepers. Only Luke mentions them. When the twelve tribes of Israel migrated to Egypt, they encountered a lifestyle foreign to them. The Egyptians were agriculturalists. As farmers, they despised shepherding because sheep and goats meant death to crops. Battles between farmers and shepherds are as old as they are fierce. The first murder in history erupted from a farmer’s resentment of a shepherd. Smug religious leaders maintained a strict caste system at the expense of shepherds and other common folk. Shepherds were officially labeled “sinners”—a technical term for a class of despised people.
Into this social context of religious snobbery and class prejudice, God’s Son stepped forth. How surprising and significant that God the Father handpicked lowly, unpretentious shepherds to be the first to hear the joyous news: “It’s a boy, and He’s the Messiah!” What an affront to the religious leaders who were so conspicuously absent from the divine mailing list. Even from birth, Christ moved among the lowly. It was the sinners, not the self-righteous, He came to save. So is it really all that surprising that the first announcement of Christ’s birth was to the lowly shepherds on Bethlehem’s hillsides?
Consider the events leading up to Christ’s birth. Mary was barely 15. Christ was born to an unwed mother, Mary, a servant girl; Mary the young woman who delivered while only betrothed to Joseph. He was born in a stable, a cave! A holy God being born to a couple no different than immigrants, far from home and in a strange city, in a place where animals were kept. A couple who couldn’t even find a place to stay, turned out of every inn! It’s all too bizarre.
Yet this is the God we experience. This is our claim; This is the meaning of his very name: Immanuel, meaning “God with us” — with us not just in nice times, but most especially in the times of our lives when we are in the caves, and stables of our lives, when we are turned out of the places we’d like to be, when we are at the lowest of low points, when we are out in the dark, and in the cold like the shepherds.
Our God, the God who comes to us in the person of Jesus Christ, is the God of the oppressed, the repressed, the depressed; the God of the sad, the grieving, the sorrowful; the God of the lonely, the lowly, the poor, the God of the Shepherds; the God of the despised, the destitute, the dejected. Our God is the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the God who stood with the enslaved Hebrews in Egypt, who led them out of Egypt to a promised land of freedom. Our God is the God of widows and orphans and stranded travelers. Our God is the God who doesn’t stay neat and tidy and spotless, but comes and stands beside us in our times of deepest need, who comes among us as the child in the dirty manger and the God of the shepherds on the hillside. The God we’re speaking of dares to join the unsuccessful, the failures, the dispossessed, and the downtrodden; the God of the Shepherds.
Wherever there is suffering, our God is there. He stands with Zacchaeus, the despised tax collector, and with Bartimaeus, the blind beggar. He is with us when we face cancer, chemotherapy, and radiation treatments. He is with us when we face amputations, operations, loneliness, the loss of a loved one, or even death itself. The God of the manger and the Shepherd is Immanuel, God with us. At our deepest times of loss and need, in the dirtiest and most embarrassing parts of our lives, God is with us, His rod and His staff, they comfort us. It is God who glues us back together when we become, like that figure in my friends’ Nativity scene, chipped, flawed, and much less than perfect.
And it is up to us, to demonstrate the love of God, the God of the lowly, the downtrodden, to the world. We, like the shepherds in the Christmas story, are to be the ones who are to proclaim the good news “which shall be to all people” to all the people of the world. It is our responsibility as Christians to be the instruments through which God can work in this world. As was most famously stated more than four centuries ago by Saint Theresa of Avila:
Christ has no body but yours, no hands, no feet on earth but yours, Yours are the eyes with which he looks with compassion on this world, Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good, Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world. Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, Yours are the eyes, you are his body. Christ has no body now but yours, no hands, no feet on earth but yours, Yours are the eyes with which he looks with compassion on this world. Christ has no body now on earth but yours.
My very favorite Christmas carol, “In the Bleak Midwinter,” includes the lines, “What, then, shall I bring him, empty as I am? If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb. If I were a wise man I would do my part. What can I give Him? I can give Him my heart.”
Won’t you, this Christmas, give Him your heart? Won’t you, like the shepherds in the children’s plays of the Christmas story, be one to “go tell it on the mountain, over the fields and everywhere” that Jesus Christ is born? Amen.
Have you ever had a religious experience? I wonder what that question brings to mind for you. Do you envision something extraordinary, like angels in the sky or a voice from the clouds? If so, perhaps you’ve never had an experience like that. Maybe it makes you feel sad or even frustrated that you haven’t.
Part of what I love about the Christmas story is that it breaks this idea of God-elsewhere in pieces. God is not God-elsewhere. He is God-with-us.
The story from today’s Gospel prepares us for this life-changing story of God-with-us, God in the everyday. On one level, the story is as ordinary as we might like. Mary goes to visit her cousin Elizabeth. One pregnant woman visits another. Of course, part of the reason for Mary’s visit is presumably to tell the extraordinary news she has received from the angel Gabriel, but presumably part of the reason is also simply to support her cousin and to receive support.
You may say the story is very much a story of the extraordinary: Elizabeth’s son, even in the womb, begins his role as the prophet of God, announcing the coming of God into our world. Yes, certainly. But it is not because Mary goes somewhere far away or does something unusual. Pregnant, she visits a pregnant relative. But God acts in that ordinary visit, and something remarkable happens.
We may feel that nothing remarkable ever happens in our lives, but that is not true. Every situation we are in, good or bad, God is there ahead of us, ready to do there his marvelous deeds. For one thing, every situation we find ourselves in is an opportunity for us to act with love, and real love is always from God, our cooperation with God acting in our lives. However quiet and small an act of real love may seem, it is always something extraordinary, in its way even more extraordinary than a sky full of angels.
And the world we live in is a holy place. It’s not just that God is everywhere, though he is, but that the holy, all-powerful God has made our world his home. That is what we celebrate at Christmas. God isn’t God-elsewhere. He is God-with-us. Every part of our world, however dull or ordinary it may seem, has been sanctified, made holy, because God chose to walk this Earth.
Perhaps we feel sometimes not only that our lives are dull and ordinary, but that they are filled with difficulty and sorrow. That can be especially hard at Christmas, when we miss those, we’ve loved and lost, when we feel that everyone else is having such a happy time, and we too should be joyful. If you feel that way, please get in touch: the Church is there for you, and we are not too busy to love and support you in your loss. But when God became one of us, he promised that even those who mourned would find comfort. Even sorrow and loss can be a time when we meet God, times of the extraordinary.
We can lose the importance of Christmas in two ways. It’s easy to get caught up in the ordinary. I think it’s part of what makes even an explicitly Christian Christmas acceptable in our society: everyone can delight in the birth of a child, love the baby Jesus. But equally, we can marvel at the extraordinary and forget that it all came about because God acted in and through many ordinary moments of care, in the midst of the difficult and dangerous political situation of first century Palestine, and he can do the same in your life and in mine. We can forget the divine dimension of Christmas, but it’s equally easy to forget that the events we celebrate are the best kind of good news in whatever dull or even distressing circumstance we may find ourselves.
So maybe we don’t find ourselves filled with Christmas joy. Maybe we don’t feel we have used our time in Advent well and prepared ourselves. But Christ is coming anyway, not a long time ago in a place far, far away, but right here, right where we find ourselves. Whether we are ready or not, God-with-us is coming, and if we welcome him, our lives will be extraordinary.
What kind of things do you enjoy? Everyone will have things that come to mind in answer to that question, but I suspect for most of us they will be experiences of some kind or other which make us feel good, from playing sport to reading books to seeing our family happily spending time together. That is the primary meaning of enjoyment, and it’s not surprising that those are the kinds of answers we give. It’s what makes some of the other senses of ‘enjoyment’ sound a bit strange. After all, we can talk about enjoying good health, or even enjoying someone’s 50th Wedding Anniversary, where it’s clear we’re not talking about an emotional response to pleasant experiences.
We wouldn’t describe our attitude to the second situation as one of joy – perhaps quiet contentment at best – but then, maybe that’s because, in the grand scheme of things, we have not lived the trials and the joys and disappointments in a long marriage. What these different senses of enjoyment can provide us with, however, is that the meaning of joy is connected to our response to something good that is present.
Thus, in today’s first reading, Zephaniah calls on the daughter of Zion to shout for joy because ‘the Lord, the king of Israel, is in your midst’ (Zeph 3:15). It is the news of God’s present amongst his people that is to be for them the source of joy. In the responsorial “psalm” too (in fact, a passage from the prophet Isaiah), the people of Zion are to ‘sing and shout for joy, for great in your midst is the Holy One of Israel’ (Is 12:6).
The question that springs to mind is why joy at God’s presence should be the theme of the liturgy of this Third Sunday of Advent, or Gaudete (‘Rejoice’) Sunday, as it’s known. Of course, from the perspective of 2024 we know that the Incarnation, God’s coming to dwell among us, is something that has already happened, but isn’t Advent meant to be a time of anticipation, of learning that longing for the Messiah before we get to celebrate the fulfilment of that longing at Christmas? Wouldn’t hope – our attitude to a good which we do not yet enjoy – be a more obvious theme for this season?
A first answer might be that these passages of Scripture speaking of joy at God’s presence among his people are both from the Old Testament. In the case of Isaiah, the words form part of a prophecy: they are what the people ‘will say in that day’ (Is 12:3) when the shoot comes forth from the stock of Jesse (cf. Is 11:1). The words of Zephaniah come amid his prophecy of the day of the Lord. As we prepare to celebrate that day when the Word of God took flesh and dwelt amongst us, we call to mind the joy which the prophets foretold with anticipation as the response of God’s people to his coming to redeem them.
More than simply preparing us for Christmas, though, Advent also reminds us of the in-between situation we find ourselves in, after Christ’s first coming but awaiting his second coming, redeemed by his saving Incarnation, Death and Resurrection, but awaiting the full working out of all that that entails for humanity and for the whole of creation. We rejoice at his presence in the Sacraments and in the Holy Spirit given to the Church, even as we wait and hope to hear those words, ‘well done, good and faithful servant … enter into the joy of your master’ (Mt 25:21). In the reading we heard from St Paul’s letter to the Philippians, he instructs them always to rejoice even as he reminds them the Lord is at hand (Phil 4:4,5). It is what God has already given to us, what already now we can rejoice in, that enables us to prepare with hope for that day on which, as St John the Baptist’s words in the Gospel remind us, he will ‘gather the wheat into his barn; but the chaff he will burn in a fire that will never go out’ (Lk 3:17).
On this Sunday, when the priest’s rose-colored vestments mix the darkness of penitential purple with festive white, that color expresses the joy which is already ours even as we still recognize the struggles and fears of this life in anticipation of that fullness of joy which God’s coming among us teaches to await ‘with blessed hope’ (Titus 2:13).
Our trees are up, our halls are decked, and the house is relatively clean. I mean, maybe we’re not quite ready for Charles and Camilla to visit, but I’d not be embarrassed if, say, William and Catherine or Joe and Jill popped in. For all practical purposes, we are ready for Christmas.
What about y’all? Shopping done? Decorating finished? Parties planned? What does “being ready for Christmas” really mean?
Today is the Second Sunday in Advent. I’m about certain that every one of us has seen an “Advent Calendar.” Those cute little things that count down until Christmas. Whilst they can be fun and exciting, they really have nothing to do with “Advent” though. Not really even close. So, one might ask, “What is Advent?” And, as is my custom, I’m gonna tell ya.
Since the 900s, Advent has marked the beginning of the church year, and is a season of great anticipation, preparation, and excitement, traditionally focusing on the Nativity of the Christ Child, when Jesus came as our Savior. During Advent, we as Christians also direct our thoughts to His second coming as judge.
The word Advent is from the Latin adventus, meaning coming,” and is celebrated during the four weeks of preparation for Christmas. Advent always contains four Sundays, beginning on the Sunday nearest the feast of St. Andrew the Apostle, (November 30) and continuing until December 24. It blends together a penitential spirit, very similar to Lent, a liturgical theme of preparation for the Second and Final Coming of the Lord, called the Parousia, and a joyful theme of getting ready for the Bethlehem event.
Advent is a time of preparation that is marked by prayer. Advent’s prayers are prayers of humble devotion and commitment, prayers of submission, prayers for deliverance, prayers from those walking in darkness who are awaiting and anticipating a great light (Isaiah 9).
So whilst we are preparing our homes for Christmas, should we not also be preparing our hearts and minds? We all of us know that Christmas is on 25 December, and that’s when we celebrate Jesus’s birth. What we don’t know, however, is when Jesus is coming back.
In the Gospel appointed for today, St. John the Baptist says to his disciples, and to us:
” as it is written in the book of the words of the prophet Isaiah:
A voice of one crying out in the desert:
“Prepare the way of the Lord,
make straight his paths.
Every valley shall be filled
and every mountain and hill shall be made low.
The winding roads shall be made straight,
and the rough ways made smooth,
and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”
As we go about “getting ready” for Christmas, let us not forget what, and more importantly, WHO, we are really ‘getting ready” for. I invite each of you to have a most blessed, holy, and prayerful Advent. Amen.
Well folks….Today is one of those days…..You know, one of those days that folks forget about during this season. One of those days that folks fuss about or one of those days that folks ignore completely. “HUH?” you might ask. “Has Bishop Michael lost his mind?” (Perhaps. Those of you who know me well can answer that one later, but anyway….) Today is one of those days that are included in the much misaligned greeting, “Happy Holidays!” Yep, today is a holiday.
Today we celebrate the Feast of St. Nicholas, aka the person upon which our dear Santa Claus was modeled. Now, just who was this guy? Imma tell ya.
The true story of Santa Claus begins with Nicholas, who was born during the third century in the village of Patara. At the time the area was Greek and is now on the southern coast of Turkey. His wealthy parents, who raised him to be a devout Christian, died in an epidemic while Nicholas was still young. Obeying Jesus’ words to “sell what you own and give the money to the poor,” Nicholas used his whole inheritance to assist the needy, the sick, and the suffering. He dedicated his life to serving God and was made Bishop of Myra while still a young man. Bishop Nicholas became known throughout the land for his generosity to those in need, his love for children, and his concern for sailors and ships.
Under the Roman Emperor Diocletian, who ruthlessly persecuted Christians, Bishop Nicholas suffered for his faith, was exiled and imprisoned. The prisons were so full of bishops, priests, and deacons, there was no room for the real criminals—murderers, thieves and robbers. After his release, Nicholas attended the Council of Nicaea (from which we get the Nicene Creed) in AD 325. He died December 6, AD 343 in Myra and was buried in his cathedral church, where a unique relic, called manna, formed in his grave. This liquid substance, said to have healing powers, fostered the growth of devotion to Nicholas. The anniversary of his death became a day of celebration, St. Nicholas Day, December 6th.
Now, how did St. Nicholas transform into Santa Claus? It’s in the language. The Dutch brought St. Nicholas to the US with them. Yep, in Dutch, St. Nicholas is “Sinterklaas.” Get it? Pretty awesome how languages work!
For those of you who are interested, there is a very rich history that one can find of the process in which this holy man, St. Nicholas, became our Santa Claus. Google is an awesome thing!
So, I wish you a very blessed and happy Feast of St. Nicholas today!
A small private plane was flying with three passengers on board: an old priest, a rich businessman and a boy scout. Suddenly, the engine sputtered and stopped altogether. They all rushed to get their parachutes. They were alarmed to realize that there were not enough parachutes for all of them. One of them will be left without one. The pilot took one, saying, “I have a wife and two kids. They need me.” And off he jumped. The businessman, seeing that the boy was holding a parachute, grabbed it away from him, saying, “I am a very important person in this world. I must not die!’ And putting the straps on his shoulders, he quickly jumped out of the plane. Only the priest and the boy were left on the plane. The priest told the boy, “Son, take the last parachute. I am old and I have no family. I’m ready to leave this world. You are still young and have a great future. Save your life.” The boy, with a naughty smile, said, “Don’t worry, Father. There are still two parachutes left. The ‘very important man in the world’ just jumped out wearing my backpack.”
We are now in the new liturgical period, and this is the first Sunday of Advent. The Season of Advent is a period of four Sundays in anticipation of Christmas. The readings are not about chestnuts roasting on an open fire and Santa Claus or instructing us to begin decorating our homes for Christmas, or about the forthcoming parties and vacations. Instead, they are referring to the terrible events occurring at the end of the world. Jesus explains the events in the Gospel with clarity: the frightening signs in the sun, the moon and the stars, the roaring of the sea and the waves, and people will die of fright. Some of us may even wonder: Is Jesus such a party pooper who likes to spoil the fun? The Gospel, far from spoiling the enjoyment, sets everything in a proper perspective. St. Luke is not trying to deceive us with such devastating words. He is just telling the truth and reality of our existence: everything in this world is going to end. Nothing is permanent. This world and everything in it going to stop. Our life, our body is gone. Rather than frightening us, these are words of hope. Amidst life’s fragility and the uncertainties of the world, Jesus, referred to as the Son of Man, is said to arrive “in a cloud with power and great glory.” “When these signs begin to happen, stand erect and raise your heads because your redemption is at hand” (Lk 21:28).
The message is very clear. We will surely be disappointed if we are putting our hopes on anything in this world. This is like the man in our story who jumped out of the airplane, not with a parachute on his back, but with the boy’s backpack. This is what is truly terrifying: to confront all these tribulations without God, and to put everything in the hands of an earthly object or person. Let us therefore look to Jesus. In the aftermath of all these passing circumstances, He is our only assurance and hope for eternity and fullness of life. Hence, Jesus admonishes us: “Be vigilant at all times and pray that you have the strength to overcome the tribulations that are imminent and to stand before the Son of Man” Tribulations, troubles and disasters are already present. These are clear signs of the unreliable nature of our planet and how limited these worldly realities are. We must be vigilant and ask God in prayer so that despite all these, we will still be able to stand before the Son of Man and be saved. Becoming too absorbed in worldly worries, being intoxicated with our selfish ambitions and thirst for power, being occupied in fleeting pleasures and luxury are definitely not the proper ways to “be able to stand before the Son of Man.”
Unfortunately, this is precisely what people are into. Jesus referred to this when he said, “But when the Son of Man returns, will he find faith on earth?” (Lk 18:8). Let it be a Year of Faith and be a time of renewed commitment and embracing God, reinforcing our faith in God, and proclaiming the Good News of God’s love with joy to our contemporary society. The Advent Season is a time for preparation: for Christmas, for the rebirth of things, and for our own death. The readings are not spoilers; they are reminders. They remind us that everything is passing away, and so let us look up to Jesus. He is not just the backpack; he is the parachute of salvation. If we stay faithful and obedient to Him, we are assured of eternal happiness and glory. As we begin the Advent Season, let it be our firm resolve to heed seriously the call of St. Paul in the second reading: love one another more than ever, conduct yourselves to be pleasing to the Lord, and be blameless in His sight (1Thes 3:12).
Today we come together to celebrate the feast day of St. Andrew the Apostle. Andrew was Jesus’ very first disciple. Let us reflect on one of the qualities of Andrew: that quality being his of∙his readiness to respond to our Lord Jesus Christ’s call to follow him.
We hear Andrew’s call story today in today’s Holy Gospel reading of MT 4:18=22. As Jesus walks along the shore of the Sea of Galilee, he notices two brothers, Simon Peter & Andrew, who were engrossed in their daily work of fishing. As Andrew & Peter cast their nets into the sea, Jesus calls to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men!”
This call must have caught the brothers’ attention. – They must’ve wondered what Jesus could possibly have meant by saying, to be fishers of men. However, Andrew responded wholeheartedly to Jesus’ call.
Andrew followed Jesus – without any reservations or any hesitation – Most likely with a lot of curiosity, but never the less, with total devotion – Andrew immediately left his fishing nets, perhaps letting them sink into the water.
Andrew had a heart which was prepared to hear & to heed Jesus’ call, with all that he had & all that he was. Because Andrew’s heart was prepared for Jesus, he did not have to be in a holy place like in a Church to hear his call, neither did he need to have been going about particularly holy work to perceive Jesus’ call to him. Andrew heard Jesus call in the midst of his ordinary daily life’s work, during his usual routine day, at a moment when he was casting his fishing net out into the waters of the sea.
Andrew was held near to the word as summarized in the 10 Commandments.
The word as condensed by Jesus into the two great commandments,
Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. And love your neighbour as yourself.
This word – this instruction for living in a way that brings both self & neighbours closer to God – was alive within Andrew’s life – it was on his lips & in his heart.
Jewish people living in Andrew’s time & for centuries before had studied God’s word – they had engaged God’s Holy Scripture – in very active, dynamic, & relational ways:
by reciting it out loud to one another & in groups;
by soaking up the spoken words & paying close attention;
by the struggle that is teaching & learning;
by discussing what this word meant for them in lively, curious, creative, & probing ways.
This encounter with God through the Word — through the living of Scripture in everyday life— enabled Andrew to perceive so much more than the written word which had come to life in him. Andrew was able to perceive the Word made Flesh, Our Lord Jesus Christ, in the midst of an ordinary, routine day. The word is very near to all of us as Christians and followers of Our Lord Jesus Christ. The word should be in our mouths and on our lips, & in our heart, our soul, and in our minds for us to observe.
The Word made Flesh, Jesus the Christ, is very near us.. calling us through our sacred scripture…through the bread & the wine of The Holy Eucharist … through the our which share the Peace…through our voices lifted in song, prayer, and praise…through our faces & our personalities in church and in our everyday lives.
May each of us together… learn from Andrew how near these words of God are…how they seek unceasingly to engage & to dwell with us…that we may respond wholeheartedly to Jesus when he calls us…that we may participate together, in community, in the life everlasting.
Let us pray:
O Glorious St. Andrew, you were the first to recognize and follow the Son of God. With your friend, St. John, you remained with Jesus, for your entire life, and now throughout eternity. Just as you led your brother, St Peter, to Christ and many others after him, draw us also to Him. Teach us how to lead them, solely out of love for Jesus and dedication to His service. Help us to learn the lesson of the Cross and carry our daily crosses without complaint, so that they may carry us to God the Almighty Father. Amen.
It is possible to win all the battles and yet in a certain manner, the war will be lost. I have come to see this, but it has been a long time. I recall being a teenager, causing a family feud because I wanted to watch a film that no one else wanted to see. I got my way, and I enjoyed the movie, but did I? However, even in the absence of a loving family, there was a price to pay, the aftermath of a small family dispute. Was it worth it? The movie was excellent, but I can barely recall it now. Memories of the dispute remain much stronger. Like many trivial battles, when one is caught in the midst of it, it appears to be so important. Once one takes a step back, the victory appears to be very small.
It is easy to think of dominant individuals as victorious. They get what they want pretty much all the time. Lives are carefully constructed for personal comfort. However, this lacks the amount that usually must be paid. The price is love, whether it is the ability to love or the condition of being loved. People tend to avoid those who always insist on their way; family members visit out of a sense of obligation. Even if cherished, there is not the same trust, the same desire to be in their company, who would have been otherwise. That is a loss, a serious loss. It is a loss that is often not recognized. Haven’t they got everything they want? However, it is possible to win all the battles and yet lose the war. Despite all the victories, victories that occur in the end of the day rarely exceed much.
In the meeting of Pilate and Jesus, we meet the representative of Imperial Rome with Christ the Universal King. To convey Christ as Universal King is, among other things, to be reminded that while there is a kind of kingship that is built on power and domination, the true kingship, that of Christ, is not like that. However, if we understand that it can be difficult to understand as a cliché and do not convey the profound truth at its center.
A good way to enter the mystery of the Kingship of Christ is to observe as best we can on the nature of power as it works in reality. Think about our own lives, or, more dramatically, about the lives of some of the important figures of history. Did their splendor or admiration show them really provide genuine peace or happiness? Is it more an attempt to calm down without never-ending desires? To ask questions like these is not to adopt a plan to make us feel more confident about our meagre state. It is to ask challenging questions about what is essential to us, where our priorities should be, and what it is to be truly human.
The Feast of Christ as Universal King is, among other things, a reminder of a profound truth about our lives, about where true happiness is to be found and where it is not to be found. When Christ asserts that his kingdom is not of this world, he is not only telling us that to put our trust in power and domination is emptiness and folly, but also providing us with an alternative. The alternative is love. That may sound stale, and it can be presented as stale, but nothing could be further from the truth.
This is something that is not always easy to see. It can be much easier to acknowledge the Kingship of Christ in our daily lives than deep in our hearts. I believe most of us are like that at times, if we’re honest about it.
When we take a step back from our lives, when we reflect and pray, is there a deep understanding of where true happiness is to be found and where it is not to be found? It may be a sense that the daily grind of life may try to drown, that we may even try to extinguish, but it is a sense that refuses to go away. It refuses to go away because it reveals a profound understanding of God’s plan for us. We may not always perceive it, but if we reflect on what true victory and power really are, as revealed in the loving Kingship of Christ, we can see that there is a kind of victory that makes such complete sense that we might well wonder why we so often fail to see it.
We’ve all had that experience of joining a group of friends who are mid-conversation, and finding that, at least at first, what they’re saying makes no sense to us. Without the context of what they have been saying, it is difficult to understand the meaning of the words they are saying.
Perhaps we are feeling that way about our lives a lot of the time. Instead of making sense, our lives appear disjointed and confusing, and it’s difficult to find a meaning in the things that happen.
People say, “Everything happens for a reason”, but that’s precisely because it doesn’t look that way. If the reasons behind the things that happen in our lives were clear, we wouldn’t spend any time at all trying to persuade ourselves that things happened for a reason. But it isn’t so obvious.
One way of responding to this lack of meaning is to try to create meaning for us. A lot of people nowadays think it’s up to us to create the meaning in our lives. We must decide on a purpose for our lives, heroically make something of ourselves. I don’t think that works, and it’s all very exhausting!
Part of what Jesus is talking about in today’s Gospel is the idea that our lives, indeed the whole history of humanity, the whole universe, already has a meaning and a purpose: we’re just ignoring it. He seems to think that the meaning is pretty clear, as openly obvious as the coming of summer, the signs which herald the passing of the seasons.
Sometimes, it’s difficult to accept that the way things are going in the world has nothing to do with God. Our news is filled with tragedy and suffering. It doesn’t feel like God is in charge. However, even in the darkest stories, there is often a sign of hope. There are people fleeing their countries and people trying to stop them coming here, but there are also individuals working to make them feel welcomed and to care for them.
In our own lives, I think we often see, especially looking back, a story to our own lives which was not our making. When I think of the various events in my life that nudged me towards joining the Dominicans, it’s quite unnerving, because I begin to realize that all my own decisions, some of them made for good reasons, but some even made for rather selfish ones, took me down a path I had not planned to be on.
I say “unnerving” because I have to come to realize that my life and its meaning and purpose are not my own. I can try all I like to give meaning to my life, I can have as many plans as I want, but ultimately none of that amounts too much. The meaning of my life, the story I find there, is being told, not by me, but by God. I don’t mean he says that story in a way that makes my choices irrelevant, but even when I make bad choices, God can use them to move the story in the direction he wants.
Understanding our lives, then, is not about heroically creating meaning. It’s about discovering the meaning that is already there, our part in the greatest story ever told, the history of the whole universe, as told by its Creator, the God who loves us.
Making sense of what’s going on involves seeing things more and more in the light of the revelation that God has given us in Jesus. Things can seem confusing and disjointed, a bit like arriving in a conversation part way through. In that conversation, of course, the people talking have no difficulty knowing what’s going on, and the more we listen and adopt their perspective, the more it makes sense to us too.
Something similar happens in our lives. The more we come to share the perspective of God, particularly in prayer, the more the story becomes our story, and the more we see the sense of it. I’m not sure we will ever know fully this side of eternity, and knowing the meaning sometimes doesn’t make it any less difficult. However, the glimpses we have now give us hope that one day, we will be able to understand as fully as we are known, and love will be all in all.
The Order of Preachers, Independent 
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