Christmas Break

As our celebration of Christmas continues, so too does my vacation at home on Staten Island. After hosting Christmas festivities at our house, my parents and I have been on the road visiting family, sightseeing and shopping.

I've also enjoyed the opportunity to catch up with friends: on Christmas Eve I had the pleasure of lunching with Joseph and Aly Palmer, who were in visiting from Atlanta; and Scott Cullen dropped by New Dorp on his journey from Connecticut to Philadelphia.

Since I never got to see much more than the emergency room of Princeton University during my fall visit, my parents and I made the drive down the Turnpike and enjoyed a brief walking tour of the campus and town. It was clear but cold, so we moved quickly - still, we found the campus to be quite lovely.

While we were on the road, we also did some shopping to catch the after-Christmas sales. We also made a trip up-state to visit Mom's side of the family, and gathered with the Rhode Island Koeths when they made their Christmas visit to the Island.

This morning, we were pleasantly surprised to wake to about two inches of snow. Warmer temperatures long ago melted the remnants of the blizzard, so it was nice to wake to a white-blanket of snow, rather than more rain. I had become jealous of everyone in Texas and Oregon!

Homily for the Feast of the Holy Family

Over the past several years, serving at our parish in Portland, Oregon, I had the privilege of preparing a number of young couples for the Baptism of their children. I always met with them in the church, near the Baptismal font, where I could explain the symbols of the Sacrament: the white gown, the candle, the holy oil, and especially the water.

But I always ended by telling the parents that if they remembered nothing of the Scripture I read them, or what I told them about the history of the Sacrament, and the meaning of the symbols, I wanted them to remember just one thing: the most important obligation of Christian parents is to show and teach their children of God’s tremendous love for them. That’s the responsibility they were accepting by bringing their children for Baptism.

I even offered some suggestions for how they would accomplish that: by praying with and teaching their children to pray – by telling them the stories of Scripture and bringing them to Mass – by modeling for them a life of Christian service and helping them discover their vocation in life.

Now that certainly sounds wonderful. I certainly have no doubt that what I told these parents is true. What’s more, I don’t at all doubt that each and every one of those couples wanted to strive for that admirable goal of Christian parenthood.

But then there is the messy reality. Brining a toddler to Mass, and trying in vain to keep them quiet could try the patience of Job. Children not only learn from our good example, they follow us into bad habits as well. Siblings fight and quarrel. Teenagers rebel and are nearly impossible to understand or communicate with. Grown children drift from the Church and cease to practice the faith as we would want them to.

In parish ministry, in counseling and in Reconciliation, perhaps more than any other single issue, priests hear from parents about their concerns for their children – their fears that they are failing as parents; that they haven’t done enough. In my experience parents do indeed accept the challenge and strive mightily to build solid Christian homes – but they look at the Holy Family, which we celebrate today, and they judge themselves as having fallen terribly short.

They believe the Holy Family exhibits complete peace and harmony among its members. And they ask, “how can we live up to the model of the Holy Family, when Jesus was Divine, and Mary was sinless, and each perfect member so perfectly followed God’s perfect plan of salvation?” They know all too well, you and I are not perfect.

But on this Feast of the Holy Family, our readings challenge this image of the Holy Family and offer us a much more consoling and hopeful path forward.

First, Luke’s Gospel account of Jesus’ finding in the Temple challenges our conception of the Holy Family as distanced from the painful realities of real family life. Luke narrates that the adolescent Jesus is lost to Mary and Joseph and they search for him in a panic. There is confusion and worry and heartache. Even when He is found, Jesus’ explanation for his absence is at best confusing and difficult to understand, and at worst a bit snarky.

If this kind of loss, worry, confusion and grief marked the life of Jesus, Mary and Joseph, perhaps it’s not so hard to understand how they can be a part of our family life, while not indicating that we have somehow failed in our quest for holiness. Perhaps it means we merely have an inadequate understanding of ‘perfection’ and ‘holiness’ and imagine incorrectly that those things preclude difficulty and struggle.

Our first reading compliments this Gospel message by offering us a different way forward. Hannah, who was thought to be barren, has prayed with Eli the priest to be given a son – and now that her prayer has been answered, she returns to Shiloh and consecrates her son to the Lord, leaving Samuel to grow up in the temple precincts.

Hannah’s faith makes clear to us that the most important element in building a holy family, the necessary first step in teaching our children that they are loved by God, is recognizing that they do not belong to us, they are not our possessions, but are in fact “children of God;” they belong to Him.

This kind of fidelity to God, this obedience to God’s will, and “growth in wisdom” is what makes the family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph holy and what can make our families holy as well. It is not that our families or our parenting will be perfect – that there will never be loss, worry, confusion or grief. The real Holy Family disproves that completely.

It is, rather, when parents know that their children belong to God and are in His care, that they can give the love, guidance and freedom their children need as they grow and mature. Even parents who worry that they have failed, that their children are lost to them, can find comfort in today’s Gospel, realizing that Mary and Joseph knew such worry, and knowing too that Jesus’ journey toward self-understanding required His return to their loving home in Nazareth.

This Feast of the Holy Family assures us that even amidst inevitable misunderstanding and worry, if Christian parents dedicate their children to God, as Hannah, and Mary and Joseph did, they can trust that God will direct and protect them. Basking in the glorious light of Christmas we ask not so much to be spared the suffering and fear that even the Holy Family had to endure, but rather that we might have some measure of their faith and trust in God and love for one another.

Homily for the Solemnity of Christmas (Vigil Mass)

Back when I was in college, my roommate and I had a little tradition that I’ve maintained every year since: whenever the first snowflake falls from the sky, I watch a Christmas movie classic: National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.

While it’s not White Christmas or It's A Wonderful Life, it has become a kind of modern-day holiday classic, so most of you probably know the story. Clark Griswold wants nothing more than to host a big old-fashioned family Christmas. But his wife Ellen is a little skeptical. “You set standards that no family can live up to,” she tells her husband.

And sure enough, as the story unfolds, everything that can go wrong does go wrong. Crazy cousin-in-law Eddie shows up un-announced, the Christmas lights won’t light, the turkey is overcooked, and the Christmas tree catches on fire. Ellen sums it all up when she says, “I don't know what to say, except it's Christmas and we're all in misery.”

I think one of the reasons this movie has become so popular is that so many of us recognize at least a little of our own holiday experiences in its storyline. We all have high hopes for the holidays, and put a lot of effort into making everything just right for ourselves and for our families.

But then, something or everything goes wrong. Not all the Christmas cards or shopping gets done in time, the cookies burn in the oven and then the cousins fight at the dinner table. Our families and holidays don’t live up to our high hopes and expectations, and so we feel as if we’re shutout of the joy and peace this season is supposed to bring.

Our Gospel reading this evening makes clear that this couldn’t be further from the truth. Matthew introduces his version of the Nativity by relating the genealogy of Jesus from God’s revelation to Abraham, all the way to Joseph, the guardian of the Lord.

Because we don’t know our Scripture the way we could, we miss one of the central points of this genealogy and hear it as merely a list of obscure and unpronounceable names. But one of the reasons to relate this genealogy is to make the point that even the family tree of the Messiah was a dysfunctional mess!

For just one example, think about King David “who became the father of Solomon.” St. Matthew very nicely says that Solomon’s mother had been the wife of Uriah. In fact, as you may remember, David takes Bathsheba as his mistress while Uriah is still alive – and then David has Uriah killed so that he can marry the women now pregnant with his son. And this, friends, is the great King David whose throne God has promised to re-establish through Jesus Christ!

The rest of the list of ancestors isn’t much better. The family tree is filled with more of the same messiness and sinfulness – and that’s precisely why Matthew includes it in his Nativity story. It’s not into a perfect world, into the world that we hope for or imagine that Jesus is born – it’s into the world as it is, often sinful and broken, that the Lord enters at Christmas.

That’s the same point St. Francis tried to remind us of when he gave us the Christmas crèche. Every year, we set up beautiful hand-carved pieces and imagine that it’s a touching beautiful scene. But in reality, it was a God-awful mess! Jesus was born in a barn, and laid in an animal’s feeding trough, because His parents were far from home: their country was occupied by a brutal army, Joseph’s relatives in Bethlehem wouldn’t have them, no one else had any room, and before long King Herod would be out to kill the child and Joseph would have to take his family to exile in Egypt.


Friends, it’s precisely into this world – into the messiness, sinfulness and imperfections of our lives – that the Lord is born. But please don’t think that God’s Son merely comes to make us feel better about ourselves; to tell us that everything is okay; that we shouldn’t beat ourselves up too much or have unrealistic expectations.

Much more than that, as St. Matthew tells us in tonight’s Gospel, the child is given the name Jesus “because He will save His people from their sins.” That’s what the name Jesus means in Hebrew: “God saves.”

On this Christmas night, we don’t simply relive our memories of a sweet children’s story – we wonder at the miracle of God become flesh – we rejoice that His coming, and His sharing our human weakness, is all for the purpose of saving us!

We can truly rejoice and know God’s peace at Christmas, not because our lives, or our families, or our holidays are so perfect, but because we recognize in the tiny child of Bethlehem the One who saves us from every sin and suffering – and that is indeed reason to join the angels in singing: “Glory to God in the Highest, and on earth, peace and goodwill to men.”

Merry Christmas!

"For unto us is born this day, in the city of David,

a Savior which is Christ the Lord."

Merry Christmas!

Mega Holiday Mash-Up

With my applications finally completed (praise God!) and the semester wrapped up, I am relaxing on Staten Island, preparing for the Christmas holidays with Mom and Dad. With extra time on my hands, I thought it was time to finally update you on the last several weeks.

My last non-homiletic post told you about my curtailed trip east to visit grad schools, a couple of football weekend visitations, and some of the goings on at Old College - specifically, our tradition of Sunday evening meals.

So, I figured that was a good place to pick back up. Before everyone scattered for the Thanksgiving holiday, Fr. Kevin treated the house to a fried turkey for one of our Sunday dinners. We had lovely weather, so it wasn't at all onerous to be outside watching the bird cook . . . and we got lots of comments from passers-by walking the lake path.

I'd never had a fried turkey before and it was magnificent. So good, I would totally support the fried version as an acceptable substitute for the holiday's traditional roasted version.

Here, Fr. Kevin and Kyle perform surgery on the birds so we can dig in:

With the house basically empty for the weekend, I put in a big push to finish up my writing samples and personal statements for my applications. But I took a break to participate in a trivia tournament hosted at Old College by Fr. Kevin. More than a dozen Holy Cross priests and seminarians joined us for an evening of Star Wars Trivial Pursuit. (The game included a DVD with video questions, hence the focus on the TV here:)

Divided into teams based on our ministry or local house (Corby Hall, Moreau Seminary, Old College, SBN Parishes, etc.) I joined Fr. Kevin, Andrew, Bryan and Joe on the Old College team. Though I literally didn't know the answer to a single question, Joe and Fr. Kevin were pros, and our team won easily.

After Thanksgiving we made the final push to the end of the semester. I wrapped up the two classes I was auditing, including a doctoral seminar in American religious history. I enjoyed the class thoroughly and learned a great deal from it.

During study days, Moreau Seminary hosted their annual Christmas party. Andrew and Josh were definitely the most festively dressed participants:

After a rather mild November, we finally started to experience more typical weather in December. For awhile, we wondered if it would ever snow. But right before the end of the semester we did indeed get an inch or two - just barely enough for our freshmen from Southern climes to be impressed. Here, Bryan (who's from Houston, Texas) does a little "snowboarding" on the hill next to Old College:

As final exams were starting, I finished the last of my applications. I ultimately applied to ten graduate programs, including Penn, Princeton, Columbia, Yale, Harvard, Virginia, Georgetown, Boston College, Fordham and Catholic University. (Now the waiting game begins - I won't hear back from schools until the middle of February at the earliest. Please continue to pray for me!).

Because it's technically illegal, I won't mention by name the friend who supplied this lovely sampling of Oregon brews - but you know who you are. After my applications were finally finished, these provided just the right measure of celebration:

With classes and applications both finished I finally felt like I was ready for Christmas. Thankfully, Old College was delightfully decorated for the season. Fr. Kevin's parents came for a visit during the Thanksgiving break and set up an amazing Nativity display. It took up a whole corner of the Sorin Study, and included a lighted "starry night" background, and multiple layers of display platforms:

As you can see, the windows on Fifth Avenue don't have anything on this display! The historically accurate display includes a Roman legion going out to take the census . . .

. . . a tent for the shepherds . . .

. . . and, of course, the purpose of the Nativity scene, the Lord's manger:

I also decorated my room with a little tree, some miniature Peanuts ornaments . . .

. . . and some nice holiday lights:

During final weeks, I hosted a little study break social in my room complete with Christmas music and cookies. Of course, it was more of an 'open house' since no more than four or so people can fit in my room at one time!

As the men of Old College departed for Chrismtas break, I stayed behind to wrap-up loose ends, and watch the Notre Dame basketball team defeat UCLA. It turns out I was lucky: had I tried to travel on Saturday, I would have been turned back by the East coast blizzard. But as it turned out, I traveled home on Sunday without any trouble whatsoever, landing in Newark only one hour late. I'm looking forward to seeing family, relaxing, reading, and sleeping!

Homily for the Third Sunday of Advent (C)

Today we celebrate Gaudate, or ‘Rejoice,’ Sunday. In the midst of our Advent waiting and longing, we celebrate the fact that Jesus is the fulfillment of our longings. He is the source of our healing, our liberation and our glad tidings. He is in our midst, and will come again at the end of time to usher in the fullness of His kingdom.

And so in our first reading, the prophet Zephaniah tells us: “Shout for joy . . . sing joyfully, the Lord is in your midst!” And in our second reading St. Paul encourages the faithful to “rejoice in the Lord always; I shall say it again: rejoice!”

Neither Zephaniah nor Paul is talking about a constant state of giddiness. They are not encouraging us into a naïve exuberance that ignores the struggles and hardships we sometimes face, or the harsh realities of a world still torn by warfare and poverty.

Rather, they are reminding us that on a deeper level, we Christians – we members of the New Jerusalem – must have the joyful confidence that comes from believing that Jesus truly is the Son of God. We must have a hope and joy that is not fleeting or emotional, not based on our changing mood or circumstances, but a joy that the world cannot give, and the world cannot take away: Jesus Christ, our Savior, has come, and will come again.

In anticipation of this coming time of fulfillment, St. Paul admonishes us: “Your kindness should be known to all.”

Interestingly, that’s a perfect summary of the answers we hear in today’s Gospel reading. Luke tells the story of the crowds that gathered, “filled with expectation,” to listen to John the Baptist’s preaching.

Now John, as you all remember, is kind of a character. Scripture records that he lived in the desert, wore camel skin and ate locusts and honey. “Though he was eccentric, he was extremely popular.” No doubt, some came purely out of curiosity, to see this rather odd character for themselves. But most came because they heard from and saw in John a holiness and righteousness that they wanted to strive for themselves. They came to be convicted by the truth of his preaching, to be cleansed of sin by his baptism, and to learn from him how to better live their lives of faith.

They asked him, simply, “What shall we do?”

We might expect that John, this great ascetic, would make radical demands: “Leave everything and join me in the desert; adopt a life of fasting and penance.” And at first glance, it seems that John does indeed forgo such radical recommendations.

Instead, he seems to call the people to faithfulness in the mundane, daily circumstances of their lives. Tax collectors were told to take only what was prescribed. Soldiers were told not to practice extortion, or to falsely accuse anyone. In other words, do not take advantage of the vulnerable; be faithful; live in peace with one another.

But upon further examination, it is precisely these examples that show just how radical John’s answers really are! Tax collectors were notorious for taking more than the government demanded – that was how they made their living. And soldiers, too, added to their meager wages by practicing extortion, and they used intimidation and deceit to subdue the populace.

Asking these people to act so differently from their normal way of operating was indeed a radical demand. And if we think about them, John’s other answers are just as radical. “Whoever has two cloaks should share with the person who has none, and whoever has food should do likewise.”

If we’re honest with ourselves, we’ll realize just how radical this advice really is, even today, because we’ll realize just how few of us actually live this way! How many of us have more clothing, and spend more money on clothes, than we really need? How many of us eat more than we really need, and waste more food than we’d really like to admit? How many of us often think and act out of the same lust for money, power, pleasure or prestige that led the tax collectors and soldiers to so mistreat their neighbors?

Like the crowds in today’s Gospel, during this Advent season we should be asking, “What shall we do?” In the words of St. Paul, we should be asking how our “kindness can be known to all.”

Friends, the solution lies not in following John into the desert, to wear camel skin and eat locusts and honey. The answer lies in following John’s example of humility.

John could easily have allowed his popularity and reputation for holiness to go to his head. He could have used his influence to enhance his own power, wealth and prestige. But he was an honest man, a humble man, a man who knew who he was and who he was not.

“One mightier than me is coming,” he said. “I am not worthy to loosen the thongs of his sandals.”

John’s entire life, and even his death, pointed not to himself, but to the Lord who was in their midst, and coming into the world. John foretold, and witnessed to, the fire of the Holy Spirit’s love by which the Messiah would baptize His people.

Having received that Spirit of love, we need to live our lives with the same humility that John showed: a humility that calls attention not to ourselves, but points to Christ; a humility that puts others’ needs first; a humility that is satisfied and grateful for all that we have received; a humility that provides for the needs of others, if only from our surplus.

It is when we live our lives with this humility and love, that we will truly experience the joy this Gaudete Sunday invites us to, because we will in fact recognize Christ in our midst, and prepare our hearts, and the world, for His coming. “Brothers and sisters, rejoice in the Lord always; I shall say it again: rejoice!”

Homily for the Second Sunday of Advent (C)

In our Gospel today, St. Luke sets the stage for introducing John the Baptist by outlining the ruling powers of the time. He tells us that it is the 15th year in the reign of Tiberius as Emperor of Rome and that Pontius Pilate is governor of Judea. He names three client kings, who served at Rome’s pleasure, and the high priests Annas and his son-in-law Caiaphas.

What Luke’s readers would have known, and what we miss because we don’t know the history very well, is that the Jews in this list had sold out to the Roman occupiers, and that together with their Roman rulers, these local puppets were brutal and despotic in their treatment of the Jews.
It was a pretty desperate scene, not all dissimilar to what the Jews had experienced during slavery in Egypt and during exile in Babylon.

And so, when St. Luke sets the scene by reminding people of this sad state of affairs, he is connecting John the Baptist to the prophetic tradition of Moses, Baruch and Isaiah – the tradition of prophets announcing that God had not forgotten His people and that He was about to act to save them – to overthrow the regime of evil and to establish His rule of justice and peace.

Sure enough, John appears not in the city of Jerusalem, but in the desert wilderness, just like when Moses led Israel out of Egypt, and just as Isaiah had foretold: “a voice crying out in the desert.”

In fact, Luke puts the words of Isaiah’s prophecy directly on the lips of John: “Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight His paths. The winding road shall be made straight and the rough way made smooth, and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”

In other words: get ready; God is about to take action! He has not forgotten or abandoned you, and He is about to arrive with your salvation!

Of course that’s why we read these readings throughout our Advent season. No, they don’t tell the story of the preparations for Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem 2000 years ago. We don’t hear the story of the Annunciation quite yet, or of Joseph’s visions in his dreams. For now, we hear the prophecies of God’s saving action that make this Advent season a time of joyful waiting and anticipation.

So as we await and anticipate the fulfillment of God’s promise, as we long for the arrival of our salvation, we can look to John the Baptist’s preaching as an outline for how we should prepare. Luke says: “John went through the whole region of the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.”

That’s how we can prepare, and make the paths straight, and the valleys and hills level and smooth. We can prepare our own hearts and minds by repenting of our sins and receiving forgiveness for our sins.

The best way for us to do this is to receive the Sacrament of Reconciliation.

One of the greatest gifts I’ve received in my return to Notre Dame this year is to have the chance to hear confessions in the Basilica. It may be true that Catholics go to Confession less than they used to, but if you paid any attention to the number of times that Confessions are heard at the Basilica, and the lines that form there, you could never claim that Reconciliation is a dead Sacrament. Still, I think even more of us could make regular use of this Sacrament – could discover the great gift that this Sacrament is.

I know that I discovered just that, when I was in high school and college. There was a time when I thought I didn’t need to go to Reconciliation regularly. I certainly didn’t think I was without sin, but neither did I think that I was so bad that I needed to go more than once or twice a year. I figured I knew what my sins were and it wouldn’t do me any good to beat myself up over them by going to Confession every couple of weeks.

Then I started going more regularly. And what I found was that Reconciliation was less about my sinfulness, and more about God’s mercy. I found that confessing my sins, and receiving absolution was a great relief. Even if at first I entered the confessional ashamed and nervous, I always left the confessional feeling an immense relief and a deep peace.

Therein lies the greatness of this Sacrament that Christ Himself gave us: we are assured of God’s mercy! We hear the priest say in the name of Christ and the Church: “I absolve you of your sins”

I once heard a Jewish woman say that we Catholics are lucky. On Yom Kippur, she said, she goes to Temple and prays all day in repentance for her sins. But then she goes home at the end of the day and, she said, “I don’t hear whether or not I am forgiven.” We do, every time we confess.

In Reconciliation we are restored to our Baptismal innocence, and strengthened for a serious striving towards holiness. As St. Paul prays in today’s second reading, “our love increases ever more” and we are better able to “ discern what is of value, so that we may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness.”

In other words, if we want to be more serious in our life of faith; if we want to experience the peace and joy that only God can give; if we want to treat ourselves and everyone around us with the respect that we know we and they deserve; then we will go to Reconciliation more often. We will come to be certain of God’s mercy through it, and we will joyfully share it with others.

Take up the opportunity that this season of Advent offers you to make straight the path in your own heart for Jesus to come and make His home there. If you do, then in the words of St. Paul’s letter: “I am confident of this, that the One who began this good work in you will continue to complete it until the day of Christ Jesus.”