3rd Sunday of Advent

"Rejoice always. Pray without ceasing...Test everything; retain what is good." 1Thess 5: 16,18

A few years ago one of my grand nieces called and announced with great joy, "Uncle John, we're pregnant." Taken aback since the old fashioned me always thought of the woman as pregnant, not the couple, I hesitated just a moment before I said, "What wonderful news, Denise. You are such a great mother already. I know this child will be very fortunate to have you as a mom." 

Of course, Denise was right.  She was not pregnant alone, but it has taken me a while to get used to the language of the present generation.  No doubt saying "we are pregnant" includes the husband much more completely in parenting and calls him to a journey and responsibility that he shares from the moment of conception, and if the words take hold, this can only be good.

The same is true for us as a church.  Today, at the midpoint of Advent, we pause in joy and say: We are pregnant.  Though it might startle some, the Cistercian monk, Blessed Isaac of Stella, was very clear about this is the 11th century. Listen:

In a way, every Christian is also believed to be a bride of God's word, a mother of Christ, his daughter and sister, as once virginal and fruitful.These words are used in a universal sense of the Church, in a special sense of Mary, in a particular sense of the individual Christian. (1)

Thinking of ourselves as mothers of Christ may be unusual and counter intuitive, but when we let the words settle in, it is wonderful.  The whole church is pregnant with Christ, yearning to give birth to him each day through our good works, service and worship.  Teresa of Avila reminds us,

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.(2)

Though the challenge is daunting, when we reside in the joy of being pregnant with Christ, the mystery surrounds us and fills us with delight and hope.

Today, be joyful as a "mother of Christ."

St Cecilia

St Cecilia, whose feast we celebrate today, is almost always portrayed with a musical instrument in her hands. Sometimes it is a viola or a flute; at other times she is seated at an organ, all because she is said to have heard beautiful music when she was forced to marry a pagan. Amazing really.  From a simple incident without a firm historical foundation, Cecilia is honored as the patron of liturgical music. Clearly, it is not Cecilia's demonstrated holiness that keeps her memory alive, although I have no doubt she was deeply committed to God, but the power of music that fills us with hope and joy, and helps deepen the faith that is the ground of our lives.

When I was a boy there was a wonderful choir in my home parish, and although as a child I did not always appreciate the beautiful music they made, my spirit remembers the pride of the adults who who sang in the choir and the joy of those who listened. At Christmas, our choir's  ministry was even richer since the men's and women's choirs combined at Midnight mass and at the principal mass of Christmas morning.  Our devoted choir was a sign that our parish was committed to God and was willing to sacrifice many hours of practice to help lift our hearts through music and song.

Perhaps Henry David Thoreau said it best. "When I hear music, I fear no danger. I am invulnerable. I see no foe. I am related to the earliest times, and to the latest." Music not only reminds us how important our bodies and senses are in an incarnational spirituality, it helps us to express a love that is beyond words. 

Today, take a moment to celebrate all those music ministers who remind us with St Augustine that we pray twice when we sing. 

Labor Day

“I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake.” Col 1:24

Today is Labor Day and I invite you to pause in gratitude for all those who keep the world moving and alive by the work of their hands, minds and spirits.  I am especially conscious of my Dad today who supported our family proudly by the "sweat of his brow."

What a complex, even confusing, text we have for reflection today.  Is St Paul glorifying suffering?  A less than careful reading of this text might suggest this, but suffering for suffering’s sake is not a good.  It is a temptation we must avoid.  Suffering for the sake of others can be heroic and a powerful sign of contradiction to those who avoid suffering at any cost.

Early in my ministry as a priest, I met an older man who was helping his wife die.  It was not an easy task. His wife had a form of cancer with external sores that had a terrible odor.  Nevertheless, everyday he visited her in the hospital, gave her a big kiss and asked how her night was.  Though his wife could not answer easily, she always smiled softly and thanked him for coming.  After watching this simple but profound drama, I asked the man to step into the hallway with me. I wanted to ask him how he was doing and tell him how much I admired his sacrifice.  Looking at me a little strangely, he said, “It’s no sacrifice, Father. We have been married for 47 years, and although I was not always the best husband, my wife always supported me, always encouraged me. Coming here each day is a privilege I would not want to miss.”

My older friend was suffering and rejoicing, just like Paul.  He would have done anything to help his wife and ease her suffering, but he knew there was little he could do.  Staying with her, helping bathe and feed her each day, though difficult, was something he properly called a privilege.  This is the kind of suffering most of us can never avoid.  It comes to us as an ordinary part of life, and faith tells us to respond in love. 

Paul’s love for those he was called to serve and lead is so great that the suffering that accompanied it was natural and acceptable.  Please God we will have the insight and faith to respond to whatever life brings us with gratitude and joy.

How do you understand suffering?  Has someone walked with you in yours; have you had the privilege to journey with others in their suffering?