Instead of today’s 4-week observance, Advent USED to be a period of 40 days on our liturgical calendar.  It was a counterpoint to Easter’s Lenten season. This 3rd week of Advent is called “Gaudete” (“Rejoice”) Sunday.  It refers to us ALMOST being at Christmas—and so we should rejoice in realizing once again that Jesus was born.  During this season, we are called to reflect on Jesus coming to us 3 times: 1) at Bethlehem, 2) in our lives by the way we live, 3) at the “2nd Coming.”

It was a stroke of genius (“inspiration?”) for the Church to highlight our call to rejoice—for reasons unrelated to the theology just summarized.  The medical community refers to this time of year as having an increase of what they call “Seasonal Affective Disorder” (“SAD”).  This is a type of depression that “happens usually during fall or winter. It is thought that shorter days and less daylight may set off a chemical change in the brain leading to symptoms of depression. Light therapy and antidepressants can help treat SAD.”  It sure is therapeutic for us to focus on the “Light of the world” being born at this time of year, and bringing “new life” to us when we might be in the throes of experiencing darkness and depression.

From a less scientific perspective and more associated with folk beliefs is the belief that a full moon affects our moods or behavior.  Anecdotally, people who work in hospitals or care facilities often report that residents are emotionally not centered when a full moon occurs.  Individuals might note an inability to sleep or feel emotions more strongly during this period.  However, studies have not confirmed the reality of a full moon having such an effect on people.   However, as with SAD, it is consoling for people to feel the full moon’s effect on them.  They can be consoled in realizing via “Gaudete”/Rejoice Sunday that God is alive and bringing them new life at a time when they especially feel the need for it.

This week had some important feasts for us to consider during Advent.  One was the Feast of the Immaculate Conception—the dogma declared in 1854 that tells of Mary being conceived “free from “original sin.”  That is, since Jesus was like us in all things but sin, we have to account for his not inheriting it from his parents.  If God was his father, great.  No sin there.  But what about Mary?  With Augustine influencing Church teaching that asserted we all inherited original sin—Jesus would have inherited it through Mary.  But that can’t be since Church teaching also said that Jesus was “like us in all things but sin.”  Voila—the solution was for the Church to declare in 1854 that God had made an exception in Mary’s case.  God saw to it that she was spared original sin.  Problem solved.

As you might suspect, not all Christians thought this perspective was well grounded.  It leaned too heavily on thinking of God as a puppeteer—injecting Himself into human affairs and pulling strings when strings needed pulling. However, one angle on this dogma that HAS earned broad support is that it calls attention not just to Mary’s conception—but to ours, too.  That is, when God created Mary, you, and me—God did not create just another organism who was of no consequence.  Nope!!  Just the opposite.  God made each of us for a reason, for a purpose, for a special role to perform and life to lead.  As Mary’s conception would one day bear the Savior, so our conception would one day see us bear——-What? 

The answer to that question can only be discovered by us in prayer—by conversing with God about why we were made who we are.  This topic is certainly worth pondering at Mass–and justice to ourselves and the world is that we be OBLIGATED to reflect on this reality.  That’s why this is a “holy day of obligation.”  God doesn’t benefit from our taking the time to discern why we were created—but we benefit from putting in the time—in order to discover our God-given identity.

This week of Advent also gave us the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe—who is associated with an apparition of Mary seen by a 50-year-old peasant named Juan Diego near what is now Mexico City in the 1500s.  Once again, scholars look at the Guadalupe tradition and are divided.  Nay-sayers look upon the devotion as void of historical facts and largely a myth promoted by Catholics to help convert Native people.  Others point to what was experienced as Mary greeting an ordinary person and revealing Jesus through Mary.  This debate aside, the historical reality that is NOT contested is the faith of millions who have benefited from the Guadalupe story.  As Gabriel came to a peasant girl to reveal the greatness her life would bring to the world, so are each of us reminded of the special vocation we have from a God who made us and threw away the mold of our unique beauty.  The people of Mexico and the Americas learned of Mary’s embrace of New World populations—a reality that is denied by those who characterize refugees as animalistic pests who should be sent back from where they came. 

The Church deemed it important to canonize Juan Diego and place his feast day in the same week as that of Our Lady of Guadalupe.  As with all the saints, his life is a beacon for us “ordinary people” who are called to do extraordinary things.  Receiving a message just as Mary had received one, he served the God who called upon him on an ordinary day near Mexico City.  His example reminds us to be on the lookout for God tapping us for some special role.

The other important date this week is December 11th, my ordination anniversary.  I say that with a sense of humor.  Were it not for parishioner Tom Mayan emailing anniversary blessings, the date would have gone by unnoticed.  However, an article I read did bring to mind the reality of a priest shortage.  The Archdiocese of Baltimore is closing two-thirds of its parishes.  This brings to mind the prophetic voice of Vatican 2 that brought to our consciousness a concept that needed expression 50 years ago.  That concept is “the priesthood of the laity.” 

Just as the early Christians relied on one another to sustain a practicing community of believers, so today our faith communities rely on the people in the pews to step up and give of their time, treasure, and talent more than ever before.  Fortunately, St. John’s DOES have people actively serving “the people of God.”  But there is always a need for more ministers of communion to visit the homebound or distribute at Mass, more lectors, choir members, social justice committee members, and social committee folk.  Other roles await your stepping up.

At this weekend’s masses, Russ Milan, chair of the finance committee, informed us that the parish was overall operating in the black and that special collections for those in need have always been supported well. 

In the week ahead, I volunteered to homilize at the vicariate reconciliation service.  My role is to remind people that they take to heart what Jesus is quoted as saying in Matthew’s Gospel: I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me.  Jesus was reminding his listeners that our challenge is to help those in need.  If you hear people debate issues and aren’t sure WHAT to think, His words are what should guide our attitudes and behavior.  If what someone argues will primarily benefit that person—go to the light and away from their darkness.  If your positions benefit have the wealthy make decisions that negatively impact those in need, go to the light—where those in need huddle for your help.

In the recent election, as with so many others, people often vote for candidates whose election will actually HURT those who vote for them.  This is due to the electorate being seduced by Madison Avenue campaign advertisers who know what “buttons to push” to get people’s attention (and vote).  Moreover, some candidates are “slick” salesmen who can lie to your face and have you believe them.  According to neutral campaign observers, Mr. Trump presented a steady stream of lies at his rallies, and this misinformation persuaded many to vote for him.

Misinforming the public seems more successful than educational institutions!  For example, Fox News draws 42% of the viewing public for the information it offers.  However, studies reveal that its viewers are the most MIS-informed of television audiences.  This is why the network was sued for 1 billion dollars for KNOWINGLY telling its audiences that the 2020 election was “stolen” when it knew full well that what it was telling viewers was a lie.  Even though people who watch the other networks are better informed than Fox viewers, those other networks attract fewer viewers.  Since most Americans are considered “low information” voters, their lack of information ends up putting people into office who will not represent those who voted for them.

MANY issues are beyond the grasp of us Americans.  This has often humorously and depressingly been shown in the past by Johnny Carson and Jay Leno in their “Person on the street” interviews. 

When estimating the size of different social groups, Americans rarely get it right.  Here are some samples of what people think and what the reality is (drawn from solid sources of information such as union membership rolls, census data, insurance companies, social security, the U.S. Census Bureau, the Bureau of Labor Statistics, and polls by YouGov and other polling firms.      

People THINK about 26% of the population earn 500k or more a year, but the actual percentage is 1%.    People THINK 36% of workers belong to unions but the actual % is 4%.    People THINK 30% are vegetarian but it is 5% .   People think 34% are left-handed but the actual figure is 11%.     What people THINK and what is TRUE are often enough not the same.  Americans tend to vastly overestimate the size of minority groups. This holds for sexual minorities, including the proportion of gays and lesbians (estimate: 30%, true: 3%), bisexuals (estimate: 29%, true: 4%), and people who are transgender (estimate: 21%, true: 0.6%).

It also applies to religious minorities, such as Muslim Americans (estimate: 27%, true: 1%) and Jewish Americans (estimate: 30%, true: 2%). And we find the same sorts of overestimates for racial and ethnic minorities, such as Native Americans (estimate: 27%, true: 1%), Asian Americans (estimate: 29%, true: 6%), and Black Americans (estimate: 41%, true: 12%).

Surprisingly, except for Indians, all Americans come from outside North America.  However, as a nation, we carry biases or prejudices against “foreigners” when, at some point in the past, OUR ANCESTORS were “foreigners.”  Children of immigrants are not born with a “foreign” gene, but instead adapt immediately to the country their parents adopted.  The message of the Gospel is, as you know, that we are all brothers and sisters—spiritually AND biologically.  Advent is a time when we try to internalize this reality.

The opening verses of this week’s Gospel might put listeners to sleep as they spell out who the political leaders were in power when John the Baptist was born.  The names and regions they ruled are strange sounding—perhaps as strange as some names that people will read about in the centuries ahead—when the world is very different from what it is today. 

Why did Luke bother to cite those names and places?  Probably to remind readers that names will change over time, but the human race will still need to hear what his Gospel is reporting.  The story he tells will need to be heard by generation after generation.  He is telling the story of a leader whose message is for all times and places and people.

This reading, and Advent in general, reminded me of my novitiate—the first 2 years of formation within the Jesuit Order.  This period of training is sometimes referred to as a “desert experience.”  Except for having certain pastoral experiences during this time, we did not have access to TV, radio, telephone, newspapers, cars, travel, home visits, and other “deprivations” of what most people take for granted. 

Moreover, we observed silence during meals and during most times of the day unless granted permission during our hour of nightly “recreation” (i.e., conversation or ping pong play after lunch or dinner).  We had one break day a week, and this consisted of being assigned to take a walk in the country with 2 other novices.  The day began at 5:30 a.m. and lights out took place at 9 p.m.  N.B.. a Jesuit friend from that period said that spending 2 years in Sandstone Prison for acts of civil disobedience wasn’t at all challenging.  His novitiate period was more daunting.

This regimen was intended to help us “get in touch” with what we REALLY needed in living a life that was dedicated to the service of God by serving others.  It was a time during which we had prayer periods and meditation periods that would have us try to contour our speech and behavior in accord with what Jesus spoke and did.  A phrase commonly heard was that we give one another “the plus sign.”  That is, “plus” refers to us putting a positive spin on one another (the “plus” being both a symbol of the cross and a positive sign).

Why does this novitiate experience come to mind?  Because Advent is a kind of retreat for all of us.  It’s each of us once again entering the “novitiate” of learning how to be a Christian, a Catholic, a Christ-like person.  We try and imagine ourselves walking the road to Bethlehem in our everyday experience—and celebrating new life when Christmas day arrives.  Advent calls us to reflect on our life-experiences that have been good, bad, or indifferent.  And during this reflective period, we keep in mind what Theresa of Avila said.  Namely, “God writes straight in crooked lines.”  And so, this period calls us to reflect on how God has spoken to us in both crooked lines and straight ones.

This past week gave us powerful examples of how fellow Catholics lived their lives inspired by the Gospel.  For example, Francis Xavier’s feast day was December 3^rd.  He helped found the Jesuits along with St. Ignatius Loyola. Born into nobility, he was asked by Ignatius to take the place of another SJ and go to China and Japan as a missionary.  This was something he, a nobleman, had not planned to do.  However, as an obedient “son of Ignatius,” he did as his “General” commanded (the Jesuits were modeled on the military). 

He then spent the rest of his life in that part of the world—and is today the patron saint of missionaries.  My mom gave me a biography of St. Francis when I was in the 4^th grade, and at that early age was emotionally moved by the man’s example.  Since my middle name was “Francis,” I took “Xavier” as my confirmation name.  Maybe reading that book helped me also read the crooked lines that led to my entering the Jesuits.

This past week also saw the anniversary of the American women killed in El Salvador in 1980.  They were ordinary, God-fearing folk from Ohio who could pass for our parishioners here.  They read the crooked lines of their lives as an invitation to work with the poor.  They volunteered to teach religion and help at clinics.  The U.S.-supported government did not want anyone educating illiterate peasants—so troops were ordered to rape and murder these women (troops later murdered Jesuit priests, too). 

The Reagan-era Ambassador to the U.N, Jeanne Kirkpatrick, represented American lies when she said the nuns might have exchanged gunfire with troops when ordered to stop their van on the highway (the Reagan White House knew full well that no gunfire was exchanged and that soldiers had perpetrated the crimes).  As noted in previous bulletins, religious Orders have boots on the ground globally, and we Jesuits knew early on that the White House was seducing Americans with specious talk of “fighting communism” in Central America (Jesuits accused of being gun-runners—more lies upon lies that a gullible America confused with patriotism).

The nuns and laywoman have been fonts of inspiration for people who know their story (there being a full-length film on the laywoman’s life).  Literally called to the cross, these obscure women became globally known martyrs. Meeting family and friends of these people moved me to learn of the many ways our government does not always serve the greater good of our nation.  

Indian America’s potential saint, Nicholas Black Elk, was honored in many places this past week because December 6^th is the feast day of St. Nicholas (the original Santa Claus).  After 1904, “Nick” Black Elk was known as “Nick” instead of the more esoteric “Black Elk.” 

It was I, a Detroiter with an interest in American Indians, who stumbled my way through graduate studies until at last getting my PhD dissertation published as Black Elk: Holy Man of the Oglala.  This book, and another that I wrote, set him on the road to canonization.  The crooked lines of HIS life included his fighting the U.S. cavalry and assuming the role of respected medicine man among his people.  Known globally for his inspirational biography penned by a writer in 1932, no one knew about his life as a Catholic catechist until my work became known.  However, when embarking upon grad studies, I was not aware that this period would be filled with the crooked lines through which God spoke to my experience.

I was to learn that an anthropology program is the longest course of studies in academia.  I also learned that the discipline is mainly composed of atheists or agnostics.  Because of the makeup of the discipline’s landscape, my time at MSU was quite challenging.  Fellow Jesuits wondered if I was just enjoying “the good life” on campus since others had pursued degrees and had completed them in less time than I was taking.  Why the delay with me?  Socially, I had no ties with fellow students or professors within the department since I had little in common within the ranks. 

At the meet-and-greet party, a fellow student confronted me and asked why I was there.  After all, “Jesuits and Catholicism ruined every culture they touched.”  Fortunately, a professor overheard this comment and suggested we avoid such talk and simply socialize.  The fellow student’s attitude was one I felt hung heavy in the air whenever I was visiting the department.

Talk about crooked lines!  Isolated largely from the department, I was blessed to connect with campus ministry and bond with students who came to mass (at the parish named “St. John’s”).  I struggled through the program and became the first of my class to earn the PhD degree.  Of the 15 who started the program, only 2 of us completed it. 

Tough times didn’t stop there.  When seeking a position at Lake Superior State, a Dean with whom I spoke mused that I was a little old to be getting a doctoral degree.  I informed her that I was at the average age that one acquired an anthropology PhD that year.  Instead of asking her if that comment violated the law since it suggested “age-ism,” I listened and learned that she was unaware that Jesuits were involved with higher education globally, and that the University of Detroit was one of 28 other well-known Jesuit colleges in the U.S.  It was no surprise that there was no position available at LSSU with this woman being the Dean!!

Feeling as if I’d been swimming upstream in higher ed, I could hardly imagine that my dissertation would address the life of Black Elk, and that a Bishop from Rapid City, S.D. would call me 30 years later and ask me to write up for him reasons why I think the man is worthy of canonization as a saint.  Bishop Gruss (who I didn’t know and who I never thought of one day working for) submitted the man’s name—on my birthday—of 2017, and the assembled unanimously approved the request.  Never imagining myself to be part of anyone’s canonization process, I took this occurrence as the clarification of what had been several years of crooked lines as a priest-student at MSU pursuing an anthropology degree.

Were it not for my involvement with sacramental ministry at the parish, I would probably never have made this contribution to Indian America’s Catholic heritage.  Native people were the star that guided me to a Bethlehem experience that has brought new life to others.  And that’s why we are a faith community at the altar each week.  Quoting Black Elk, we come here to the “table of the Lord”-manger to hear that “a sacred voice is calling” each of us.  The challenges cited in my case are of a kind to your own.  I described my faith journey—which I took to the altar year-round—especially at Advent.  I’ve given you examples from my life to illustrate that sacramental participation helps us read God’s handwriting.

Advent helps us perceive why God made us and what sense we can make of our experiences.  They have a message that was difficult to read when going through them at times.  God DID create us for a reason, and each one of us has our special calling to make our own special contribution.  Advent reminds us that each of us is, throughout life, enroute to Bethlehem—seeking where the Lord can be found in the crooked lines of our life-experience.

This weekend we begin the Advent season.  It reminds me of my life journey bringing me to you here at Bethlehem (that is, John the 23^rd Parish).  Here’s how the trip here unfolded.

The university at which I taught for 25 years went into debt and fired its faculty at the end of the academic year of 2019.  Since universities hire for the coming year long before our termination, it was a challenge to find a new role somewhere.  I had a few academic offers but decided to return to parish work (which was what I did when first ordained and named pastor of St. Isaac Jogues Church in Sault Ste. Marie). 

My provincial sent a letter to several bishops to inform them that I was available, and Bishop Gruss contacted me.  Another bishop met with me and did not appreciate my meeting with him and not wearing clerics (the black shirt and white collar).  Staying at a friend’s parish and living out of a suitcase, I made the drive 200 miles on a hot summer day to rendezvous with that Indiana bishop. I thought my resume would be more than adequate in representing myself to him.  I did not realize that he probably didn’t read my resume or that by not wearing clerics, the bishop would take offense and not consider me for some pastoral role.  We parted after what I thought was a congenial meeting at which he said he’d keep my name in mind.  A friend with contacts in that diocese later told me that the bishop was disappointed that I didn’t wear clerics when meeting him. So much for the brotherhood of priests.  Perhaps he subscribed to the proverb: “The clothes make the man.”

Bishop Gruss knew me from a couple of years earlier when he called to ask for information on Black Elk.  My provincial said to honor his request—so my first task was to decide which of my belongings I no longer needed to be my life companions.  I still had clothing that I had worn in high school, sports coats, suits, and shirts I wore in college classrooms and formal events I would attend from time to time.  A number of other possessions told me to move on without them, and it wasn’t easy to leave them behind.  Several hundred books that I cherished found a home at Montana State University’s Indian studies program while other things went to Akron’s Goodwill store. 

I report this not to complain about that unpleasant transition period.  I tell you of these experiences because they remind me of what Advent is about.  Namely, for the next 4 weeks, we will be journeying to Bethlehem in prayer and meditation.  We will review our past and bring to consciousness our experiences that need revisiting.  We’re like the Magi—following the stars that illuminate our path through life, and reflecting on which ones we need to follow.

The Advent season brings to mind the people who, in 1997, looked to the sky and saw what at first appeared to be a shiny, moving star.   The “star” was actually the Hale Bopp Comet, and the people were 39 followers of Marshall Applewhite,  For those 39 people—folks who were young and old, and who seemed very much like you and me gathered here—were entranced by Applewhite’s charismatic style.  They got teary-eyed in speaking of all he had done for them.  They looked forward to committing suicide so that they could join the alien spaceship that came (Applewhite told them) to pick them up on the other side of the comet.  And so, this group made international news when they committed mass suicide based on the hypnotic speeches of a man who was insane.

The “star” these people saw was no star that led to a new life.  This group called itself “Heaven’s Gate” and they remind me of the reality that we humans live our lives guided by what we think are lights.  We seek life or joy or fulfillment in acquiring things bought on “black Friday” or “small business Saturday” or “cyber Monday.”  The years go by and our purchases gather dust in attics or in storage rentals.  We don’t end our search like the Heaven’s Gate people, but we still seek nourishment for our life journey that often enough presents us with deserts that are tough to travel.

Advent is a period of self-discovery—when we assess what kind of traveling companion we’ve been for others with whom we’ve walked.  At this time, we focus on roads that have taken us to places that have not been particularly productive.  We recall rivalries, jealousies, lusts, and self-centered superfluities that absorbed our attention with lifeless behaviors.  And as we ponder our life history, we sincerely ask God to lead us to a Bethlehem manger that will feed our varied hungers.  The Christmas story brings us a simple message.  Namely, if we find Jesus on our journey, we find new life.

Gathering at Mass reflects that message—as the “table of the Lord” is the dinner table of the Last Supper where, like a manger, we find sustenance.

Timely examples of how we are preyed upon are easy to find.  One comes from the world of holiday shopping.  The other comes from the president-elect’s appointments of cabinet members.     As for shopping, a study was done these past weeks showing that Target and other popular stores RAISED their prices a few weeks ago.  They then REDUCED the prices to what they previously were—and then advertised the supposed DISCOUNTS they were giving on those items. 

Similarly, inflation on food costs was inflation only because food corporations chose to “price gouge.”  Your prices SHOULD  be lower than they are—but the billionaires who run these food corporations know you have no recourse but TO EAT—and so are victims.  Although economists said Mr. Trump’s economic plans will only INCREASE the cost of food, his lies won enough votes to eke out a victory.   Victimization will continue since few follow good news sources (43% watch FOX and so get information from a network sued for knowingly lying to its viewers).  Moreover, people who don’t follow the news probably don’t know that the new administration has nominated people to important posts and each one has major ethical flaws. 

This is not a surprise to those who follow solid news sources.  These appointees reflect the amoral man who 48% of voters chose to represent them. Since this new administration has not even been sworn into office, the future does not seem bright—meaning that we need the star of Bethlehem to guide us all the more (since light won’t be coming from the man in charge (keep in mind it was his sister and niece who said he has no values other than self-interest, and he’s the one who admitted on national radio that he has sexually assaulted many women—which several of his appointees have likewise done.  So these are facts, not my political opinion). 

HOWEVER, we can be Bethlehem’s star for others.  How?  This is also the season of Christ’s Mission Appeal—mid-Michigan’s Catholic outreach to many people.  Previously, my Pollyanna approach to this yearly collection was to say we could knock off our parish assessment by Christmas.  I encouraged you to make your donation before Christmas.  That never worked, so I’ll simply suggest that just as you buy gifts for people at Christmas time, why not give Jesus a present on his birthday—your CMA donation!!  Think of Christmas as the birthday of Jesus—and that we are giving him a birthday present.  What he most wants is our outreach to people—and that’s what CMA is all about in mid-Michigan (and beyond).

_{+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++}

If, as did Herod, we fill our lives with things; and if we consider creation around us as objects that we must fill every moment of our lives with “noise” and “busy-ness,” when will we have the time to make the long, slow journey across the desert, as did the Magi?  Or sit and watch the stars, as did the shepherds?  Or meditate upon the coming of the child, as did Mary?  For each one of us, there is a desert to travel.  A star to discover.  A being within ourselves to bring to life.

This week’s bulletin is a little different from others. This is because I thought it would be helpful to shed light on the Church’s observance of what we call “holy days.”  2024’s calendar presented some confusion on this topic, so I hope this casts light on the matter.  The following paragraphs are quoted from the Archdiocese of Washington and the Diocese of Saginaw.

What prompts my spending time on this topic is motivated by my receiving a call from a Saginaw laywoman who said that her parish priest announced that it was a mortal sin to miss Mass on a Holy Day.  However, she then spoke with a friend out-of-state who said they were not “obligated” to attend Mass for the Feast of the Immaculate Conception.

The Archdiocese of Washington:  Holy Days of Obligation are feasts of importance in our Church, but we may sometimes get bogged down in the understanding of obligation. When we turn our attention to the celebratory nature of Holy Days, we see every Holy Day is an invitation, an opportunity to come together in the Eucharistic Celebration to consider a particular aspect of the mystery of our salvation.

Six holy days are observed annually in the U.S. Catholic Church. Three of them focus on the Blessed Virgin Mary – marking the Immaculate Conception, celebrating her as the Mother of God, and marking her Assumption into heaven. These three together invite us to celebrate the entirely unique holiness of our Blessed Mother.

Typically, the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception is celebrated on December 8. This year, December 8 is the Second Sunday of Advent. The Church moves a solemnity that falls on Sundays in Advent out of deference for our preparation to welcome the Lord on Christmas. So the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception is transferred to Monday, December 9.

There has been some confusion this year about the observance of this Holy Day and the obligation to attend Mass. But guidance from the Vatican was only recently shared and many parish calendars were already set for the year.

Therefore, Cardinal Wilton Gregory has granted that all Catholics of The Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Washington are dispensed from the obligation to attend Mass for the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception, as it is observed in 2024 on Monday, December 9. While this dispensation is available, the faithful are encouraged to take advantage of the graces of the holy day, whether by attending Mass or by engaging in other acts of prayer, charity, and Christian witness.  N.B., Some dioceses have NOT granted a dispensation from attending Mass and some have.  Bishops reserve the right to make this decision.

The Diocese of Saginaw: In 2024, December 8 is the Second Sunday of Advent, so the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception is transferred to Monday, December 9.  Previously, when the DATE was transferred the obligation was abrogated.  That will no longer be true.

FROM THE USCCB:    Earlier this year, Bishop Thomas J. Paprocki, Chairman of the USCCB’s Committee on Canonical Affairs and Church Governance, wrote to the Holy See seeking clarification about the obligation to attend Mass when a holy day of obligation in Advent, Lent, or Easter falls on Sunday and the Solemnity is transferred to Monday. In a memo to the U.S. bishops dated Thursday, October 10, Bishop Paprocki communicated the Dicastery for Legislative Text’s response: “the feast must be observed as a day of obligation on the day to which it is transferred.” In light of this new directive, the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception Monday, December 9, 2024 is to be observed as a holy day of obligation.

FREQUENTLY-ASKED QUESTIONS REGARDING DECEMBER 8 & 9, 2024

Q. Is Monday, December 9, 2024, a holy day of obligation?

A.  As was previously noted in the October 15 “FDLC Memo,” the solemnity of the Immaculate Conception is to be celebrated as a holy day of obligation, even when the DATE is transferred to Monday, December 9.  This was first conveyed in a memo to the U.S. bishops dated Thursday, October 10, by Bishop Paprocki.  He communicated the ruling he had received from the Dicastery for Legislative Texts:  “The feast must be observed as a day of obligation on the day to which it is transferred.”

Q. What Mass texts should we use on Sunday evening, December 8?

A.  All Masses on the Second Sunday of Advent (up to midnight on Sunday) will use Mass texts for the Second Sunday of Advent.  This liturgical day “outranks” the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception on the “Table of Liturgical Days According to Their Order of Precedence” (See Universal Norms on the Liturgical Year and the General Roman Calendar, no. 59).    Sundays of Advent have a rank of two, Solemnities of the Lord, of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and of the Saints have a rank of three.

Q. How does this ruling affect the other holy days that were impacted by the “Monday or Saturday” ruling of the USCCB in 1993?

A. In 1993, the USCCB ruled that when January 1, August 15, and November 1 fell on a Saturday or a Monday, the obligation to attend Mass was abrogated.  This ruling did not apply to other solemnities, including Christmas and the Immaculate Conception (because the latter is the patronal feast of the United States).  These three solemnities – Mary, Mother of God, the Assumption, and All Saints — will NOT be impacted by the recent ruling since there is no danger that their DATE will have to be transferred because there is no potential for them conflicting with a liturgical day of higher rank in their respective seasons.

The USA’s complementary norm for canon 1246, §2 remains in force: “Whenever January 1, the solemnity of Mary, Mother of God, or August 15, the solemnity of the Assumption, or November 1, the solemnity of All Saints, falls on a Saturday or on a Monday, the precept to attend Mass is abrogated.”

November is an important month for the U.S. because it is the month of Thanksgiving, Native American Month, and, most importantly, the month of the pastor’s birthday.  Okay, 2 of those 3 make it an important month.  Regrettably, my birthday doesn’t make the cut. 

In light of my connection to Native America, I wanted to see that our parish once again join in contemplating certain themes within this people’s spirituality and ritual practice.  But first—a reflection on what at first might seem to be unrelated observations about the elections that just occurred.

As one political party mourns its loss in the presidential election, the other party rejoices that it received what some call a “mandate” (i.e., an overwhelming expression of support) from the voters.  Neither response is grounded. 

Those who think the new administration has been given a green light to chart new courses—is not at all what the final tally shows.  As of this writing, Mr. Trump received 49% of the votes (less than half of the votes cast) and VP Harris got 48% of the popular vote.  Just as Mr. Trump won his first term with FEWER votes than his opponent, so this year’s tally was the closest finale in 25 years.  That’s no mandate.  The only thing we can conclude is that the country remains split.  It seems the only mandate given by the American people is for us to remain “a house divided against itself” (Matthew 12: 25).  Doesn’t this make us a sad lot?

Just as mistaken was the losing party when it thought IT would receive a “mandate” because their opponent had long been known for corrupt business practices for which he was fined.  He was, moreover, a felon (over 30 counts), a convicted rapist (the judge’s word), an adulterer in 3 marriages, and guilty of many sexual assaults (his admission on the radio).  His opponents also falsely assumed that the voting public would remember that he left the presidency with a 34% approval rating—the lowest of any outgoing president since the 1920s.  Moreover, since the economy was the best since Kennedy’s presidency, the losing party couldn’t help but think that victory would be theirs.  After all, the man’s own sister (a Federal judge) even said he had no values.  What thinking person would vote for such a candidate?  Obviously, the losing side miscalculated what type of person the electorate wanted to represent America to the world.

Differences of opinion are common.  They exist in all areas of life.  In the case above, some wanted one candidate while some wanted another.  People everywhere seek leaders who offer them better living conditions or more prosperity or an end to war or plagues or civil strife.  We even resort to war and killing others when having conflicts that we refuse to settle in some amicable, non-violent way.  Essentially, Jesus came because we were unable to live in a manner that our Creator intended for us to live.  Theoretically, we who are Catholic accept Jesus as our leader and role model.  Practically, we are humans who are given a variety of other humans to serve as our leaders.  We mistakenly place our trust and future in them—only to realize that no leader matches the Lord’s leadership—as in the historical scene that follows.

When thinking of people voting and the topic of American Indian religion, I was reminded of a movement that swept through the American West at the end of the 19^th century.  Namely, a charismatic Paiute Indian named Wovoka convinced many different tribes that the Son of God was going to have a “Second Coming” (a topic taught within Christian theology that Indians had learned about in terms of Christ’s return.)

Wovoke preached that if people danced a certain way, the earth would swallow up White people, the dead would arise, the buffalo would return, and the old ways would be restored to the way things were before the reservation period.  “Ghost shirts” would deflect bullets, and a new earth would arrive in the Spring of 1891 when the prairie flowers bloomed.  As many tribes did the dance, the Navajo of the Southwest wanted nothing to do with it.  They had deep-seated beliefs related to the dead that made them tell Ghost Dance visitors to go elsewhere and not remain near them.

A political appointee with no knowledge of Indians and no competency to be the reservation superintendent at Pine Ridge called Washington to send in troops to keep the peace should hostilities arise.  The arrival of troops probably made the Lakota/Sioux think the White people feared the TRUTH of this 2^nd Coming.  What resulted was a confrontation of the Cavalry with a band of men, women, and children at Wounded Knee Creek that saw many of those Lakota killed.  When the Spring flowers bloomed and life continued as before, the Ghost Dance ended.

Be we Lakota Ghost Dancers or modern-day voters, we seek a better life.  When choosing leaders, we are Navajo and Lakota.  We make different choices, and we live, or die, with the results.  We are blessed to have Jesus as a role model for the choices we make.  In this weekend’s gospel, Jesus cautions us to not guess when the “2^nd Coming” will take place.  The important thing is for us to live one day at a time—until God calls us to our heavenly home—where the Spring flowers bloom all the time.

As we gather on Sundays, or at any Mass, I’m reminded of our sacred gathering being like those celebrated in Indian country.  Instead of “burning incense,” Native people will do what’s known as the “smudging” ceremony.  The 4 sacred herbs of sage, sweet grass, cedar and tobacco are burned and wafted toward those in attendance who gesture as if washing themselves from head to toe with the smoke.  The one leading the ceremony makes a circular journey around the group gathered—placing the sacred gathering within the circle symbolizing the Creator who, like the circle, has no beginning or end.  As with our incense, so Native smudging smoke rises in the air—symbolically taking our thoughts and prayers to the Creator above.

Praying with a sacred pipe involved taking tobacco and putting a pinch in the bowl as one first faces the east, then south, then west, and north.  One also aims the pipe stem upward and below—all of these directions being where special powers reside.  It is their power, the power of the Creator’s gifs, that are invoked.  Tribes in the western U.S. tend to being the pipe offering in the west, then north, east, south, above and below.  The pipe offering widespread, but groups vary in how it is offered (grains of tobacco representing each person in attendance along with the many intentions they bring to the ceremonial prayer).  Colors, too, are associated with the directions—the most common being white, black, red, and yellow.

People sometimes ask if Indians smoke peyote in their sacred pipe, and the answer is no.  Peyote is a plant found in southern Texas and Mexico and is used only in ceremonies conducted by Indians who formally belong to a practice that was legally incorporated in 1918—the “Native American Church.”  That name is a misnomer since it sounds as if ALL Indians belong to it. 

Most popular among the Navajo but found among a number of tribes, the Native American Church includes the consumption of peyote during the group’s all-night service.  Non-Indian Catholics find it difficult to devote 1 hour a week at Mass while peyote practitioners will spend 13 hours seated on the ground within a tipi—praying, speaking, singing, and consuming limited amounts of peyote.  Being a hallucinogen that is illegal to possess, Native American Church people are very careful about who attends their meetings.  When drug use became popular in the 60s and 70s, young people wandered into Indian country wanting access to Church gatherings.  They were not welcome.

Instead of the service being some sort of drug fest, consumption for individuals might be like a Catholic sipping wine from the chalice at Communion.  Alcohol’s effect on someone is undiscernible.  My sense of a peyote meeting is that it is a profound prayer meeting—the religion being a mixture of biblical religion and some tribal traditions (contingent upon the tribe and group).  

Among the Lakota, a phrase that ends all religious gatherings or prayer ceremonies asserts that “all are relatives.”  This assertion may well have arisen after Christian contact brought new understandings within Native groups.  Instead of a more parochial expression, one is asking that those gathered leave the gathering with that realization in mind and heart.  The Lakota phrase technically says “All my relatives” (suggesting a more closed sense of belongingness).  However, the phrase might also imply that “all ARE my relatives.”

That sentiment, expressed by Charles Darwin when first proposing that “all life forms are related,” reinforces what we now know to be an essential fact of life on earth (now proclaimed by Lakota in prayer).  We are all relatives (so let us live that way).

This week’s reading from I Kings tells of how a widow and her son are miraculously fed for a year after giving food to a man of God, Elijah.  This reading prepares us for hearing this same theme (being fed by God) in the New Testament.  Figuratively speaking, Jesus fed others in his ministry—culminating in his gift of his presence in the Eucharist.  “Breaking bread” at the “table of the Lord” hammers home the idea expressed in today’s Elijah story.  That is, God literally feeds the three characters.  Even the second reading echoes this same idea.  The Letter to the Hebrews gives the only New Testament referring to Jesus as being a high priest.  He bridges heaven with earth—a symbolic feeding of our spirit.

The Gospel reading reminded me of my grandmother, and of the national elections that took place this past week.  How so?  Let me explain—in the hope that what I express might illuminate the varied darkness-es we experience.

With the election this week, what came to mind was that half the population is pleased with the results and half the population is not.  Every 2 and 4 years, we turn to the ballot box to produce a winner who will, in turn, make us a winner by producing good legislation.  At least, that is what we HOPE will take place. We cast our vote in the hope of helping our lives in some way (even though exit polls show that voters often enough vote AGAINST candidates whose positions would have helped them). 

While not an exact parallel, this political ritual reminded me of what anthropologists refer to as “divination.”  This refers to the attempt to gain insight into a question or situation by way of a little-known ritual or practice. Using various methods throughout history, diviners provide some course of action for a person seeking their help.  Diviners do this by reading signs, interpreting events, or omens, or through alleged contact or interaction with supernatural agencies such as spirits, gods, god-like-beings or the “will of the universe.”  In some ways, elections are a means by which we “throw the dice” on a candidate in the hope that he or she will have the answer to our concern.

My grandmother used to “read tea leaves.”  People would come to her and ask for a “reading” that would give them guidance of some kind.  She also had “witch cards” that were like a deck of playing cards.  She used them, too, in her role as a “diviner.”  There are numerous forms of divination found globally.  For example, some claim to be able to get information about you by having you urinate in a container, and the bubbles that are produced can provide answers to questions you might have.  “Necromancy” is also known as “spiritualism” and refers to contacting the dead.  The great magician, Harry Houdini, put an end to this popular practice in the early 20^th century.  However, it came back in the late 20^th century—charlatans able to convince bereaved mourners that their loved one could be contacted (for a price).

Reading fingernails, belly-buttons, dried mud cracks, wrinkles in your forehead, and countless other ridiculous types of divination thrive among us humans.  And THAT is why I raise the topic at Mass after election week.  All of the different forms of divination are a commentary on our human condition.  We are so weak, or fragile, or so insecure that we seek help from all sorts of objects or behaviors that claim to produce the answers to questions brought to the diviner. 

My grandmother told me that she had no special knowledge that her tea leaves or witch cards produced.  She simply said that she would provide people with vague answers that were upbeat, and that people were satisfied.  I’ve attended séances and ancient ceremonies that originated centuries ago in Siberia (that were adopted by American Indian groups).  These experiences have made me all the more thankful that I have a sacramental system within the Church that speaks to the diverse highs and lows of everyday life.

Adepts, or practitioners, of divination forms were skilled in making their clientele believe that their activity would meet with success.  THAT’S what this past week’s election brought to mind.  Elected candidates convinced voters that their election would bring about new answers to old problems.  We are like the widow in today’s Gospel reading.  We robotically pay our Temple tax because the Scribes and Pharisees convince us that our donation will make life better.

People might think that the Gospel lesson is that we should do as the widow did and pay our last penny to the Temple.  But this is NOT the point of the story.  Instead, Jesus is chastising both the authorities AND the woman.  The former group gets wealthy while the widow puts herself in even worse condition by not resisting the manipulative authorities.

When Jesus walked he earth, it was customary for one to defer to religious authorities and honor them in public, provide them the best seats at banquets, and best seats in the synagogue.  These gluttons enjoyed “the good life” while widows were at the bottom of the social ladder.  Without a husband to represent their best interest, the widow class was in bad shape.  By contrast, the wealthy religious leaders easily paid the Temple tax from their deep pockets while the poor widow made her condition even worse by not resisting their abuse. 

I was reminded of today’s disparity of wealth in America when multi-billionaire Elon Musk said that people will have to tighten their belts and sacrifice.  Speaking like the politically powerful people who executed Jesus, he called upon Americans to bite the bullet—just as the widow was biting—a behavior that Musk will never have to do.  His compadre, Mr. Trump, apparently made Americans believe that he cared about their grocery costs (despite being fined and barred from running a charitable enterprise in the State of New York for running a charity that raised money only for himself).  We can be conned into believing anything—so vulnerable we are to deceptions of diverse kinds.

Were it not for being a sad commentary on our human condition, it is humorous that voters re-elected a candidate who had a 41 percent approval rating during his full term — four points lower than any of his predecessors in Gallup’s polling era, which began with Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1938.  Voters fantasized better times—just like this weekend’s widow who thought her 2 cent donation would work to her advantage.  Her story is a stark reminder to us that Jesus was put to death by a power structure that favored the wealthy—the Scribes and Pharisees whose behavior he condemned.

Jesus does not praise but rather laments this woman’s behavior. She has been taught “sacrificial giving” by her religious leaders, and that is the pity. These authorities promised to redistribute Temple collections to the needy. In actuality, they spent the funds on conspicuous consumption instead.  I’m reminded of the Ohio congressman who went to office with a life-savings of something like 150 thousand dollars.  He is now worth 11 million dollars “serving” his district by voting for tax breaks to the wealthy.

Our parish tradition has been to celebrate the Feast of All Saints with the Feast of All Souls on the weekend nearest their dates (November 1^st/2^nd).  So we honor the memory of our loved ones in the parish who God called back during the year.  Our faith community shares their loss with families who have provided photos while we have lit a candle for each person—symbolizing the flame of their life is still alive within our memory and heart.

In Church history, we first had what was called the “Feast of All Martyrs.”  In 835, this was changed to the Feast of All Saints, and took place at what was then considered in Celtic tradition the beginning of the year (November 1^st).  As Jewish people begin their Sabbath at sundown Friday, so these people began their Holy Day on “all hallows eve” (or the evening of the holy ones or saints).  Over time these words elided into Halloween—October 31^st.  Celebration with apples and cider took place—and the Church expanded the remembering of ALL who died (not just saints) to November 2^nd—and that became All Souls Day.  So this is a special weekend for our parish—with photos of our loved ones on the Mass program.  One day, your photo will be there.  How will you be remembered?

We’re called to the altar where we can bring once again our prayer of thanksgiving for those who can be our advocates in heaven.  Their place in the pew can’t be taken in quite the same way, but we should reflect on the hard reality that the pews have emptied in our churches throughout the country (12% of the Philadelphia Catholic population going to Mass).  Our loved ones have passed the torch to us—but many have not taken it from them.  Such is the nature of society becoming more and more secularized.  In countless ways, we are barraged with messages saying that God is unimportant to our lives. 

Ron Reagan, son of the former president, proudly proclaims in radio commercials that he’s an atheist and advertises for people to join his “Freedom From Religion Foundation.”  Incongruously, among the pieces of merchandise that Mr. Trump sells is a bible—even though he practices no religion.  So it appears we’re influenced by powerful people to keep the pews empty.

Today reminds us that the loved ones we’ve buried this year would not want an empty church to be their legacy.

Let’s face it.  To be a Catholic, or have a Christian identity, is no simple thing.  I can understand why people would just as soon sleep in on Sunday or drink beer on Saturday afternoon.  Those behaviors call us to just take life for granted, and carry on doing whatever it is we want to do.  We’re seduced into thinking that, as the beer commercial said: “It doesn’t get any better than this.”  Yep!  TV and beer—that’s the meaning of life.  Right?  Uh…….no.

People seem to have forgotten that scripture’s story is our story, and that to understand where our story should go—we have to immerse ourselves in its content, its stories that shed light on our experience.  To live our life-story the best possible way, we need to know scripture’s lessons and be part of the prayerful gathering of the faith community each weekend (or more often) to discern why God made us who we are.  Within the sacramental experience, we learn why God created us for this period in history.  It was GOD who wanted YOU—here and now.  Why?

Why did God see that you be born to the people who tended your upbringing.  Why has God sustained your life until now, and put different sorts of people into your life?  Creation isn’t complete without your presence in it—with your presence intended to affect the lives of others—in your own unique way of living as Jesus has taught. 

Our deceased loved ones know these things better than I can express them here.  All I can do is remind you of our vocation as people of the Gospel, people of the sacraments, people of the Word, and people of the Cross.  What a profound symbol—the cross—pointing in 4 directions—pointing to all places and all people.  It points to the sky above and the earth below where all living things dwell.  In pointing upward, it reminds us of the God who made us and who is above our human joys and sorrows.  We look toward the heavens, vertically, asking our Creator for guidance, encouragement, and inspiration.

Arms of the cross reach out horizontally—reminding us of one another, of the human family who are brothers and sisters in Christ. As Jesus did, so are we called to reach out to fellow-travelers (and not just immediate family members).  I think of people who belittle those seeking refuge where they can find it—like our ancestors who came to the shores of America seeking refuge.  Just as our Irish, Italian, German, and other Europeans were greeted with hate by militia groups like the Ku Klux Klan, so today WE Irish, Italian, German, and other European descendants belittle, taunt, and abuse people coming from the south.  I think of how we lost our beloved brother, Carlos Sanchez, this year and wonder how many other people like Carlos seek refuge as his family once did.  The past is present—just in different faces.  God’s people—the cross offering its outreach.

Today’s gospel passage hits the bull’s eye of Christian theology.  Namely, Mark reported that Jesus spoke of the commandments and said that “the most important one is this: ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.”  In giving this reply to a “teacher of the law,” Jesus combined Deuteronomy 6:5 (love Lord) and Leviticus 19:18 (love neighbor).

The Christian cross, or crucifix, symbolizes a wisdom that non-Christian (although baptized Presbyterian) Mark Twain captured in an adage.  He observed:   “The best way to cheer yourself up is to try to cheer somebody else up.” This behavior relates to the horizontal element of our Christian identity.  It is the “reaching out” to others that is our Gospel mandate (part 2 of the “Greatest Commandment”).  Sadly, our wounded world gives daily witness to hurts we inflict on one another literally. or verbally, or through neglect. 

Twain’s Huckleberry Finn tells of two families who attend church services and then go right back to engaging in bloodshed.  Their behavior (which is ours, too, in our own unique way) moves one to wonder if Jesus were here today, “there is one thing he would not be — a Christian” (if their practice, or ours, bears this type of fruit).

As Christianity’s most profound symbol, the cross at Catholic churches is displayed with a “corpus,” or “body.”  A cross without a corpus conjures up thoughts of Jesus becoming “the Christ,” or “Messiah” who overcame the cross by rising to new life.  The presence of a “corpus,” by contrast, visually hammers home the challenge Christians face in TRYING to incarnate Jesus.  Their horizontal outreach to others is their attempt to “love them as they love God” but those others may well resist. The artistic-symbolic-bloodied corpus is a stark reminder to us that in living our Christian identity, we may experience Calvary.  Or are you like the families in Huckleberry Finn?  Do you bear grudges that move you not to attend a funeral, but instead send a nice letter to the deceased’s family saying you approved of it? 

Feeling ill-will is one thing, but acting on it is another.  Would you write such a letter, or take the higher road?  Which action would Jesus take?  Our behavior boils down to this: 1) the only person to fully live the Christian message was Jesus—and look what happened to him! 2) We are called to live as Jesus did—and make every effort to blaze a creative, horizontal trail in outreach to others.  For example, if the funeral cited above were that of Satan himself, why not consider this: “Who prays for Satan? Who, in 21 centuries, has had the human decency to pray for the one sinner who needed it most?”  Maybe this can be the lens through which we act out our identity as people of the Gospel.

How revolutionary our Christian identity would be if Satan were on our list of “who to pray for.”  Contemplating the power of prayer we have over this fallen one is wind in our sails to move forward and pray for, or outreach in some way, any person who we’ve deemed hate-worthy.  In praying for the prince of demons, we can face anything—and STILL realize Genesis tells us that we humans were made at the end of the week’s work–when God was tired.  So we’re all frail vessels—but still filled with the grace of God. 

Discipleship calls us to “fight the good fight” by recognizing where we see the ABSENCE of behavior associated with Jesus.   It is at those times that we are called to be his presence.  In doing so, we can attain the heavenly vision to which God calls our earthly life to see.  So extend your arms—like a cross does—and be the horizontal lifeline for others that you were created to be.  Behaving this way, when our day of death arrives, even the undertaker will be sorry we are gone.

You might wonder if I, the “priest at church,” feels confident of the path he pursues in living the greatest commandment.  Well, I don’t like to be presumptuous about my destination being heaven or hell – you see, because I have friends in both places.

(Interspersed within the above are quotes from Mark Twain’s commentaries on religion).

This weekend’s scripture reminds us why the cross is such a great symbol of Christianity.  It has a vertical dimension and a horizontal dimension—making obvious what our religious mindset should be: Vertically, “you shall love the LORD, your God, with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength.  Horizontally, “you shall love your neighbor as yourself.”  We cannot separate our relationship to God from our relationship to one another.

Keep in mind that the term “love” in this context does not refer to a emotional, romantic attachment to God and people (although it could).  Rather, “love” is the attachment one feels toward a group or person of their group via kinship, village, or factional ties of some kind.  In short, Jesus is simply saying that all of our decision must be made in relationship to our commitment to God.  What does GOD call me to think or do (relative to life’s activities).  We do NOT place loyalty to a fad, or country, or hobby, or cultural trend, or political party before our loyalty to God.

One way we strengthen our sense of dependence upon and commitment to God is through what we call “Holy Days of Obligation.”  If we were in Hawaii, the only such days are Immaculate Conception and Christmas whereas for the rest of the U.S., Catholics are “obliged” to attend mass on All Saints, Assumption, Ascension, and Solemnity of Mary.

This weekend, we are honoring All Saints, All Souls, and Halloween.  Some Christian groups oppose anyone celebrating this latter holiday, but they might re-evaluate their position.  Christian history is filled with missionaries building upon the religious traditions of different peoples (and not just stomping them into the ground in a culturally imperialistic way).  And so it is with Halloween. 

Once people of “the way” (Christianity) could gather legally, Roman temples were “converted” into Catholic churches, and German evergreens representing forest spirits became Christmas trees (representing green life in the midst of winter).  Celtic and Roman festivals honored the dead at this time of year (as nature died with the onset of winter).  Pomona, the Roman goddess who oversaw fruits and forests, was honored via costume wearing and “bobbing” for apples (the apple being her symbol). 

Do you know anyone who “bobs’ for apples or who dresses up as a Celtic forest animal—and thinks of a Roman goddess or Druid spirit?  These once “pagan” festivals have been thoroughly secularized.  However, Catholic tradition preserved “Hallow” een by creating All Saints Day (“Hallow” referring to “saint” and “een” referring to “evening”).  This festive Celtic day preceded what became All Saints Day celebrated since the 8^th century.  HOWEVER, over time a clarification was made by Church officials.

Since some virtuous people within Christian tradition were clearly perceived as attaining heaven, they were deservedly declared a “saint,” “canonized” and honored as a “saint” both on a feast day of their own during the year, and one, catch-all feast day called “All Saints.”  Everyone else, who may or may not have led similarly virtuous lives, could be honored with a day of their own, viz., “All Souls” Day.  This is why we celebrate all 3 special days this weekend—combining them into one.

Secular society has its own “saints” who we call American patriots, or war-heroes, or entertainers, or politicians—and recognized with statues and monuments like Mt. Rushmore or Washington Monument, or the thousands of other places where people can “worship” their memory.  This is known as secular religion, and sometimes people conflate the two.  Think of statues to Saddam Hussein that were torn down once he lost power, or those of Hitler, Mussolini, Stalin, and countless other “demi-gods” of one or another country whose regime took power and led their people into hell on earth.

We have sports Halls of Fame—with “saints” of basketball, football, baseball, and other athletics of every ilk.  The Church is SUPPOSED to thoroughly research a person’s life and affirm that one or two miracles have taken place because of the person’s intercession.  If some major wrongdoing was found within the life of some Hall of Fame candidate, their candidacy is dropped.  Baseball aficionados, for example, debate if Pete Rose and Shoeless Joe Jackson will ever be admitted if charges for gambling on games is perceived as harmless.

But what does “sainthood” have to do with us ordinary folks today?  Aren’t “saints” a kind of otherworldly person whose behavior was the opposite of our own (and even bizarre at times)?  Maybe not.  St. Theresa of Liseux, known as the “little flower,” was one of the most admired of all time within Christian history.  She made this observation: “Our Lord does not come from Heaven every day to stay in a golden ciborium.  He comes to find another Heaven, the Heaven of our mind and heart–is where he most loves to stay.”

We might think saintliness is for geeky folks who were out of it, socially, but I like what Gandalf, a “white magic” maker,  said in the film Lord of the Rings:  “Some believe it is only great power that can hold evil in check.  But that is not what I have found.  I have found that it is the small things– everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay.  Small acts of kindness and love.”  Whoever composed those lines (it was not the book’s Catholic author, Tolkien) certainly knew Catholic theology when writing the above.

May this folksy, down-to-earth poem be our attitude:

I sing a song of the saints of God   Patient and brave and true,   Who toiled and fought and lived and died  For the Lord they loved and knew. And one was a doctor, and one was a queen And one was a shepherdess on the green.  They were all of them saints of God — and I mean, God help me to be one, too. They loved their Lord so dear, so dear,  And his love made them strong;  And they followed the right, for Jesus’s sake,  The whole of their good lives long.  And one was a soldier, and one was a priest,  And one was slain by a fierce wild beast: And there’s not any reason — no, not the least–Why I shouldn’t be one too.   They lived not only in ages past,   There are hundreds of thousands still  The world is bright with the joyous saints   Who want to do God’s will   You can meet them in school, or in lanes, or at sea,  In church, or in trains, or in shops, or at tea,  For the saints of God are like you and me,    And I mean to be one too.

May the life of Jesus influence our decisions on election day.  

Picture this: you walk into the place of worship and see a sanctuary where there is a Tabernacle.  You also see a sanctuary lamp/light near the Tabernacle.  What is this place?  Answer: Catholics might say they’re in a Catholic church.  A Jewish person might say they’re in a synagogue.  They both could be right.  Both respondents might also be describing the Temple in Jerusalem at the time of Jesus.  It was the central, sacred place of worship for Israelites.

This group of people was divided into 12 tribes who later became the people we know as our cousins in the faith—Jewish people (who practice “Judaism”).  This latter term comes from the name of one of these 12 tribes, the tribe of “Judah” (and so, Judaism).  Priests among these people came from one of those 12 tribes—the tribe of Levi.  If you meet someone whose name is “Cohen,” they might be Jewish and might have a genealogy to this tribe—as the word cohen (in Hebrew) means “priest.”

A religious-political party within Judaism in the first century was that of the Sadducees.  They were priests, and this group appointed one of their number the “high priest.”  Among his responsibilities was entering the “holy of holies” part of the sanctuary—that area restricted to him alone.  He was in that sacred spot that represented Heaven, and his job entailed joining that realm to Earth—which was represented by the rest of the sanctuary.  He was, thus, a bridge between heaven and earth.

Today’s reading from Hebrews is the ONLY New Testament reference to Jesus as a priest.  He was, in the end, a layman! But as the Temple High Priest symbolized, so Jesus became the “bridge” connecting heaven with earth.  THAT’S why the Letter to the Hebrews makes the claim of Jesus being a “priest.”

Israelites recognized God’s presence to them in much the same way as we do.  Namely, in the Temple. the Tabernacle held the first 5 books of the Hebrew scriptures known as the “Torah” (Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy).  The Torah’s presence in the Tabernacle was God’s word alive in their midst.  Catholics likewise see/hear God’s presence in the Bible—both within the Hebrew scriptures of what we call the “Old” Testament AND within the “New” Testament.  God’s presence—for both Israelites and Catholics is represented by the light burning near the Tabernacle.  However, within the Catholic Tabernacle is not the “Torah” (the 5 books) but consecrated hosts, the body of Christ.  See the similarity/continuity?  Both Judaism and Catholicism signal God’s presence in the Tabernacle via the sanctuary lamp—the “Old” Testament books of Torah for Jews and Christ’s presence in the Eucharist revealed in the “New” Testament.

Scholars sometimes refer to the “First” testament of Judaism and the “Second” testament of Christianity.    While Christians read BOTH sets of scriptures in our Bible, Judaism just reads the first set (since for them, Jesus was not God but simply a good Jewish man).  Our spiritual cousins within Islam draw upon material from both Old and New Testaments—in their scripture known as the “Qur’an.”  

When the high priest entered the Holy of Holies on one day of the year, he would say what the people considered God’s most sacred name—“Yahweh.”  It was never said at any other time.  As a result, when the Temple was destroyed in 70 a.d., and the Sadducees no longer existed as religious functionaries, that word was never again spoken.  The “Rabbi” became the clergy within Judaism and Christian scripture’s reference to Sadducees and Pharisees addressed roles that were no longer in existence.

When the Bible was translated and printed, the word “Jehovah” made its way into the text—and appeared in the King James version of 1611 (and subsequent versions).  Research showed that “Jehovah” was not accurate—prompting Jehovah’s Witnesses to still spend time arguing why the word WAS correct (and so they asserted there was no need to change their denominational name).  Scholars don’t use “Jehovah.”  N.B., although this group considers itself Christian, it does not affirm the existence of the Trinity.  Founded in the late 1800s by a clothing salesman in Pittsburgh, it took on its present name in 1931 and is a good example of a Gospel-inspired religious practice cobbled together by charismatic leaders who, despite no education in scripture or theology or Christian history, were able to organize a following that became a “church” with millions of members.

This weekend’s Gospel reading addresses a core Christian teaching.  Scholars say that Mark was addressing a community that tended to think of Jesus as a kind of Superman.  Mark stressed that the role of Jesus—and all Christians—was “to serve and not be served.”  Going to church is half of one’s identity—the other half being to do outreach that reflects the behavior and thought of Jesus. 

This week saw Jesuits and Catholics everywhere honor the memory of “The North American Martyrs”–John de Brebeuf, Gabriel Lalament, Isaac Jogues, Rene Goupil, Anthony Daniel, Charles Garnier, Noel Chabanel, and John DeLalonde.  Two of these men were laypeople dedicated to working with Jesuits.  All from France, these men were targets of the English who warred with the French until 1763 for control of North America.  England paid rewards for French scalps and an additional amount if the scalps were of Jesuits.  Indian America was allied with the French—except for the “League of the Iroquois” (a nation of tribes that included the Mohawk, Oneida, Seneca, Cayuga, Onondaga, and Tuscarora).  These peoples now go by their tribal-language name and, instead of “Iroquois,” use the name “Hoe-dee-na-show-nee.” 

The martyrs died in the 1640s and were canonized saints in 1930.  Each was killed separately with the account of Brebeuf’s death best known.  Appearing in books and articles, the account was read at parish masses—taken directly from a series of books that all good libraries have: The Jesuit Relations.  These volumes contain all the reports of Indian life in the Great Lakes and French Canada where Jesuits worked.  Saginaw’s own Henri Nouvel, S.J. is even mentioned in the Relations.  That is how the high school got its name—Nouvel being the first priest to say Mass in the region, and “nouvel” being the French word meaning “new.”  Since the 3 Catholic high schools were blended into one, NEW, school, “Nouvel” seemed an appropriate name.

While the account of Brebeuf’s martyrdom is horrific, it does not compare with the electronic video games played by young and old players at home.  These games have combatants who splatter the blood of their opponents in life-like, neighborhood settings.  By contrast, the account of a martyr’s death is instructive for modern-day listeners.  We are confronted with what living the faith has meant for people in our Catholic tradition.  We might consider it heroic to simply attend Mass—but we should be stopped in our tracks when we see others put their life on the line.  Since young and old Catholics know little about how people died for the faith, learning of Brebeuf’s example can be inspiring.  It’s at least an alternative to the millions of video games that cater to the bloodlust of modern Americans.

Our understanding of the faith might fail to make us realize what it took for us to have our faith inheritance.  People play video games at home that have the realistic slaughter of opponents while Brebeuf’s martyrdom account tells listeners that Calvary didn’t happen just once.

As described by Wikipedia: Throughout the torture, Brébeuf was reported to have been more concerned for the fate of the other Jesuits and of the captive Native converts than for himself. As part of the ritual, the Iroquois drank his blood and ate his heart, as they wanted to absorb Brébeuf’s courage in enduring the pain. The Iroquois mocked baptism by pouring boiling water over his head. Then they cannibalized him.  Accounts of his torture emphasize his stoic nature and acceptance, claiming that he suffered silently without complaining.  Account were given by Huron prisoners who had escaped (the Jesuits many times witnessed Hurons die at the hands of their enemies, the Iroquois).  They knew they might one day suffer the same fate, and wanted to be exemplars of faith for their torturers.  Would you do the same?

I’m reminded of the film about 45 of us watched a couple of weeks ago-The Mission.  It was based on the real-life history of Jesuits working among the Guarani Indians of South America.  Taking place when Spain and Portugal were 2 of the world’s most powerful countries, the film depicted Jesuits setting up missions in the Amazon jungle and bringing the best of European civilization to the people (young ones able to sing Latin hymns and play musical instruments of all types).  Sadly, Spain and Portugal wanted Rome to award them Guarani lands for development—opening the door to slavery of the Indian population and extraction of the Jesuits.

The final scenes show Portuguese soldiers entering Guarani territory killing priests and Indians, and burning down the missions that had served the people so well.  Actors Liam Neeson and Robert DeNiro played the role of Jesuits who took up arms to fight with the Indians, and they were killed—whereupon the Jesuit superior, actor Jeremy Irons, opted for peace and wore a white surplus over his black cassock.  He led about 50 men, women, and children toward the oncoming soldiers who leveled their rifles and killed the people one by one.  Irons held a monstrance (the gold/silver sun-like circular container that holds a consecrated host at benedictions) and led the group until a bullet hits him in the heart and he fell to the ground dead—clutching the monstrance.

In what was a most gripping scene, the group of Indians stop momentarily and a woman picks up the monstrance—and leads the group into the deadly gunfire that would kill them all.  This last act of each person in the crowd—replicates Brebeuf’s martyrdom.  Just as he gave his life witnessing his faith, so did the men, women, and children of The Mission.  Would you have done the same? 

Until I was age 9, my family was not hurting financially.  Back then, one of our regular experiences was to go out to dinner at a nice restaurant.  Years later, I asked my mom why she and dad allowed my brother and me to order a shrimp cocktail as an appetizer.  They were just as costly then as they are today. 

As an adult, I wondered why they permitted us to order such an expensive item, and then order an entre from the just-as-expensive menu.  We could also order a “Shirley Temple cocktail” as they had their “Old Fashioned.”  We were young boys who had no sense of running up the bill.  Mom said they let us order these expensive dinners “because we loved you.” 

When my dad lost his business and we were poor, we never again went out to dinner as a family. 

This week’s gospel brought these memories to mind.  It tells of a rich young man asking Jesus how he might find eternal life.  Asked if he had observed the commandments, the young man said he did.  Whereupon, Jesus “looked upon him lovingly”—maybe just like my mom and dad looked upon my brother and me.  Jesus knew the young man had much to learn—just as my brother and I had much to learn after experiencing a life of privilege.

I can just picture Jesus reacting to the young man’s assertion that he had observed the commandments.  Jesus probably smiled, rolled his eyes, and sighed before responding to this child of God who thought he was perfect.  Like an all-knowing parent speaking to a naïve child, Jesus then diplomatically suggested the young man sell all his possessions and give his wealth to the poor.  Yikes—the young man probably no doubt thought.  Maybe I better re-think whether or not I have observed the commandments.  Surrendering his wealth to the poor was NOT an idea he wanted to embrace.

Not surprising is that modern-day studies have shown that wealthy people give proportionately less to charities than poor people.  This topic always unleashes political fights when large tax breaks are given to individuals or corporations because some will argue that wealthy people will create jobs with their windfall. 

Known as “supply side” or “trickle-down” economics, tax cuts for the wealthy and corporations have been found to NOT stimulate economic growth that helps the less affluent.  Instead, it has created a greater gap between the rich and lower classes.  Economists currently say that it has been the most enduring failed policy idea in American politics. A timely example of this shows that Trump supporters often point to his administration’s “supply side” policies as worthy of their vote.  However, 16 Nobel Prize winners in economics recently announced that his economic plan will be a disaster.  Meanwhile, many ordinary folks think they know more than these Nobel prize winners, and think the supply-side strategy will work!  See Wikipedia on this.

Jesus told his disciples that it is hard for a rich person to find eternal life.  This coincides with the theory that wealthy people are not dependent on anyone or anything (if their financial pipeline is sustained in some way).  This contributes to a mindset that they need not rely on God, too.  Hence, our secular society has many people comfortable enough to avoid church attendance or have a religious practice of any kind (Christian or not).  Jesus could have asked the young man if he had been generous to people (and not just observed “Thou shalt not steal”).  Or, he could have asked him if he brought life to people in some way (instead of just observing “Thou shalt not kill”).  Each commandment isn’t just a prohibition but is also a stimulus to bring about the opposite of what they forbid.  Thus, each of us is that rich young man who Jesus looked upon lovingly.  Like the young man, we fall short of the ideals we preach.  Jesus “ministers” to each of us—HOPING that we make decisions that see us as proactive and not just living in a neutral gear.

I met with Bishop Gruss and a group from Detroit on Saturday.  The group wanted to know more about the Indian man whose biography I authored which helped put him on the road to canonization as a saint.  “Black Elk” first came to the attention of the world in the book Black Elk Speaks and then The Sacred Pipe: Black Elk’s Account of the 7 Rites of the Oglala Sioux.  These books captured world attention in reporting a “Sioux” (Lakota) man come of age in the buffalo-hunting era of tipis and fighting the cavalry.  He was at Custer’s Last Stand (the battle of the Little Bighorn) in 1876 and Wounded Knee in 1890.  This latter site saw many elders, men, women, and children killed.  Weaned on these books and others, I was curious to learn more about Indian people—and so requested an assignment to teach at Red Cloud Indian School on the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota.

Why should I, someone born and raised in Detroit, decide to forsake teaching at a Jesuit prep school and seek a placement at the poorest school run by the Jesuits?  Over time, it occurred to me that my story is, or can be, your story–just as the rich young man is a story about each of us. 

My departure for the reservation was not an easy decision to make.  After all, I had any number of other options that glittered enticingly with fantasies of “the good life.”  Fortunately, I did what each sincere Christian should do. I  told my spiritual director about entertaining thoughts of going to Pine Ridge to teach instead of places where my peers would go.  Maybe I should drop the idea and simply go with the flow.  After all, I’d probably “fit in” better at a nice, first-world school.  No one was interested in teaching on a reservation, but here I was—thinking of what a neat setting I’d be inhabiting with this famous tribe.  Maybe this was a silly fantasy and not reality-based.

My adviser said it seemed my interest in the Sioux/Lakota was solid, and that the “call” to be at Red Cloud Indian School seemed authentically from God.  He said: “Stelts, you reach the highways through the byways, and it seems you’re being offered to take one of those byways now.”  And the rest is history—except for learning the truth of what Albert Einstein once observed: “Coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous.”  In retrospect—and not at the time—I was able to see one coincidence after another on my path to writing about Black Elk.

Getting my college degree, the Jesuits allowed us guys to get a Master’s degree before teaching—my class being the first to be given this option.  I wanted to learn more about Indians—so this new policy was serendipity.  Good timing.  A Jesuit scholar suggested I go to Indiana University’s Folklore Program.  I did so, and what a surprise to learn that the author of The Sacred Pipe was a visiting professor that year at I.U.

I was nervous and frightened about making the big move to Pine Ridge—wondering if I’d fit in or fall out, succeed, or bomb in the classroom and with the kids.  Would I meet Black Elk’s relatives and learn more about his religious practice in the old way?  Uptight, I flew to South Dakota holding my turtle bowl in my lap since I was accompanied by my little turtle who could only go with me if I carried him.

Long story short is that I met Black Elk’s only surviving son, Ben, and was excited to make some contact with the venerable patriarch’s family member.  It was a great disappointment when Ben died just months after I met him.  I now knew no one who could provide me with information about the revered Black Elk. I was disappointed. 

And then, one day, the boiler stopped working in the school, and classes were canceled.  I went outside to have a smoke and sat next to a Lakota grandmother on a bench.  I asked if she had gone to school here and she said that yes, she had, and that the school dedicated its yearbook to her brother.  Since I was the faculty member who volunteered to oversee making a yearbook, I knew about its dedication to Ben Black Elk.  That’s how I met the holy-man’s only surviving child, Lucy Looks Twice.  Over the next 5 years until her death, I gathered as much information as I could about her father. Eventually, the University of Oklahoma published Black Elk: Holy Man of the Oglala, and Nicholas Black Elk: Medicine Man, Missionary, Mystic.  These books told the story of a buffalo-hunting Sioux warrior who converted to Catholicism in 1904 on the feast of St. Nicholas and became a dedicated catechist for the rest of his life.  He died in 1950.

In 2017, the bishop of Rapid City, Bishop Gruss, asked the U.S. Catholic Conference of Bishops if they would vote for Black Elk to be considered for sainthood and name him a “Servant of God” (the first title given to a person who was being considered).  The bishops unanimously declared him a Servant of God on November 14^th, my birth date (unbeknownst to anyone there).

By the grace of God, I somehow made decisions that seemed to be good promptings of the Holy Spirit.  For some reason, a sincere interest in something good (learning about Indians) presented me with the option of pursuing that interest more seriously.  I could have made many other decisions that percolated within my mind and heart.  But I took the percolating and wonderment to a spiritual director, and involved myself with more “mini-decisions” related to the interest area—and made my way west.  The same process is offered each parishioner of St. John’s (and all God’s people). Coincidences and other experiences combine to help us pursue the special roles God created each of us to incarnate.  This process is at play right now as you read this.

One of the readings from a weekday mass is worth noting here—for your benefit.  It spoke of Paul persecuting Christians before falling to the ground on the way to Damascus (in present-day Syria).  He heard the voice of Jesus ask him “Why are you persecuting me?”  From that experience on, Paul ended his old way of life, changed his thinking, and became a great light of Christian tradition.  Most importantly, he realized that God/Jesus was telling him that the past was the past—and he could start afresh NOW.  He could find new life in his commitment to living as Jesus had taught.  And so it is with you and I.  We can begin anew today.