This weekend is when we celebrate he Feast of the Epiphany—a word that means a new realization or new understanding of something.  In everyday English, you could say “I had an epiphany,” and then proceed to tell one or more people about some new insight you acquired.  The epiphany we celebrate this weekend refers to the Wise Men coming to the realization that this baby in the manger is the King of the Universe, the promised Messiah or Christ that as prophesied from old.

We’re all familiar with the Christmas story of Wise Men coming to Bethlehem, and we see manger scenes at church and in homes that depict angels, shepherds, and sheet gathered around the baby in a manger (which was “no crib for a bed”).  We see the word “manger” and realize it’s a French word meaning “to eat.”  And we put 2 and 2 together and realize that a manger is a feeding trough.  And how apropos it was for Matthew to depict Jesus in such a place where food is found.  We realize that this early Gospel scene in the life of Jesus is pointing to the end of the Gospel when he becomes Eucharistic food at the Last Supper.

Hmm.  Putting the above 2 topics together, we realize that coming to Mass is our own coming to the manger to receive the “bread from heaven,” or what we call “the lamb of God” here at the “table of the Lord” in the form of communion.  Each time we attend Mass, we ask God in prayer to nourish us with more and more epiphanies—more insights that help us live the best version of ourselves.

At this time of year, we picture in our minds and wonder why the Gospels of Mark and John do not refer to the birth of Jesus.  Unlike Luke and Matthew addressing the birth, they simply had other topics to present.  Remember, the Gospels are not biographies, but theologies of the Christ-event.  And we think of the cruel King Herod—a man who killed some of his wives and children.  He was also a jealous King—killing all babies under 2 years of age in order to destroy any child who might one day replace him as the king.  As stated in the past, Gospel elements are all worthy of our reflection, e.g., to what extent are YOU like Herod—envious of what praise comes to others and not yourself?

And isn’t the star in the sky an inspiring touch to the Kodak moment of seeing mother, father, and baby surrounded by animals and angels as the star shines above them.  The Christmas season is definitely one that is rich with religious meaning.  However, scripture scholars tell us that the birth narrative is almost entirely symbolic.  They say that the only historical realities of that special scene are the existence of Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and Herod!  All the other material is rich with theological meaning that Matthew wanted to note—but nothing that actually took place (except the birth of a child SOMEWHERE under some unknown conditions.  

Catacombs of the 2^nd century have art still visible that shows two to four Wise Men. After all, scripture cites no actual number of kings from the far East—just that 3 gifts were brought.  At other times in history, Christian communities said there were 12 visitors—until the tradition of 3 became the standard (based on there being 3 gifts mentioned in the story).

What sorts of theological truths was Matthew trying to communicate?  Remember, he was writing 50 years after the death of Jesus, and there were truths that he was inspired to report that had been passed down over that period (a sprinkling of which are cited here).

For example, the kings represent ALL leaders of ALL peoples in the world coming to honor the King of Kings.  And where did they find this scion of royalty?  In a crib, in the presence of farm animals, and the simple folks in the fields—and even King Herod (who represents the wealthy class who likewise were allowed to honor the newborn king—but didn’t.  Matthew subtly implies that secular leadership is not on a par with God (despite some political leaders wanting to present themselves in this way).

Gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh were traditional gifts brought to kings and even mentioned in the Old Testament.  Even the galaxy itself bore witness to this son of God made incarnate!  A special, celestial light shone down on the “holy family.”

In 1896, author Henry VanDyke was inspired to write The Other Wise Man—the story of Artaban, who intended to accompany 3 other kings to where they heard a king was to be born under an especially bright star in the sky.  Artaban had a ruby, sapphire, and pearl that he wanted to present to the king.  However, he was delayed in meeting with his fellow kings, so they left without him.  He was detained by helping a man who had been beaten up and left to die on the road.  Artaban paid an innkeeper to nurse the man back to health—paying him with the sapphire.

Upon arriving in Bethlehem where the star had stopped, Artaban knocked on a door and a terrified woman opened it—holding her baby close.  He saw her frightened by the soldier coming from another house and headed for hers.  Knowing these soldiers were sent to kill Jewish babies (as done by Pharaoh when Moses was an infant—another parallel Matthew wove into his gospel plot)—Artaban placed his ruby in the soldier’s hand and said “There are no children in this house”—and the soldier moved on.

The thankful mother was who informed Artaban that Mary and Joseph had fled to Egypt.  And so he headed in that direction.  However, he kept finding himself being stopped by different people in need week after week, month after month, and year after year.  He could not turn his back on people in need, so he spent 30-some years looking for the Bethlehem king.

Learning that this king was to be crucified in Jerusalem, he made his way there.  En route to Calvary, he came upon a woman being sold into slavery, so he took his final gift—his pearl of great price—and paid for the woman’s release.  As reported in the gospel, an earthquake occurred when Jesus was dying on the cross, and as Artaban made his way to the cross, a roof collapsed on him, and put him at death’s door.

This is how Van Dyke described the scene:

As he lay dying, he bemoans never seeing the Messiah. He’s heard to say: Not so, my Lord! When did I see you hungry and feed you? Or thirsty, and give you drink? When did I see you a foreigner and take you in? Or naked, and clothed you? When did I see you sick or in prison, and come to you? 33 years have I looked for you; but I have never seen your face, nor ministered to you, my King.'” The 4^th wise man heard a voice say: “Since you have done these things for the least among you, you did it for me.”  A calm wonder and joy lighted the pale face of Artaban like the first ray of dawn on a snowy mountain peak. A long breath of relief exhaled gently from his lips. His journey was ended. His treasures were accepted. The Other Wise Man had found the King.

Asked about writing this story, VanDyke said:

“I do not know where this little story came from–out of the air, perhaps. One thing is certain, it is not written in any other book, nor is it to be found among the ancient lore of the East. And yet I have never felt as if it were my own. It was a gift, and it seemed to me as if I knew the Giver.”

Like Matthew’s Gospel, this story distills the message preached by the evangelists.  Artaban was sketched as a “role model” for us readers of the story.  Each of us has our precious gem-like existence in being the unique person we are.  And life always asks of us “What are you doing with the jewel that is you?” 

A contrast of this story at this time in American history is being played out in the news as a new administration is being put together.  Commentators have pointed out that the new, unfolding administration has more billionaires than any administration in U.S. history.  Their involvement promises to net them even more riches—with no hint of them having any interest in following Artaban’s example.  By contrast, kudos to the billionaire who, in the 1940’s, donated to the Smithsonian Institution the “Sapphire of Artaban.”  It was donated with the condition that the donor remain anonymous.

This act of generosity was truly a creative form of catechesis (teaching the Gospel).  For viewers to understand why this sapphire was named for Artaban, they would have to read a summary of the story such as appears here.  Might any heart be moved by the tale?  Might any new member of the administration give any thought to actually serving the public good?

Christmas arrives and families come from near and far to gather.  Family members become Santas who distribute “presents” to one another against the backdrop of specially prepared food that makes everyone gain weight at this time of year.  Churches see their pews fill with persons seldom or never seen in the congregation during the year.  More often than not, “a good time is had by all” when gathering as families in their mother churches.  Their experience is just what God, the Divine Doctor, ordered.  We are all better off because of the experience.  And yet, once the holiday is over, attendance at Mass drops back down to a pre-Christmas level.

For that one day, however, people experience a sense of belonging, inspiration, hope, and faith.  They are recipients of the grace Jesus intended to impart when the sacraments were first experienced. For example, the year-round daily and Sunday Masses are, theologically, where Bethlehem is to be found.  Just as the “manger” was (as the song states) “no crib for a bed.”  It was a feeding trough—where animals fed.  The association of Jesus was associated with the feeding through the manger, so this association spilled over into the Eucharistic “table of the Lord” where generations of Christians were fed.  And just as the birth narrative informs us that the baby was named “Emmanuel” or “God with us,” so the “table of the Lord” is where the “real presence” of Christ reminds us that the Risen Lord is present there in the “sacrament” (the visible presence of an invisible reality). 

The religious images of Christmas, surprisingly, are only found in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke.  Mark and John say nothing about the birth of Jesus, or the Wise Men or Herod, or no room in the inn.  With 2 Gospels not mentioning anything about the early life of Jesus, we see that these writings are not biographies.  They are theologies—offered by 4 different authors who are trying to communicate the meaning of who Jesus is and why he came among us.

The richness of this story’s imagery, and the theology it teaches, can be endlessly tapped by each of us.  The tale told about Joseph and Mary registering as part of the census takes us to be “counted”—symbolizing our being counted come judgment day when God asks how we’ve lived our lives.  The tale tells of us taking roads to new life—to find nourishment for our life journey.  Primarily, we are told which star to follow in life—as it gives us the guiding light we need to live our lives the best we can.  Other stars might beckon—such as power and wealth—but there is one star that shines the best way to take.

On the surface, the Bethlehem story reports the birth of Jesus and is embellished with the arrival of kings and sheep and angels.  On one of its deeper levels, its story is also about each of us.  It’s about a God who so loved the world and so loved YOU—that creation was not complete without your presence in it.  Jesus affirmed the natural world by becoming part of it—and so embraced yours and my individual creation—you and I with our weaknesses and strengths and idiosyncrasies of behavior, our likes and dislikes—in short, our uniqueness.

Not until St. Francis of Assisi (1181-1226) did Christians make representations of Bethlehem by crafting Nativity scenes, or creches, that depicted Mary, Joseph, Magi, animals, and a stable.  Ever since that time, we’ve had visual aids helping us see ourselves in the scene and see the many messages God revealed to us in the narrative as a whole.  For example, are we a king like the despicable Herod (who killed half of his children and several wives). Are we envious like him–of another king taking our place in the neighborhood, and so lie to the Magi in asking them to tell him where Jesus was found?  He did not want to join them in welcoming the new child, but instead wanted to eliminate the potential rival.  The elements of the story make us evaluate whether we are Herod-like or Magi-like in welcoming people. 

Or are we like Joseph—about whom we know practically nothing—and do we simply live our lives, anonymous in the eyes of the world, doing our best—and successfully raising a son?  This Joseph and wife Mary—like Josephs and Marys in Hemlock and Merrill, help show us “the Way” in which we are to live our lives.  They knew the experience of seeking shelter and being told there was no room in any inn for them.  They relied on their wits to find a place to stay.  They did the best they could—just as the little donkey that carried Mary did what it could:

Just a little donkey,
but on my back I bore
The one and only Savior
the world was waiting for.

Just a little donkey,
but I was strong and proud—
I gladly carried Mary
through the chaos of the crowd.

I brought her to a stable
where she made a tiny bed…
A place for baby Jesus
to lay His little head.

I pray the world remembers
that special Christmas night
When just a little donkey
carried Heaven’s Precious Light.

Scripturally, we don’t know how many Magi came to the birth, if any. After all, the theological point of their presence is that all persons in power will eventually have to bend their knees to the Risen Christ—and that wise men and women STILL seek him.  Deep in their hearts, they know that His authority is like that of an infant compared to an adult.  And this reminds us that we who “know the score” in life are really like infants in need of everything (when God looks upon us).   This is why a baby SHOULD signal to us that WE are infants needing God’s care guidance and affection.  We may seem to the world that we are mature and accomplished, but in God’s eyes—we are the one in the manger.

So whenever you see Gospel elements of the Christmas story—those elements are intended for YOU.  They remind us of who God is and who we are.  If a given thought or image stays in mind—stay with that thought or image.  God may have sent that seed of reflection your way—so that you might grow, as Jesus did, “in wisdom and understanding.”

The stable, it is said, was just a cave, a shelter for animals and some straw.

–A cave as was the common shelter of our ancestors who shared the common earth.

Somewhere in time we lost our love for caves.

We instead sought the stars—and not unwisely—for there is truth in them, also.

But when the light of the world chose a place for birth to give us hope in our darkness, it was a cave he chose—leading us there by a star—in order for us to find the birth of stars within.

There is an emerging movement that sees its members speak about belonging to a “Christian culture.”  This “culture” can include atheists and agnostics, and all sorts of people who practice or condone behaviors that Jesus specifically forbade.  People in this “Christian” culture will accept laws against stealing goods from stores, and murdering someone without good reason, and other basic concerns (like stopping for a red light).  However, this same “Christian” culture is “Caucasian” and intolerant of anyone who is not “WAS” (“white Anglo-Saxon).  The acronym USED to be “WASP”—the “P” being “Protestant.”  However, the new “cultural Christian” doesn’t have to practice the faith. 

In short, this movement is Christian in name only and largely reflects what the Nazis did in pre-War Germany.  The “Fatherland” was the new God with Hitler as the savior who would restore to power the mythical “Aryan” race that had been so dishonored in WW I.  One of the many bizarre things that the Nazis did was distribute photographs of young people who “looked” like what they imagined was a mythical Aryan child.  One such photo—described as having the “ideal” appearance of an Aryan—was actually the photo of a little Jewish girl.  Had the Nazis known of her true identity, she would have been killed—as Jewish people were earmarked for extermination.   Sadly, today’s American Nazis and “White nationalists” are traveling the same road as Germany did.

The above social trend has spilled into people’s practice of the Christian faith—with church-going individuals making no connection between the message of Jesus and the actual human persons his birth addressed.  This trend came to mind when I came across the reflections that follow.  I did not write them, but think that whoever did compose the piece was on the right track of identifying the person who was put to death by the Romans 2000 years ago.  The child born in Bethlehem did NOT come just for those of White Anglo-Saxon descent.  Being a Jew himself, the baby Jesus could hardly be anti-Semitic.  Instead, he entrusted us with the task of taking people off he diverse crosses on which they hang in everyday human activity. 

Welcome to the annual Christmas party! Help yourself to a hot buttered rum. Mind the big bowls of popcorn; we’ll be needing those later.

Now, before we begin our annual holiday festivities, there are a couple inveterate party poopers in attendance that I’m just going to have to address.

First, we have the omnipresent Smug Anti-Theist who thinks they’re getting off a good one by pointing out that a lot of Christmas traditions come from earlier pagan celebrations. I’m not talking about people who point out things like that because they think it’s a fun historical fact; I think it’s a fun historical fact too. 

I’m talking about the tiresome people who honestly believe they’ve disproved Christianity because Saturnalia exists. To which I reply: Yeah duh. We’re Christians. That’s what we do. We baptize pagans.  We also take elements of all the many cultures we come from and cast new meaning on them in the light of the Gospel.  We baptize yule logs, mistletoe, candles, pine trees. We baptize the name “Brigid.” We baptize temples and make them churches. We baptize special times of year. We baptize goddess imagery and use it differently to illustrate truths about the Virgin Mary. We baptize calling God by different names. We baptize everything.  Want me to baptize you? Christians aren’t threatened by Saturnalia.

Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s move on to our fellow Christians. There is a certain type of Christian Christmas party pooper who likes to grump at people who are touched by the Holy Family’s poverty and helplessness in the infancy narrative this time of year. You know the type.

These are the people who post op-eds or preach sermons about the Holy Family not REALLY being poor or not REALLY being refugees. People who assure us that Mary wasn’t anything like today’s single mothers or that Joseph wasn’t the same as an immigrant dad taking his children to safety. They want to keep Jesus, Mary, and Joseph up on a pedestal lest anybody sully them by pointing out that they were humans and can teach us something about the inconvenient humans we encounter in our day-to-day life. And they are wrong. They are so wrong it’s ludicrous.

I’m going to go ahead and make a hard and fast rule: if someone writes an entire article or preaches a sermon assuring you that any Gospel passage, on Christmas or at any other time, is not really meant to remind you to empathize with marginalized people, you may throw popcorn at them and disregard it. They’re always wrong. Even when they have a ghost of a point, they’ve missed the broader point of the entire Gospel so they’re simply wrong. 

If they say “Joseph and Mary weren’t really refugees” throw popcorn and disregard it.  If they say “Jesus wasn’t really a foster kid” throw popcorn and disregard it.  If they say “The Holy Family wasn’t really poor” throw popcorn.  If they say “The Holy Family weren’t similar to a blended family” throw popcorn.  If they say “The Virgin Mary wasn’t comparable to a teenage single mom” throw popcorn.  If they say “The Three Kings weren’t really a sign that God wishes to manifest Himself to everyone including scary brown people who have a different religion to us” throw popcorn.

If they say “Jesus wasn’t really lynched on Good Friday” or “Jesus wasn’t really sexually abused on Good Friday” or “Jesus wasn’t really spiritually abused on Good Friday” throw popcorn.  If they repeat any version of “The Gospel doesn’t really mean that we have to take care of poor people” throw popcorn.  If they say “‘The Son of God has nowhere to lay his head’ isn’t supposed to make you think of the plight of homeless people” dump the whole bowl over their heads and make them go stand outside.  If they say “The persecution of Jesus’s people by the Romans isn’t supposed to make you think about racism,” you’re going to have to make a batch of nice sticky caramel candy corn and carefully stick it to their best clothing.  And don’t take it any more seriously than that. 

The whole point of the Gospel is that Jesus came to earth as a human to make His dwelling among us, to become one of us, and draw us all up into the Life of the Blessed Trinity. He specifically chose to do this as a member of an oppressed race in an occupied land, who would know poverty, who would take refuge in a foreign country, and who would eventually be abused and tortured to death by a brutally unjust racist police force.

He suffered for and with us because He loves us. But this glorious gift also leaves a great demand on us. Christ told us that whatever we do to the least of His brethren, we do to Him. He is always present for us in marginalized people. Wherever you see people that society wants you to despise, you know for certain you are looking at Christ.

So there you have it.  We’re allowed to have fun at Christmas, and Christmas makes a demand on us on behalf of all marginalize people.

Now, let’s have a party.

When Was Jesus Born—

B.C. or A.D.?

In which year was Jesus born?

While this is sometimes debated, the majority of New Testament scholars place Jesus’ birth in 4 B.C. or before. This is because most date the death of King Herod the Great to 4 B.C. Since Herod played a major role in the narrative of Jesus’ birth (see Matthew 2), Jesus would have had to be born before Herod died.

This begs the question: How could Jesus have been born in B.C.—“before Christ”?

The terms B.C. and A.D. stand for “before Christ” and “anno Domini,” which means “in the year of the Lord.” These terms are used to mark years in the Gregorian and Julian calendars—with the birth of Jesus as the event that divides history. In theory, all the years before Jesus’ birth receive the label B.C., and all those after his birth get A.D. If Jesus had been born in 1 A.D., these designations would be completely accurate.

However, as mentioned above, it seems most likely that Jesus was born in 4 B.C. or earlier. How then did the current division between B.C. and A.D. come to be?  The monk Dionysius Exiguus,  was the originator of the B.C. and A.D. calendar (based on when the calculated Jesus was born): Dionysius lived from about 470 to 544 A.D. He was a learned monk who moved to Rome and became well-known for translating many ecclesiastical canons from Greek into Latin, including the famous decrees from the Councils of Nicaea and Chalcedon.

Although we are not exactly sure how he came to this conclusion, Dionysius dated the consulship of Probius Junior, who was the Roman Consul at the time, to “525 years after ‘the incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ’”—meaning 525 years after Jesus’ birth, that is, 525 A.D. Because of Dionysius’s calculations, a new calendar using B.C. and A.D. was born. The terms B.C.E (Before the Common Era) and C.E. (Common Era) also use this calendar.  These latter usages became standardized in the late 20^th century.

Even though Dionysius Exiguus calculated his date for the year in which Jesus was born in the sixth century, it was not until the eighth century that it became widespread. This was thanks to the Venerable Bede of Durham, England, who used Dionysius’s date in his work Ecclesiastical History of the English People.

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).

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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).