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 23rd 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.