Church of St. Mary at Clinton Heights

We’ve been blessed these last few weeks to see inklings of sunlightsometimes overwhelming in their brightnessduring a season that is often overcast, dark and frigid.  Usually, as in our first reading, we can hear Job’s lament with consonant ears: “Is not our life on earth a drudgery? …assigned months of misery and troubled nights?”  We too, often wonder, don’t we, if we’ll ever see happiness again?

• Consider those who are suffering terrible illness;
• or those who are even now painfully enduring the agonizing death of their husband or wife of so many years, so many joys, so many loves;
• what about those who are in such painful agony that they reach out to so many different addictions in order to ease their pain or longing….

It is enough to think of certain unforgettable pages of the rest of the Book of Job, which present our human, ongoing frailty.  In fact, we are like those who “dwell in houses of clay, whose foundation is the dust, who are crushed more easily than the moth.  Between morning and evening they are destroyed;  they perish for ever without anyone regarding it”.  Again, Job continues to confess:  “My days are swifter than a runner; they flee away, they see no happiness.  They shoot by like skiffs of reed, like an eagle swooping on its prey”.

The sense of human limitation is intense in these passages.  Our existence has the frailty of the grass that springs up at dawn; yet suddenly it hears the whistle of the sickle that reduces it to a heap of hay.  The freshness of life all too soon, gives way to the dry emptiness of death.

Yes, so many of us rightly wonder if we’ll ever see happiness again.

Ah, but then we hear Jesus respond, “Let us go on to the nearby villages.”  After spending a whole day of hours upon hours curing the sick, He does not stop, but rather reaches out to each of us and to othersall othersso that He becomes the antidote to our drudgery, our restlessness, our “months of misery”.  Yes, when the nights drag on and we are filled with restlessness, only one thing makes us want to get out of bed in the morning: Jesus Christ!

For, in Christ, our gracious God rebuilds Jerusalem one broken heart at a time.  To the weak, He became weak, to win over the weak, says St. Paul in our second reading.  And we, too, sharing in weakness, desire that Christ speak words of comfort, of compassion, of holy closeness and intimate love with each one of us.

And he does.  He reaches out to grasp our hand, to restore us again and give us life, to help us up…that we might begin anew…afresh with His own Spirit, awash in His own Light.

Yes, we’ve been blessed indeed to see light in these dark days and months and years.  And through it all, Christ is that light that rebuilds us, clings to us, gives us hope and encourages us on the journey toward His Kingdom.

May He bless us again throughout this week ahead.

You may be unaware, but I suffer from high levels of anxiety.  I know it’s absurd, but it’s just my lot at this point in my life.  Case in point: over the last four months, you’ve surely noticed that our offertory collections have been significantly higher.  You’d think I’d be very happy…grateful for your stewardship of treasure, but the opposite has been true.  You see, we can track our offertories week to week as the years go by and without much trouble we can regularly and accurately predict each week’s offertory.  That hasn’t been the case during these months.  I’ve been seeking the reason, but to no avail!  The economy is still not that strong; we’ve not seen a huge increase in worshippers; our music & liturgy haven’t really changed that much…and my homilies aren’t any shorter.  So, my anxiety levels have been up: why the sudden and drastic increase in giving?  Why is it still staying up?  How long will it last?

Well, thank the good Lord, last week it came back down to steady!

I know: it’s absurd for me to worry and be anxious…and these only confuse and confound me…and I’m distracted from the reality and truth that our people have been generously sharing from their treasure and that God is clearly blessing us.  Yes, anxiety, distraction and the resulting confusion are not helpful, and yet, they are age-old challenges are they not?

St. Paul speaks of distractions and the cloudy focus they impart.  Even in our first reading, we hear the Israelites praying NOT to hear the voice of God nor see His presence, erroneously thinking that either holy experience would lead to their doom.  And even our Lord in today’s gospel experiencesin those present at the synagoguehow confusion keeps them blinded to who Jesus Christ really is.  Sure, the crowd is fascinated by his teaching and they are enthralled by his miraculous works, but they fail to hear that he is “the Holy One of God”.  No, the amazement over Jesus’ powers does not at all mean that the people believe in him…and so they miss a crucial and life-changing opportunity to accept the revelation of God’s chosen One.

May the same not be said of us: my each of us struggle with and, God-willing, overcome our many anxieties, distractions and resulting confusion; may we be able to see & hear Jesus for who he really is, and with the Holy Spirit’s aide, rejoice that He comes into our midst to share his life, death, and resurrection with us.

Two days ago I had my monthly meeting with my spiritual director: a fellow-priest who is a very prayerful man and who is grounded in his parish ministry.  Anyway, this session lasted twice as long as usual because I was expressing to him some of my spiritual struggles of late.  As I shared many of the small, simple images which were contributing to the larger struggle, he listened gently and reflected his very keen understanding.  Yet, along with this understanding came some very powerful guidance and insight!  Yes, with the help of saintly images and delicate theological points, he and I were able to come to new depths of my appreciation for priestly ministry in our parish.  It was quite beautiful, really.

As much as I’m grateful for this priest’s insight and direction, I must admit that it is clearly God’s work that really makes the difference in these spiritual struggles.  Sure, I was the one seeking to wrestle with my dryness, and I was the one hoping for consolation in my personal prayer, but it was God’s Holy Spirit who then allowed me to see Him anew.  God is the one who continues always to invite me into deeper faith inand rest withHim.

Recall Samuel in our first reading: he is disposed to hearing the Lord’s voice in his sleep, but it takes anotherElito direct him to listen and respond.  Thus Samuel is schooled to move toward the reward of knowing God.  And what of Andrew in our gospel? Or Simon?  Both of these grow into apostles first from their openness and seeking, then through their dialogue with another (Andrew with John, and then Jesus; Simon with Andrew and, of course, then with Jesus as well).

It would seem to me that as we enter into the ordinary times of the Church year, we might consider how we are disposed to God’s whisper, His promptings, His invitation.  We might, too, consider how we enter into a dialogue of faith with God and others.  Clearly, our disposition and our dialogue can be paths toward the greatest of rewards: the gift of faith…the gift of God’s own self.

(It’s been wonderful to celebrate the Christmas season with so many–and to enjoy a short hiatus from my weekly blog.  This weekend, my online reflections begin again:)

In our everyday lives, we are busy about many things and many ‘do-ings’.  We strive for income, for purchasing goods, for acquiring, for recognition…the list is almost endless.  Yet, on today’s feast, we find that we are doing nothing…yet.  This word “epiphany” or ‘manifestation’ is not something that the Magi do; rather it is something done to and for them.  Almighty God reveals and makes known the gift of Himself in the little babe at Bethlehem, and the Magi are witnesses; recipients of this revelation, this manifestation.  Unwarranted on their own accord, these wanderers follow the inclinations of the Star and they are brought to rejoice when they see the Christ-child.  God’s own initiative manifests the vision of His gift, and from there, after adoring, the Magi go forth by a new route: a route of rejoicing and proclaiming what they had heard and seen.

Now that this epiphany has been shared with usthe Churchwe too, after adoring, are invited to take on new ‘do-ings’.  We are given the awesome task of sharing what we have seen, and heard, and learned, and now know:  that God makes his dwelling among our human race and his dwelling is eternal, is one of peace.  May our voices, our activities and our very lives echo the great news of the Magi and the song of the angels.