Monthly Archives: November 2011

Reflecting on Isaiah 63:16b-17, 19b; 64:2-7, Mark 13:33-37

Do you have a memory of the experience of feeling the presence of God in a moment so electric that it was as if God had “opened the heavens and come down, with the mountains quaking before him”?  Perhaps it was the birth of your child, or the recovery of a lost love, or a phone call from the exact person you were just thinking about.

We wait for Christ to come again in time, but we long for him to touch us in our own time, our own lives.  Think about those blessed moments of spine-tingling awareness that God is HERE, right now, opening doors that seemed closed, showing a way to reconciliation with those who were estranged, gently leading us through new insights and ancient, rock-solid creeds.

Imagine the servants, struggling to stay awake so they can greet the Master with a nice meal and warm hospitality when he returns.  I think Advent invites us to stay awake every day, to watch every day for the gentle presence of our Master who is already here.

What is your Advent practice of watching for Christ?

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

Reflecting on Matthew 25:31-46

And so the year ends as it began.  Last Advent we began this year of Matthew by reading the account of the angel who appeared to St. Joseph in a dream, telling him that Mary had conceived a child through the Holy Spirit.  And this was to fulfill what the prophet Isaiah had spoken, that a virgin would conceive and bear a son, whose name would be Emmanuel, which means God with us.

And all year long Matthew told memories of Jesus that brought that truth home over and over again.  The poor in spirit, the peacemakers, those who mourn—God is with them!  Those who ask, and seek, and knock—God is with them!  Fishermen, and Canaanite women, and tax collectors who leave it all behind to follow Jesus—God is with them!  And even workers who come to the fields very late in day come to know that God is with them too.

And now, at the Final Judgment, the greatest of all secrets is revealed: He is not only with us, but He has become us. Through his Incarnation in us he has actually become one with us.  He has so embedded Himself with us that when others see us in our brokenness they are looking at Christ Himself.

Lord, when did we see You?  When we were sick and found comfort, unemployed and found work, at a dead end and found the way out, was that You? Ah.  So it was You all along, healing us through Your Body on earth and in heaven.  And behold, You are with us always, even unto the end of the age.

When did someone see you when you needed them to?

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

Reflecting on Matthew 25:14-30

Boy, it’s hard to hear the Gospel today and not applaud the third slave who was savvy enough to bury his one talent so at least he had that to give back to his master.  With pensions gone and 401Ks vanished and wise investments brought to ruin, who doesn’t wish they had buried their money in a field somewhere, ready to be dug up when times get tougher?

Parable of the talents (John Morgan, 1823-1886)

But I also root for the third slave because I think he suffers from a deep insecurity, or maybe an anxiety disorder, that keeps him from putting himself out there and taking a risk.  How many people do you know—or maybe it’s you—who are paralyzed in some place in their lives?  For so many people the daily struggle to just make eye contact, say hello, and make their way in our extroverted society is a challenge that leaves them exhausted by day’s end.

Or recall Vincent, whose immense brilliance compelled him to capture beauty in its thousands of manifestations on his canvasses.  But tortured by anxiety and self-doubt, he finally yielded to that starry night where his art could torture him no more.

It’s risky and painful to put yourself out there, but in the most important race of all it’s crucial that you show up. Today Jesus is urging us to take every risk, use every single opportunity to secure the Kingdom of Heaven.  Love, and more love will be given you.  Have faith, and more faith will take root in you.  Be rich in hope, and more hope will abound.  That’s the simple Math of the Kingdom of God.

In what ways does your daily investment in love pay great dividends?

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

Reflecting on Matthew 25:1-13

We’re coming near to the end of the liturgical year, and boy can we feel it.  Paul warns about trumpets sounding and God’s voice resounding through archangels.  And then of course we have this parable of the ten virgins, all anxious for the (late) Bridegroom, but only five are prepared for His coming.  Yes, the end-of-the-world readings are screaming for our attention.

But I want to recall a scene in The Hiding Place, one of the most powerful books written about those who lived and died during the Holocaust.  Corrie ten Boom, her sister and their father had been hiding terrified Jews in a secret upstairs closet in Corrie’s room in Amsterdam.   Corrie, organized and thoughtful, had prepared a bag for herself, with aspirin, a change of clothes, and some small crackers to comfort her when she inevitably fell into the hands of the Nazis and was taken off to the camps.

But the night that the (always punctual) Germans showed up at her house, screaming and pounding and demanding entrance, those who were being hidden leapt into the secret room while Corrie threw her bag in front of the closet.

And when they dragged her away, already feverish with influenza, she left her bag behind.  She couldn’t take the chance that an errant piece of clothing was hanging outside the closet, a clue that would have ended in death for all who had sought safety with her.

And she saved them all. How?  By heroically sacrificing her own preparation for those who could never prepare.  And I’ll bet that, at the moment of her death decades later, the Bridegroom took her straight away into the Wedding Feast.

In what ways have you prepared to meet the Bridegroom?

In loving memory of Sr. Antonia Anthony, OSF, whose happy death on November 4th, surrounded by the Marycrest Franciscans and her family, helped an entire wing at Denver Health sense that the Bridegroom had come for her.

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).