What am I anxious about?

Homily

1st Sunday of Advent C2

St. Lawrence Catholic Center at the University of Kansas

28 November 2021

AMDG +mj

The goal is Pentecost.  Yes, you heard me right.  I'm not making a liturgical snafu.  The end of Advent is not Christmas.  It's Pentecost.  We must begin with the end in mind, and as sweet as it will be to celebrate the mystery of the Incarnation at Christmas, things do not and cannot end there.  Advent prepares for 3 comings of Christ.  His coming in the flesh in history, which we mark at Christmas, is the first. Next is His coming through His Spirit after accomplishing the work of redemption in the paschal mystery. This second coming reaches its apex not even at Easter, but at Pentecost, when the fullness of God's Spirit is revealed and gifted.  Then at last, is His coming at the end of time.  So the goal of today, the start of something new at Advent, is not Christmas!  I repeat, the goal is not Christmas!  It is at the very least Pentecost, if not something more.  So let us begin with the end in mind.  It's nice that we prepare for God to join the human race.  It is more to prepare for the redemption of that same race with a full celebration liturgically of the Christian mysteries.

So come, Lord Jesus come!  That is the great cry of Advent. Come in history!  Come right now!  Come again!  Advent can and must jolt us out of our complacency.  Instead we want to say hold on!  I'm not ready! Give me a minute! Stay away, please!  Advent flips this all to human procrastination on its head.  Advent could not be more simple.  Come, Lord Jesus!  Come Lord of history!  Come Lord of my life!  Come and be born in my mess.  Come and be born in my heart, in my family, in my Church and in my world!  Advent is a cry!  Advent is a dare!  Come sooner Lord Jesus!  Come closer Lord Jesus! I dare you to come, Lord!  This time I actually mean it.

A guy approached me recently with the mess he was in, so of course I asked him how things came to be this way.  He was refreshingly honest.  It's simple, Father.  I'm a simple guy.  I like new and shiny things, and they get me in trouble!  His witness reminded me of how great a difference there is between circumstantial and substantial change. Who doesn't like new things, superficially?  Who doesn't want a clean break and a fresh start?  Who doesn't like a new chance, like the one Advent promises to us this weekend each year?

Yet none of us want substantial change.  To want change from the inside out, at the level of the soul and our affections, takes a terrifying readiness for cleaning house and renovations!   Our pivotal question this week is this:  what are you anxious about?  If I'm honest, I'm anxious about change!  It's terrifying, just as Jesus says it is and always will be.  I've worked so hard to get an ounce of control, and now Jesus wants to come this Advent and wreck the whole project!  No wonder I tell him not now, not in this way.  Stay away please!  Give new new and shiny things on the outside, but leave me alone on the inside.

Jesus desires a passionate, personal, particular and powerful visit to you in this new year.  He chooses this day to stand at your door and knock.  He begs you not to be afraid of His visit, and the substantial change that will mean for you.  What is your heart telling you today?  Do you want Him to come?

What miracle do I want to see?

Homily

Solemnity of All Saints

1 November 2021

St. Lawrence Catholic Campus Center at the University of Kansas

AMDG +mj

What miracle do I want to see?

Miracles can be spookier than ghosts.  So is holiness.  Halloween gives way to All Saints today.  I dare say today is scarier than yesterday.  For the fun of pretending to be someone I'm not gives way to the call to become who I was created to be.  It's easier to don costumes than to wash my robe in the blood of the Lamb.

I want to see the miracle of my becoming a saint!  That desire is still in me.  It's still in you.  The miracle of transubstantiation in front of us, as improbable as it may be, dares yet more!  The grace of the Eucharist invites the miracle of my becoming a saint.  If only I dare faith.  If only I do not get scared.

How terribly awesome is the capacity to become a saint, which is nothing less than to love like God!

My freedom is an intimidating gift.  It's much safer to pretend to be someone of something else rather than who I am.  It's easier to say I don't believe.  I'm not sure.  I don't care.  It doesn't really matter.  Leave me alone.  Good enough is good enough.

Yet these are the lies the saints never believed.  Their witness haunts me.  Their encouragement intimidates me.  If they are real I have no excuse and no escape.  Holiness really is the scariest thing of all.  

Yet here I am again on All Saints.  I'm confronted by the miracle of the holy ones, who were once just like me.  Because they are real, I know the greatest tragedy today is if I do not become a saint.  I know the most urgent thing is whether I try to become a saint.

This is not to make myself the center of the universe.  It's to see and feel and receive and answer the universal call to holiness that comes to each of us. This call is nothing if it is not utterly urgent and personal.

Holiness is scary.  Beware of the 'phog'.  This great cloud of witnesses wishes to answer the pivotal question for me today!  What miracle do you want to see, dear saints of God?  They want to see me become a saint.  They pray for me a love that casts out my fear of my deepest potential and desire.