Advent Reflections: Friday, December 24

You, my child, shall be called prophet of the
Most High, for you will go before the Lord to
prepare his way.
—Luke 1:76

Every day of every life is a call to make choices and decisions
that help to prepare the way of the Lord. Every
choice to do the more loving thing is a paving stone on
that way.

2 Samuel 7:1–5, 8–12, 14, 16
Psalm 89
Luke 1:67–79

What would Jesus want for Christmas?

Click here to see what pastors said...

Homelessness

from Loyola blog by Jane

In Bethlehem, Mary and Joseph were members of the homeless population.

I have always had a home. I have never wondered where I will sleep tonight or the next night or next week. How many people in the history of the world can say that? Not Mary and Joseph.

I value the bed I sleep in. Often, when I climb between the sheets, I thank God for the simple cleanliness of it because I cannot imagine waking up to rodents crawling over my feet or insects in my hair.

To be homeless can mean to live in someone else’s house for awhile. Or their stable. There might be a sleeping spot on the couch, or the porch, or in the manger. This kind of stress cannot be good for self-esteem. It must feel humiliating to say, “I’m not sure when I will have a job or when I will have enough money to move out on my own again.” It is a feeling of worthlessness that must be hard to overcome. Self-esteem is not always the things we think about ourselves, sometimes it is the things we think others think about us.

Every week at St. Vincent de Paul I meet homeless people. Sometimes they are staying at the shelter, sometimes they sleep on friend’s couches, and a few of them sleep in cars or under bridges. We try to help them get enough money together for rent, or we make some phone calls to find a bed in a shelter, or if all else fails, we give them warm gloves and a blanket. We also try to reassure them that they are a beloved child of God. They often struggle to believe this.

On that cold December night did Mary and Joseph truly believe that they were the beloved children of God? It must have been tough for them to see it in the moment. And it must have been tough for all of us inn-keepers with the “no-vacancy” signs to see it, too.

Annunciations All the Time

Annunciations All the Time

from Loyola blog by Jim

My wife disturbed my Advent bliss a couple of days ago when she showed me a poem. I had been sailing along smoothly, humming “Come O Come Emmanuel,” lighting the Advent wreath, and reading Isaiah’s prophecies. Then Susan handed me “Annunciation” by Denise Levertov. These are the lines that troubled my world.

Aren’t there annunciations
of one sort or another
in most lives?
Some unwillingly
undertake great destinies,
enact them in sullen pride,
uncomprehending.
More often
those moments
when roads of light and storm
open from darkness in a man or woman,
are turned away from
in dread, in a wave of weakness, in despair
and with relief.
Ordinary lives continue.
God does not smite them.
But the gates close, the pathway vanishes.

We honor Mary for saying “yes” to God’s marvelous invitation. She could have said “no,” and “the gates close, the pathway vanishes,” in Levertov’s words. Something else would have happened, some divine Plan B (or C or D or E), but it wouldn’t have been the world that Mary’s “yes” gave us.

The same is true for each of us right now. There are annunciations of one sort or another happening all the time. God is inviting you to do something, and it’s up to you to say yes or no to it.

God sent a messenger to Mary to issue his invitation. So as Christ comes into our world, ask yourself: who is the messenger God is sending to you? What’s the message? What roads of light and storm are opening up for you?

Joseph shows the way as Advent draws to a close...

from the Loyola blog...

Sometimes, our head is telling us one thing but our heart and our gut are telling us something else. This past Sunday’s Gospel tells us that St. Joseph was experiencing this inner turmoil. His betrothed, Mary, is pregnant…and he’s not the father. According to Jewish Law, she should be stoned. At the very least, he decides to quietly divorce her…it would be the righteous thing to do. And yet, something within him continues to question this, interrupting his sleep. Righteousness and Love are at war within Joseph.

In a dream – in the deepest part of human consciousness – Joseph learns that, for God, love trumps righteousness. God calls Joseph – and he calls us – to be open to mystery. Joseph does not understand what is happening with Mary, but he comes to trust the Mystery of God. And in doing so, he enters into and encounters the Paschal Mystery.

This is the message for us as we move through this last week of Advent and prepare to celebrate the birth of Jesus. We are called to be open to mystery. Too often, we reduce “the faith” to a set of cognitive statements to be learned (and taught) intellectually. In contrast, Christmas is about mystery – the mystery of God becoming one of us so that we might be drawn closer to him. This is not a mystery to be solved, but encountered and entered into.

This Christmas, my prayer is that we open ourselves up to the mystery of God who is love, allowing ourselves to be drawn more deeply into the Paschal Mystery of Jesus Christ, our Savior.

Saint of the Day • December 23 • St. John of Kanty

John was a country lad who made good in the big city and the big university of Kraków, Poland.

After brilliant studies he was ordained a priest and became a professor of theology. The inevitable opposition which saints encounter led to his being ousted by rivals and sent to be a parish priest at Olkusz. An extremely humble man, he did his best, but his best was not to the liking of his parishioners. Besides, he was afraid of the responsibilities of his position. But in the end he won his people’s hearts. After some time he returned to Kraków and taught Scripture for the remainder of his life.

He was a serious man, and humble, but known to all the poor of Kraków for his kindness. His goods and his money were always at their disposal, and time and again they took advantage of him. He kept only the money and clothes absolutely needed to support himself. He slept little, and then on the floor, ate sparingly, and took no meat. He made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, hoping to be martyred by the Turks. He made four pilgrimages to Rome, carrying his luggage on his back. When he was warned to look after his health, he was quick to point out that, for all their austerity, the fathers of the desert lived remarkably long lives.

Comment:

John of Kanty is a typical saint: He was kind, humble and generous, he suffered opposition and led an austere, penitential life. Most Christians in an affluent society can understand all the ingredients except the last: Anything more than mild self-discipline seems reserved for athletes and ballet dancers. Christmas is a good time at least to reject self-indulgence.

Thursday, December 23 • St. John of Kanty, Priest •

The father asked for a tablet and wrote, “John is
his name,” and all were amazed. Immediately his
mouth was opened, his tongue freed, and he spoke
blessing God.
—Luke 1:63–64

When I do what I know in my heart I must do, then my
life will speak its own truth.

Malachi 3:1–4, 23–24
Psalm 25
Luke 1:57–66

Are you doing anything special for someone else today?

from faithandfamilylive.com by Rachel Balducci...

There was a knock at my door this evening. My house was quiet, my big boys and husband all at basketball practice. I had just put our toddler down for bed; the baby was fast asleep.

I opened the door to find a group of neighbors staring back at me. They were bundled up and armed with flashlights and songsheets—they were here to carol.

I greeted them and then asked if I could grab my three-year-old—he would love this (and also: I didn’t want to stand and stare alone). I ran up the stairs, got my little guy and came back to the lovely tunes of my lovely carolers.

(It is now about an hour later and I hear them across the street; they’ve made their way through the neighborhood and I suspect they are finishing up).

What I thought to myself, as I stood and watched and drank in the generous gift of this music, is that Christmas is certainly a magical time of the year. How beautiful to have these words sung to me, what a gift.

It also has me thinking about what simply wonderful thing I can do tomorrow—how can I bring to someone else a small taste of this simple kindness?

Are you doing anything special for someone else today?

It's not about the doing

from faithandfamilylive.com by Danielle Bean...

A few years ago, the week before Christmas found me in a panic. In a last-minute fit of anxiety, I wiped the family calendar clean of all outside activities and, in bright red marker, wrote the words “CHRISTMAS BAKING” on Dec. 23.

I was determined: We would have rum balls. We would have chocolate-drizzled pretzels. We would have delicate butter cookies filled with gumdrop surprises. We would have gingerbread men sporting button-down shirts and darling bowties. We would have peanut-butter fudge, chocolate fudge and penuche.

Yes sir, we would have cookie platters to die for. Even if it killed me.

It almost did. You see, in all my optimistic planning, I had neglected to account for the fact that I was six months pregnant. I had also conveniently overlooked the fact that I had six other children who happened to be bouncing off the walls with a sugar infused, pre-holiday rush of energy.

But, at the time, none of that mattered—there was baking to be done.

I started with the fudge. When I pulled out my mixing bowls and set the ingredients on the counter, several small bodies immediately descended upon me. They climbed chairs and elbowed their way toward the good stuff. They begged. They touched. They tasted.

I remained resolute. I muddled my way through a batch of fudge, set it aside to cool and then dove into the next recipe. It wasn’t until I was midway through a double recipe of gingerbread dough that the commotion in the kitchen and the throbbing pain in my legs made me second-guess my culinary zeal. After breaking up a candy-cane sword fight, settling a toddler tantrum and retrieving my measuring cups from the toy box, I began to feel just a tiny bit discouraged.

Why is it that preparing for Christmas is idyllic only in its brainstorming stage? So often, executing even the best-laid plan is quite a different story. My saving grace — that year as in so many years past — is that, at some point, it always comes to me that the truest joys of Christmas are found in the least busy moments.

Mary knew this.

At that first Christmas all those years ago, the Blessed Mother did not run around the stable in a panic because she had no egg nog to offer the shepherds. Scripture tells us very little about anything Mary might have said or done at the Savior’s birth. This alone is telling: “And Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart” (Luke 2:19).

Like Mary, we too can “keep” the things of Christmas — all the little details of the birth of Jesus — and reflect on them in our hearts.

In the midst of the inevitable commotion of my family’s Christmas season this year, I intend to bear in mind Our Lady’s example of doing less and observing more.

I will keep my children’s beaming faces and eyes wide with anticipation as they gather around the crèche before the midnight Mass. I will keep young Stephen’s precious voice belting out “Away in a Manger” with all his innocent heart. I will keep the candlelit beauty of the adorned altar. I will keep the communal sense of warmth and joy that surrounds us in the pews at Christmas Mass.

And when our Savior comes, I pray that I will keep him, too. I pray that I will welcome him with joy and keep him always in my heart.

Even when I’m in the kitchen.

Joseph's Song by Michael Card

Advent Reflections: Wednesday, December 22

He has cast down the mighty from their thrones
and has lifted up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he has sent away empty.
—Luke 1:52–53

God’s justice turns our systems upside down.
God’s integrity turns our values inside out.

1 Samuel 1:24–28
1 Samuel 2:1, 4–8
Luke 1:46–56

Looking, waiting and running...

from blog.adw.org by Msgr. Charles Pope, Archdiocese of Washington, DC...

Advent is beginning to wind to a close and even liturgically the focus has now turned toward the Christmas Feast. However, still in Advent, we look for the Lord to come. We still wait on the Lord, wait for him to come in glory.

We have all been well schooled in the in the understanding that the word “Advent” means “coming.” This is fine and accurate but there is one danger to avoid in our current notion of Advent, and that is that we are not merely passive as we look for the Lord or wait for him to come. It is not just that the Lord is coming to us but we are also journeying to him. In fact we are running to meet him.

There is an image of the Prodigal Son that comes to mind. His Father saw him and ran toward him, but he too was hastening to his Father with contrition and hope. Yes, in Advent we do look for the Lord’s coming. But the Lord also looks for us as we come to him by faith. We, like the prodigal son, consider our need for salvation, and with contrition, (did you get to confession this advent?), hasten to meet our Lord, whom we know by faith is coming to us...

We are not counselled to “wait on the Lord” in a merely passive sense as though we were sitting still and waiting for a bus to arrive. Rather we are counselled to “wait on the Lord” in an active sense, much as when we speak of a waiter in a restaurant waiting on tables. Such a form of waiting is a very active form of waiting. Alert and aware, the waiter or waitress carefully observes the needs of others around them and serves their brothers and sisters. The good ones strive to avoid distraction and do their job of serving well and with swiftness...

St. Paul speaks of running too:

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air. No, I discipline my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize (1 Cor 9:24-27).

Are you running to meet the Lord? Or are you just waiting? Advent involves looking and waiting, but it also means running, running to meet the Lord who is coming to us. Run!

 Read entire article...

Myriad Singers - Gabriel's Message - John Rutter

Rosary Beads

from the Loyola blog by Jane...

I hold the rosary in my hand today and feel the lightness of it. It is almost nothing. Yet, Mary tells us that it can change the world. In her apparitions over the ages, she begs us to use it.

It can change me, that I know. I say the prayers, sometimes noting the meaning, sometimes reflecting on the mysteries. Eyes shut, I forget the other people in the adoration chapel, I forget the statues, and the candles. It is the middle of the busiest time of the year, and I am sitting still for twenty minutes. There are cookies that need baking, cards to send, presents to wrap, and an entire house that shouts at me to clean it. I forget all these things as I finger the small beads.

I say the prayers because Mary has asked us to say them. That is enough reason, but am I saying the prayers well? Does it matter if I say them well, or is it the simple act of saying them, taking the time, that makes the magic happen? There is much that I do not understand about the rosary and this praying notion. Maybe that is just as well. Maybe it is not necessary if I understand how God changes the world.

Tuesday, December 21 • St. Peter Canisius, Priest and Doctor of the Church •

When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the infant
leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth [was] filled with
the Holy Spirit.
—Luke 1:41

God’s call, however faintly we may perceive it, quivers
through our being with a joy and an insistence that
shakes us into life.

Take time to remember when you have felt the quiver
of God’s touch on your life.

Song of Songs 2:8–14 or Zephaniah 3:14–18
Psalm 33
Luke 1:39–45

Advent Reflections: Monday, December 20

Elizabeth, your relative, has also conceived a son
in her old age, and this is the sixth month for her
who was called barren; for nothing will be impossible
for God.
—Luke 1:36–37

Susan often thought back over her long life as she sat,
lonely and forgotten, in the nursing home, day after
tedious day. What point has there been in all of it? she
wondered. Her days had been fruitless, meaningless.
Her life had made no difference.
Then a letter came from a former pupil, thanking Susan
for all she had meant to him. Just a sheet of paper—but
a spark of life, direct from God, redeeming her barrenness,
setting her heart alight with meaning and significance.

Isaiah 7:10–14
Psalm 24
Luke 1:26–38

Importance of 'daughter time'

from Catholic Womanhood by Julie Filby

As I prepare for the coming of the Son this season, one thing that has helped me hang on my (constantly challenged) Advent spirit has been reflecting on the importance of Daughter Time.

Two weeks ago, our daughter Vaughn celebrated her fourth birthday. I left work early to take cupcakes to preschool (where she spends Monday through Thursday learning and playing while I’m at work). She was happy to share sugar with her friends—and was pleased with the enthusiastic rendition of “Happy Birthday” in her honor.

After the celebration, I suggested we go to Starbuck’s to hang out and have hot chocolate before picking her second-grade brother up from school.

Vaughn: Yet’s just go home and pway for a while.
Mom: Are you sure you don’t want to go for hot chocolate?
Vaughn: Mom, yet’s go home.
Mom: Do you want to go to Target and pick out a princess for your new princess bed?
Vaughn: No. (getting mildly annoyed) Can we just go home and pway?

She wasn’t concerned about treats or toys, she simply wanted to go home and have me all to herself. So that’s what we did. She needed some Daughter Time.

A child experiencing a parent’s undivided time and attention feels loved, secure and at peace. Perhaps this is something we never outgrow. Even when we’re the ones providing it, we need to seek it out for ourselves as well … with our heavenly Father.

I was reminded of this at confession a few weeks ago. The penance Father assigned me was to spend five minutes of dedicated Daughter Time with God. He advised me to let go of any worries associated with being a wife, mother, employee, parishioner, housekeeper, grocery shopper, party planner, family calendar coordinator – and simply surround myself with the Father’s warmth and unconditional love.

In a woman’s many given roles, it can be pretty common to feel overwhelmed with responsibilities, particularly as Christmas draws near. Daughter Time can help provide the comfort, security and serenity needed to continue to glorify God in those roles—and hang on to that Advent spirit—which is not always easy to do in a season where over-spending, over-committing and otherwise over-indulging often prevail.

Just as my earthly parents have done for me so many times, God will “provide cupcakes” and otherwise rejoice in special occasions with me, he’ll carry me through challenges, he’ll encourage me to slow down, and he’ll generously provide his undivided attention … any time it’s requested.

A meditation to kick off Daughter Time:

“The Lord is my peace. He puts me under his wing of comfort and calms my spirit within me. He takes all my anxieties on Himself and helps me focus on Him.”
—“Calm My Anxious Heart” by Linda Dillow

Joseph's Dream Reflection...

Breath of Heaven...Mary's Song by Amy Grant

Take time to listen to the old story no matter how busy we are...our souls need it

from thonline.com by Lyn Jerde

The week before Christmas is a busy time at the small but scrappy daily newspaper where I've been a reporter for almost three years.

It's the same at almost any newspaper. There are year-end retrospective stories to write, photos to take in frigid weather that is unkind to photographers and cameras and "evergreen" stories to produce. "Evergreen" stories are not about farm-grown firs; they're the kind of stories that an editor can collect before Christmas, to fill the paper during the end-of-December days when half the staff is out of the office.

So, what does my editor assign me to do? Attend a half-day professional development seminar.
"Oh, nuts," I thought. "When I've got all this work to do, how can I take time away to spend a morning focusing on how to do my job better?

"Besides, I've been a journalist for 30 years. I'm working at my sixth newspaper. I have a wall full of awards. Since I already know how to be a journalist, wouldn't it be better use of my employer's never-quite-sufficient time to let me actually be one?"

Sound familiar? This doesn't just apply to journalists, does it?

We're near the end of Advent, and Christmas is almost here. I'm like almost everybody (or at least every woman) I know -- setting aside days for baking, wrapping gifts, scouring grocery aisles for the perfect "roast beast" to serve for Christmas dinner.

Besides, I'm a lifelong Christian. Not only have I heard the Nativity story more than 50 times; as a child, I used to act it out with my brothers and cousins every Christmas Eve, before we opened presents.

So, why should I take time now to reflect on the story of Christ's birth, and what "God With Us" means in my life today?

Well, I went to the half-day journalism seminar, and I'm grateful that my editor sent me.
Even after three decades as a reporter, I found that there were, indeed, new techniques to learn -- how to combine a notebook and a tape recorder in newsgathering, how to turn reams of notes into a story that reads like a screenplay.

But even if I hadn't gotten any practical "takeaway" from this seminar, I still would have experienced it as a time of renewal. I spent a morning with others who also have vocations as journalists, reflecting not just on how we do the job, but why.

This is the insight that came to me: Even a theology professor needs to go to a revival meeting now and then.

Every Martha needs to be a Mary from time to time, to put aside the chores and intentionally sit at Jesus' feet.

Every Christian, at this time of year, needs to gather by the manger. Even if we can quote chapter and verse from the Nativity stories in Matthew and Luke -- and even if we spent our formative years portraying shepherds in old bathrobes and angels with wire-hanger halos -- our souls crave the renewal that comes from this old, old story.

That's what I wish for all of you this Christmas -- a happy holiday, of course, but also a joyful and reinvigorating Holy Day.