I awoke this morning recalling a time several years ago right before Christmas with my baby grandson. Apparently, everyone else had last minute things to attend to, and Noah and I were left at home alone. I held him in my arms, and he drifted off to sleep. My heart still swells with joy as I remember those precious moments. Feeling his tiny heartbeat against my own, hearing his gentle breathing, and smelling his baby sweetness, I was humbled by his presence in my life. I wanted to stay wrapped up in that moment forever. As I was embracing Noah, God was embracing me.
While we welcome Baby Jesus with triumphant hymns and celebrations, somewhere a mother is mourning the loss of her own child. Disease, poverty, racism and injustice ravage our society. Christmas itself won’t end hunger, or war, or poverty, or terrorism, or racism, or homophobia or violence, or human trafficking, or all other injustices. Millions will go to bed hungry tonight. Millions more will have no place to lay their head. Others will be at war or surrounded by violence. Others are imprisoned by drug addiction, domestic abuse, neglect or alcoholism.
Still, Jesus comes amidst our joy and sorrow, our triumphs and disappointments. He comes to be with us. He will embrace our joy and our pain.
Christmas comes with the hope of renewal. Christmas raises our expectations of peace and goodwill. If we believe in God and take an active role in His plan, we can bring peace to our world. We can take a stand; perform an act of kindness; make a small sacrifice for another. We can share a smile; speak a kind word; give a gentle touch.I believe that kindness, multiplied by millions as we proclaim our Christmas joy, can transform our world. Ram Dass is credited with saying, “When all is said and done, we are all just walking each other home.”
My wish is that you all can recall some “Baby Noah moment” in your life and be sustained by the comfort that God is with you while you are walking one another home.
Today our Church celebrates the third Sunday of Advent also known as “Gaudete Sunday.” Gaudete means “rejoice” in Latin. This joyful spirit is marked by the third candle of our Advent wreath, which is rose or pink. Lighting the pink candle is a time for rejoicing. We rejoice in our anticipation of Christ’s coming as an infant over 2,000 years ago in Bethlehem.
Today’s Gospel speaks of John the Baptist. Did John (that crazy, animal skin wearing, locust eating, hermit) think he was the only one who knew what was coming? Afterall, he leapt for joy in his mother’s womb on hearing of the coming of Christ.
I like to imagine that John was stoic. He had fortitude – that thing of mighty men. Muscle and endurance; toughness and resiliency; never-ending and never-failing. But was he just skulking around in the desert because he was disgusted with the callous disregard of others? Do I sometimes find myself lost in a spiritual desert or do I choose to be there to distance myself from others. Are my apathy and cynicism just convenient means of avoidance? “I don’t know and I don’t care”avoids the messy and bothersome involvement with humanity.
I find myself searching for joy in the desert. Looking for a glimmer of hope. Praying for peace.
As I prepare for coming of the infant Jesus at Christmas, John the Baptist reminds me that there is something else coming. I must prepare for the change that Jesus creates; in our world; in our church; in myself. I need Jesus here and now to give me balance. I need His loving example to help me deal with the tragedies in my life. Sometimes it’s hard to find joy in our world. I need Jesus’ wisdom to find the good in all His creation. I need to learn how to disagree without being disagreeable. I need His patience during this holiday season to be truly present, especially when something doesn’t go as planned. I need Jesus’ forgiveness for all the times that I fail to be loving and patient.
So, today I’m filled with joyful anticipation. Because very soon He will come. He comes with love. He comes with wisdom. He comes with patience. He offers me understanding and forgiveness.
I’m reminded that a single flame can illuminate the darkness. So, I’ll light my pink candle and welcome Him home.
Peace,
Denis
Behold, I am sending my messenger ahead of you; he will prepare your way before you. Amen, I say to you, among those born of women there has been none greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.Matthew 11:10-11
Author Joelle Chase writes, “Mary is an archetype of the feminine in all of us—man or woman—sometimes hidden or subverted, but always present and available, inviting us to embrace what appears small, unimportant, embarrassing, weak. She knew her strength, the miracle of her body that would knit Life out of God’s seed.”
That’s a powerful statement and it runs counter to the image of a helpless, hapless, teenage Mary who is poor, afraid, pregnant, unwed and uncertain. Mary said yes. Not because the angel told her that she should, but because she knew her own strength, her potential and her power.
Mothers are powerful! Ask any woman who has cared for a sick child; wept for the loss of life; fought for her child’s acceptance; guarded her offspring without flinching; celebrated joy and comforted heartache; loved unconditionally. All while saying “yes”.
Ask any man who loves a woman and he will tell you that mothers are powerful. When men can’t – women do. When fathers fail and flail; mothers take charge. No one loves like a mother; fights like a mother for what is right; dreams beyond her own capabilities like a mother. All while saying “yes”.
God could have come to earth on cloud or from a lighting bolt. Jesus could have appeared “poof” out of nowhere. But instead he was born to a woman as an infant. God chose to be loved by a mother. Jesus shared in the joy of being truly human; of being cradled in a mother’s arms; to know her strength and her tenderness.
We can all learn from Mary’s “yes”. Women and men alike. Yes to truth. Yes to courage. Yes to strength. Yes to gentleness. Yes to peace. Yes to love. Yes to life. Yes to God.
Peace,
Denis
“Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.” Luke 1:38
Last Sunday our Associate Pastor gave us two words to reflect on: quiet and slow. On that first Sunday of Advent, he suggested that we approach this Christmas Season quietly and slowly. Considering the usual hustle and bustle of this time of year that is a challenge for many of us. For me it seems nearly impossible.
Let me explain.
I’m loud. Really loud. I was born the third son in a family of four siblings. In our house you didn’t wait for your turn to speak, you just spoke louder than your brothers. My sister is the youngest and she’s pretty loud, too. Our father was loud (even when he thought he was being quiet). My wife reminds me all the time that I don’t know how to whisper. And I know that I speak over other people. I try to suppress this tendency but most times I fail. So apparently, I’ve inherited my dad’s inability to be quiet.
I’m fast. My mother was fast. In fact, her entire family moved at a rapid pace, and I’ve inherited that trait, too. Why spend your whole life just moseying along? I’m often restless and find no pleasure in ‘taking my time’ to do anything. We have stuff that needs to get done! My dad used to joke that “Rome wasn’t built in a day, because no one in your mother’s family was on the job site”. Of course, he told that joke loudly.
I know that Advent is counter cultural. It should be a time of quiet reflection. There’s plenty of time to wrap the presents and trim the tree and raise a glass of cheer. I need some time for meditation and prayer. Time to quiet my soul and prepare the way for Christ’s coming into my life. But it goes against my very nature.
Quiet and slow. These attributes are not my strong suit. When I’m with a prayer group and we have ‘moments of silence’ and quiet reflection I begin to twitch. I can only hear the ringing in my ears. My mind jumps around to the various and assorted IMPORTANT THINGS that need to be done (quickly!). What was our focus? Something Jesus-y. When can we begin talking again? Oh Christ! I mean oh Christ, please help me!
Quiet and Slow. I like a challenge. But quiet and slow?
This Advent, when I get caught up in all my busyness, I will listen for God’s voice shouting for me. I imagine God, as my Mom, all those years ago when I was boy out playing with my friends, shouting for me to come home.
Wisdom shouts in the street, She lifts her voice in the square; At the head of the noisy streets she cries out; At the entrance of the gates in the city she utters her sayings. Proverbs 1:20-21
Come home! And then I can light my Advent wreath. One flame at a time.
Emmanuel is a Hebrew word that is made up of two parts: “Immanu” meaning “with us”, and “el” meaning God. So together, Emmanuel means “God with us.” The name Emmanuel reminds us that Jesus is not distant, but intimately present in our lives. It speaks to our need for connection with God. Here. Now. And forever.
At Christmas, my focus is often on Baby Jesus. The infant in the creche, the helpless child and his weary parents: homeless, alone and frightened. While I sit comfortably in my warm home surrounded by Christmas decorations and gifts and an excess of food, it’s challenging to relate to Jesus’ humble beginning. But then I think of my children as infants and the overwhelming concern I had for them. I remember too, my feelings of inadequacy. My need to protect them was constant, as was my fear of failure in trying to do so. I can only imagine how Joseph must have felt; disappointed at his inability to provide shelter; uncertain of his future with Mary and Jesus; fearful that he might fail.
During Advent we are reminded that we aren’t just awaiting the birth of our Savior in Bethlehem. We are also anticipating the awakening of our spirits in Christ, and His final coming at the end of time. When I reflect on those things I realize that I encounter Jesus every day. At Christmas we’re given new hearts capable of greater love. Our obstinance and unkindness can be removed. We can be free from our hearts of stone.
Recently, while Christmas shopping, I asked a cashier how she was holding up. I simply meant with the Christmas rush, the long hours, and the constant customer demands. She proceeded to tell me that she was having a tough time this year as this was the first Christmas without her husband. She said he had died on December 28th the previous year and she had taken this temporary job just to avoid Christmas preparations alone this year. She was just trying to “stay busy” and not focus on his absence. As her eyes filled with tears, I felt her pain. It was then that I was once again remembered that God’s law of Love is written on our hearts. I meekly said, “please take of yourself this Christmas”. I left the store not certain if I had comforted her, but I felt honored that she saw me as someone with whom she could share her pain.
Our ability to be Christians is only accomplished in the life and death of God’s only Son, Jesus Christ. When we turn to Christ and receive forgiveness from our sins, then God dwells within us, and we can be Christ to one another. It is then that we too become Emmanuel.
This Christmas be assured that God is with you. Sometimes all we need to do is look in the mirror.
Peace,
Denis
Therefore, the Lord himself will give you a sign; the young woman, pregnant and about to bear a son, shall name him Emmanuel.Isaiah 7:14
Often, I think others are being judgmental. I look down on the “judgers”. How dare they make assumptions about me and those whom I love! Who are they to judge? They don’t know my circumstances or beliefs. They don’t know my history. They don’t understand what I find intolerable or what I hold dear. They make their assumptions because of my sex, my age, my race, my marital status, my nationality, my neighborhood, my faith. And it is tiring to constantly have to explain myself. Believe what you will judgers! You haven’t walked my path.
Then I judge. In my heart I know that I do. I judge people by their appearance, their age, the kind of car they drive, the neighborhood they live in, the way they speak and on and on. The very thing that bothers me about others is something that I am constantly doing myself.
It is so easy to think that others are being judgmental without ever looking in the mirror. In our polarized society, it is understandable to embrace an “us versus them” mentality. But it’s wrong. I know that. My heart and my head tell me it’s sinful and shameful to judge others, but I do it anyway. Almost instinctively, I find myself sizing folks up. Do they look like me? Do they speak intelligently? Do they conduct themselves in a manner that I find acceptable? Do they share my beliefs, my goals, my perception of what life should be?
I have a dear friend who once said to me, “I just look like this”. It was a simple and profound statement that declared to the world that she need not fit into anyone else’s expectation of who or what she should be. I love her for that and so much more. And I have used her statement myself. The challenge is to remember that everyone I meet “just looks like this”. I sometimes (okay, almost always) judge the folks on those electric carts in the supermarket and discount stores. Are they really disabled? Or just too big to carry themselves comfortably? Do they abuse the privilege because it’s just easier to cruise through the big box store rather than trek the miles down each aisle on foot? It is shameful, judgmental and ignorant of me. But there I stand judging.
I judge folks when I see them flying flags upside down. I judge people by the bumper stickers on their cars. I judge my neighbors by the way the keep their lawns and gardens. I judge others who declare themselves Pro-Life and Pro-Guns. I judge others who appear too pious. I judge others who seem blasphemous. I judge others who seem slovenly. I judge others who seem to be obsessed with their appearance. I’m kind of an all-purpose judger. And when I point that finger there are four more pointed back at me!
Currently I am experiencing an impinged nerve. And it’s painful. So, I’m limping and moaning and have had to accept much help from others, which I don’t like to do. My wife has been very patient while dealing with my impatience. My son-in-law, one of my heroes, helped get me to a much-needed doctor’s appointment. I probably received some stares from the neighbors as I stumbled around my yard looking inebriated. I’ve likely received some looks of pity or disgust from strangers seeing this old dude walking stiff legged and unsteady. If this pain does anything for me, I hope that it is a reminder that I am too quick to judge others. I know that it is wrong. I realize that it separates me from others for no reason other than my own pride.
Who am I to judge when the One who is judge of all keeps forgiving me? I hope and I pray for empathy. I ask God to help me be more loving and accepting of others. And I ask for forgiveness when I judge again tomorrow.
Peace,
Denis
“Stop judging, that you may not be judged. For as you judge, so will you be judged, and the measure with which you measure will be measured out to you.”Matthew 7:1-2
Peace. Such a simple word with so many definitions: a state without war; freedom from disquieting or oppressive thoughts or emotions; a state of freedom from storm or disturbance; peaceful coexistence. But what does peace mean to me? As I often do, I look to others for wisdom beyond my ken.
Mahatma Gandhi said, “The day the power of love overrules the love of power, the world will know peace.” Elie Wiesel wrote, “Mankind must remember that peace is not God’s gift to his creatures; peace is our gift to each other.” In the words of Saint Teresa of Calcutta, “Peace begins with a smile.”
Albert Einstein is quoted as saying “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as if nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”
Peace is my miracle. I see peace when I watch the birds and squirrels in my backyard scurrying for seeds and nuts to keep warm in this bitter cold. I feel peace when I hold my grandchildren in my arms knowing that they are God’s promise to make this world a better place. I know peace when the love of others lifts me out of the darkness of despair.
The challenge for me is to be a peace-giver. Each week when I attend mass, we share a ‘sign of peace’. Simply stated: we shake hands or hug those around us and say, “peace be with you”. Sometimes I do it rather mechanically. Sometimes I fail to even look the recipient of my ‘peace’ in the eyes. And seldom do I take the time to really think about the peace I am offering.
Again, seeking wisdom, I turn to my spouse. She often reminds me that we have no idea what pain others are carrying in their hearts. What peace do you need, my friend? What freedom are you seeking? What are your fears? What emotions or thoughts are troubling you? I can offer this small gift. I can give peace, my peace. I can begin with a smile. I can hug a little tighter and hold a hand just a moment longer and let someone know that I truly care.
Here’s the other part: accepting peace. Am I changed when others offer their peace to me? Do I accept their peace generously and without question? Once again: I can begin with a smile. I can hug a little tighter and hold a hand just a moment longer and let someone know that I am truly blessed by their love.
My peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid.John 14:27
Peace,
Denis
P.S. My friend Joyce shared this beautiful song with me, offering me her peace.
Jesus said to the crowds: “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.” Mt 11:28-30
The pop song “The Weight” was released in 1968 by The Band. The song takes place in Nazareth, where the singer encounters several colorful characters. The song’s writer, Robbie Robertson, has described it as something he threw together with no religious intent. Still, the lyrics do lead listeners to draw their own conclusions.
I pulled into Nazareth, was feelin’ about half past dead. I just need some place where I can lay my head.
“Hey, mister, can you tell me where a man might find a bed?” He just grinned and shook my hand, and “No” was all he said.
Today would have been my father-in-law’s birthday. He grew up dirt poor in Southeast Missouri. He lived a hard scrabble life as a kid. He earned pocket money killing rats in the cotton and watermelon fields as young boy. He lived in his grandparents’ home when his mother couldn’t afford a place of their own, but he never complained about his upbringing. He never voiced any regrets. Pop carried his burdens privately, with grace and dignity.
Unfortunately, I lack the grace and humility that my father-in-law possessed. I cry out in pain when my burdens seem insurmountable. I curse when life doesn’t meet my expectations. I rail against real and perceived injustices. My disappointments, my heartaches, my failures become overwhelming. And I often fail to listen to Jesus’ words. In my selfishness and solitude, I often lack the empathy to feel others’ pain. Then I re-read this Gospel, and I am reminded that I can take comfort in knowing we can all find our rest. Whether we cry out in pain, or suffer in silence, we are assured that Jesus will carry our burdens. But here’s the catch: turning over our burdens to Christ requires that we carry the load for others as well. Jesus said, “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me.” As Christians we’re called to follow Jesus’ example of love. Our burdens will be lessened as we join them with Jesus and help carry the load for others.
Take a load off (friend). And you put the load right on me.
“You will find rest for yourselves.For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.”
I spent last week in McAllen, Texas at our southern border. I volunteered at the Humanitarian Respite Center which is affiliated with Catholic Charities of the Rio Grande Valley. Staffed by dedicated personnel as well as volunteers and supported by donations, the center provides a place for the countless refugees and asylum seekers, who have entered our country legally, to rest, have a meal, a change of clothes, and receive medicine and other supplies. Most families are at the center only 24 hours before continuing on their journey into the United States. They travel by plane or bus to their host family destinations.
There is so much reported on cable news shows about the “crisis” at the border that I wanted to see it for myself. I did and I am changed. The people that we served were refugees seeking asylum. The United Nations 1951 Convention and 1967 Protocol define a refugee as a person who is unable or unwilling to return to his or her home country, and cannot obtain protection in that country, due to past persecution or a well-founded fear of being persecuted in the future “on account of race, religion, nationality, membership in a particular social group, or political opinion.”I was overwhelmed by the need, but even more so by the gratitude and love shared from those we served. Each small act of kindness was followed by countless “gracias”.
I traveled with my friend Bob, who is veteran of service at the Respite Center. I’m certain I would not have survived without Bob’s tutelage. We stayed at a hotel in San Juan, Texas which is next door to a beautiful Basilica which reminded me of The Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City and provided meditation, prayer and worship with a mariachi band thrown in for good measure. I was feeling anxious about my poor Spanish skills and reached out to my friend Alberto in Mexico. He assured that if I just said “bienvenido” my actions would speak the rest. He was right! (Alberto mi hermano te amo)
Sometimes you just have to jump into the deep end headfirst. And I did. On Day One we served lunch to about 75 persons. The Haitians would thank us with “gracias” although clearly not their native tongue. There was one little girl about 2 or 3 who would shyly smile at me every time we met. I wanted to squeeze her and tell her that all would be alright but who knows? Walking a man to the bus station, he thanked me for my kindness and then he put his arm around me and took a selfie of us. Smiles all around! I was touched by an angel.
On Day Two we met a young man (probably a teenager) who needed his knees bandaged and was all alone. We learned that he had been abducted by a gang and had somehow escaped. No way to know what he had endured. A little boy named David about 6 years old asked me to throw a paper airplane. We played for at least 30 minutes. His joy was contagious. It was like playing whiffle ball with my grandson Noah. He asked my name and thanked me. His grin was from ear to ear.
Day Three was much busier. 300+ people served. We served families from Cuba, Guatemala, Ecuador, Venezuela, Haiti, China, Colombia, El Salvador, Honduras, and Chile. “Mucho gracias” from every smiling face. Parents looked exhausted. Kids were always ready to play. Highlight of the day was meeting Sr. Norma Pimentel. She is the Executive Director of Catholic Charities in the Rio Grande Valley and the founder of the HRC. She was named one of Time’s Most Influential People in 2020. She was so down-to-earth and so welcoming. Later that day, I attempted to help a man from China get cash for his taxi ride to the airport. We tried several things but to no avail. I was relieved to learn the following morning that somehow, he was successful.
Day Four was another very busy start to the day. We ran out of Pedialyte and baby bottles but a volunteer family from Kansas went and bought some more. Often as supplies are depleted, they miraculously reappear. I filled two emergency clothing orders. One was a family with a 2-year-old boy and a 3 three-year-old girl. I found a brand-new outfit for the girl. The mother couldn’t stop thanking me. Another mother had an 18-month-old who was completely naked. I gave him more than I was supposed to. This one brought me to tears. A woman prayed for the longest time at the image of Our Lady of Guadeloupe. Perhaps she was praying for a better life or thanking God for getting her this far.
On Day Five a little girl from Honduras tried to teach me Spanish while I tried to teach her English. She was the better student. We had some late arrivals that day. Managed to get them settled in and served a late lunch. A little girl who suffered a seizure was taken to the hospital as we were leaving that night.
On my last day we delivered 35 meals to the Siesta Inn, a hotel that is housing men traveling alone and anyone who had tested positive for Covid-19 (yes, it’s still out there for the unvaccinated). I put together care packages of toiletries and I packed lunches for air or bus travel.
Each day as the immigrants arrived, I remembered my “Bienvenido” and each day as they departed, I offered a “Via con Dios.” I prayed every night their journeys might bring them safely to a new life. I will continue to pray for each of them as I see their faces in my mind. I wonder if they are well and welcomed.
During each day there were plenty of “Que necesitas?” And as I struggled with each request, I was supported by some of the most amazing volunteers that I have ever met. Of course, I am blessed to know my good friend (and traveling companion) Bob. Also blessed by, Lara, Philip, Cecilia, Pat and Mary: all local volunteers, Joe from Notre Dame, Nick from D.C, Julie from Kansas, and Dan from Colorado, Father Patrick Russell, the students and administrators from Saint Dominic High School in my hometown, the Jesuits who said mass on Tuesday and Thursday at the Center, and countless others. They gave of themselves effortlessly, with compassion and joy. They were truly the hands and feet of Christ. I am humbled by their witness.
I pray that these weary travelers we served were offered a glimmer of hope and a glimpse of heaven.
Bienvenido – thanks for the advice, Alberto! It served me well.
This morning at Ash Wednesday mass, Monsignor challenged us to do something during Lent this year. Something for others. Fasting and abstaining is all well and good, and self-reflection and self-improvement is always a good thing, but he suggested that doing something for others might make a difference in our homes, in our communities, in our world, but perhaps most importantly in our hearts.
I’m realizing that giving something up is much easier than doing something. Giving up chocolate or alcohol is admirable, but it’s an empty gesture if I remain unkind to others. Prayers are nice but are rendered meaningless if I don’t put a little action behind them.
I need to do something. So here I am, telling myself to get up, get out, and get going! This isn’t easy. And to make it an even greater challenge, today’s Gospel comes with a warning label: Take care not to perform righteous deeds in order that people may see them; when you give alms, do not blow a trumpet before you. What the heck*? (also trying to give up swearing for Lent or at least tone it down a bit) So, I should do something good or give to the poor but do it on the down low? Christianity is hard. Lent makes it even harder.
For me Lent is about trying to try – if that makes sense. I’ll try to DO SOMETHING. I’ll try to GIVE SOMETHING. I’ll try to quit swearing (that’s where the trying to try really comes in).
I used to think that Lent was a time to fix me. But when Holy Week comes, I may not have a spiritual awakening. When Lent is over, I may not feel like a changed man. Perhaps God is just waiting for me to figure that out. My only hope is that God will save me and that I will have the courage and humility to allow it.
Journeying & Journaling 