Fr. Jacques Spanish Homily from Mass at the St. Benedict Center

Levítico 19, 1-2. 17-19. Salmo 102. 1Corintios 3, 16-23. Mateo 5, 38-48.


Homilía: Queridos hermanos y hermanas, el Evangelio de hoy séptimo domingo del tiempo ordinario me parece un montaje de película o de teatro. Cuando uno le da una bofetada al ser humano, su reacción refleja o casi automática, es responder al golpe con otros golpes, o protegerse la cara contra el eventual segundo golpe o huir. Pero poner la otra mejilla no es habitual. Parece una locura un abuso y una injusticia aconsejar a alguien que acaba de recibir una buena bofetada que ponga la otra mejilla y la exponga al mismo tratamiento.
Los judíos arreglaban las peleas de una manera violenta y exagerada. Si te quitaban un dedo y si tú podías arrancar a la persona sus pies sus manos y todo lo que tú pudieras, eso estaba bien visto. Te mataban un miembro de tu familia, si tenías la posibilidad de acabar con todas las familias del que te mató un miembro, adelante. Eso era horrible. Así llegaron a este acuerdo de ojo por ojo diente por diente mano por mano. No más. Éxodo 21 ,20. Levítico 24, 20. Deuteronomio 19, 21.
Pero Jesús hoy nos dice algo que nos sorprende. Él no está instituyendo la injusticia o el abuso a los débiles cuando él nos dice de hacer mejor que lo que estaba. De superar el ojo por ojo diente por diente. En realidad la violencia siempre genera violencia. Y son pocas las personas que pueden seguir golpeando a alguien que se deja golpear y no trata de defenderse. (Dejemos a un lado los casos de castigos donde el culpable debe ser sometido a estos tratamientos, o los drogadictos y terroristas quienes asesinan a todo lo encuentran en sus caminos sean culpables o no.) Dejando estos casos extraños, nadie tiene el valor de hacer daño a un inocente que lo está mirando con calma.
Jesús nos está proponiendo comportamientos pacíficos que hagan pensar al adversario, al defraudador, y probablemente les pueden conducir a una conversión. Que es lo más preferible, para el cristiano: Responder a un golpe con otro golpe y dejar el adversario decir: “¡Oh o! estos cristianos son tan violentos como nosotros que no creemos en nada” o no responder al golpe y que digan: “¡Qué raro, qué pacíficos son! Estos cristianos tienen algo más que nosotros.” Claro no vamos a dejar que abusen de nosotros por gusto. Esto no vale la pena, y tampoco es el mensaje del Evangelio. La clave es hacerlo para ganar al agresor a Cristo. Para que vea que ser cristiano es distinto y mejor, y que una sociedad cristiana es la más feliz que pueda existir.
Quisiera contarles dos historias.
Primero: Es la historia de un policía que perdió uno de sus hermanos en un accidente de tráfico. De hecho él está haciendo una venganza permanente poniéndole multas a cualquier chofer o usuario de la vía que cometa una infracción o no. Cuando sale a la vía él para el primer vehículo que encuentra e inventa una irregularidad y pone una multa. Los usuarios de la vía que logran escapar son los que tienen suerte y pasan en el momento cuando está poniendo la multa a alguien. Y apenas termina de multar a uno vuelve a la vía y para otro chofer sin razón. Así pasa sus días de servicio castigando a todos los conductores que pasan por donde él está. A veces el mismo pone trampas de circulación escondidas en la calle, para que los usuarios caigan en ellas. Este policía siempre cuando sale de su casa para el servicio, su objetivo es castigar a los usuarios de la vía, porque él los toma como culpables, que causaron la muerte de uno de sus hermanos.
La segunda historia es de una mujer que se me acercó un día en Cuba, cuando terminé la misa en el convento de las madres carmelitas. Ella estaba llorando y sus lágrimas salían como si fuera la lluvia. Yo noté que ella tenía algo muy serio. Pues, me dijo con la voz muy cerrada: “Padre, se me murió el único hijo que tengo.” Le pregunté: “¿Qué le pasó?” Ella me contestó: “él vivía en extranjero. Me dijeron que tenía fiebre y que estaba vomitando, lo llevaron al hospital. Parece que no tuvo la atención necesaria y falleció. Estoy haciendo las gestiones para el transporte del cuerpo, porque lo vamos enterrar aquí.” ¡Mira padre! Continuó ella, “soy médico. Si yo hubiera estado allí, lo habría atendido y él no hubiera muerto.” Le pregunté: “¿Piensas que murió por culpa de los médicos de allí?” “Sí padre.” Dijo ella y siguió llorando intensamente.
Yo estaba tratando de consolarla, conversamos como media hora o algo poquito más. Y antes de separarnos, ella me dijo algo que me dejo apreciar la calidad de vida humana, cristiana, y espiritual que ella tenía. Ella dijo: “Ellos dejaron morir a mi único hijo. Pero yo, como médico, nunca voy a dejar morir un paciente por culpa mía. Voy siempre a hacer lo que puedo aun si es necesario dar mi vida para salvar la de las personas que están bajo mi cuidado. Lo que pasó con mi hijo me afecta muchísimo, pero eso no me va hacer negar mi atención a los que lo necesitan.
Yo me quedé admirado, era como si ella acabara de hacer una profesión de fe en Dios y en el Santo Evangelio de Jesús. Yo pude sentir la fuerza del alma que ella tiene y ver que lo que le sucedió es una lección para ella a no brindar malos servicios porque ella misma fue víctima de un mal servicio. Yo vi que además, el evento de la muerte de su hijo se volvió en fuente de energía donde ella iría a sacando fuerza, ánimo y el empeño para atender a los que necesitarán su atención.
Estas son las historias de dos personajes distintos el policía y la mujer medico. ¿Cuál sería la que tú aquí presente tomarías como ejemplo? Cada uno hará su elección.
Pero sabemos que la violencia es el actitud típico de los que no tienen salvación. Nosotros que somos salvados estamos convencidos de que al responder con violencia a la violencia, podemos matar al asesino que nos mató a alguien, pero no vamos a poder con nuestra violencia matar a la muerte. Con violencia podemos matar al mentiroso, pero no vamos a poder matar a la mentira in instaurar la verdad. Con la violencia podemos matar al terrorista, sin embargo no vamos a quitar el terrorismo. Tú puedes con violencia matar al que te odia pero no puedes matar al odio. Al responder a la violencia con violencia tú no quita la violencia del mundo sino que la estás al contrario promoviendo.
Jesús nos quiere perfectos, santos como su Padre, nuestro padre es perfecto. La perfección humana, no es únicamente la excelencia en las cosas técnicas, no solamente en el progreso económico y en el desarrollo material, sino también en cuanto el hombre crece en la fe y sigue los mandatos del Señor: amar, amar y amar a los enemigos.
Eso quiere decir, que aunque estemos sintiendo el dolor de la puñalada no sacamos nuestra espada. Mt 26, 52. Aunque estamos sintiendo el golpe en la mejilla volvemos a dar la otra mejilla. Mt 5, 38. Aunque el enemigo nos está persiguiendo estamos aquí tranquilitos rezando por el, Mt 5, 44. Dejamos nuestra túnica al que se nos la quiere quitar, Lc 6, 29… [Eso no tiene sentido ni a los ojos ni al oídos de los que no tienen fe. Solo para nosotros que creemos en Jesús, sabemos que es el camino correcto, que lleva al mundo perfecto, al reino de Dios. Así sea.

Homily - Presentation of Jesus

Malachi 3:1–4
Hebrews 2:14–18
Luke 2:22–40

This feast we know now as the feast of the Presentation is known in Eastern Churches as the Feast of the Encounter or Hypapánte. It is the feast of the meeting. It is the meeting of the Lord with his own people. He encounters them in the Temple, the very place where his people come regularly to meet the Lord and offer sacrifice. The temple in Jerusalem is the meeting place par excellence.

The meetings that take place there today are on several levels. We see the old Simeon and Anna meeting the young couple and child. And the young are the joy of the old. Simeon and Anna are given much space today in the story; this old couple as it were, hanging around in the meeting place of the temple, are somehow in forefront. These old people are wait for and living for the young, for the child. Both the young couple and the old couple realize that the child they hold and see is a gift. A gift that came out of promise. The old Simeon and Anna especially are able to see in the child something more than just a young parents’ child. This old man and woman in the temple recognize what we might crassly call the potentiality of the child the young couple hold. But in terms of potential, the scale today tips a little bit in favor of the older couple. The young couple of Mary and Joseph say nothing but listen to what the old Simeon and Anna say about their child.

Today’s feast is an intergenerational feast. While old may meet young, and the young are surprised at what the old have to say, there is not a picture here of a gap between the ages but rather an encounter, a meeting. The young and the old both hold the child in their arms. The old people and the young couple with child each give and receive something from each other. The young couple is silent, perhaps a bit taken back. The old people do all the talking and the talk is all about the child, who he is, what he means for them and for the community. The old man and woman are able to recognize and say who the child is. They are able to say in plain terms, they have experienced a dream come true. The old people have lived for this child to come; they have lived for this day. For the young couple and their 40-day old child it is perhaps a revelation. The old couple see completion, their life coming to its fulfillment in the coming of the child. The young couple see the beginning, the beginning of a new story, of a new wonder wrought by the God of Israel. The young and the old today are not opposites—but together they are part of one story. It is a meeting of the ages so that they are not to be seen as two separate ages but as an age that is moving on from the hope of the old. And the old is wise and loving enough to see in the young the power and energy that can be both light and honor.

Let us look at the old man Simeon. His arms are holding the Child Jesus. Can we picture ourselves, too, holding a young child and seeing its beauty? Seeing God’s smile in its smile? Can we gently hold the child to our bosom as something precious, something that is both wonderful and fragile? Something that seems weak and needs, for a moment, the strength of my arms? Let us go one step further. Can we join Simeon in holding Christ in our arms for a moment? Can we recognize the one whom God has sent into our midst as out of nowhere? Can we hold in our arms the light of the world? Can we who have lived some years recognize when Christ is among us? Or do we presuppose that he can’t be in that person or in that place? Do we have Simeon’s vision? And just as important are we led by the Spirit to see today where Jesus is and to recognize him there? Do our eyes light up with recognition when we see this Jesus? For Simeon, Jesus was a mere 40-day old child, young and fresh.

There is a good hint in today’s story that he is with the poor and the elderly. The young couple who come in have a child by unusual means and are offering what poor people offer, a pair of birds. And the old people today: Simeon, devout and attentive to the Spirit’s movement; Anna, a widow with no one to stand by her side. These are God’s people, Jesus’ people, and the ones he has come to meet. And yet these have a precious treasure: trust in God’s word and hope that God is faithful. These are the people who are stripped of everything but trust in God. These are those who know how to wait for God because there is nothing else. No wonder Jesus can come to them and they move toward him.

When the new comes, when the young appear suddenly, the old poor of God see, they give praise, they can announce the good news and then die in peace. Their old arms and their old eyes are not so weak after all. Their age has graced them with wisdom and patience and hope in a word kept. They see clearly and they hold in their sight and in their arms the promise of the future, God’s future for the world and its people.

Are we people of hope gathered here to embrace the future God holds out to us in this place of meeting?

~Fr. Joel Macul, OSB





Homily - 3rd Sunday in Ordinary Time-2020

Mt 4:12-23
Is 8:2 –9:3 1  
Cor 1:10-13.17

 Focus:  Jesus called his first disciples; and they followed him immediately.

Function:  We, too, were called by Jesus and are called ever anew to hear his word, to follow his example and to become ‘real.’

 Dear sisters and brothers in the Lord, 

 Some of you may the following wonderful story

 I would like to ask you to hear with the ear of your heart: The wooden horse lived longer in the children’s playroom than anyone else. It was so old that his brown cloth cover was scraped off very much and had quite a number of holes.  Children had pulled out most of its tail hair in order to lining up beads on it.  It had become honorably old and wise …

 “What is real?”, the velveteen rabbit asked one day, as they we laying side by side near the playpen, before the girl had gotten around to make order. “Does it mean to have things in oneself that hum and to be equipped with a wind up key?”  ”Real,” the wooden horse replied, “does not depend on the way somebody is fabricated.  It is something that happens to us. If a child loves you for a long, long time, not only in order to play with you, but loves you really, then you become real.”

 “Is it painful,” the rabbit asked. “Sometimes,” the wooden hose replied, for it always told the truth. “If you are real, then you don’t mind it that it hurts.”

 “Does it happen once in a sudden, just as if one is being wound up,” the velveteen rabbit asked again, “or gradually?”  “It does not happen once in a sudden,” the wooden horse said. “You become.  It takes a long time. This is the reason why it doesn’t happen often with those who break easily or who have sharp corners or who have to be kept nice.  Generally speaking, at the time when you will be real most of the hair has disappeared, your eyes have fallen out; you are shaky in your joints and very ugly.  But these things are not important at all; because when you are real you can’t be ugly, except in the eyes of people who don’t know what’s it all about.”

 “I think you are real,” the velveteen rabbit remarked. And then he wished he had not said this— may be the wooden horse was sensitive.  But the wooden horse only smiled.

 In today’s gospel we hear about the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry.  Jesus is the Light.  He appears in Zebulon and Naphtali, in Northern Galilee, where half of the population weren’t even Jews but gentiles at this time.  These were not the people who stood in the limelight of public attention and acclaim!  To them Jesus brings light and hope first!

 What he says and does, the evangelist Matthew points out, is the fulfillment  of Isaiah’s prophecy.  In Isaiah’s lifetime, the prophet’s words hadn’t come true.  Isaiah had announced liberation from the Assyrian occupiers of the land.  Matthew now tells us: Here is one, Jesus, who brings true liberation.

 How does he do that? First, through his word.  According to Matthew, Jesus is the new Moses.  Like Moses, Jesus, with whom Joseph and Mary had to flee, was called out of Egypt.  His teaching, especially the Sermon of the Mount, is the New Law of God, God’s promise and God’s direction.  Blessed are the sorrowing, the poor, and the meek: They are the first ones  who need to hear that they are loved by God, not for what they do but for who they are.  Furthermore, Jesus heals people in body and soul, and sets them free from their infirmities.

 Jesus calls upon people to repent and to believe in the reality of God’s reign of love.  Many, like Simon Peter and Andrew, James and John, he calls to follow him by sharing his life as an itinerant preacher.  Others, like his friends Mary, Martha and Lazarus, stay at their place, but also live according to his teaching.

 In all of them grew, through Jesus, a sense that life is more than simply living the way other people live, and doing things the way all people do them; they started to realize their own, special vocation; they began to become more and more themselves.

 Dear sisters and brothers in the Lord, Like Jesus’ first disciples we, too, are called to follow him without resistance.  We, are meant to hear his word, to imitate his example and to become ‘real.’

 As it was for the wooden horse, so it is also for us a gradual process; and it can hurt.  But “becoming real” is possible, because we have been loved by God for a long, long time: even before we were born.  God loved us into existence.

 We can ask ourselves this morning: What does it take for us to know and to accept Christ more fully, who is also the light for our darkness?  What is it that keeps us from the light?  What is it that we need to give up?  What is it that we need to do?

 Let me conclude with a prayer: Almighty Father, the love you offer always exceeds the furthest expression of human longing,  for you are greater than the human heart.  Direct each thought, each effort of our human life, so that the limits of our faults and weaknesses may not obscure the vision of your glory or keep us for the peace you promised.   AMEN.

  ~Fr. Thomas Leitner, OSB

Homily - Epiphany

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Isaiah 60:1–6
Ephesians 3:2–3a, 5–6
Matthew 2:1–12

There is much movement in today’s feast. People are on the move. Isaiah has a vision of nations and kings moving toward Jerusalem. Then, he sees that the kings are not coming empty handed. There are animals with them. These animals are loaded with gifts, with the wealth. The camels are carrying precious commodities like gold and frankincense. In the gospel we find magi moving from East to West. They are following a star. That star in turn also moves. The story says it finally comes to rest over the place where a child is living. It is as though the star is leading and directing the movement of the Magi. We only hear of the end of journey in the gospel. We hear of the last few days when the star seems to disappear for a while. The Magi have to consult other resources to find out exactly where the last step of the journey needs to go. Other people in the story seem interested in joining the Magi on their last leg. It seems that their desire is a false one. The Magi are excited about what they will find at the end of the journey. They seem to know something about the aim of their journey. The King wants to make the journey too, but his goal is not delight in the star or the search for someone wonderful. He is motivated by fear and a sense of loosing all he has. He feels threatened. His journey will end in destruction and violence.

Epiphany evokes movement. People move from the sea to the Jerusalem, from distant nations they come to fill this city. Magi too come from East to West to Jerusalem. There they find they have still a few more miles go, in a southerly direction to the true city of David, Bethlehem. But there is also another movement in the feast of the Epiphany. It is a movement into a relationship. It is a movement from being far away to being close, from being at a distance from the city to being in her heart. The Jerusalem that is shining brightly is a Jerusalem that recognizes herself as mother. And being mother is primarily about relationship. The peoples moving toward her are her sons and daughters. She is a woman ready to welcome her own children into her bosom as it were. The activity is the activity of recognizing to whom you belong, where is truly home and who is brother and sister with you. The light shining on Jerusalem is a light of recognition for herself. She is told to wake up, get up and see what is happening to her. She is clearly being summoned to acknowledge her own position and role as the one where other nations will find a true home. She is asked to recognize her treasure. Her shining gold is a wealth that attracts others, not as strangers who might tolerate one another but as her own children, as people to whom she has deep bonds of connection. Her treasure is those who belong to her.

In the gospel, Jesus is recognized for who he is by the Magi from a strange place in the East. They find the child, not isolated, but with his mother, a child in relationship to humanity. There is no doubt that the treasure Israel has is a light that summons people from distant lands. Israel’s treasure is the Messiah. The Scriptures are clear about that. The Magi come to honor and profess their loyalty and service to him whom the Scriptures talk about. …King Herod’s tragedy is that he refuses to recognize the treasure; he doesn’t even know where it is anymore. If the treasure is in his midst, it means he too will have to become involved in movement toward it. The tragedy is that he will not make the journey of a few miles while others will travel for long distances. He will not venture into the movement that Epiphany seems to demand. He will not dare that relationship with this child-king that would give him his true identity.

Epiphany is about gathering and coming together. Epiphany is about recognizing the true center that binds and holds us all together. Epiphany means a light that shines in our hearts so that we see beyond the confines of our narrow mind, our limited national boundaries, our own interests. Like the star it leads us away from the familiar to what at first seems strange but in the end is deeply familiar. Epiphany means movement beyond our own kind to a sight that includes all as my own kind. Epiphany translates into a powerful message that the one city Jerusalem holds a gift for the whole world; the one child born in Bethlehem is a leader for all peoples.

For all the movement in the story of today’s celebration, we don’t hear anything about the movement’s resolution in settling down or making a home. Only the star rests. Instead the home that is to be made is the home found in the new relationships that Jerusalem and the child of Bethlehem call us to. The home is to be found in the connections and bonds that are set up. Home is in the realization of a new world of interrelationships and interconnections. St. Paul says it clearly: the outsider is as much an heir to promise and identity as is the first child. There is only one body and it is not exclusive but is open to all. The child of Bethlehem makes it possible for a true humanity to come into being. We humans like to divide and separate. But the Epiphany is that diversity and richness of culture can be woven into a unity through the child in the house in Bethlehem. That child becomes the new light that shines in the fragmentation of humanity.

The home that must be made today is a home in the heart. It is there that the mother feels the joy at seeing her children. It is from the heart that a person begins to radiate when he or she realizes the depth and breadth of his or her relationship to others through Christ. It is in the heart that we feel the joy, as did the Magi, of finally finding Christ as the true leader of the world, as the teacher who can guide us into ways of peace and justice.

There is no settling down in Jerusalem or Bethlehem. We don’t live with the child and his mother. We have to be like the Magi going back to our own country. Go back to the place where we come from, but forever changed. We go back to be the light born of new relationships that sees beyond the dark clouds that threaten to tear the world asunder. We return and not the same way. Life is different once we have become an heir with Christ in his relationship with the Father. We leave this place, this crib; we return to where we came from so that the gathering begun here with the Word in the Scripture and the journey of the Magi may happen through our presence wherever we may be on our own pilgrimage on earth.

~Fr. Joel


Christmas Day - 2019

Fr. Thomas Leitner celebrated the Christmas Day Mass. Click for a video of the entire celebration. The text of his homily is below:

Joh 1:1-18
Is 52:7-10
Heb 1:1-6

Focus: Since the first Christmas, the great God is present and real, ‘incarnated,’ in our world, even and especially at places where we would hardly expect it. Humility and patience help us to realize this.

Dear sisters and brothers in the Lord,

Here is a story that I would ask you to hear with the ears of your heart: As Josef and Mary were on their way to Bethlehem, an angel convened the animals in order to select a few who were supposed to help the Holy Family in the stable.

First, of course, the lion volunteered: “Only a king is worthy to serve the Lord of the world,” he roared.“I will tear to pieces anyone who gets too close to the child.” “You are too fierce,” the angel said.

Then the fox came sneaking along. With an innocent looking face he remarked,
“I will take care of them well. For the divine child I will procure the sweetest honey and for the young mother I will steal a chicken every morning.” “You are too sly,” the angel decided.

Now the peacock stalked along. He unfolded his wheel and his tail feathers shone brilliantly. I will adorn that poor stable more magnificently than Solomon adorned his temple. “You are too conceited,” the angel said. Many more animals came and praised their crafts and skills. In vain.

Finally, the strict angel looked around one more time and saw ox and ass serving outside on the field of a farmer. The angel called them, too. “What do you have to offer?” “Nothing,” the ass said, and sadly lowered his ears. “We have learned nothing, aside from humility and patience.” Because everything else earned only more beatings for us!” The ox shyly added, “But perhaps we could chase away the flies every now and then with our tails!” The angel replied, “You are the right ones!”

Today’s gospel expresses more profoundly than those of the other three Christmas masses the mystery of this feast: “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.” The eternal Creator God—today we would add: The One through whom the galaxies came into being—has taken on a human form. The Divine Word through whom the world has been created, though whom all things came to be, has been born in time. The only Son of God has descended from the Father’s side and now lays as an infant in the stable of Bethlehem. And He is the light for the human race, the light that wants to shine in every darkness!

Today’s second reading tells us that Christ is the fullness of God’s revelation.
God had spoken before in partial and various ways through prophets for centuries. Now God has spoken through the Son. Everything that was said before receives its fuller meaning through Him. He, in his ministry here on earth, is the refulgence of God’s glory.

Our first reading fits so well into this liturgy because it makes it clear that the coming of the Messiah, who will make known God’s salvation for the whole world, who will bring comfort to those who suffer, is a very joyful event, is glad tidings, good news and worth to be announced everywhere!

Dear sisters and brothers in the Lord, Since the first Christmas, our great God is present, real, and ‘incarnate,’ enfleshed, in our world, even and especially also at places where we would hardly expect it. In one Christmas letter, a friend of mine pointed out that we need the following keys in order to understand this mystery more in its depth:

We need the key of silence. We need to have a quiet moment of sitting down in front of a nativity set, a moment, in which we can receive what has happened at the first Christmas, the Divine Light, deeply into our hearts.

Secondly, we need the key of right listening. We need to hear God’s word with our hearts, because in Bethlehem God has opened God’s heart to us human beings.

Thirdly, we need the key of setting out. The shepherds and the wise men set out
and went to Bethlehem. God wants us to set out, too, and to seek and to find God in our everyday life, in events and in people, even where His presence isn’t obvious to us at first sight!

Fourthly, we need the key of adoration, of loving marveling about our God who took on our human nature in order for us to share in God’s own nature, as Pope St. Leo the Great put it in his famous Christmas sermon, which we heard at the vigil last night. “Do not forget, Pope Leo says, that you have been rescued from the power of darkness and brought into the light of God's kingdom … Christian, remember your dignity … Through the sacrament of baptism you have become a temple of the Holy Spirit. Do not live below your dignity.” A stance of adoration is necessary in the sight of this divine gift.

I would add a fifth and final key for opening the door to the mystery of the Holy Night: humility and trusting patience. Everything begins with humility, St. Teresa of Avila said. Our great deeds or qualities cannot buy us access to this mystery, however, we gain it realizing that everything is gift, that only empty hands can be filled. As we use this key, we are in a way similar to those animals who were selected as company for the holy family, the ox and the ass. As our nativity in this chapel was set up during the last couple of days, the ox and the ass fittingly arrived first in the stable.

St. Hildegard of Bingen once said, “God’s Son became a human being so that humans would have their home in God.” This is what we celebrate today. This is our truth.

~ Fr. Thomas Leitner

Homily - 2nd Sunday of Advent-2019

Isaiah 11:1–10
Romans 15:4–9
Matthew 3:1–12

A stump! It all begins with a stump. Those burnt stumps left over after the California wildfires of this season. That stump that is left after the axe has done the work and cleared out the trees that bear no fruit as John the Baptist has just announced. But it is out of a stump that God will work newness. Out of a stump God will raise up a shoot and a bud. In the midst of great loss and devastation, when life has been squashed and lays dormant, God can and will breath his breath, his Spirit. If it is leadership that has become defunct, and the stump in Israel was dysfunctional leadership, then God will send his Spirit to endow new leadership.

We may only see a stump, something that has no life, something that has been cut down and whose life is over. But our God can see more and our God can breathe over what looks lost and restore it to life. And when God breathes his Spirit on leadership, we find that the new leader is all about justice and faithfulness toward the vulnerable, the weak, and the poor; those who have no one to defend them. This leader will have justice around his waist and carry faithfulness on his hip. This is what God-sent leadership is all about–restoring a community that has been burnt over so to speak; a community that has experienced power over service and consumerism over sharing of wealth.

We can shake our heads at such idealism in a leader. We can say the prophet is a bit out of touch with the harsh reality of our lives. Or how can this stump of our existence actually produce such a quality person? For us it is impossible, but God can do such a thing….and our prophet-poet has not come to the end of his poem once justice is operative again in the community….Once there is a restoration of members of the community, the prophet’s vision continues. Now there is a transformation of the natural world as well. Something new is happening there also. Old enmities, old appetites in the food chain, assumptions about the survival of the fittest–all this is turned upside down. Upside down according to our logic. But then our logic, our control, our way of keeping things in order is not necessarily that of God’s. The “peaceable kingdom,” as the vision of the calf and the young lion eating together portrays, is not just something romantic. It is the world and its habitants as it mirrors God’s view of what apparent opposites can be. If we shake our heads and say it cannot be, then perhaps we have stepped out of the poem, out of the vision and returned to the crowd on the banks of the Jordan. The crowd that hears John’s words calling out “think again, think new” –metanoia. But God and his prophets say, step into the way the Spirit filled One is laying out for you and you will enter into a new world. Turn around and know your roots in God, in the harmony of the original creation. Draw on the power and strength of service, respect, intimacy and love that are found in your roots in the garden, among its trees and in the conversation with the one who walked with you there.

Paul speaks plainly of what the Spirit filled anointed Son of the stump Jesse can accomplish in those who believe in. Being baptized in the Spirit one can live in a renewed community where you and I can think in harmony with one another, where with one accord we may with one voice glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Paul appeals to the community as a body making music together, each voice distinct and with its own color and tone but yet making harmony so that it is one–and singing in recognition of the Father who brought forth new life from a stump.

The vision of an animal world living in harmony is echoed in the human community now gathered around the one John will announce. The poet-prophet opens his description of a new kingdom by saying the wolf will be the guest of the lamb….hospitality is being exercised here. There is a welcome between the creatures we know to be enemies. There is a sharing of life style and above all there is a sharing of food, a sure sign of hospitality. Opposites live with one another in peace for opposition is not the norm but profound respect and a willingness to make harmony work.

But what does Paul tell the Christians, what conclusion does he reach for those who are in Christ: welcome one another. Minister to one another; serve one another for that is the way the Son of Jesse was among you. Do that Paul says and you will be wearing the waistband of justice, truthfulness and faithfulness with which God clothed his Son. What is the key to the vision of the prophet, what was at the heart of Paul’s words to the Christians in Rome? Hospitality, welcome: know that you are a guest and know how to be a host. In that way there will be harmony among you.

Advent is about getting in touch with the vision of God. It is a vision shared in the poetry of the prophet. It was a vision that entered the reality of our world in the One who came to us out of Jesse’s line. Now that it has entered our world, it falls to us to change, to fall into the way that the Jesse’s son and the Father’s Son has shown us—a way that in the end will be a way of peace, harmony, accord and hospitality that welcomes all, even seeming opposites.
~Fr. Joel Macul, OSB

The Abbot Visits

Abbot Michael Reepen of Münsterschwarzach Abbey, Germany, is visiting Christ the King Priory from December 4 to 9. The abbey is the motherhouse of the priory which in turn is dependent on it. Abbot Michael is paying a pastoral visit to his monks here. He takes time to meet with each member of the community and listen to the community as a whole. There are other monks from the abbey in various programs in the USA and he will visit them also. In this way Abbot Michael can provide spiritual guidance and encouragement for all his monks in the USA.

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Homily - 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time -2019

Lk 21:5-19
Mal 3:19-20a
Thess 3:7-12

Focus: Faced with suffering and the impermanence of all earthly things, we are called upon to put our trust in God and to live as disciples of Jesus.

Dear sisters and brothers in the Lord, 0. a. Here is a short version of a story/poem that a retreatant shared with me this weekend: An elderly man went into a church every day at noon and knelt down at the tabernacle for a little while. Then he left again. Finally the sacristan who had noticed this asked him what he was doing. He said, he worked at a factory and took his lunch break. Visiting his Lord he speaks to him thus:


“I just came again to tell you, Lord, how happy I’ve been, since we found each other’s friendship and you took away my sin. Don’t know much of how to pray, but I think about you every day. So, Jesus, this is Ben checking in.” The sacristan’s heart was touched and he started to pray in similar words.


After a while, the old man suddenly stayed away. The sacristan inquired with the factory about Ben and found out that he was sick and in the hospital. Visiting the hospital, the sacristan learned from the staff that Ben had had a good influence
on the other patients. His smile and his joy were contagious. Now he was near death. No family had come to visit him, but Ben said, that’s okay.

HE comes here, Ben said, Jesus, his Lord: Every day at noon, a dear friend of mine, you see. He sits right down, takes my hand, leans over and says to me:

“I just came again to tell you, Ben, how happy i have been, since we found this friendship, and i took away your sin. Always love to hear you pray, I think about you each day. And so, Ben, this is Jesus, just checking in today.” Ben peacefully died soon thereafter.

Cultivating his relationship with Jesus in prayer every day and picturing Him close to him even in his illness, had helped Ben. Therefore, he was peaceful, serene, even joyful at the end of his life, on the day and in the hour of his death.

Today’s Scripture readings point us to the end of the world. In the gospel, Jesus predicts the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem. To Jesus’ contemporaries, it was hardly conceivable that this magnificent building could fall down and be destroyed one day. In the year 70 AD though, this prediction came true, as the Romans conquered and sacked Jerusalem.Plus, Jesus speaks about wars, earthquakes and famines.

All this won’t be the end yet, he says. Such events, which occur at all times, can be very frightening and bring great suffering. There are many examples. We only have to think of the terrible wars in Syria and Ukraine, which cost so many human lives, or of devastating Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico and Florida. Events like this call us to charity and to sharing our resources; And they are signs for us: they serve as reminders that everything in this world is transitory. Nothing on this earth will stay forever.

Our own death will be the end of earthly things for every one of us. Throughout our lifetime, God prepares us for this moment. In our lives, there are little worlds ending all the time: there is end of childhood, the end of education, the end of midlife’ vitality, retirement, etc. The courage and readiness with which we deal with these endings will prepare us for our life’s final ending.

It’s also true that every time we love unselfishly, we die a little bit to our own precious plans and preferences. If we die daily in these small ways, we will have less difficulty with the final dying // when our plans are once again revised and we hold out our lives, once and for all, to a merciful and loving God.

My sisters and brothers in the Lord, faced with the impermanence of all earthly things, we are called upon to letting go on a daily basis—with great trust in God.

The big disasters, but also the suffering of individual people around us, are an invitation to us to help in whichever way we can and to make something visible of the sun of justice with its healing rays, which God so desires for all people to experience.

When things become difficult in our lives, when we are confronted with losses, especially then also the Eucharist is helpful for us. In it, Jesus takes us along on his way. In his death, he practiced letting go in the most radical manner and surrendered himself totally to his loving heavenly Father whom he called Abba, daddy.

In the Eucharist, we are invited to present with the gifts of bread and wine our life to God, with all the sorrows, worries and struggles. As God transforms bread and wine, so he can transform us. If we hand over everything to God in this way, Jesus’ words from the gospel will come true for us, “You have nothing to fear …”

The man in our story, Ben, had found a good way to pray. Entering into Jesus’ presence in such a way on a daily basis can help us, too, to know that we are not alone while in this world, and that He has prepared what eye has not seen and ear has not heard
for those who love him in heaven, where He one day will offer us His loving embrace.

AMEN.

~Fr. Thomas Leitner, OSB