Deacon Dan Wright

On Authenticity

In the absence of the parish pastor, I offered a communion service at 7:00 this morning. Late yesterday evening, after the conclusion of my attending a two-day conference for special educators, I had a chance to look at the lectionary readings for today. It was easy to see that I shouldn't need notes for my brief homily because the readings spoke strongly to me of something that I have reflected on plenty, namely, authenticity in the practice of our faith.

We simply never know when we are sowing a seed of some kind that will reach someone somewhere. Nearly 25 years ago—as a slightly older than average college student—I experienced something that I had never really known before. An acquaintance, with whom I had really just begun to become friends, was tragically killed in an auto accident. I've reflected on it a lot, and I believe that this event, among others of course, played an important role in my becoming Catholic and in my turning to the faith in my human need.

Paula was in her early 20s and was the kind of person who had everything going for her. Anyone you asked would have said she was destined for greatness. I didn't know her well at the time except through close friends and mutual acquaintances. My experience was that she always treated me in a kind, warm, and accepting manner, and she accepted me as a friend. Her loss touched me in a deep way that I didn't share with others at the time but kept it to myself.

The news of the Paula's death came as a great shock for everyone who knew her—her funeral was heavily attended by young people. What I learned at the time of her death was that she was a Catholic. I had visited Catholic parishes for Mass on a number of occasions, but for the most part I wasn't aware of too much about Catholicism. I had several friends who were nominally Catholic, and at the time I didn't consider that I had real need to be religious in any way.

There were two things that made a lasting impression on me at Paula's funeral. One was the Rosary, which was said at both the Vigil and at the Committal, and the other was something said at the homily. The priest spoke of Paula having visited with him on a number of occasions. His saying this made it evident that Paula had a relationship with the Church that was such that she was able to go a priest and talk about her life.

As I look back on this particular funeral, I now see it as pivotal in my coming to the faith. Somehow in it I experienced an authentic expression of faith. It reached me and touched me in a deep place in my life, and something was planted that I discovered wouldn't take too long to begin to show.

The fact is that we never know when we are sowing a seed of faith somewhere. The important thing is that our actions be genuine and authentic. There's a certain tension in it all that I experience with blogging about the faith and even more with my public role as a deacon. I know that I am called upon to live my faith in such a way that it is never just for show. Over the years I have come to identify strongly with my role as a deacon and as I glance back over the past 25 or 30 years I never cease to be amazed at the changes.

I continue to understand the authenticity of my expression of faith as growing, but it's not something that I have ever experienced alone. I learned at that funeral long ago to go to the Church, to its appointed ministers, with all the concerns of my life—with my deepest spiritual longings, with my doubts about myself, with my fears, with my failures, and with my faith.

I have become who I am because I allowed a small seed of faith to grow. I don't—and certainly I cannot—claim greatness in this world and in the successes that this world counts. I have become a man of religion, of the Church, and a humble schoolteacher who struggles daily to fulfill that role.  I know that my life is different than it would it would have been otherwise. Probably God has granted me a lot more joy than I would have had under different circumstances.

Of all the things I have placed a value on in this life, love has ranked highest. Interestingly, love is most true when it is authentic. Interesting also is the fact that our faith teaches us that God is love. We can do best to keep our actions authentic by keeping in mind the simple truth that God is indeed love—not much more is really needed.

Summer Reflections: St. Barnabas et al

It finally came around: the end of the school year arrived and I am now enjoying the seventh day of summer break.  What this means is that I now have more time to blog and pursue other things of interest, which I'll be sharing here at DDW. 

For today's reflection I'm using the Memorial of St. Barnabas as a jumping off point, especially the mid-afternoon reading since I'm posting rather late today.

The fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patient endurance, kindness, generosity, faith, mildness and chastity.  Since we live by the spirit let us follow the spirit's lead. (Galatians 5:22-25)

The other reading that got my attention was the Acts reading from the daily lectionary, which has to do with the sending forth of Barnabas and Saul.  How the lectionary reading speaks to me concerns the calling that Barnabas had from the Lord--along with St. Paul--he was sent.  This speaks to me in that we are all called and we are all sent forth.

It is a great truth that we are not all called to the same thing.  We are aware that we possess various gifts.  I'll be the first to admit that I can't judge myself by looking to someone else as the standard of how I should be.  I am who I am and I must ask the Lord to bless me in that and to use me to the fullest extent possible for the kingdom of God.

However, we are all called to live by the Holy Spirit and to follow the Spirit's lead, as the reading above from Galatians directs us.  In case we're not sure what following the Spirit's lead looks like, we're given a nice checklist as a part of the same reading.

What I've found helpful is when I find a spiritual/scriptural jewel, a sacramental if you prefer, I'll copy it and put it some place where I can see it and be reminded--just a verse in 11 point font taped to file cabinet next to my desk or placed behind my driver's license will do.  This past school year a holy-card-sized picture of San Martin de Porres printed on my desk jet and taped near my monitor, where just I could see it, served the same purpose (a kind co-worker recommended San Martin as a help in my line of work--perhaps in my life overall).

Undoubtedly the Holy Spirit works through the Church, so being open to the lead of the Spirit of God serves to allow the Church be a Sacrament to us.  Interestingly, it is the Church that sends Paul and Barnabas off on their mission when the Holy Spirit speaks and sets them apart for it.  Also interesting is the fact that each time we have Mass we are sent forth.

We live by the Spirit and we are led by the Spirit.  Ours is to trust God in our going forth and in the direction that God chooses to lead us. 

For me, so far, this summer has been taken up with relishing the fact that a challenging school year came to an end, but I'm also looking to the next one that will begin in just a few short weeks--really a couple months is what I get (I know, that's more than what most people get for vacation so I won't complain). 

Monday and Tuesday of next week I will be attending a conference designed for educators who work with individuals who have significant cognitive and intellectual disabilities.  Perhaps I'll be inspired or inclined to share in this area too.  From there I plan to spend time doing a bit of photography.  If any of it is worthwhile I'll post it here.  Also, I'll be writing--early morning works tend to be shorter and less tiresome to the reader, so let's see where the spirit leads.

One last thing to share today, and that's the words printed on a small piece of paper and kept in my wallet this year--I'm sharing it because in my humanity, strong on some days and weak on others, I needed it greatly, and I received it as a word--of direction or as a leading--from the Holy Spirit.  Indeed it was a word by which I chose to be led, empowered, and encouraged:

Behold, God is my salvation: I will be confident, I will not fear; for the Lord is my strength and my joy, he has become my savior. (Isaiah 12:2)

Whenever we encounter authentic humanity--in a way in which the mask of falsehood or pretension is removed--we are sure to encounter difficulty as well.  Especially this is true in situations of life that tend to amplify our common frailties and shortcomings.  Nevertheless, often the encounter of difficult situations, along with difficult people, is exactly where God intends for us to be.  Being sent, and being led, in the sense of Christian purpose, is truly all about bringing the healing and transforming power of God to places that we might not choose ourselves.

More later.

Meditation on the Memorial of St. Ephrem: The Sacraments

Living within a Christian milieu that consists of ideas tempered strongly with evangelicalism, we sometimes miss or overlook our rich heritage of the sacramental understanding of the faith. Having grown up in an evangelical household I can tell you that the word "sacrament" was not mentioned ever. It wasn't until I began exploring Catholicism that I began to consider the Sacraments as the means to grace.

It's not uncommon to find that Protestants, especially Evangelicals—with the exception of the old "mainline" denominations to a degree—reject the idea of sacraments and sacramentality.

Years ago, when I was working toward a theology Masters at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary, I had a conversation with a woman who was in the process of being ordained to the United Methodist Church. She asked me about my theological interests. I mentioned Rahner, though at the time I had only just begun to read his works. My interest in Rahner sprang from what I perceived as his similarity to the European phenomenological philosophers whom I had studied as an undergraduate.

"You know," she told me, "that's good, but he's sacramental." I replied that a sacramental approach was exactly what I wanted. In her "…but he's sacramental" I perceived an implicit rejection of the notion that God works through sacraments as a means to provide the grace needed unto salvation. I suppose this type of rejection is what runs behind ideas such as the evangelical doctrine that baptism is not necessary for salvation, but rather that it is merely a church ordinance. In an evangelical view the same might be said in regard to the Lord's Supper, marriage, etc.

My classmate's objection to Rahner's theology as "sacramental" was ironic given that Rahner's theology might have helped her to see a connection between an individualist or personal view of grace and the certainty of grace available made possible in each of the Sacraments.  Sacraments and sacramentality in general are not such that they should appear as somehow foreign to or not belonging to biblical Christianity, even from a merely biblicist point of reference.

So this morning, as I happened to look at the Office of Readings for the Memorial of St. Ephrem (born 306 A.D.), I was delighted to find rich sacramental language dating from the early days of the Church.

In your sacrament we daily embrace you and receive you into our bodies; make us worthy to experience the resurrection for which we hope. We have had your treasure hidden within us ever since we received baptismal grace; it grows ever richer at your sacramental table.

Indeed it is refreshing to find such early affirmations of the faith we have come to know and depend upon. However, over the years I have noticed that frequently the idea—the truth—of sacramental grace often does not get the attention it deserves.

I have frequently wondered whether the Sacraments are still understood as the primary means of grace, or if we, like our Evangelical neighbors, understand salvation as a purely individual concern, defined only in terms of one's personal relationship with God. A question that concerns me is whether as Catholic Christians we are beginning to embrace a way of believing which is lacking in the communal dimension of the Sacraments as the primary means to receive the grace that leads to eternal life.

I ask this only because I frequently fail to see much attention given to teaching and sharing the understanding of the idea of the Sacraments as the normal means to grace. Perhaps it's a local phenomenon that comes from being literally surrounded by non-denominational churches, bible churches, storefront churches--some less than a mile apart, some back-to-back.  Surely there is influence.  I see it several parishes.  There is undoubtedly a tendency to be less sacramentally-centered and more emphasis put on the personal or individual dimensions of faith. 

It seems as if, in terms of importance, we risk transposing the knowledge of the importance sacramental participation with individual prayer and bible study, which of course in themselves are good.  However, personal prayer for forgiveness of sins is not a substitute for Penance.  Nor is bible study or preaching a substitute for Eucharist.  While we receive grace and forgiveness in personal prayer we do not receive it as a sacrament.  The same might be said for receiving the presence of God in bible study.  Sacraments offer us the certainty of grace beyond the limits of personal doubt.

I suppose it all goes along with shorter lines at confession, which in turn makes me wonder how much understanding accompanies those who are in the long lines for communion. From time to time at Baptism meetings I have caught doubtful glances or confused looks when mentioning that Baptism is something that we do in order to receive grace unto salvation and begin the sacramental life.  Occasionally I have gotten the unintentional negative nodding gesture.  I have heard from couples in mixed faith marriages that their baby will be christened now and then baptized as an adult if he or she chooses to do so.

I would never want to deny that grace is freely available in our world through belief and trust in Jesus Christ. I would never tell a Pentecostal that he or she has not received the Holy Spirit because of not having received Confirmation. However, if we approach the Sacraments without faith, without the belief that they offer us the fullness and certainty of grace, we are no better off—even less so—than those who deny the need for the Sacraments altogether.

Today, especially in the times and world in which we live, we might pray with St. Ephrem, "Teach us to find joy in your favor! Lord we have within us your memorial, received at your spiritual table; let us possess it in its full reality when all things shall be made new."

Synchronous Musing

Job spoke, saying:
Is not man's life on earth a drudgery?
Are not his days those of hirelings?
He is a slave who longs for the shade,
a hireling who waits for his wages.
So I have been assigned months of misery,
and troubled nights have been allotted to me.
If in bed I say, "When shall I arise?"
then the night drags on;
I am filled with restlessness until the dawn.
My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle;
they come to an end without hope.
Remember that my life is like the wind;
I shall not see happiness again.   Job 7:1-4, 6-7

Many years ago I was classmates while studying philosophy in graduate school with a now prominent Catholic apologist.  One of many ideas he imparted to me in a subtle manner was that of synchronicity.  At the time I didn't necessarily see it in the Jungian context of the alignment of universal forces.  For me this was too speculative and didn't have the immediacy in world-as-experienced that I sought.  Still I sought out my classmate for his take on what I still consider to be a more than curious phenomenon.

The idea of synchronicity has come up several times in my life.  First, as an undergraduate while delving deeply into Epictetus' Discourses, I came face to face with all the reasons I thought at the time would lead me to having a stoic outlook on life--the loss of a meaningful relationship, a crippling case of sciatica, unemployment and near starvation.  It all seemed to coincide with my opening the pages of the life of a crippled suffering slave who knew Logos--though not in the Johannine sense, but as the philosophical-rational expression of Being.  I must admit that at the time I learned to identify more with the suffering of Epictetus than with the principle of universal reason as he expressed it. 

However, at the time I accounted my feelings toward my own personal pain and loss to be more a case of youthful melancholy and general discontent- with life as it was-I thought perhaps I brought whatever I was experiencing on myself. 

My reading of Epictetus and discussions at the local midnight philosophy club attracted the interest of a street preacher who called himself Brother Timothy.  Timothy made himself at home among college students and didn't seem to mind the chain smoking and drinking of an all-night college beer hall.  Timothy greeted me with at least a listening ear and after several conversations lasting until daybreak he managed to convince me that the answer to Epictetus's sufferings, and those I perceived, were to be found in Jesus Christ.  I believe I wholeheartedly accepted what Timothy offered, though he simply planted the idea and then disappeared not to be seen again after a few months.

It was years later after I had become Catholic and was doing graduate work that the idea of synchronicity came up with the soon-to-be-apologist classmate.  At the time I still had my copy of Epictetus' Discourses, but I refused to open it due to my not so far off memory of a very real pain.  Fortunately the pain stayed away, as did an new events of cosmic synchronicity.  Honestly, and on the contrary, what I experienced in the years that followed was an unfolding of redemption and joy.  Although suffering has come my way more than once, it has had no universal hold on me.

I come back to my thoughts on Epictetus because the reading this weekend from Job reminded me of them, and it reminded me of a time in my life when I had a great need.  Also, in a sense, one might say there is a kind of synchronicity in Job, but in the sense that he points us to the answer rather than coinciding with loss.

When a real struggle comes my way now I no longer consider that I should simply face it as a cosmic requirement to be stoic, rather I sense that I should look to Job as an archetype of suffering.  Not so to say that everything is pointless or meaningless, or that the adversary is getting his way in prosecuting my soul in a cosmic court, but that redemption is sure to come--that justice awaits, and that in the end good will triumph.

Nothing happens in the entire universe that escapes the glance of God.  I've been taught to believe, and I still do believe, that our actions reverberate in the world of our lives and they indeed return to us.  Good returns to the good and evil returns to the evil--even more in an eternal sense. Thus the good that Job did returned to him in that God gave us Jesus, in whom we have hope. 

We may struggle time and again with what appears to be meaningless suffering.  There are sure to be injustices, pain, suffering, loss--it happens to everyone, but for those who have faith there is an answer.  It is the answer that Job required, and that which the Father gave us on a Friday afternoon.

Fasting Anyone?

When I found the article I'm blogging today I thought it might be a little premature.  However, February is short and Ash Wednesday will be here before we know it.

The article caught my eye because I grew up in a tradition that emphasized fasting.  It's not that we as Catholics don't emphasize it, but that we tend to see its purpose differently.  Most Catholics I know will say that fasting is a form of penance--and indeed it is.  However there is another side of fasting--the side I knew as a youth.  I was taught that fasting was a powerful way to make contact with God in prayer.

When I was a young Christian I was told that fasting was the sure way to get prayers answered or to overcome difficult situations.  Given the world we live in today, I'm thinking that fasting is not a bad idea at all.  I especially recommend fasting with an intention--say fasting and praying for a newfound respect for all human life in our world, or fasting for those who are hungry.  Perhaps there is a personal difficulty or troublesome situation.  Don't just pray about it.  Pray and fast about it.

Although the Pope is asking us to rediscover fasting during Lent, we ought also to keep in mind that it's a good practice throughout the year.  Fridays are an especially a good time to fast, but Thursdays--or any other week day--will work too.

Here's the excerpt.  The whole story is rather lengthy.

As Catholics around the world prepare to begin the Lenten season in just over three weeks, Pope Benedict XVI has published his Lenten Message for 2009. This year the Holy Father focuses his message on the meaning and value of fasting, emphasizing that it helps believers to prepare to do the will of God.

The message, which the Pope penned on December 11, 2008, has as its title, a verse from the Gospel of St. Matthew: "He fasted for forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was hungry."

The Holy Father traces the practice of fasting all the way back to God’s command to Adam and Eve not to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Walking through salvation history, the Pope points to his Lenten message’s theme: "The true fast is thus directed to eating the 'true food', which is to do the Father's will."

Pope Benedict also acknowledges that fasting has become fashionable for people concerned with their bodily health, but he explains that for believers the primary benefit of fasting is as "a 'therapy' to heal all that prevents them from conformity to the will of God." "Denying material food, which nourishes our body," the Pope adds, "nurtures an interior disposition to listen to Christ and be fed by His saving word."

The final dimension of fasting the Holy Father mentions is that turns one outwards and thereby keeps alive a "welcoming and attentive attitude towards our brothers and sisters." In order to encourage this he writes: "I encourage the parishes and every other community to intensify in Lent the custom of private and communal fasts, joined to the reading of the Word of God, prayer and almsgiving."

Read the whole story here.

On Hearing the Irresistible Voice

Jesus said to them,
"Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men."
Then they abandoned their nets and followed him. Mk. 1: 17-18

When we hear Jesus beckoning to us, "Follow me," his words have a power like no other.  His call has the ability to reach into the depths of our souls and rouse us in a way that we cannot resist.  His summons is unlike any other call or voice heard.  It is not like the words of a human voice, or even that of an angel heard in a dream.

Communication with God has the same irresistible quality in every situation where we genuinely seek to make contact with our Lord.  Every situation of life lends itself to being a vehicle for discovering and communicating the divine.

Being open to contact with God enables us to hear the Lord's calling to us in places deep within our souls, in places where we feel the stirring of our whole being.  His holy voice touches us, causing our emotions to well up as we respond to him in the same deep place as where his beckon falls.  His calling out takes hold of our being where we are--at work, at worship, while having dinner, while praying alone in a candlelit chapel, or while placing the Body of Christ in the hands of a child. 

In his contact he grants us a moment of certainty experienced like no other--it is a moment that has the power to extend itself outside time where we will be with God always.  Perhaps we feel compelled to say in return, "I thank you for this moment where I have no doubt, for this special time where I believe as never before."  We hear his soft whisper again and again, "Anything you want...anything, anything."  We respond, "Only for your will to be done for in your will is our perfect pleasure."

In the moment of his calling out and in our faith-filled exchange the greatest of mountains move from our pathways.  Time dissolves and the prayers of the saints echo in our ears--the prayers of our mothers and fathers of long years past.  The simple truths of long ago are made present at once and angels worship alongside us.  Again, we whisper our thank you.

Despite our failings, despite what we have been and failed to be, he loves us and has called out to us.  Today we have heard him speak and have seen his power.  To him we have said, "Speak your words to my soul." No dream could have told what his response would be like.

What a great gift to have heard his calling out, his summons.  In the calm of deep whisperings he grants us the knowledge that we have no need to fear any threat that may come. Indeed come what may, let us rejoice in our saving God--the God who is with us.  The God who knows our names and calls to one of us.

Here I am Lord

As I sat down last night to compose what was to be a short blog post for today there were several things that were on my mind.  Certainly I was feeling appreciative to have another day off this weekend, and I considered that too often I take days off for granted. 

Many years ago, before I was married, and before I was a deacon and a teacher, the kinds of jobs I had typically involved physical labor of one kind or another.  It seems that having an extra day to rest had more value then, though don't get me wrong I still value it greatly.  It's just now that it has a different character--this day off gives more of an opportunity to reflect.

Also as I was thinking about today's post I was considering the readings from Sunday.  Perhaps it's the sign of having heard a successful homily when the readings have the power to impress something on us that we can carry through the week.  Undoubtedly I heard a good homily, but the readings by themselves also have the power to do this all on their own when we listen and when we learn to allow what we hear become part of who we are.

As I listened to the priest talk about the importance of hearing the call--and not just for vocations to the priesthood or religious life alone, though that is an important part of it--I thought about the person that Americans and others throughout the world celebrate today.  That is, I thought about Martin Luther King Jr. and the call he heard to address the great injustices of his world.  It's something that we as Catholics should relate to well because our social justice teachings demand that we too stand up for the causes of justice and take the side of those who are least powerful in this world. Surely Martin Luther King Jr. heard such a call, and he acted with determination in its regard.

It becomes more and more apparent with each passing day that the times we live in demand strong action on our part.  Many of the things that Martin Luther King Jr. struggled against still make their presence felt in our world.  In addition we live in times that demand both action and prayer if humanity is to survive, and ironically it is humanity that poses the greatest threat to its own existence.

Hearing the call of the Lord, and answering "Here I am," means that we must put all of our intellect and resources together to effectively address the complex issues we face.  I believe wholeheartedly that the Christian faith still possesses the ability to continue to be a force that shapes the world.  Our faith can still satisfy the souls of the spiritually hungry as well as those who hunger physically.  We still possess the ability to show the love of God to the world.  By no means is our respect for the sacred nature of God's creation and the human person ineffectual, rather it is a necessity.

Indeed we stand on the brink of a new era, which on the eve of President Obama's inauguration we may see more clearly than at other times.  While the Obama presidency symbolizes the fulfillment, at least in part, of King's dream that humanity would stand together without regard to race, this new era is yet to be an era of great challenge, not only in terms of how we regard others but to what lengths we are willing to go to in order to preserve humanity and our world. Indeed the times demand a spirit of cooperation, but for us as Christians they demand that our evangelization must express and precipitate the sheer power of the God who is love to reach into the world and to transform it utterly into something new and full of goodness.

As I take the day off from my work as a teacher I reflect on the call--no simple matter really--and how I might answer it better.  In reflecting on how in my own life I can say "Here I am Lord," I am reflecting also on how I can join with you to bring about a kingdom of peace where we will no longer destroy the handiwork of God.

The Night Visit

In the presence of the Blessed Sacrament
Prayer seems much easier. The words are clearer.
I come with a heart full but aprehensive, not really knowing
The right words to say. Kneeling before the
Tabernacle a heartfelt conversation
Finds a way to pour forth.

Communication is truest when there is
Reciprocity.  This much I know although
What my ears hear in this moment amounts only to silence.

Before arriving at the church I tell myself that
A long heart-to-heart conversation feels overdue.
Over the years the pages of my breviary have
Grown crumpled at the Invitatory and the morning
And evening canticles.  Yet I recall days when I owned no
Prayer book, only a heart longing to say O’ God
Hear the words of my longing.

It is you for whom I long await O’ Lord.
So I arrive at a dark and empty church. The door locked for the
Night.  I search for the right key in the darkness.  Finding it, I go to the 
Chapel and kneel before a candle lit stone Tabernacle, knowing
That within it lies a presence ready to greet me, and so I pour out
My heart the best I can in a fashion that I have grown to know
Somewhat less in the busyness of my life.

In the solitude I hear the unlocked door open and the sound of footsteps
Growing closer.  Looking up I recognize a familiar deacon who
Enters and offers a holy greeting. 

With the key to the Tabernacle in hand he removes
The monstrance which hold the Blessed Sacrament and places it in the open.

As I gaze upon the presence of God before me words flow easier and
I find the grace to whisper just what I need to say.  Effortlessly the words sound
More like the sentences of a devotion written a half-century past.
I leave with a sense of true reciprocity having occurred in the night visit.

Back to School, Back to Work

After a much appreciated two week break I return to work today, which means what you're reading now was actually written last night and scheduled for posting today.  Naturally as a teacher I'm not able to blog during the work day--on a typical day there's little time for stopping to reflect.  However, by the time I get home there's plenty to consider and to reflect about.

As a part of my blogging I've never written much about the work that I do except indirectly.  There's great deal of confidentiality that has to be observed in special education.  For a teacher in general, blogging about work takes special precaution.  Administrators, understandably, tend to guard what is written or said about a school in the media.  Thus, I'll most likely never mention the location of my school or give too many details of the events that transpire during the day.  However, what happens during the day each day at work is of utmost importance and has a deep personal effect.  It gets into what I have to say here regardless.

Like everyone else, what happens to me during my work day has both spiritual and physical outcomes. If I didn't already make a resolution to exercise more this year, I should now because the work that I do takes a tremendous amount of energy--plus there's plenty of work that can be taken home.  I give myself a short window of time for homework because I have a wife and children who need my attention.  Being a teacher, a husband and father, and a deacon all roll together to form my identity, but there are some aspects of my life that must come before others.  Being a husband and father have to take precedence over everything else--I frequently say that family is my real life outside of everything else I do, though I know it's difficult to separate one aspect of life from another in actuality.

If I plan to blog daily, to exercise, to do my homework, to offer time at the parish to meet with people and serve along with my wife as a religious education catechist for cognitively disabled children, and to pursue personal endeavors such as my interest in classical guitar, I really have to depend on God's assistance.  So I pray that God will help me be fast and effective as well as organized and energetic.  I don't want to disappear from the blogosphere again for a lengthy period because I learned that writing has the great spiritual consequence of increasing the vision of my faith.

I also want to avoid having negative feelings or anxiety about anything that I do, or about anyone with whom relate personally.  For me it's a challenge because I tend to have anxiety easily.  It's something I've noticed since I was a teenager.  Every Sunday when the priest prays at Mass that God will free us from all anxiety I especially emphasize it in my own soul.  Part of living a victorious Christian life is learning to be free from the bondage of fear.  Realistically it's hard work but it can be accomplished.

So I'm returning to work today with the resolve to get as much out of every aspect of life as I can.  It's a new year and I'm coming into it expecting good things.  It's never too late in life to see what will result from a great expense of human energy.  I only pray that those who work with me, especially my students, will benefit from whatever efforts I put forth.  I'm not so worried about burning out provided that I'm able to sit on the sofa occasionally on Saturday or Sunday afternoon and fall asleep for an hour while my kids are watching cartoons.

Sunday Advent Sermon: The Next Coming of Jesus

I have always had a great deal of appreciation for the season of Advent. This year is no different—you might even say that Advent, with its sense of waiting for Christmas and the building of anticipation that comes with each day, is my favorite time of year. It's something I never outgrew. In addition to Advent being a special time of year to get us ready for Christmas, it also gives us a special time to reflect and remember—not only on the fond memory of past years spent with family and friends, but on the things of our faith that give the season its special significance.

This year we've been reflecting on the theme of being receptive; that is, our parish reflections have been centered on being open to hearing from God and being open to receiving God's actions in our lives. In a special way this year we have an invitation to reflect on how the great figures of our faith were open, and how they heard from God, and how they responded. This week, the second week of Advent, we focus on Isaiah and on his being receptive to speaking the word of God. The flip side of Isaiah's receptivity to speaking the word of God is our willingness to receive it.

In our first reading today God tells Isaiah to speak words of comfort to the people—to speak tenderly and to assure the people that something special, something unlike anything ever before, was going to come into the world. From our Christian perspective we understand that Isaiah was prophesying the coming the coming of Messiah—the first coming of Jesus, which in multiple cultural and familial expressions we celebrate, reenact, and remember each year. The first coming of Christ as an infant at Bethlehem is one of the major themes of Advent. Therefore, on one level, Advent prepares us for the coming of Christmas in which we focus on the birth of Jesus.

By contrast we also consider the Advent theme of Second Coming of Christ: we consider that which deals with last things and which presents an altogether different tone for the season. The reading from second Peter today, with the heavens passing away with a great noise and the elements melting with fervent heat, is a good example. Indeed the Lord will come as a thief in the night—and perhaps it's a little harder to find the comfort that Isaiah was instructed to share in such a passage—yet we have the comfort of the assurance that the Lord is patient and that he doesn't desire for any of us perish. Peter, like Isaiah, invites us to be receptive to world-shaking or foundational change, which ultimately entails personal repentance as preparation for the coming of Christ.

Part of being receptive—even perhaps the biggest part of it—has to do with our being open to the coming of Christ. For us, with our lives somewhere between the first coming of the infant Messiah born in the stable at Bethlehem and the coming day of God when all things will pass, there is still a real-life everyday way to relate to the coming of Christ. In a real way we should expect it today.

Years ago I remember hearing an Advent sermon on television in which a Catholic priest said that we shouldn't consider the first coming of Christ to be the only important appearance of Christ in our faith. He also said that we shouldn't think of the next coming of Christ as the final coming.

It's true that some may tend to relate their Christian faith almost entirely to the biblical or historical past: perhaps they relate to Jesus born at Bethlehem, or Jesus in his Galilean ministry, or perhaps Jesus in his Passion—and of course these are important realities of faith, but is that all? Also consider that just as there are those whose faith experience centers on the historic or biblical Jesus, there are Christians who relate almost entirely to the last things—to prophecies about the end times, the tribulations to come and getting snatched away and others being left—indeed some live their faith as if that particular aspect of it were everything.

Not to diminish the importance of either the First Coming or the Second Coming, I'd like to offer us a third possibility and a great opportunity for being receptive this Advent, namely that we should be receptive to the next coming of Christ that isn't the final coming of Christ. Another way of putting it is that we should be open to Christ coming into our individual lives and concrete existence today in such a way that profoundly impacts everything about who we are and everything about the world in which we live our daily lives.

A truly fitting Advent prayer echoes the final few words of the bible found in the book of Revelation: "Come Lord Jesus." As we consider the important faith figures in salvation history who are prominent in our Advent readings this season, Isaiah, John the Baptist, Joseph, Elizabeth and Mary, we should consider their receptivity and the real possibility that their prayer was, "Come into my life Lord…I invite you to be part of it from now on."

When, in a genuine way, we invite God into our lives and when we are truly receptive, we're sure to be amazed at where we will find the power of Lord—perhaps the Lord himself—showing up. Indeed we may find that our biggest obstacles have disappeared, and that every valley has been filled and every mountain has been laid flat, and so we pray, "Come Lord Jesus."