Christmas music disappears abruptly from our radio stations and shopping malls on December 26, but neighborhoods twinkle with Christmas lights well into January. In my boyhood these wintertime lights, often reflected in the moonlit snow, enchanted me. Yesterday, driving past a row of homes exceptionally lit up for Christmas, my heart thrilled again as if I were a boy. “How childish!” I thought. But then … Christmas is for children. Life is for children. As Francois Mauriac observed (in the December 28 Magnificat meditation), “God … is an Eternal Child…. It is the child’s strength which enraptures me…. over the cadavers of Nietzschean heroes, the purity of the child stands firm…. I put myself on the side of childhood.”

On Saturday (the Feast of the Holy Innocents), I spent an hour in my boyhood parish, near Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Although the Catholic Church in Pennsylvania is in dark decline, my old parish was lit up as I remembered it fifty years ago. Tiny white lights sparkled on fir trees scattered about the sanctuary; a large star hung over the manger scene, with Mama, Papa, and Baby amongst ox and ass, sheep and birds, hay and pinecones. Red and green holly lined every corner, twinkling with embedded Christmas lights. Two large wreathes hung above the altar, also strung with lights, whose electrical cords swung lamely from their fresh pine branches. These lights thrilled my heart, but then I thought again, “How childish!” Isn’t reality hard and dark, like the communists and the atheists tell us?

Twenty years ago I flew into Vladivostok at early dawn (we supported a sister parish in that former Soviet utopia). What one saw from 2000 feet, as the plane approached the old military airfield, was nothing but grey shapelessness. The city’s horizon was defined by rows of sadly dilapidated 15-storey apartment buildings and smoldering factory stacks. There were no spires or domes or any inspired architecture. There were no lights or anything to capture a child’s imagination. Soviet atheism looked as empty as it had proved to be.

It is good to delight in Christmas lights. These lights do not lie. They manifest, rather, a truth that often eludes sophisticated thinking: that a Child is born for us, and a Son is given us. He is the Light of the World, the Prince of Peace, the God-Hero, and Father Forever. Within our darkest nights, and beneath the filth of our blackened cities, burns a Light. This Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

​Prudentius was inspired by today’s first reading from the Prophet Isaiah: “A child is born to us, a son is given us, and the government shall be upon his shoulder. They name him Wonder-Counselor, God-Hero, Father-Forever, Prince of Peace. His dominion is vast and forever peaceful.” There will come a time when every earthly ruler submit to an Divine King, who is the Creator and Redeemer of all that exists. He alone is capable of ruling a vast and forever peaceful dominion. Again, from Prudentius’ hymn:

​But this God-Hero and Prince of Peace is born into our race as a tender babe, in the City of David. He is a poor child, like the rest of us:

​Bethlehem is Hebrew for “City of Bread.” His mother wrapped him in swaddling clothes, much like you wrap a warm dinner sandwich, and placed him in a manger (that’s French for “eating”). A manger is a box into which food is put for sheep and cattle. The Scriptures could not be clearer that this baby is food, for us: “Behold, I proclaim good news of great joy for all people: a savior has been born for you. And this will be a sign for you: an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.”  “O child,” wrote St. John Paul II, “who willed to have for your crib a manger, O Creator of the universe….” In our foodie culture, especially, nothing conveys joy and warmth like a hot meal. “You have brought them abundant joy,” we heard from Isaiah 9, “as they rejoice at the harvest.” We will never go hungry again, and the finest wine will this Messiah provide for our nuptial banquets. He does not merely purchase food for his lambs, but He Himself is the food of eternal life. In his Christmas homily last year, Pope Francis said that “Bethlehem alters the course of history. There God, in the house of bread, is born in a manger…‘Here I am, your food.’”

​At every Mass we witness this sacrifice. God became man; He knew death and sorrow, so that Adam’s children “might not perish in the dreadful gulf below.” “You would have suffered eternal death,” wrote St. Augustine for his Christmas homily in the fourth century, “had he not been born into temporal life. Never would you have been freed from sinful flesh, had he not himself taken on bodily weakness. You would have gone to hell, had he not come to earth.” And so, let us adore Him. Let us receive Him into our bodies as food, in the Holy Mass, in Eucharistic adoration, in faithfully building our homes and families as domestic churches. Let us never miss a Mass again, if we can help it, for without the Bread of Life, we die. 

“Tomorrow,” as the Liturgy of the Hours will tell us, “you will know the Lord is coming, and in the morning you will see his glory.” The glory of our Creator flashes from east to west, if we have eyes to see it. Yesterday I dragged myself out of bed at 5:30 and it was dark, the darkest morning of the year (the Winter Solstice). At 7am I went over to the church, and the streets were still dark, and rainy, and deserted. I wondered if some apocalyptic catastrophe had taken place the night before. But last night, after a festive vespers with the friars in their brightly-lit St. Dominic’s church, the sun’s light was still shimmering at 5:30pm over the western Pacific. The days will begin to grow in light from here on. Every molecule of creation reflects the splendor of our benevolent Father in Heaven. Every change of season accomplishes our Creator’s all-wise plan to redeem the universe.

On Thursday I spent a day off with my priest brothers at Santa Cruz. In late afternoon, after our run on the beach and swim in the ocean, our bike rides along the coast and energetic discussions over beer and sandwiches, we were all quietly reading in different parts of the house. I was perched on the roof, overlooking the sun’s golden sheen on the vast Pacific. What an immense body of water! During our swim that morning I was reminded how heavy water is when our frail bodies got tossed about like ragdolls in the crashing waves. From that roof I could see hundreds of square miles of water, which in the Monterey Bay extend twice as deep as the Grand Canyon. Who can fathom the weight of that water? And yet, during our morning run, the tide was out. The entire Pacific Ocean had been pulled a few feet to the west. Who or what could move trillions of tons of water like that? We know that it is the moon that does that, just by being there, by the force of her gravity (in most languages, the moon is feminine). And yet, of course, the moon is just a speck compared to the sun.
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The ancients described Our Lady as the moon, who is “nothing” in comparison with God, the Sun, the source of all light and heat. She reflects God’s glory and in faithfully reflecting God’s beauty, she attracts. She exercises an immense gravitational pull, moving mountains and seas, and that is why she is still on our Christmas stamps, with Jesus in her arms.
She was the first to perfectly reflect God’s goodness, but we do that same, please God. With a smile, with a bit of understanding love, we can move people from darkness to the light that will illuminate tomorrow’s night, Christmas Eve. A blessed and merry Christmas to all!

I made another enemy yesterday, but I couldn’t help it. I was almost certain what would happen if I returned her call, but I made the call nonetheless. She was upset about how our priests administer the Holy Eucharist, and I was caught between a rock and a hard place.

In July a study reported that half of American Catholics are unaware of the Catholic Church’s definition of the Holy Eucharist. In August a second study reported that only one third of American Catholics believe that the Eucharist is the physical body and blood of Christ. I myself didn’t understand or believe it until my first year of college. An Evangelical friend pointed out that that I believed the host changed from bread to actual flesh during the Mass. “I don’t believe that!” I assured him. But I later discovered that, indeed, this was something my four years of Catholic schooling and eight years of catechism classes didn’t get through to me. I was clueless, and apparently most Catholics are clueless, about an essential belief of our own faith.
Yesterday I made that phone call to a nice woman who was raised Catholic and had attended a prestigious Catholic university. At communion time on Sunday, her dear mother, who is suffering the advanced stages of Alzheimer’s, plucked the host from her mouth and dropped it on the communion plate. The priest was a bit frazzled, and indicated to her caregiver that probably the time had come for her not to receive Holy Communion any longer. He didn’t have time, at the communion rail, to explain more fully, and the family was understandably concerned. They sought out the priest after Mass, but his custom is to pray some minutes after Mass in thanksgiving. So they called me, the pastor.

I explained the Sacred Eucharist is the most Holy Sacrament for Catholics, and that priests are custodians of that Sacrament. By canon law the priest must, to the best of his ability, ensure that the  Sacred Species is consumed by the communicant. A person who, even if through no fault of their own, discards the Eucharist, cannot be given the Sacrament. I used the analogy of taking car keys away from elderly parents when they are no longer able to drive. There are many reasons why one may be unable to receive the Eucharist (a physical disability, or the unavailability of the Eucharist, or not being in the state of grace), but that God’s grace will reach such people by other means. We talked for a half hour, to no avail. She just could not understand how a priest could deny her mother Holy Communion.

Of course the daughter was motivated by genuine love of her mother. Her inability to understand the objective nature of the Sacrament, however, reflected the terrible failure of catechesis for which we priests and bishops stand accountable. She had faithfully attended twelve years of children’s catechism, and then a Catholic college, but her basic notions of the Eucharist were confused and contradictory. She didn’t receive the Eucharist herself, nor attend Mass, nor believe in many of the Church’s teachings “that are hard for a woman to accept.” Nevertheless, she valued the Eucharist enough to insist on it for her mother.

I’m sorry that I must be blunt, but most Catholics don’t believe in the Eucharist for the simple reason that most clergy don’t believe in the Eucharist. At least, we don’t believe in the Sacrament enough to impart this faith to our parishioners. “Communicating the Eucharist” requires a lifelong commitment to hard work, sacrifice, misunderstandings, and marginalization. And so most of us priests don’t teach and administer the Holy Eucharist with consistency and conviction. If we did, more Catholics would believe in it. Jesus Christ taught the Holy Eucharist with conviction, fully knowing it would get Him crucified. In fact, most of his disciples left him when he insisted on it, as you can read in John 6:35-69. How many bishops today would insist on any Catholic teaching that would turn 90% of their friends into enemies? But that is what the great High Priest Jesus did. Thank God we have a High Priest!
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I made another enemy today, and it ruined my day. The woman I talked with will no longer bring her mother to my church, and she will tell all her friends that the priests at Star of the Sea are doctrinaire, intolerant, perhaps even hateful. I knew it was a lose-lose before I returned the call, and perhaps I should not have even called her back. But on the other hand, she deserved a return call, and she deserved the truth. A priest’s job is to deliver the truth, even if he cannot do it very well. I tried the best I could, but my gifts of intellect and empathy are limited. May it not be held against me!

isAdvent Begins 
It’s not yet Christmas, despite what festoons our city’s streets and shopping centers. It's Advent, the four-week preparation for Christmas. As we enter the season of gift giving, make sure God gets your best gift, which is your time in prayer and your heart in penance. Prayer and fasting soften the human heart. Indeed, Christmas softens the cold and hard city. More people greet each other with a smile and show a little more patience in the streets. I try to greet at least one stranger on the sidewalk every day. Sometimes I get a startled look, but most often I receive a joyful smile. Those smiles nurture my soul. It is the baby in Bethlehem, in the arms of his Mother, with Joseph behind her, with the ox and ass looking on, that help us believe in human warmth and divine love. Jesus came once, and He will come again. As St. Cyril writes of Advent: “We look beyond the first coming and await the second.” In fact, the readings for this first Sunday of the Liturgical Year put us on alert: God is underway toward us, like a great ship on the horizon, steaming into port. Let’s get ready!
 
His Second Coming
God does not reveal the day of that Second Coming to keep us awake. It is human nature to procrastinate, to get by with as little as possible. It’s like the man who prayed for a parking place: “Lord, if you find me a parking spot I promise I’ll go to church next Sunday.” Immediately a car pulls out of a spot in front of him and he says “never mind, Lord, I found one.” We do not think much about what we do not see, and our God is a hidden God. We eat and drink, we manage our businesses and our families, we “marry and are given in marriage,” without a thought of our first principle and final end. We think more about food and drink than about Jesus and Mary. We spend vastly more energy on finding a wife or husband than on finding eternal life. Consider how much time and money we Americans spend on our hair compared with the time and money we spend on the things of God. “They were eating and drinking,” Jesus says in today’s gospel, “marrying and giving in marriage, right up to the day Noah entered the ark. They did not know until the flood came and carried them all away.” Christ’s Coming will roll over us on that day like a Deluge, so let’s be ready for it.
 
Sanctifying Penance
We prepare for Him by sanctifying everyday life. God offers us food and drink, marrying and giving in marriage, as sacraments, signs of His goodness and paths to eternal life. Food and drink, school and work, friendship and love, lead us either to heaven or to hell. Nothing in our lives is simply neutral. Those preparing for Christ continue to eat and drink, but not “in carousing and drunkenness,” as Paul writes. We marry and are given in marriage, but without “sexual excess and lust.” We go to work every day, but “without quarrelling and jealousy.”
 
St. Paul, in his usual bold manner, says that we should make “no provision for the desires of the flesh” as we await Christ’s return. Catholics used to practice at least a minimum restraint of the flesh every Friday, in union with Christ’s total sacrifice on that day. Most Catholics don’t know that canon laws still requires us to offer some form of penance on Fridays (canon 1250). This could be abstaining from meat, or keeping digital silence, or refusing to gossip at work. It might be attending Mass or praying the rosary on Friday, or writing a letter to grandma or cleaning your room. In our parish we receive Holy Communion on our knees as a small act of penance. In a healthier time, Catholics knew how to say no to the body’s desire for food and drink, for sex and violence. We can regain our innocence; we can rebuild the peaceful order of a disciplined Christian life by even a little consistent prayer and penance.

Let’s begin Advent, before the Christmas parties engulf us, with sanctifying prayer and penance. A group of exorcists has asked us to pray and fast this coming Friday, the First Friday of the new liturgical year, to make atonement for recent acts of idolatry in Rome, and to beg God’s mercy for corrupt Church leaders. On page two of our bulletin you will find five ways to offer penance this Friday, including three daily Masses. All penance must be done under the loving care of Our Lady. We want to fast neither too harshly nor too lightly. We should not fast merely to prove our willpower, nor to the point of disabling ourselves. We should not pray long hours from self-righteousness. Our Mother in heaven will rightly order our prayer and penance, guiding our hearts to her Son Jesus. All glory and praise to Him, forever and ever!