Watch!

My brother is into cars.   Cars excite him, enthrall him, exhilarate him, and always have.  Show him a picture of any car and he’ll tell you the year, the make, the model, and a bit of the car’s history.  Classic cars really turn him on and he can spot them miles away.   I’m  reminded of this every time we’re on the road.  A routine drive often becomes a rousing reconnaissance mission.    Gasps of excitement are followed by shouts of exclamation like, “Hey, there’s a  1964 Shelby Cobra!” or, “Look!  There’s a 1973 Porsche 911 RS!” My brother, now 50, becomes once again like a little child, excited and filled with wonder.   Against the backdrop of ordinary traffic, my brother’s fascination with cars enables him to see the cars that other eyes might typically miss.  But then again, he’s always watching for them.  The irony is, my brother can only see out of one eye.

Like my brother, our liturgies during Advent teach us what it means to keep watch.  It is to be always at the edge of our seats, eyes wide open, hearts ready to be amazed.   Our Advent scriptures tell the stories of those who kept watch.   Isaiah, Jeremiah,  and  John the Baptist all could foresee the coming of the Messiah, and so they kept watch.  We who know that Jesus, the Messiah, has already come are still encouraged to keep watch for his eventual second coming.  But, in the meantime, we are inspired to watch for the presence of God all around us.  My brother and these prophets demonstrate that in life, we often see what we watch for.   If we take our  watching to heart,  watching attentively and intently, we may discover God over and over amidst the backdrop of ordinary life.   Perhaps we will again become like little children, filled with awe and delight.  Just watch!  Amen.

Waiting

One of the most popular gift items this Christmas is sure to be the Keurig, a machine that brews single cups of everything from “Sleepytime Herbal Tea” to “Wake Up Call Extra Bold Coffee,” in under 60 seconds.  The Keurig is another example of the “instant” society we have become.  From instant meals to instant messaging, we have almost everything we want or need at the drop of a hat.   We are long on technology but short on patience.  We hate waiting! We look for the shortest line in the grocery store, the fastest lane on the highway, the closest parking spot to the mall.

Our liturgies during Advent take a different tack.     During Advent, our scripture readings are filled with images of what happens when we wait in hope:  a desert blooms, a wolf becomes a lamb’s BFF, and the poor finally have their day.  Good news abounds.  As the angel Gabriel tells Mary:

“Know that Elizabeth your kinswoman has conceived a son in her old age; she who was thought to be sterile is now in her six month, for nothing is impossible with God.”
Luke 1, 36

Advent tells us that not only is it ok to wait, it might actually be preferable in the long run.
Waiting creates space for God.  Waiting nurtures our relationship with God.  Waiting fulfills something inside of us that an instant Chai Latte never could.   God waits for us patiently, longingly, lovingly.  So too, we are called to await God’s presence and favor.   Advent teaches us that our days are pregnant with hope.  So, savor Advent.  Savor God’s presence.  Savor life.  It’s good to the last drop!  Amen.

The Nature of Death

Maybe it’s just me, but, the colors of the leaves this autumn seem to be particularly brilliant.  Nature has clothed itself in hues of vibrant red, orange and yellow, creating an impressive panoply of color, serving up a visual feast.   So many times, I’ve wished that this dazzling display could stay that way, that the trees could keep those colorful leaves all year long.  But, alas, the peak of the season is swiftly passing and the leaves are quickly deserting the trees, leaving  limbs naked and branches vulnerable to face winter’s uncertainty.

It’s no coincidence that as the earth (at least in the Northern hemisphere) prepares to die to winter,

the Church’s liturgies also prepare us for death and dying.   Sunday’s scriptures are filled with texts reminding us to keep watch for the unknown hour of death.    Certain days like All Saints and the Commemoration of all the Faithful Departed are set aside to remember, to grieve and to give thanks for those who have gone before us, and to remind us of the great hope which awaits us all.  

Like nature, the Church too changes in particular seasons.  This Sunday, we say good-bye to our current prayer-book, the Sacramentary (the big red book the priest uses).  For more than 40 years, this book has accompanied us through life’s most profound moments:  Baptism, marriage, sickness and death .   Sunday after Sunday, we have prayed with and through the book’s 2500 texts.  Whether we were conscious of it or not, these prayers have helped shape our perceptions of God and have helped to form us as the body of Christ.

Next Sunday, we will pray with a new prayer-book, now called the Roman Missal.  The texts will be more wordy, more complex and perhaps more difficult.  This is why the Missal and the process that produced it has been the subject of contention and criticism for many.  But, as nature and the liturgy teach us, change is hard, dying is inevitable and new life is possible for those who wait in hope.  AMEN.

Our Liturgical Muscles

My friend Dennis is an exercise fanatic.  He’s a marathon runner.  He  swims, cycles and does yoga.   He preaches the ‘gospel’ of exercise, seeking to inspire others with his vim, vigor and overall enthusiasm for life.  He understands what a difference being physically active has made and wants to share that with others.   So, he’s constantly calling couch potatoes into a regular routine of being physically active.  

The Church is constantly calling us to move from being pew potatoes to being active participants in the liturgy.  The Church understands what a difference it makes when we actively participate in spirit, mind and body.  One of the most quoted phrases from the Second Vatican Council calls the Eucharist the "source and summit of the whole Christian life.”   But, what the document really says is that the community’s participation in the Eucharistic sacrifice is the source and summit of the Christian life.  (Lumen Gentium) Another document from Vatican II says that our “full, conscious, and active participation is demanded by the very nature of liturgy.”  It calls our participation not only our right but our “duty” as baptized Christians.  (Sacrosanctum Concilium)

The revision of the Roman Missal is yet another opportunity for us to take these documents seriously; to engage more fully in the liturgy, to make a conscious effort to stay present, to listen attentively, to pray fervently and to sing with full hearts and voices. 

When Dennis first became serious about exercise, he awakened muscles in his body that he never knew existed.  Perhaps if we take our participation in the liturgy to heart, we will awaken new graces that we never knew existed.    Dennis, at 60, is running the famous Athens Marathon in Greece this Sunday.  May our  “full, active and conscious participation” in the liturgy sustain us with the stamina to run the marathon of life.  AMEN.

Words Matter

I worked at CNN at a time when Ted Turner had an active role in the network’s  day-to-day operations. His involvement in global affairs prompted him to issue a decree that no employee should ever use the word “foreigner,” either in news copy or in conversation.  He believed “foreigner” had carried negative connotations.  Instead, we were to use more politically correct terminology such as “international visitors.” Turner knew the power of words and believed how we spoke about people determined how we thought about them.  He believed that not using “foreigner” would broaden our perspective and that of our viewers.

Those who translated the 3^rd edition of the New Roman Missal also know the power of words and believe that how we speak about God in the liturgy will determine how we think about God.  Therefore, there will be many words and phrases in the revised translation that we don’t hear every day.  Here’s a glimpse of a few of them, and their meanings, as defined by the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops:

Consubstantial:  The belief, articulated in the Nicene Creed, about the relationship of the Father and the Son that “in the Father and with the Father, the Son is one and the same God.” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, no. 262).

Incarnate:  The Son of God assumed human nature and became man by being conceived by the Holy Spirit in the womb of the Virgin Mary.   The use of this term in the Nicene Creed means that Jesus’ birth has a significance beyond that of any other human birth.

Only-Begotten Son:  This title “signifies the unique and eternal relationship of Jesus Christ to God his Father." This phrase is found in both the Gloria and in the Nicene Creed.

Let us pray that as these words will help broaden our own perspective of a God whom we could never call “foreign.”  AMEN.