Behold, He Comes

“If you ask most people what December is about, they are likely to say, “Getting ready for Christmas.”  But go one step further and ask what this means.  They will mention buying presents, preparing for guests, or visiting family for the holidays.  If you say, “What about celebrating the mystery of the birth of the Son of God?” they will eye you suspiciously and with a tinge of embarrassment say, “Of course.  That too.”  It was not always this way.

Older people can remember when there was real excitement.  As children, we fasted from candy and made little sacrifices for the Christ Child.  We saved what little we had to buy presents but also to give something to the poor or to the Church.  And we were excited.  We all knew of course that Christ was born long ago, but somehow this remembrance made it seem that He was coming again to us.”

            -- Behold, He Comes, Meditations on the Incarnation, by Benedict Groeschel, CFR

I like Fr. Benedict Groeschel’s Advent meditations (and I make sure there are always copies in the adoration chapel).  He published them in 2001, and most years I glance at them during Advent as I feel drawn, but this year is different:  I’ve been faithful in reading them each day, and I’ve found much delight and peace in his words, like those quoted above.

This entire Advent season has had a different feel for me.  I’ve been very busy, from traveling to Arizona at its start to extensive gift buying to a number of meetings --- with friends of old and new.  My tree isn’t up yet, and my cleaning lady joked that I’d better get it up soon, or she’ll return and demand I drag the plastic tree parts from the basement and she’ll put it up for me --- and she said it in that half serious, half “or else” tone.  And we laughed.

My living room is littered --- no, delightfully covered --- with wrapping papers, unwrapped gifts, and (thankfully) some piles of gifts ready for delivery.  Christmas cards?  Well, I’ve bought them, but they too are on my to-do list.  The Advent wreath and four candles?  They remain unlit in the box, as are the lights I usually string outside.  But this Third Sunday of Advent, all those things which I do value will have to wait, as today begins a series of Christmas gatherings with friends this week.

I’m not the only one running late with some Christmas preparations this year, and I chatted with my neighbor outside yesterday (in this unusually warm December weather) as he strung Christmas lights around the maple tree in his front yard --- and I fed his dog, Ritzy, some bones to quiet his “Christmas anxieties.”

I’ve chatted with some friends (and my cleaning lady) who talk like I should feel anxious for not being further along in Christmas preparations, but I think Fr. Groeschel’s words better describe how I am feeling this Advent.  I am not busy “getting ready for Christmas” in the secular sense, but in excitement preparing “for His coming again.”  All I’ve been doing thus far in preparation, a very busy time, feels to me as if I am not alone.  I often feel Jesus’ presence, like together we’re shopping, meeting neighbors, and spreading the joy of His coming.  Wrapping presents could be tedious, but I feel joy as I listen to Christmas music while I measure and cut and tape, and think “yes, this will be a good gift for that person.”

Sometimes, along the way, I’m recalling Christmases past, events and people I miss, and last year’s comforting a friend in the hospital, and even the woes of this year: the caregivers and friends who are worried about their loved one’s illnesses --- or death (please pray for Ed, who died yesterday).  But even these sad thoughts this year do not cause me any anxiety.  They seem to fit in with my TOTAL preparations for Advent:  He is coming.  The good things, the bad things, the things I’ve been busy with, the things I still need to do --- all these, they’re all just things.  He, however, is the REAL thing.  He’s with me in my preparations for His coming; He’s with me (and my friends) in our sorrows and worries.  And I know, I have a great peace and joy, that all will be well.

Silent night,
Holy night.
Sleep in heavenly peace.

Behold, He comes.

You Are My Christmas Present

In recent days I was reminded how very important each one of us are, VERY important.  I think we take many things for granted, because that’s the way they always have been, and we can’t conceive of things being different.   And so we’re not thankful.

The Bible Study guys this morning were in John, Chapter 6, and the Miracle of the Loaves, the feeding of 4000 by the meager bread holdings of a small boy.  We noticed that Jesus took the loaves and used them to feed all the people, but we noticed a couple of other things also:  it’s not recorded that Jesus ever said “Thank you” to the boy, nor did the people ever say thank you to Jesus for feeding them.  The discussion continued, centering around all the things we are not thankful for, all the blessings we have, and how at those times when we imitate the generosity of Jesus and freely give, we often judge those we are giving to.  One of the men mentioned how he bought a 7-year old child a bike --- “but I didn’t attach a gift receipt because I worried the child’s mom might return the bike to get money for drugs.  I made an assumption about this person who I didn’t even know!”  We all had examples like that.

We talked about Jesus’ example of just giving to those in need, and not expecting thanks, and trusting that there is an unsaid thanks from our Father.  I wrote recently about the need for us to be content with doing our part in God’s plan, kind of like the boy who had the loaves.  He didn’t work the miracle which enabled the feeding of 4,000, but he certainly contributed.  Maybe Jesus isn’t recorded as thanking the boy because the boy was a follower of his, and Jesus expects those types of loving things from His followers.  Remember that part of the Gospel where Jesus says that if you only do something to get thanks, then that is your reward here in this life --- don’t expect any from Him in eternity.

Last night, at the Caregiver’s Support Group meeting, we spoke about how our Thanksgiving went, and Christmas plans.  For many there, the days were and are expected to be difficult ones.  Mom or dad or their spouse takes all of their time and focus.  A couple commented that Christmas shopping wasn’t a priority, getting through Christmas was.  And you could see they felt alone, and more than one noted how their siblings don’t understand all the work --- and stress --- which is involved in taking care of mom or dad.  And they shed tears, and we understood, having gone through or presently going through just what they are, and feeling what they feel.  But then one of the women said: “You are my Christmas present,” referring to the group of people present, and how much they felt blessed to find other people that understand, that are there, and that care.

We talk about Christmas and giving, and we think about those we help and perhaps we also think about our blessings, but often these thoughts focus on monetary things --- the expensive bike bought for a poor kid, or even the feeding of 4000 hungry people.  But I think the woman last night expressed thanks for something we don’t often consider when thinking of gifts or blessings received:  one of the greatest gifts we can give another person --- or even receive ourselves --- is a hug.  For very many people, even perhaps your very next door neighbors, being alone is their real poverty.  Don’t forget them this Christmas.  You can be a Christmas present to someone in need --- in need of you.

I mentioned my friend, Mary Beth, volunteers for an organization called No One Dies Alone.  You can see more about their nationwide initiative here:     http://www.eskenazihealth.edu/our-services/palliative-care-program/NODA     

Barnes and Noble

This afternoon was Christmas shopping, so after mass, a breakfast meeting, and cleaning the house before the cleaning lady arrived, I set out.

The first store I stopped at was a hit, and I found a number of things on my list --- and they gift wrapped!  I lugged the packages over to the gift-wrap area, and told them I KNEW they would pick the perfect wrappings, and so I set out again.  I didn’t get out of that area, however, before something else caught my eye, and so shortly after I was back at the gift wrap window again:  “Add this to the other stuff,” I said, and took off again, because they said it’d take at least 20 minutes to wrap the things. 

The next store wasn’t far away, and I found another item I liked, and so I drifted back to the first store and said: “Add this one to my wrap pile too.”  But they wouldn’t wrap something from another store.  Rats!  Oh well, I went on, and then on, and then on, and the bags were getting heavy so I finally headed back to the first store and the gift wrap area.  When the lady handed me the first bag she said: “Be careful; this one’s a bit heavy.”  Then I reached up for the bag with my hand, which was holding about a half dozen other bags already.  “Oh,” she said.  “I guess you’re not worried about carrying a little weight.”  I looked down at my waist, and then back up at her, and she started to be a bit flummoxed, but then I laughed, and so did she.

I bought many items I wanted at the mall, and fought off many sales pitches for stuff I didn’t want.  Some of the sales pitches were in my face, and some more subtle, but you’re intended to get the message.  My next stop was the Barnes and Noble store, where I thought I might find some things I wanted.  I couldn’t see what I was looking for, but then I noticed a set of bookcases off in a separate area of the store, and thought to check them out.  It was the Christian books and Bibles section --- located in the middle of the children’s toy department.  Remember I mentioned about stores trying to send a subtle message?  Well I got that one, and I hope Barnes and Noble got mine, as I walked out of the store without buying anything.

My last stop of the day was the grocery store, where I had to get some eggnog for the Caregiver’s Support Group Meeting tonight.  But when I went to pay for my purchases, my credit card was declined.  The young lady behind the register seemed embarrassed to tell me.  I laughed.  “Well, I guess the bank figures I’ve done enough Christmas shopping for today.”

Some people keep detailed lists, do budgets, and figure things out in detail.  I’m not rich, but I do trust in God, and I spend what I think is appropriate for what I think the appropriate reasons, and then trust in God.  I don’t balance my checkbook.  I don’t pay too much attention to my credit cards.  And the bank watches over me if they think I’m spending too much (or, in truth, they suspect the unusual activity may be the result of a stolen card.)

Fortunately, I had another card to pay for my purchases, and as I expected my phone rang as I was unloading the groceries into my car.  “You had your credit card denied just now.”  “Yup,” I said.   That was me.  And then she proceeded to read off a litany of stores I had attended that day, and I described my Christmas purchase adventures at each one.  And we both laughed, and wished each other a Merry Christmas. 

I said I trust God to watch out for me.  Sometimes He uses a bank.  And I think He led me out of the Barnes and Noble store, so I could do my grocery shopping, waiting to have my credit card bounce there, so that I could purchase the few little things for the group tonight.  That was a good thing, and God always seems to make sure I am able to do the good things.  He’s like that.  Maybe that’s part of the reason we celebrate His birthday.  ----- But wait a minute.  You don’t think He’s watching out for me, being a good Guy, in hopes of some special birthday present from me, do you?? 

Fr. Jacques Philippe

My friend said she’d decided not to attend Fr. Philippe’s talk with me on Sunday night.  Speaking with another friend later that afternoon, she said she’d love to go --- but then called back later to say she couldn’t.   And finally a third friend said she’d attended the woman’s retreat and found the good Father’s use of a translator (he spoke in French) tedious to listen to --- and it was going to be extremely foggy Sunday night --- so she too said she was not interested in attending what I had expected to be a SRO talk at my parish.  And so I said: “Well, I guess I agree.  It’s probably not worth all the hassle of attending, and the hazard of the drive.  I guess I’ll stay home, too.”

But then I thought about the words I had written on Saturday, and I remembered my earlier resolve to attend the talk, and so I decided to go anyway, alone.  But the negative hints (was it from that bad little guy on my shoulder?) continued, as the first friend texted me how bad the fog was: “If you’re going, leave very early.”  And so I did.

The travel time to the church was about 50% longer than usual (but it was more than double coming back home).  The SRO crowd I had expected turned into a hand full of people as I arrived, although the church eventually was about 2/3’s full by the start of Fr. Philippe’s talk ---- many arrived late.  And the talk was preceded by a half hour of loud praise and worship songs, ones which I had never heard before and so I found the singing of the tunes difficult to follow.  And did I mention they were LOUD?  So I left my pew and stood in the quieter area of the church foyer, and I thought: “Maybe I should just go home” -- one last nudge from the guy on my shoulder who wouldn’t give up.

But I’m glad I stayed.

In the beginning, Fr. Philippe’s talk WAS tedious to listen to, and so I closed my eyes to better concentrate on Sr. Maria’s translated words.  A young sister, she had a pleasant voice.  The talk’s topic was:  God’s Mercy and Mary.  In the beginning I felt some whispers of “same-ol’, same-ol’” thoughts in my head, but as I became used to the translated words’ cadence, I opened my eyes and also watched Fr. Philippe’s animated gestures --- and I found it riveting.

The talk turned from explaining God’s freely offered mercy to the four ways, Fr. Philippe explained, we can accept God’s mercy:  With trust, humility, an attitude of gratitude/thanksgiving, and with mercy toward others/forgiveness.  Then the talk touched deep emotions, and Father gave beautiful examples to make his thoughts clear.  He also included ad hoc humor, which sometimes stopped Sr. Maria cold, as she as she couldn’t stop laughing to get the translation out --- like when she finally stopped laughing to explain that Fr Philippe had commented on her translation: “Father said that sounded better in French.” 

And we laughed too.

But finally Father Philippe connected Mary, the mother of Jesus, to His Mercy.  The reasoning flowed so naturally, almost an “of course” echoed in my mind.  “Mary does what mother’s do to their children, transmitting to them the depths of their faith.  And no one knew Jesus --- and His Mercy --- better than His mother.  Mary’s words to Elizabeth, the Magnificat, summarized it so beautifully:  it filled her heart even in the very beginning of her motherhood.”  And so Mary can be a source of Jesus’ Mercy to us.

I am sure Fr. Philippe’s talk will be posted on the Christ The King, Ann Arbor, website later this week.  You really should listen to it, and you should read Fr. Gaitley’s book:  The Second Greatest Story Ever Told.  Both present thoughts which make so much sense, and makes sense of the Marian Consecration which many made today (myself included), on this feast of the Immaculate Conception, and this beginning day of the Year of Mercy, as declared by Pope Francis.

            - - - - - - - - - -

The fog Sunday night almost kept me from attending Fr. Philippe’s talk, and it was forecast to be even worse on Monday morning, so I decided to sleep in and go to a later morning mass.  But at 5AM, my usually waking time, I was wide awake and alert, and I felt God’s nudge to get up and get going to my normal 6:30A mass.

When I left the garage (plenty early) to drive to church, I was surprised to see the clear morning air and the beautiful sky and moon above.  It seemed no one was pestering me THIS day to not go to church, or maybe the clear morning was a blessing for having persisted the prior night.  And then a sad but beautiful song began playing on the CD:  Blue Christmas, as sung by Andrea Bocelli and Reba McEntire.  They make an awesome duet.

The song (and my tears at the words and my related thoughts) reminded me of the sad memories I have had of Christmases past, the ones which will never be again, but then I also thought of the very moment I was there in the car:  the clear sky, the pretty moon, all my many friends (and family), and how very, very blessed I am.  Memories are good, like the song, but now is a time of God’s blessing also, and a time for making good use of the time we have. 

Christmas is a time for thanking God for all He has done for us --- and all He is and will do, and for His Mercies.