Ready?

"Last Sunday, John the Baptist appeared, barreling down like a spiritual steamroller: 'Prepare the way of the Lord!  Make straight his paths!'  One week later, we might ask ourselves how well we have heeded his warning, how well our inner road crew has done.  Have we leveled the mountains of our pride?  Have we filled up the low places where love has started to sag?  Have we knocked down our forest of superfluous commitments or burned the brush and scrub of our thousand entangling distractions?  In a word, have we managed to clear a space in our lives for Christ to come and abide?  Probably not too well.  What a strange surprise, then, on this Gaudete Sunday when the Church insists that we rejoice.  'The Lord is near!' the antiphon says, and the prophet Zephaniah calls out, 'Fear not, O Zion, be not discouraged!  The Lord, your God, is in your midst!'  We rejoice today that Christ does not wait until we're ready--if he did, he'd surely never come.  The baptism of John was only water, a garden hose against our hearts of stone.  But Jesus happily comes as one mightier than John.  He comes in burning fire, blazing his path and blasting us open to place his Holy Spirit within our melted hearts."
                                                                                    Anthony Giambrone, OP
   

Active

I had a friend years back who once admitted that she thought they were called "Activity Sets" (due to all the commotion surrounding Christ's birth), rather than "Nativity Sets."  That came to mind, of course, while reading today's newspaper...

...which also brought to mind this great photo (sent recently by another friend) of a "Set" that was getting a little extra "action" the other day...

(I sure hope FideliCat isn't getting any ideas!)

   

Attractive

Unlike many, I first came to know of Dave Brubeck precisely because of his religious work (and thus came to an appreciation of jazz) when I read an article in America magazine several years ago.  I've always loved St. Thomas Aquinas' chant, Pange Lingua Gloriosi, so mention of Brubeck's, "Pange Lingua Meditations" (1983), really caught my attention; later on, it was his Mass, "To Hope!  A Celebration" (1980).  I've been listening to both quite a bit in the last few days...

   Second Sunday of Advent   C 

Readings

Dave Brubeck died last Wednesday,
one day shy of his ninety-second birthday.

Most people are remembering him as a modern jazz legend;

far fewer people realize he was an adult convert to the Catholic faith.

Dave Brubeck’s father was a cattle rancher;

his mother gave piano lessons.

His original intention was to follow in dad’s footsteps, not mom’s.

He grew up in a nominally Protestant home,

but Dave was never baptized and religion wasn’t discussed.

His only contact with the Catholic Church as a child

was when a friend—an altar boy—invited him to Mass;

he wasn’t much impressed.

What Dave witnessed as a soldier in World War II

and learned as a liberal arts major in college

got him thinking about religion.

At a time when much of the world was asking, “Is God dead?”

he started thinking, “Something should be done musically

to strengthen man’s knowledge of God.”

Dave was asked in the late 1970’s—

following the revisions of Vatican II—

to compose music for the texts of the Catholic Mass in English.

Reluctant to take the job,

he brushed it off for nearly two years;

since he wasn’t Catholic, he didn’t feel qualified.

After his Mass premiered—to much acclaim—

a priest came up to him and said,
“I loved your Mass, Dave…but you left out the Our Father.”

“What’s the Our Father?” Brubeck replied.  “I’m not a Catholic.”

The priest explained the prayer and it’s importance.

“Well, nobody told me to write it,” he answered, “so I didn't write it.

I'm finished with the Mass,

and going with my family to the Caribbean.”

But on the second night of his vacation, Dave had a dream:

it was the music—orchestra and chorus—for the Our Father.

“I wrote down as much as I could,” he said. 

“And after that dream, I decided I would become a Catholic.”

Although his wife and children didn’t understand it,

Dave Brubeck was baptized in 1980 at the age of 60.

“I joined the Catholic Church,” he would say,

“because I felt, somebody's trying to tell me something.”

What is it that draws people to Christ and to his Church?

                                                                                                               For some folks, it’s a search for truth.

                                                                                                               Take—for instance—John the Baptist 
                                                                                                               and his call to repentance.

Like prophets in any age,

John’s attempt to straighten what is crooked 
and level what is rough

is unvarnished truth-telling.

Informing people of their need for conversion,

that they ought to turn their lives around—

John’s mission still alive in the Church today—

isn’t exactly pretty…but it draws a crowd:

some people merely curious, 
but many eager to hear more.

Even when the answers
to our questions aren’t easy,

the truth has enduring appeal.

For other folks, 
it’s goodness that attracts them.

Saint Paul prays for the Philippians

that “the [God] who began a good work in you
will bring it to completion.”

You’d be hard pressed to find a more
potent, orderly, and genuinely compassionate
charitable organization in the world

than the Catholic Church.

For two millennia, 
we’ve continued to do good—

better yet, we’ve continued to allow God

to accomplish good through us—

because Christ gave us a new commandment:

“Love one another as I love you.” (Jn 13:34)

                                                                                                               Many come to believe 
                                                                                                               because they want to be part of that goodness.

Truth attracts; goodness attracts; and so does beauty.

For centuries, the Church was a leading patron of the arts.

Many of the masterpieces of Western culture—

in painting and sculpture, architecture and music—

were not only inspired, but paid for, by the Catholic Church.

As much as preaching and teaching,

as much as generous works of mercy,

the advancement of beauty was viewed as a vital part

of the Church’s mission.

But not so much anymore.

Oh, it happens with truth and goodness, too;

we’re often satisfied with what’s merely useful or nice.

But I think it’s even more prevalent with beauty these days:

how quick we are to settle for what’s simply cute or fashionable.

We hear the same arguments in the Church 
as in school budget talks:

“The arts are luxuries.

They’re not only non-essential; they’re expensive.”

Such comments bring to mind the gospel question,

“Why all this waste?  
Couldn’t the money be given to the poor?” (Mt 26: 8-9)

Of course, we must recall

that it was Judas who first raised that question…

And so the fundamental place of beauty in our Catholic faith

has been largely neglected of late.

The prophet Baruch points us in a very different direction.

Writing to a people far removed from their native soil—

kept apart from the majesty of the Promised Land,

its holy city and magnificent Temple—

Baruch foresees a day when the Lord will bring them back:

when the desert of their dispersion

will be transformed into a flourishing forest.

“Jerusalem, take off your robe of mourning and misery;

put on the splendor of glory from God forever!”

God’s people will again be at home in beauty.

If it’s the Church’s mission to teach the truth that comes from God;

and if it belongs to the Church to be good as God is good,

then oughtn’t the Church also reflect God’s all-surpassing beauty?

Shouldn’t the splendor of the Lord’s glory shine through us?

That’s why—my friends—our churches

shouldn’t look like other buildings,

but have spires and stained glass

and decorations for feasts and seasons.

That’s why chalices are made of silver or gold,

and why priests wear elegant vestments when offering Mass.

That why the music for the liturgy shouldn’t sound

like what’s playing on our radios and iPods.

In shape, color, and form,

in harmony of proportion and sound,

we are to bring before every human sense

a glimpse of a beauty that is not of this world.

Maybe even more than truth and goodness,

real beauty attracts.

Did it not once invade the dreams of a modern jazz pianist?

Beauty’s a part of the new evangelization

that we must take care not to neglect.  
(cf. Synod on the New Evangelization, prop. 20)

We expect our Church’s teaching to be true.

We expect our Church’s actions to be good.

(And when they fall short of these expectations,

it’s a scandal—and rightly so.)

Should we not also expect our Church—

especially in its worship of God—

to be truly and undeniably beautiful?

It’s been said that the world

will be saved by beauty.  (cf. F. Dostoyevsky)

Many would say that’s an exaggeration…

…but I bet Dave Brubeck isn’t one of them.

In studying a work of art,

one learns much about the artist who fashioned it.

In what we say and do, in what we sing and play,

in what we design and create,

may the Author of all beauty be revealed—

then all flesh shall see the salvation of God. (cf. Wis 13:3-5; Is 2:31; CCC 2500 ff.)
    

Repent

"John is unnerving, as all prophets of repentance are.  The story goes that when a commissioned statue of John the Baptist arrived as a certain Benedictine abbey in the United States some 50 years ago, several of the monks did not like the fact that he looked so unnaturally gaunt and grave.  The abbot is said to have remarked, 'I suspect that the reason you don't like it is that it reminds you of a life you abandoned long ago.'  Whether apocryphal or not, the story points us to a man unwavering in his demand for repentance."

Peter Feldmeier

It's Spring

On today's Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary...

"When God created the first Adam, he made his preparations beforehand; he fashioned a paradise ready for him to dwell in. And when he restored our nature in the second Adam, once more there was a preparation to be made beforehand. He fashioned a paradise for the second Adam to dwell in, and that paradise was the body and soul of our blessed Lady, immune from the taint of sin, Adam’s curse. It was winter still in the world; but in the quiet home where Saint Anne gave birth to her daughter, spring had begun."

Fr. Ronald Knox (1881-1951)
  

The Light Is On

A certain someone (now fancying himself a Monsignor, I guess) says, "Going to confession is the purr-fect way to start the Year of Faith and get ready for Christmas!"

I'd have to agree.  I hope we see many folks tonight and on Thursdays to come...
 
UPDATE (9:30pm)

Fr. Tom made a commitment--oh, about two months ago--to offer Mass tomorrow morning for the Catholic school children in Ticonderoga...so he couldn't be here to help with confessions tonight.  On his way out the door this afternoon he said, "I hope you hear confessions for two hours!"  (He wasn't being snarky--just hopeful for a positive response.)

I didn't get out of the confessional until 8:55pm.  Hope you're happy, Fr. Tom!  (I sure am!)

But it'll soon be time for the lights to go out...
 

Stump

So FideliCat and I went out on a little adventure just now: tagging trees for decorating the churches at Christmas...

It was much warmer today than it usually is for this annual ritual--almost 70 degrees here in Malone.  Then, of course, there was the irony of marking trees to be cut down on the very day we read at Mass about the stump of Jesse...

 

Shoot

On that day,
a shoot shall sprout 

from the stump of Jesse,
and from his roots 

a bud shall blossom.

Isaiah 11:1

"For a stalk to grow or a flower to open there must be time that cannot be forced; nine months must go by for the birth of a human child; to write a book or compose music often years must be dedicated to patient research ...To find the mystery there must be patience, interior purification, silence, waiting...." 


Blessed Pope John Paul II

  

New Year, New Calendar

The folks over at Busted Halo have given the old fashioned Advent calendar a whole new twist...

Today's lesson from Elmo in patience is apropos...since the calendar won't let you peak ahead.  Check it out!
 

Apocalyptic

Two Things

Happy New (Church) Year, everybody!

   First Sunday of Advent   C 

Readings

General Louis-Gaston de Sonis

served in the French Army 

during the Franco-Prussian War,

during which he lost a leg in battle 

on December 2, 1870. 

He was no stranger to suffering,

all too familiar with seeing 

“the nations of the earth in dismay,”

as Jesus foretold in the gospel. 

He was also a devout Catholic,

who considered himself—above all—

a soldier of Christ. 

General de Sonis once said,

“A Christian must always be prepared 

for two things:

Holy Communion, and death.”

Cuts right to the chase, doesn’t it?

We are now in a season of preparation, 

a time of getting ready.

But what are we getting ready for?

Based on the ads in the paper, 

the music on the radio,

and the twinkling lights out in the yard,

it’s understandable that people would think

Advent is all about getting ready for Christmas:

preparing for holiday parties 

and gift-giving and feasting.

This talk about preparing for death,

this gospel about the end times—

they’re a bit morbid and rather a kill-joy.

After all, ’tis the season to be jolly…isn’t it?

But when the Word of God tells us

to “be vigilant at all times,”

to “stand erect and raise your heads,”

to “beware that your hearts do not become drowsy,”

then I’d say that’s advice we ought to take to heart.

“A Christian must always be prepared for two things:

Holy Communion, and death.”

At their core, these two things are the same thing:

one is for earth, while the other is for heaven;

one is passing, while the other is eternal;

but both are about having the strength

to stand before the Son of Man—

both are about the coming of the Lord Jesus.

Inspired by the Year of Faith

and starting this first week of Advent—

we’re adding something to the Malone Catholic calendar:

every Thursday night, from 7:00 to 8:00pm,

we’ll be “leaving the light on” at Notre Dame Church,

with a priest available for confession

and offering a time of quiet Eucharistic adoration.

Why confession?

Some of you, no doubt, remember that once upon a time,

Catholics never dared receive Holy Communion

without first confessing their sins.

Now, that may have been a bit excessive.

Sure, we’re all sinners…yet probably not quite that bad.

But this practice did keep people thinking,

it kept people honest, it kept people asking,

“Is the life I’m leading outside of this church

in line with what I’m doing while I’m inside it?”

A Catholic knew and understood that,

because of the choices I’ve made, because of things I’ve done,

there are times when I ought to stay in my pew,

when I should not approach the altar to receive the Eucharist,

when I’m not really ready to meet Jesus.

In the Church today,

we have quite the opposite situation, don’t we?

Nearly everybody goes to Communion…

…and very few regularly go to confession…or ever go at all.

And based just on what I know of my own wayward soul,

I don’t suspect that’s because

we’re sinning that much less these days.

The Lord Jesus has left us instructions for living,

faithfully handed down in the Church

since the days of the Apostles.

The Church teaches us how to conduct ourselves

in a way pleasing to God,

to live in a manner that’s blameless as we await Christ’s return.

These are not heavy-handed rules

meant simply to keep us from having a good time;

they’re wise, time-tested directions

meant to keep us on the right path.

Sometimes we miss the mark;

sometimes we wander astray.

And so we need to set things right;

we need a fresh start.

That’s what the Sacrament of Penance is all about.

That’s why confession. 

Why adoration?

“People will die of fright,” Jesus says,

“in anticipation of what is coming upon the world.”

A pretty scary thought!

But it doesn’t have to be.

For those who are ready,

that day won’t catch us by surprise, like a trap.

If we’re accustomed to being around Jesus,

if we’ve regularly been spending time in his presence,

then his return won’t be frightening at all;

actually, it’ll be rather welcome.

Eucharistic adoration

is about spending quiet time with Jesus.

It is our cherished Catholic faith

that the bread and wine we offer at Mass

truly become the Body and Blood of Christ—

his real and living presence among us.

Many folks have a notion of God

as a Supreme Being who’s quite distant:

off in heaven, far removed from us and our concerns.

But that’s not what we Catholics believe!

We not only believe that God once came to earth;

we believe that God has established a tangible way

to linger right here in our neighborhood.

How, then, could we stay away?

Being jolly, you see, is perfectly in line

with our constant need to be ready

for Communion and for death—

not just during these days of Advent,

but all throughout the year.

It’s about rejoicing in the right things:

joy that the Son of God took flesh as a man

to take away the sins of the world,

fulfilling the ancient promise;

joy that he remains with us still

in the Most Blessed Sacrament of the Altar;

and joy that he will come again in power and glory,

intent on taking us to live with him forever.

Could there be any greater, more genuine cause

for singing and feasting and all-around rejoicing?

With these additions to our parish schedule,

we now have at least two-and-a-half hours

dedicated to confession each week,

and almost seven hours set aside for Eucharist adoration.

I hope to see many of you on Thursday nights,

or at one of the other times listed on the cover of our bulletin.

Give yourself that gift this Advent,

and you’ll also give a gift to Christ.

And don’t be surprised when you see that the Lord

will not be outdone in generosity.

“A Christian must always be prepared for two things:

Holy Communion, and death.”

Let’s be sure we’re ready for both.

Indeed, our redemption is near at hand.

   

Coming

"Expectation has never ceased to guide the progress of our faith like a torch. The Israelites were constantly expectant, and the first Christians too. Christmas, which might have been thought to turn our gaze towards the past, has only fixed it further in the future. The Messiah, who appeared for a moment in our midst, only allowed himself to be seen and touched for a moment before vanishing once again, more luminous and ineffable than ever, into the depths of the future. He came. Yet now we must expect him—no longer a small chosen group among us, but all men—once again and more then ever.…

"Successors to Israel, we Christians have been charged with keeping the flame of the desire ever alive in the world. Only twenty centuries have passed since the Ascension. What have we made of our expectancy? …We persist in saying that we keep vigil in expectation of the Master. But in reality we should have to admit, if we were sincere, that we no longer expect anything.

"The flame must be revived at all costs. At all costs we must renew in ourselves the desire and the hope for the great Coming."

Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, SJ (1881-1955)
  

Another Round

Yesterday's post on Beer With Jesus brought in the following response entitled, "Good ole boys, beer drinkers and Jesus":

When the video opened with the shot of the bar and cowboy boots, I had an immediate negative reaction. I have abstained from alcohol all my life and I don’t generally socialize with drinkers, certainly not in bars. This is a good ole boy with a southern drawl, baseball hat, shotgun in the back of his beat-up pickup (with a Confederate flag in the back window), and poor grammar. Doesn’t go to church; smokes, doesn’t pray; doesn’t spend time out in nature communing with God. Voted for Romney or (worse) didn’t bother to vote at all. Doesn’t care about the environment. Not my kind of person. 

But I kept listening. It seems this guy is asking Jesus the same questions I do: What’s on the other side? How did you turn the other cheek to save a sorry sinner like me? Do you hear my prayers? Then, I started to think that this kid is the modern American equivalent of those sinners and tax collectors that Jesus ate and drank with.

I guess maybe this is guy is just like me, after all. By the time the song was finished, I was in tears. 

Thanks for sharing it.

 

A Couple Tall Ones

So...back on Thanksgiving my brother told me he had some "sermon material," and said I should check out this song:



For some of the story behind the song, check this out.

Not too bad...although I guess I always thought of Jesus as more of a wine drinker.
 

Discovered

Back in September, I received a surprise email: someone had found my blog and wanted permission to use some of my photos.  (Those who know me well know I've never been that big of a picture-taker, so that makes this all the more remarkable!)

Yesterday, I received word that those photos are now being used.

I took some pictures while skiing last winter at the Paul Smiths VIC, and you can see those photos here, here, and here in the winter edition of the Visitor Interpretive Center website.

Pretty cool, no?  Not to mention, I hear they're skiing in that neighborhood already (at least until it gets warm this weekend), so maybe I'll be able to sneak out for a spell into the winter woods myself...
 

Company Colors

Sitting here smiling in my non-conformist outfit...

Seeing Red

As I think is only right and just, my family's Thanksgiving table was graced by a superabundance of things cranberry: three of them from my kitchen (clockwise from the top: cranberry chutney with maple syrup, apple, and thyme; fresh cranberry relish with citrus and cinnamon; and classic whole cranberry sauce), and one from a can.  The more adventuresome gave the first three a try; the less adventuresome made sure I had some to take back home.

From the same region on my color wheel, my "Christmas" cactus seems to have gotten a bit confused: it started blushing right about Halloween, and looks like it'll be almost through blooming by the First Sunday of Advent.  There's an overachiever in every crowd, isn't there?

Dancing King

In my enthusiasm for Matt's work, I even sent the link for his video to Bishop LaValley.  I don't think he'd mind me sharing his reply:

I know that I’d break something were I to try even one of those steps.

That's surely a reaction Matt got again and again: "But I don't know how to dance!"  (Watch for just a bit, and you'll realize that Matt doesn't know how to dance, either.)  You don't have to know how to dance, because we all know how to laugh and how to smile--skills we perfected in our first weeks of after birth.  The world needs a does of joy!  Laugh and smile enough, and people will wonder what you're up to.  And when they ask, tell them about the King who is the cause of such great rejoicing.

Thanks a bunch, Elizabeth, for sending me that link last Sunday!

   Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe   B 

Readings

If you use email, it happens all the time:

somebody forwards you a YouTube video.
You’ve gotta watch this!  It’s the best!

Now—and please, take no offence if you’ve sent me a link before—

but since these videos are rarely

quite as funny or inspirational as they’re made out to be,

I usually watch just the first minute or two

with my finger hovering over “Delete.”

Last weekend, one of you—a parishioner—

sent me an email that said, “This is really fun to watch.”

As usual, I reluctantly pressed play and assumed the position…

…but quickly realized that this video was different.

You see, there’s this guy—Matt Harding, 36—

from Seattle, Washington.

And throughout this five-minute video, Matt is dancing.

As it turns out, this is the fourth video of Matt dancing

to make its way across the Internet in the last few years.

The first two are series of scenes of him

dancing alone in famous places around the world—

something odd and mildly entertaining.

In the next two videos,

Matt still travels widely

but now gets other people—total strangers—

to join him in front of the camera and dance.

And it’s totally captivating.

I’m talking here about thousands of people,

following Matt’s lead in clip after clip.

In that fourth video alone,

Matt dances in 11 U.S. states 

and 55 different countries.

Many of the locations are pretty predictable:

folks in Boston, Berlin, and Beijing, 

bopping to the beat.

Matt starts dancing with a few folks—

some who’ve contacted him earlier online—

and then a curious crowd starts to gather.

Before you know it, 

they’re all mimicking his crazy moves.

And they’re smiling—big smiles.  

And laughing—a lot.

While the dancing is certainly catchy,

more infectious yet is the raw joy 

which accompanies it.

What makes this more remarkable still 

is that Matt has made a point

to go and dance in places 

that we often hear about in the news,

but not for being particularly happy—

places like Rwanda and North Korea, 

like Cairo and Kabul and Gaza.

Obviously, 

I’ve been thinking about this video all week.

And whenever I do, I smile.

And I’m clearly not alone:

millions and millions of people 

have watched Matt and shared his videos.

And they’ve left all kinds of comments:

– You’re my hero!

– Matt for President!

Some of the comments run much deeper:

– Sometimes I feel that Matt 

is the only hope for the human race...

Maybe these folks 

are overstating things just a bit.

It’s not like Matt’s dancing 

has ended war or relieved hunger.

He is, after all, making moves, 

not starting a movement.

And yet I can’t help but think that Matt’s dancing

is really making a difference in the world.

Does that sound far-fetched?  Sure it does.

But so does the fact that a Jewish peasant from a backwater town,

condemned to die on a Roman cross 2,000 years ago,

should be honored by more than a billion souls—

one in six people now alive on planet earth—

as humanity’s only Savior and our universal King.

And that, of course, is precisely

what’s happening in the Catholic Church around the globe this very day.

One person can change the world.

Just two weeks ago,

1,000 books of prayers and reflections for the Year of Faith

were distributed in our churches:

500 of them for you to keep,

500 of them for you to give away.

I was on retreat then, so I didn’t see them go out…

…but I have already started to see the results coming in.

If you’re sitting in this church right now

because a friend or neighbor invited you back

(and I’ve been told some people are),

I want you to know:

we’re so glad you’re here!

But I’ve also been moved by the active parishioners

who have come to tell me about their experience

of giving a book away.

They’ve all had the same look I saw in Matt’s video:

every one of them has been beaming;

there’s been a light of joy on each of their faces.

In encouraging somebody else,

they’ve been renewed and encouraged themselves.

We live in a world 

where there are plenty of things

that bring out the worst in people.

True confession:

I went out with my mother and my brother 

to Wal-Mart at 8:00pm on Thanksgiving night.

Bad, bad idea!

We were there less than five minutes, 

we didn’t buy a thing,

and we all went home pretty disturbed.

It might be the closest I’ve ever seen 

human beings come to behaving like animals.

Why not, instead, be people who go out

and help change things for the better?

Matt Harding has found an incredible way to bring people joy.

But while I’m greatly inspired by his work,

I don’t think one man’s dancing is going to save the world.

And it doesn’t have to.

Because I believe one man’s death already has.

And believing such good news,

in a world where so much news is so very bad,

how could I possibly keep that to myself?

This Sunday’s solemnity

of our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe,

is the perfect time to recall

that we are called to be part of a cosmic choreography.

God’s only begotten Son, the Alpha and the Omega,

who from the first set the world firmly on its foundation

and will come in glory amid the clouds at its end,

lived, died, and rose again in human flesh and blood

to teach us a few essential steps,

that we might dance on earth to the music of heaven.

There is great joy in joining this dance,

and even greater joy in inviting others to join, too.

We don’t think twice

about forwarding silly videos to everybody we know.

Why do we hold back

when it comes to forwarding our faith?

Sure—somebody might quickly hit, “Delete.”

But why keep from them something

that could bring more than just a smile—

something that could bring them salvation?

When I look out into the pews during Mass,

“joy” is not, unfortunately, the first thing I see on most people’s faces.

But if we’ve come to hear our King’s voice speak the truth,

if we’ve come to take our place at his royal table,

then shouldn’t our joy be just as evident, just as contagious,

as it is with all those people watching and dancing with Matt?

My friends, let’s recapture the joy!

And let’s not fear to spread it around.

Do so, and we can change the world.