Tag: Catholic

Last week my oldest son turned five. I remember five years ago it hit me just how totally helpless babies are. I was terrified when we were being discharged from the hospital because somehow those crazy nurses trusted me to take care of this infant that couldn’t even lift his own head. Christmas had a special significance for me that year. The idea that God himself would become a human baby was ridiculous, the God that time itself worships as its Creator became something as totally powerless as an infant. What a truly incredible thing to believe.

Why would God do this? Why would he humiliate himself by becoming one of us?

The answer that our Catholic faith gives us is so extraordinary it’s scandalous. St. Thomas Aquinas summed it up this way, “The only-begotten Son of God, wanting to make us sharers in his divinity, assumed our nature, so that he, made man, might make men gods.” Or, as St. Athanasius’ put it, “God became man so that we might become God.”

See, we are all broken in some way; we are all truly helpless in the face of the challenges in our life. For some of us this helplessness is always before us and for others it may only present itself when something threatens our life or the life of a loved one to betray our powerlessness, our limitations, our finitude. For some this brokenness may be public, on display for all to see, a physical disability or illness that frames one’s whole life. Or some of us have hidden struggles, addictions, sexual disorders, loneliness, burdens unseen by others that we feel left to carry alone. And some of this brokenness may be spiritual, a lack of trust in God’s goodness that paralyzes us in fear or a perfectionism that desperately seeks the approval of others in order to feel valued.

But God entered into this helplessness, he became one of us so that we may become like Him. Yes, Jesus came to heal us of our brokenness and save us from our sins, but that’s not the end of the story. St. Peter said that Jesus came so that we may become “partakers of the divine nature” (2 Pt: 1:4). God didn’t come just to restore us, he came to make us divine! He didn’t just save us from our sins, he saved us for eternal life. He came to bridge the gap between God and man so that we could participate in the very life of the Holy Trinity.

God meets us where we are at, he comes to us in our brokenness, he enters into our helplessness to draw us to himself. We don’t believe in a God who’s wrath needed to be satiated by the blood of his Son, we believe in a God who so desperately loves us and wants us to share in his own divine life that he would descend to our level and pay the debt of sin that we could not pay ourselves.

We encounter this transformative love of God most powerfully during the liturgy. Next time you go to Mass, especially as you celebrate the Christmas liturgy, pay attention to the words the priest says at the altar as he mixes the water and wine, “May we come to share in the divinity of Christ who humbled himself to share in our humanity.” Bring your brokenness, your sins, and your wounds to the altar and let the Lord take your helplessness upon himself and not just heal your wounded nature, but transform it into something divine.

Paul Fahey is a husband, father, and a parish director of religious education. He is a student of Theology, History, and Catholic Studies. If you like what he has to say, check out his blog, The Porch, or follow him on Facebook.

A few things have kept coming to me during my prayer with today’s readings. “Do not be afraid; do not fear” and Joy; praise and glory, rejoice, Emmanuel.

In both readings an angel of the Lord appears announcing the birth of a son.  In the Gospel of Luke 1:5-25 the angel says “Do not be afraid, Zechariah”, yet he is fearful, even as he is ministering incense in the temple with the congregation outside praying. Fear is his reaction, disbelief, lack of comprehension, and he questions the angel. Zechariah is then struck mute by Gabriel.

God, his messengers, and Jesus say throughout the bible, ‘Do not be afraid’, 365 times.  One time for each day of the Gregorian calendar year. There is Grace in abundance from God, to not fear. I recently heard the acronym, FOMO: the fear of missing out or not being included in an enjoyable activity that others are experiencing.  I clearly missed out on its first usage (which dates back to 2004 and is in the dictionary).  Because of Zechariah’s fear of Gabriel, FOMO as he did not see the connection when Gabriel says ’your prayers have been heard’, he was muted and subjected to missing out. He was not able to talk to his wife during her unexpected pregnancy.  He missed out in so many ways.

Fear is one of the bigger stumbling blocks between me and the Lord.  Fear of giving up control (asking for help on a project or in a specific area of my life), not doing or saying the ‘right’ thing.  I have to remind myself constantly, that fear keeps me from the embrace and love of God.  One of my favorite advent hymns is ‘O Come, O Come, Emmanuel’.  Emmanuel means ‘God is with us’.  During the darkness in our lives, we need to be reminded that He is, at all times, with us. Listen to the hymn by Casting Crowns or by The Piano Guys. Pray with the lyrics.

Zechariah is unable to speak again until he is asked to name the babe. He names the child ‘John’ which is against tradition (Lk:1-63-67) and extols the greatness of God (Lk 1:68-79). In fact, the Canticle of Zechariah is said daily by all who pray the morning office of the Liturgy of the Hours.

As a Secular Franciscan I am called to live my life according to the The Rule of St. Francis. It states in article 4: ‘The rule and life of the Secular Franciscans is this: to observe the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ by following the example of St. Francis of Assisi who made Christ the inspiration and the center of his life with God and people.’

Christ, the gift of the Father’s love, is the way to him, the truth into which the Holy Spirit leads us, and the life which he has come to give abundantly.

Secular Franciscans should devote themselves especially to careful reading of the gospel, going from gospel to life and life to gospel.

I find myself living out the gospel and the responsorial psalm of today (Ps 71:8) ‘My mouth shall be filled with your praise, shall sing your glory every day.’ Just like Zechariah, I am to let others know that the Lord is with us, in each and every moment of the day.  I can proclaim the greatness of the Lord because He has visited us through the Holy Spirit, through the Word, in the Eucharist, in the image of God, and through our neighbors and creation. I need to be a living example of God’s love to the world around me; in all corners and situations.  Emmanuel, God is with us!

Michael Card has a beautiful rendition of Emmanuel    

Shalom (the peace of God’s kingdom be with you) and Amen!

Beth Price is a Secular Franciscan (OFS) and spiritual director who has worked in several  parish ministry roles during the last 20 years. She is a proud mother of 3 adult children. Beth currently works at Diocesan.

This Gospel is the Annunciation to Joseph. We are dealing with the greatest mystery to ever happen on earth: the Incarnation of the Lord, that God became a man. Before this mystery, we have to put aside our human way of thinking and ponder the mystery of God. The most common interpretation of this passage is that Joseph thought that Mary was at fault in some way. Knowing her goodness, he didn’t know what to make of it and tried to protect her. But there is another interpretation, less commonly held, but well grounded in the text. This ancient tradition is found in the writings of some Fathers and Doctors of the Church* and brings out the greatness and holiness of Saint Joseph.

Joseph was a “just” (dikaios) man. While that might suggest someone who observed the Law, it’s more than that. It means that a person is just before God, like the great saints of the Old Testament, who loved God and followed his will. This attitude of being just before God is expressed in a holy fear before the Lord, a reverence before the mystery.  When Moses saw the burning bush and heard God say, “the place on which you are standing is holy ground . . . “Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God” (Ex 3:5-6). So too the prophet Isaiah, when he saw the Lord, cried out, “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips…yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!” (Is 6:5) Then the Lord cleansed him and sent him on his prophetic mission.

Joseph received a mission in his Annunciation. Although the way this Gospel is translated seems to imply something negative, it can be translated as to mean that Joseph felt himself unworthy to reveal the mystery worked in Mary, so he decided to secretly separate himself from her. Perhaps Mary told him what happened. Or maybe the Holy Spirit enlightened him so that he knew that God was at work in Mary.

Saint Thomas Aquinas held this opinion: “Joseph was minded to put away the Blessed Virgin not because he suspected her of fornication, but because in reverence for her sanctity, he feared to cohabit with her” (Summa Th., Supplement,  q. 62, article 3, reply 4). Saint Bernard also testifies: “Joseph’s reason was the same as Peter’s when he said, ‘Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord,’ and that of the centurion when he exclaimed, ‘I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof.’ Joseph looked on himself as a sinner and as unworthy to entertain one in whom he beheld a superhuman dignity. He beheld with awe in the Virgin-Mother a certain sign of the Divine Presence” (Homily, Super missus est, II, 14).

The angel tells Joseph “do not be afraid,” just as Gabriel said to Mary, and just as the Lord told so many holy people in Israel. The angel tells Joseph that even though he is before this tremendous mystery of God and rightly fears his own unworthiness, he should not be afraid to enter into the mystery. This interpretation puts Joseph squarely in the line of the great saints in the history of Israel. Just as God called Moses, Isaiah, Jeremiah and all the others, despite their human frailties, God called Joseph to play an important part in the mystery of the Incarnation. With reverence for the mystery  of God, Joseph said yes. He “did as the angel of the Lord had commanded him.”

Each of us also has a mission from God, a role to play in the great mystery of Jesus Christ and his Church. We may feel ourselves unworthy–why would God call me? But like Joseph, we too can respond with a heartfelt yes. Whatever our vocation, God calls us and can work through us to spread the Gospel and witness to Jesus. That is the mystery of Advent and Christmas.

Saint Joseph, pray for us, that like you we too may respond with joy to the Lord’s call.

 

Copyright 2017 Daughters of Saint Paul

Sr. Marianne Lorraine Trouve’ has been a member of the Daughters of Saint Paul since 1976. She has an MA in theology from the University of Dayton and has served on the editorial staff of Pauline Books & Media for over 20 years. She is the author of several books, including Mary: Help in Hard Times and Angels: Help from on High. When she’s not writing, editing, or working on logic puzzles, she can be found blogging at www.thomasfortoday.blogspot.com.

 

* For an extensive analysis of this interpretation see Ignace de la Potterie, Mary in the Mystery of the Covenant, Alba House, New York, 1992, pp. 37-65. The quotes used are in the public domain. The quote from St Thomas is from the Benziger Brothers’ edition of the Summa. The quote from St Bernard is from Sermons of St Bernard on Advent and Christmas, trans. J.C. Hedley, Benziger Brothers, New York, 1909.

https://archive.org/stream/sermonsofstberna00bernuoft/sermonsofstberna00bernuoft_djvu.txt

I seem to remember my teachers in grade school using this line periodically: “We’re going to do something different today!” they would say. Whatever we did usually didn’t seem all that different, really, but I thought of this when reading today’s Gospel for the Third Sunday of Advent.

John the Baptist is responding to those who ask him, “Who are you?” After definitively establishing that he is not the Christ, they follow up with other likely possibilities, and he responds by saying that he is neither Elijah nor the Prophet. When they persist in asking for some kind of identification, he says he is something different—he is a “voice.” John the Baptist quotes Isaiah the prophet (from last Sunday’s reading), saying, “I am the voice of one crying out in the desert, ‘make straight the way of the Lord’” (John 1:23).

It’s a little puzzling that John the Baptist does not want to be identified as Elijah or the prophet, since, in another place, Jesus affirms that he is both of those things. (See Matthew 17: 11–13, and 11:19.) But I think John is trying to do here with his questioners what my teachers were trying to do with my class. It’s an attempt to spark expectation, interest, and openness. The idea that we are about to encounter something new and different can wake us up enough to pay attention. John brushes away what they expect and think they know about, to offer something different, something they aren’t prepared for. “No, I’m not what you think, what you are assuming I will be, what you already have a sufficient understanding of. I am someone unexpected and I will do unexpected things. So, listen! Pay attention!” This is how he woke up the people to prepare the way for Jesus.

This is what he is saying to us, too—we who may assume we know how the rest of our Advent is going to unfold. There are things we usually do, lots of work to get done, people things, etc. to deal with. But God waits to shake up our routine and inject something new and different into our lives. He actually tries to do this constantly, but when we have no expectation that anything will be different, how can he change things? And if we are not open to his grace, how can he work in us and through us in the world around us?

So, as the rest of Advent goes on, let’s be attentive to how God is looking at us, waiting to see a spark of interest and openness, waiting to see our reaction when we hear him say, “Let’s do something different today!”

Sr. Maria Grace Dateno is a Daughter of St. Paul, and is currently an acquisitions editor at Pauline Books & Media, as well as an author of books for children. Her many nieces and nephews (25 at last count) inspire her writing, including the six-book Gospel Time Trekkers series, which are time-travel adventures for ages six to nine.

 

It all began quite spontaneously, unintentionally. One of those things that settle on you like a gentle night or a soft dew. Peace. Possibility.

We sit there a long while, holding hands, our fingers curled together protectively, vulnerably. Understanding communicated through simple gestures. I look at her and ask Jesus: “Jesus, will you show me how you are in this my sister, my sister waiting for you to come.”

In the evening I discover her waiting quietly, as the nurse prepares her supper. She is alone. I slip into a chair beside her and reach quietly for her hand. She says something I can’t understand, but I know she is speaking to me.

“Jesus, how are you within my sister, my sister who is waiting for you to come?”

I close my eyes and wait for Jesus to guide me to whatever he wishes me to see. I sense a brilliance, a happiness. The joy of God who is putting the finishing touches on a brilliant gem that gives him immense pleasure.

When I’m in a hurry, too busy to sit for 30 minutes to hold Sister’s hand while she eats, I can’t see HIS face. When I’m too efficient to notice someone who can’t follow my train of thought, too important to do the little services or hear the whispered secrets, I miss HIS eyes.

In these days we are very near Christmas. We are looking forward to seeing Jesus in nativity sets and Christmas movies and  in Christmas liturgies, and all this is good. But let us not miss HIM where he is now, still in the Bethlehem of our lives, in the poverty of our need, for after all that is what Jesus took on himself when he came to earth.

Jesus has come, and he has stayed. He is here and his face is wherever there is human sorrow and joy. See him, and Christmas is every day.

My heart cries out with the words of today’s liturgy: “Lord, make us turn to you; let us see your face and we shall be saved.”

O shepherd of Israel, hearken,
From your throne upon the cherubim, shine forth.
Rouse your power.

Give us new life, and we will call upon your name. (Ps 80: 2-3, 19)

Sr. Kathryn J. Hermes, FSP is a compassionate mentor and guide. Through her writing and online ministry she takes others along with her on her own journey of spiritual transformation, specializing in uncovering in the difficult moments of life where God’s grace is already breaking through. Connect with her website and blog: www.pauline.org/sisterkathryn

After several years of destructive behavior because of his addiction to drugs, a man changed his life. He went to 12-step meetings. He came back to the Church. He made amends to those he had hurt and reconciled with his estranged wife. When she’d left him she’d complained bitterly of his addiction: how it used up their money, hurt their children, and caused her to lose more than one job. But now, with her husband clean and sober, she found other things to complain about: he was out a lot at fellowship meetings, he was rigid about his attendance at Mass every Sunday, he constantly bought the wrong items at the store. One is left wondering if there were anything that could please her about her husband.

We all have expectations that we want other people to live up to, don’t we? From small details like putting the cap back on the toothpaste to major decisions like choosing how to raise a family, we have a strong sense of what the world “should” be like and how people “should” act. And when they don’t live up to our requirements—as inevitably happens—we complain.

Jesus knew about that tendency, and he talks about it in today’s Gospel reading. John the Baptist didn’t eat or drink, so people said he was possessed. Then Jesus came and he did eat, and he did drink, and so then they said he was a glutton and a drunkard. Wait—what? Is there anything that would have pleased the people? Any behavior they would have found acceptable?

As I said, some people are never happy.

Advent is one of the “quiet times” of the Church’s liturgical cycle. It is a time of reflection. As we prepare for the drama that unfolds every year, the coming of the Christ Child, the beginning of a new life and a new way of life, we’re asked to be mindful about what we’re doing and thinking and being.

It’s a challenge, since the commercial side of the holiday is bombarding us daily with jingle bells and cheerful Santas and the pressure to buy more, spend more, party more; it takes an effort to block all that out and be mindful of putting Jesus first. And still that’s what the Church asks of us—and more.

Because Advent is, along with Lent, a penitential season. Just as the sacrament of the Mass is preceded by the sacrament of confession, so too is the season of the Lord’s birth preceded by a season of reconciliation. Many people take this as a sign to give something up, usually something like chocolate or a favorite TV show. But today’s Gospel reading calls us to something a little deeper.

What if, this Advent, we gave up judging others?

That’s a tough one, isn’t it? From the way people dress to the way they talk or raise their kids; from their table manners to what they do on a Saturday night, we are really, really good at making judgments. People who disagree with us politically are evil. People who don’t recycle are lazy and uncaring. People on public assistance should just get a job.

There was a backstory to the man who struggled with addiction. There’s a backstory to everyone’s life-decisions, and we generally don’t know those stories, don’t know the path they took to arrive at this moment when we meet them and decide they’re doing it wrong. Over and over again the words of scripture urge us to not judge others, but we blithely ignore them and carry on. Maybe it makes us feel better about ourselves. Maybe it’s just fun to feel superior to someone else. But none of it is anything that we’re called, as Catholics, to be or to do.

So here’s a challenge for today—and for every day this Advent. Let’s give it up to God, this unholy satisfaction of judging other people. Let’s try to nip those thoughts in the bud. Let’s not be part of the generation that called John the Baptist possessed and called Jesus a glutton and a drunkard. Let’s decide to do better, to be better, than that.

Jesus is coming. This year, let’s be more intentional about our preparation. Let’s do something that will bring a smile to the Christ Child’s face.

Jeannette de Beauvoir works in the digital department of Pauline Books & Media as marketing copywriter and editor. A graduate of Yale Divinity School, where she studied with Adian Kavanagh, OSB, she is particularly interested in liturgics and Church history.

San Juan de la Cruz, a Spanish Carmelite priest and monk of the 16^th century, so perfectly incarnated that element in Christianity we call mystical that, on this day, we celebrate him not only as a Saint but also as a Doctor of the Church.

The eloquence and beauty of his writings, especially his poetry, are considered to be the ideal by which all else is measured within the Spanish language. It is even rumored that Pope Saint John Paul II learned Spanish with the primary goal of attaining the ability to read Saint John’s works.

A man whose very life is summed up by his most famous work, La Noche Oscura del Alma or The Dark Night of the Soul, he aptly entered into his glorious heavenly reward during this season in which the whole world prepares and waits to enter from the darkness of Christ-less-ness into the light of Christmas, Emanuel, God is with us.

It is I who say to you, “Fear not, I will help you.” The Father has created us for union with himself. His will longs for us to enter into the divine life he offers, a life of perfect love. Yet, we find ourselves in a world totally darkened by sin and its effects, effects that all of us have fully experienced in our lives and in the lives of those we love. What do we make of this darkness? What is our response to be?

We are called to follow after the way of the Father’s own Son, Jesus Christ: willingly walking in the Father’s will, even unto the depths of the most profound darkness, without fear, without anxiety, and with hearts full of faith, hope, and love. This is a task impossible for human beings, yes, but not for God. He will help us! His grace is sufficient, his power made perfect in weakness. He is the one who leads us, through the mysteries of his life he has come to be with us even now, and he has promised to bring us to himself for all eternity if we hold fast to our confession: JESUS CHRIST IS LORD.

 

Clark Thompson graduated from Franciscan University of Steubenville in 2012 with degrees in Business Administration, Philosophy, and Theology. Baptized in the Christian Reformed Church, he received his sacraments of initiation at Franciscan in 2009. For the last four years he has studied for the Diocese of Kalamazoo, Michigan at both Mundelein Seminary in Chicago and Sacred Heart Major Seminary in Detroit. A list of his notable teachers includes Bishop Robert Barron, Father Emry de Gaál, Dr. John Bergsma, Deacon James Keating, Dr. Mary Healy, and the Chicago Missionaries of Charity sisters with whom he completed a year-long internship.

New life is exciting…

But it’s also scary.

It’s alluring.

And enveloping.

And fulfilling.

It’s all of these things.

There is many a theological point to be made about why Christ chose to enter the

world as a baby…But I want to focus on one:

The Mystery

 

 

Welcoming a newborn into the world is all kinds of exciting, and scary, and enveloping, and fulfilling…

but most of all, it’s unknown.

 “What will he be like?”

“What will be his favorite food?”

“How will I take care of him?!”

 There are many more questions than there are answers when we welcome in a new life… and often the fear of the unknown will make us reluctant to welcome the mystery.

Yes, new life is messy (dirty diapers), scary (how will I do this?!), enveloping (primary caretaking)… so too is welcoming new life with Christ. It’s messy, scary, daunting, enveloping…

I think Christ came as an infant so that we have a permanent reminder that life with Him is brand new. He is entirely different from anyone we’ve ever loved.

Welcoming the mystery that is new life with Christ is demanding, life changing, and unknown… but it’s just the life we were made for.

 

Welcome the Mystery.

During the week, Matt is a mentor for individuals who have developmental and intellectual disabilities. On the weekends, he is a drummer for Full Armor Band.
You can find more content by Matt and his band at www.fullarmorband.com

“Am I not here, I, who am your Mother? Are you not under my shadow and protection? Am I not the source of your joy? Are you not in the hollow of my mantle, in the crossing of my arms? Do you need anything more? Let nothing else worry you, disturb you.” – words of Our Lady of Guadalupe to Juan Diego on Mount Tepeyac in 1531.

These words came at a time when Juan was greatly distressed about his sick uncle. Rather than return to Tepeyac as instructed by Our Lady the day before, Juan took matters into his own hands and began in haste to find a priest to care for his uncle. On the road, Our Lady appeared and asked Juan what was wrong. He explained, saying he would return after he found a priest to care for his uncle. How loving and reassuring are Mary’s words then… and now.

Our Lord Jesus from the Cross entrusted Mary to us as our Mother, yet how often we still take matters into our own hands rather than turn to her for help. We rush around for solutions to our problems when we need to turn first to Mary, the woman “clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars.” If only we would pause and listen, we would hear the Holy Spirit speaking through Mary saying again, “Do whatever he tells you.”

During this Advent season, Our Lady of Guadalupe’s message reminds us to come away to a quiet place to reflect and adore Jesus the “fruit of her womb.”  Jesus wants to give us the peace that surpasses all understanding. A perfect place to receive this gift is in Eucharistic Adoration.

Find an Adoration Chapel where Jesus is present in the Blessed Sacrament. Can we commit to and hour or two each week for the remainder of Advent? We can prepare our hearts to receive the Christ child as we prepare our homes to receive loved ones. There’s no better gift to give those we care about than the gift of prayer.

Our Lady of Guadalupe, continue to intercede for us and lead us more closely into the heart of your Son and Our Savior Jesus Christ. May we model your humility and trust, and share the hope that we have with all those around us.

Amy Oatley is a wife, mother, and Secular Franciscan (OFS), passionate about social justice, advocating for the dignity of every human life. A writer since elementary school, she currently enjoys freelance writing for diocesan FAITH Magazine and is privileged to work as the RCIA and Adult Faith Formation Coordinator at Our Lady of Consolation parish in Rockford, Michigan.

So often our times of waiting seem to be filled with desolation, pain, or uncertainty.  In a liturgical season of the Church called Advent, we are called to a time of preparation.  It is a time to prepare our hearts specifically for the coming of God’s Incarnate Love.  You are called to prepare room in your life for this Incarnate Love, a Man named Jesus. This is a time to love Him above all else, and recognize that He is truly coming back again to judge the living and the dead.

I love the Church’s liturgical seasons for many reasons. One reason in particular is that liturgical seasons remind me that time goes on.  Personally, I have been through a wide variety of seasons. Seasons of hurt and loss, seasons of joy and bliss, seasons that felt as if they lasted a moment, and seasons that felt like lifetimes. Each season served many purposes and has formed me into the woman I am today. Even though Advent is a beautiful season filled with holiday cheer and twinkling lights, it can also be a difficult season.

Last Advent, I was in my worst season of my life thus far.  It was a season of major hurt, heartbreak, and what felt like ruins. It was a season I believed would never end.  Reflecting on last year’s advent made me realize why it was so painful.  I realized that in all my times of waiting, I was actually just worrying.  No matter what I was waiting for; whether for Christmas, God’s healing, for my vocation, or waiting to graduate college… Whatever type of waiting I did was done in anxiety.

God calls us not just to wait aimlessly, but to wait in hope and trust.  Waiting in hope has no room for anxiety. Waiting in trust has no room for fear.  These two virtues are rooted in God’s faithfulness.  A scripture verse that encouraged me to wait in hope states, “For why would I fear the future when I am pursued only by Goodness and Truth Itself?” (Psalm 23:6). Christ is pursuing you. At this very moment He desires to be with you, to love you, and for you to know and love Him intimately. He Himself is complete Truth, Goodness, and Beauty. We are called to give Him control of our seasons and our lives. God is in control.  If we truly let ourselves receive this truth, our waiting will be without worry.  Believing in God’s faithfulness will change our hearts from hearts that are filled with fear, worry, and doubt to hearts that are sturdy, tender, and steadfast.

This Advent, you are called to prepare your heart and to make room for Him.  This Advent, you are called to wait upon the Lord.  But this Advent you are not called to have an anxious and worrying heart.  Rest in the knowledge that He knows- He knows where you are at, what you desire, and how hard this waiting can truly be.

A year has gone by and my dark season has passed.  I stand in glorious light this Advent as I recognize all the grace Jesus has bestowed upon me.  I am not a perfect person now, but I do stand here, miles away from all of the pain and hurt of last year.  I have traveled mountains with Christ beside me. He has brought me to a new season of hope, a new season of trust.  He has worked through my friends and family, people who care for me and support me. He has blessed me with a new job of teaching the faith to children each day, with a genuinely holy and humble man beside me. This new season has been a testament to the faithfulness of God’s patience, goodness, and love. My spiritual director, who has seen me at my worst and loved me the same, said to me, “God always wants to give us more than our little brains and hearts could ever dream up.” Nothing has been more true. God has taken my worrying and waiting and been faithful to His promise of bringing good out of the bad. He has been faithful in making the most ugly, sinful, and destroyed situations into beauty.

I challenge you this Advent, to do the opposite of what I did last year.  I challenge you to wait in hope and in trust. Emmanuel means “God with us”. I challenge you to truly believe that the Incarnate God is with you. He is not far from you.  He did not leave you to face whatever season of life you are in on your own. He will not leave you here forever.  No matter what season you are currently in today at this exact moment, I challenge you to make an act of faith. To simply pray:

“Jesus, You are my hope.”

“Jesus, I trust in You.”

“Jesus, You are faithful to Your promises.”

 

Wait in confidence. Wait in hope. Wait in trust.  He is faithful through and through.

Briana is a Catholic Doctrine teacher at Our Lady of Mt. Carmel school in Cleveland, OH. She received her Bachelor of Arts in Theology and Catechetics from the Franciscan University of Steubenville, OH and is excited to use these skills to bring her students closer to Christ and His Church. “My soul has been refined and I can raise my head like a flower after a storm.” -St. Therese

Possibly some of the most stirring words of the Hebrew Bible are found in today’s first reading. A voice has cried out—in the wilderness—to prepare the way of the Lord, to make smooth his path, to see the glory of the Lord revealed.

A voice has cried out in the wilderness.

Isaiah is very specific about what this wilderness looks like, and it’s not pretty: it is, in his words, a “wasteland.” There are deep valleys and craggy mountains, rugged land and rough country. And it is into this wilderness that the voice is announcing what is to come, that the Lord is on his way.

It’s a little unexpected, isn’t it? Perhaps it might have been more efficient for God to choose one of the middle east’s great cosmopolitan centers from which to make the announcement. But just as Bethlehem—the end result of this passage’s prophecy—is a surprising place for a Messiah to be born, so too is the wilderness a startling venue for sending a message. It’s not exactly where a modern marketer would launch a campaign.

A voice has cried out in the wilderness.

It is a singular truth and singular irony that prophets’ voices are rarely listened to by their contemporaries. In that sense, it’s not so far a leap to look elsewhere for a corollary to the wilderness of Judah that Isaiah describes—to look, in fact, inside ourselves. The voice that cries to make ready the way of the Lord isn’t just talking about preparing a people for the coming of Christ; it’s about preparing a person. Me. You.

The promise of Advent is inherent in these words. “Comfort, give comfort to my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and proclaim to her that her service is at an end, her guilt is expiated.” The tremendous gift of Christ himself, something unimaginable in human terms, is coming. The wilderness that is our lives, our problems, our mistakes, our anxieties, is transformed by the promise given by the voice crying out in that wilderness, crying out through the darkness of our sin. Something is coming… and a new age is about to begin.

Advent is that between-time, when we have heard the promise of Good News, but it has not yet arrived. We know it shall; every rock, every crag is singing with the promise. But… not yet.

The voice asks us to prepare, and that’s precisely what Advent entails. Not just the preparation of cleaning and decorating our homes, purchasing gifts, making special meals, but the hidden inner preparation of our hearts and minds and souls. What are you doing to make ready the way of the Lord? How can you make straight his path in your life, in your work, your family, your heart?

Advent is a time of joy, but it’s also a time of penitence. That’s something we don’t always remember, and this passage from Isaiah reminds us of it. We can be comforted in knowing that the Lord is coming, but we also often take it for granted. It happens every year, after all!

I wonder what Advent and Christmas would be like if we took seriously Isaiah’s admonition to prepare the way of the Lord in our hearts. Can we add any prayer time to our busy lives? Can we make almsgiving—charity—the primary gift that we give this season? Can we fast as we do in Lent so that we can slow down and be at one with a season of penitence and preparation?

A voice has cried out in the wilderness. Are we listening?

Jeannette de Beauvoir works in the digital department of Pauline Books & Media as marketing copywriter and editor. A graduate of Yale Divinity School, where she studied with Adian Kavanagh, OSB, she is particularly interested in liturgics and Church history.

Today is the memorial of Saint Juan Diego, who Our Lady of Guadalupe appeared to at the Hill of Tepeyac, near present day Mexico City. We will celebrate this great feast of Our Lady of Guadelupe next Tuesday, but for now it would be helpful to recall what Saint Juan Diego said to Our Lady. In her first appearance to Juan Diego, she asked him to go to Bishop Zumarraga and request that a church be built on Tepeyac Hill. He delivered this message to the Bishop who was reasonably skeptical, and so simply dismissed Juan Diego. One can imagine the great disappointment that the humble and poor man experienced when he was denied. When he returned to the hill, and Mary appeared to him again, he made a plea to her:

I beg you, my Lady, Queen, my Beloved Maiden, to have one of the nobles who are held in esteem, one who is known, respected, honored, (have him) carry, take your dear breath, your dear word, so that he will be believed.

Juan Diego wanted so badly to do Mary’s will, but he felt like he was incapable of such an awesome task. Juan Diego thought he wasn’t enough. That he was too poor, too humble, too unimportant. But Mary reassures him:

I have no lack of servants, of messengers, to whom I can give the task of carrying my breath, my word, so that they carry out my will. But it is very necessary that you personally go and plead…

Mary tells him that he is enough. That even a poor and weak man like him can do the will of God. He obeys and after some persistence and additional assistance from Mary, he is finally able to convince Bishop Zumarraga of Our Lady’s appearance.

We hear echoes of this theme in today’s readings. The prophet Isaiah says, “The Lord will give you the bread you need and the water for which you thirst” (Is 30:20). Likewise, today’s Psalm says that “The Lord sustains the lowly” (Ps 147:7). The Lord will provide for us even if we believe ourselves insufficient or unqualified messengers of his love. Why is that? Why would the Lord entrust Saint Juan Diego with such an important message? Why does he entrust us with his message of salvation for our families and coworkers? It is because God longs for more for his people. It is because God loves us. In today’s Gospel, we hear that Jesus had pity on the crowds, “because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd” (Mt 10:36).

We live in a world that needs a shepherd. A world that needs a savior. Jesus calls us to be “laborers for his harvest” because “the harvest is abundant but the laborers are few” (Mt 10:37-28) This seems like a tall task, but we must recall that the Lord will provide for us. For evidence of God’s faithfulness, we need look no further than Saint Juan Diego, who was able to carry out God’s mission in a very special way. Thanks to Saint Juan Diego’s openness to Our Lady and God’s work, today Tepeyac Hill is the 3^rd most visited sacred site in the world, with over 20 Million pilgrims each year. Saint Juan Diego shows us that even in our poverty and our weakness, we can be God’s messengers to the world.

Saint Juan Diego, Pray for us.

Noah is a seminarian for the Diocese of Grand Rapids, MI. He received his Bachelors degree in finance and economics from Grand Valley State University. He has a strong devotion to the Blessed Mother and his favorite Saint is St. John Paul II.