November 2003

December 2003

Homily for Holy Family Sunday - December 28, 2003

So, whad-ja-get for Christmas?

I’ve been after my sister to collect some family photos for me
(she’s the trust archivist of the Flemings!)
and she gave me a wonderful gift:
pictures of my family history
mounted on this plaque and on this triptych.

These are faces well known to me,
and I know many of the stories behind those faces, too.
Many of the stories behind these faces are happy,
and some are sad.

It has been said that:
“In each family a story is playing itself out,
and each family’s story embodies its hope and despair,”
its joys and its sorrows, its pain and its healing...
(Variation on Auguste Napier)

This time of the year (Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s)
is a difficult time for many people.
These holidays raise up expectations of joy and celebration
when the last thing some folks can do is to celebrate a joy
they have not been able to find.
The holidays also have a way of waking up, stirring up old memories.

Some of those memories are warm and beautiful,
while others are painful, or sad, or both.
And right in the middle of this stew of emotions
the church throws in “Holy Family Sunday!”
Talk about bad timing!
Well, at least bad timing for a lot of people.

Some might think I’m just being too politically correct here,
paying too much attention to those whose feelings are blue
at the expense of those whose feelings and memories are bright.

Well, I do spend some time each year, around Christmas,
addressing these issues.
But I don’t do it to be correct.
I do it precisely because our gathering here is a family gathering,
a gathering of our family in faith,
and some among us (and probably more than we suspect)
some among us are hurting today
and finding it difficult to speak of any family at all.

As members of the church family we have a responsibility
to embrace each other’s hearts
-especially when those hearts are hurting, heavy-burdened and aching.

Look at the family of Mary, Joseph and Jesus in the gospel today.
Although the holy family is unique in many ways,
they are just like us in many other ways.
In this story,
Joseph and Mary both seem to assume
that Jesus is with the other parent.

Jesus was lost for four days.
Imagine the panic and fear Mary and Joseph experienced.
Imagine their anxiety and frustration and anger.
Mary sounds wounded when she asks her son,
“Why have you done this to us?”

Rare are the parents who have not asked of their child,
“Why have you done this to us?”
And Mary and Joseph are confused by their son’s answer
that he must be in his father’s house.
They don’t understand him. They don’t get it.
Their son’s response doesn’t satisfy them.
They are disappointed.

Yes, the holy family is, in many ways, a pretty typical family.
Like our families!
Our families experience loss of all kinds, big losses and little losses;
disappointment, panic, fear, and anxiety;
frustration, anger, hurt, woundedness and confusion;
answers that don’t satisfy parents
and answers that don’t satisfy children:
is there a family untouched by these experiences?

The church family is no stranger to these, either.

We have certainly found that out in the past two years...

Just as the holy family needed -and our families need-
patience and understanding and healing;
so does the church family need these things, too.

Of all the different kinds of families there are in the world,
the church as a particular responsibility
to be a patient, understanding, healing family for all of its members
because for many people,
the church is their family -
at least it is the family to which many return
when things are most joyful and happy
and when things are most sad and painful.
It is a great sin -and I can think of no better word to describe it-
it is a great sin that church teaching and practice leads some to feel
that the church family, God’s family, no longer welcomes them.

If anything is the business of the church
it is the work of opening the doors of the church as wide as possible
so that people and families
of all kinds, of all colors,
of all preferences, of all beliefs,
of all cultures and ways of life
are made to feel welcome in the embrace of our shared faith.

The church must welcome any and all
who desire to know God and to love their neighbor.

What is it they say?
Family is place where, when you go there, they have to take you in!
Well, the church needs to be the place where, when you go there,
they want to welcome you, they want to take you in,
they want to be your family.

The altar is our family table,
and it is the place where the Lord, gracious host that he is,
invites us to invite our brothers and sisters
to share the Lord’s supper
and to be nourished to be the family of God.

May the Lord, through the eucharist,
open us to each other and to all who desire
to share in the family life which is our church.

Rev. Austin Fleming

Homily for Christmas 2003

(On the altar are three white objects,
each “outlining” the shape of a gift with a bow on top.
Inserted in each “outlined” box is a scroll tied with a red ribbon. )

Imagine that it’s your birthday
and all your family and friends have gathered to celebrate with you.
And imagine that an hour or so into the party,
you realize that apparently no one has brought you a gift!
And imagine that you take a good friend aside and ask,
“Not to be greedy - but I don’t see any birthday presents...”
And imagine that your friend replies,
“Well, no. We didn’t bring any presents for you.
But after the party, we’re all going to our homes
and once we get there, we’ll give each other presents
on your birthday!”

Of course, that’s just what we’re doing here!
We’ve gathered for Jesus’ birthday party,
we’ve not brought him any presents,
and when we get home, we’ll give each other gifts
on HIS birthday!

Perhaps the saving grace here is in our faith.
We believe that Jesus IS the greatest gift we have ever received,
the gift of God’s word spoken with such life, energy,
mercy and peace that in the very speaking of it,
that Word becomes flesh:
a gift from the Father of us all,
the gift of his only Son,
and -as they say- Jesus is a gift that keeps on giving.
In fact, it looks as though God has left more gifts for us
right here on the altar!

(A subtle flick of a switch lights up the three gifts in fairly obnoxious
green and red lights!)

Seems that God’s taste in gift wrap is rather garish!
But then again, Christmas is God’s way of trying to get our attention.

Let’s see what’s in the first box.
A scroll - maybe it’s a gift certificate from God!
(Removing the scroll, I close my eyes and looking upward, “pray,”
“Let it be Vincenzo’s! Let it be Vincenzo’s!”
I open the scroll and study it...)

Well, it’s not a gift certificate.
It’s more words - another “word gift”
and these are words from tonight’s first scripture:
(I turn the scroll so that all can see in the large print:)
Upon those who dwelt in the land of gloom, a light has shone...

Land of gloom... where is the land of gloom?
-the land of Iraq? Afghanistan?
-the third world?
-the land of nations beat down by oppressive governance?

Where is the land of gloom in our own nation?
-the ghetto land of the poor?
-the land of harvested crops not available to the hungry
-the land of death row’s corridor and capital punishment?

Where is the land of gloom in our Catholic church?
-the landscape of dark memories haunting the abused?
-the land of shame and coverups?
-the land of parishes about to be merged and closed?

And where is the land of gloom in our families and in our own hearts?
-the land of broken promises?
-of bruised and wounded hearts?
-unhappy households?

We must identify the land of gloom
if we want to understand and appreciate Christmas,
because Christmas is the celebration of God’s light
piercing our darkness, our gloom
with a light that can never be extinguished.

Forgive me for being so gloomy on Christmas -
but the light of Christ has come into the world
only to shine in our darkness, in our gloom.

If we don’t know where the gloom is - we will not find the light.
And if the light doesn’t shine in our gloom -
then it does not shine at all.

Will we prefer the darkness to the light,
or will we open our darkness our gloom
to the gift of the light of Christ?

(Second scroll)
The grace of God has appeared...

Another word, this one from tonight’s second lesson.

Does anyone still believe in the grace of God?
Do we believe that the grace,
the love,
the energy,
the power,
the mercy,
the peace of God
can sometimes flood our hearts
and other times seep into our lives, drop by drop,
precisely where we are most in need
of the very heart of God to beat as one with our own?

The grace of God is God’s desire for intimacy with each of us
and with all of us as his people.

Christ visited us,
making his way among us through Mary’s womb,
as intimate an entry into space and time as one might imagine.

Do we believe that Christ, some 2,000 years later
comes to us with no less a desire for intimacy?
That even now, even this night,
the grace of God appears?

Will we prefer our loneliness to his presence?
Or will we open our hearts and lives to a God
who wants to live within us,
to be born of us,
to be of our very flesh and blood?

(Third scroll)

Hmm... This is curious.
It’s another word.
Just one word.
And it isn’t an identifiable Christmas word!
It’s the simple word,
AND...

The word AND appears ten times
in Luke’s account of the nativity of Jesus.
But it’s not just the word count that is significant.

One might say that this little word, AND,
sums up the whole of the Christmas message.
It’s not the word IF,
and its not the word, BUT...
It’s AND,
the word that joins
the word that unifies,
the word that connects.

One thinks of writer E.M. Forster’s famous imperative:
“Only connect.
Connect the past and the present,
connect the visible and the hidden,
connect the dots and find the pattern in the carpet.”

This is the work of AND.
This is the work of Jesus.

The work of Jesus is to connect us,
one to another, and all of us to God.
The work of Jesus is to connect the visible and the hidden,
in creation and in our hearts and relationships.
The work of Jesus is to help us connect the dots
and find the patterns in the universe
that make visible the hidden hand of God
who is our only connection between the past and the present.

AND, such a simple word.
“Only connect,” such a simple phrase.
Jesus: the AND between us and God
the AND between us and our neighbor
the AND between us and the stranger
the AND between who we are and what we shall become.

The birth of the child Jesus in Bethlehem
has, like a stone tossed into a lake,
been rippling forth for centuries,
and ripples into our prayer and hearts this night.

The light of Jesus shines in our gloom this night.
The grace of God appears, tonight, in my heart and in yours.
Jesus, the great AND between us AND God
invites us to connect: if nothing else, connect.

Bethlehem means “house of bread.”
THIS is our Bethlehem - our house of bread.
May the bread and cup of this table
nourish in us hearts open to the light,
hearts open to the coming of God’s grace,
and hearts open to the gift of the humanity AND divinity of Christ
whose birth we celebrate this night.

Rev. Austin Fleming

NOTE:
At the 4:00 Vigil Mass and at the Christmas morning 10:00 Mass when a large number of children were present, I used the same device, but the scrolls contained the simple words, Joy, Peace and Share.

Homily for the Fourth Sunday of Advent - C December 21, 2003

Although the song says
“It’s the hap- happiest time of the year...”
for many people,
Christmas is the loneliest time of the year.

•Some lonely people are here with us in our prayer.
•Perhaps you left such a lonely person at home.
•Or you may know someone at work or at school
whose loneliness is deeply difficult.
•You and I drove past the homes of lonely people
on our way here to Mass.
•Perhaps you are the lonely person of whom I speak...

There’s the loneliness of the poor
whose appearance, whose clothes, whose home or homelessness
may separate them from our embrace and company.
There’s the loneliness of the hungry
who can find no table with a seat saved just for them.

There’s the loneliness of the friendless, of those who don’t fit in,
of those who have been socially rejected,
of those whose way or preference or taste
keeps them always on the margins of our lives.

There’s the loneliness of the new comer,
the loneliness of the widowed,
the loneliness of the separated and divorced,
and the loneliness of those whose loved one has passed on.

But perhaps the deepest loneliness of all
is the loneliness of those who feel
forgotten by God... rejected by God... abandoned by God...
Those who have been abused know this kind of loneliness very deeply.

But the loneliness of some is so deep
that they believe they have lost even the company of the One
who promised to be with us, no matter what...

And there’s the loneliness of those
who believe their sins are not forgiven,
or that God has left them alone in their pain,
or that God has forgotten to listen to their prayers...

I know that this may not be the homily you expected or wanted
just a few days before Christmas.

But I believe there’s at least a lonely corner in each of our hearts,
and this is the season of EMMANUEL,
a name which means, “God is with us.”

How can we be lonely if “God is with us?”

We have been singing and praying for four weeks now:
O, come, O come, Emmanuel!
Come, God who is with us!
Come, God who does not forget us!
Come, God who does not reject us!
Come, God who does not abandon us!

Come into our loneliness and befriend us...
Come into our hurt and heal us...
Come into the margins of our lives and draw us in...
Come into our families, our neighborhoods, our parish, our town,
come into the world and make us one, and leave none to themselves.

Come, Lord, as a faithful friend, ready to help...
Come, Lord, as a lover comes to the beloved...
Come, Lord, and make your home so deep within us
that we will never again feel apart from you or your presence.

The Advent prayer, O, come, Emmanuel
is answered by the song of the angels at Christmas,
Do not be afraid... Jesus is born for you and for all
he is among you as an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes,
he is with you, and he will never leave you...”

Each year on this fourth Sunday of Advent,
the scriptures present us with the person of Mary, Mother of Jesus.

Mary must have felt very much alone on the first Christmas:
Joseph had been on the verge of divorcing and leaving her;
she was away from family and friends,
homeless just when she was about to deliver her baby.

Jesus was born on the margins of society,
in a place where Mary may have felt forgotten, even abandoned,
by the God who had invited her to bear this child.

Let us pray especially for those around us, and around the world,
who know the loneliness of Mary.
Let us pray for God to help the lonely -through us-
to see that Jesus is beside them, behind them, before them,
above them, below them,
and most especially, within them.

As surely as the Lord visits our table here
in the bread and cup of the eucharist,
may Emmanuel, God who is with us,
visit the lonely and open their hearts and ours
to the company and presence of the Christmas Child.

Rev. Austin Fleming

Homily for the Third Sunday of Advent December 14, 2003

• The crowds asked John the Baptist,
“What should we do?”
• The tax collectors asked John.
“What should we do?”
• The soldiers asked John the Baptist,
“What should we do?”

And in each reply, John the Baptist invited those who questioned him
to simply be more caring, more generous and more honest
in their daily lives.

What would happen if WE asked John the Baptist,
“What should we do?”
Let’s see.
Let me hear all the students here
from kindergarten to high school seniors to ask,
“What should we do?”

John might say to the elementary school children:
“Be more helpful around the house.
Share with your brothers and sisters.
Be kind to ALL the kids at school - not just your friends.”

And the Baptist might say to our middle schoolers:
“Be a little more patient with the younger kids.
Learn to tell the truth - always.
Don’t try to grow up to fast.”

And perhaps John would say to our high school students:
“Make good choices - choose wisely - and ask for help if you’re not sure.
Reach out to someone who is alone.
Accept the responsibilities that come with growing up.”

Let me hear
married folks, parents, couples, partners, engaged people ask,
“What should we do?”

To you, John might answer:
“Be faithful to each other in everything you say and do.
Whatever the circumstances in your home,
do everything you can to live in peace,
and do it with an understanding heart.
If you have children,
remember that the most precious gifts you can give them
are your time, your care, and your attentiveness.”

Priests and deacons of the Lord,
let’s hear you ask the question of John the Baptist
“What should we do?”

And John might reply:
“Do everything with reverence, patience, and love.
Be faithful yourself to the gospel you preach to others.
Speak the truth
and let no injustice go unchallenged.”

Let’s hear college students and single adults ask,
“What should we do?”

And hear John answer:
“Seek out work and a way of life that truly makes you happy,
even if it doesn’t make you all the money in the world.
Make serving others a regular part of your life.
Build now a faith life to stand by you in years to come.”

Senior members of our parish; retired people;
those who have lost a spouse,
let’s hear you ask John the Baptist,
“What should we do?”

And listen for John’s answer,
“Know and trust that God loves you deeply, even and especially
in your loneliest mornings, noons and nights.
Think often of the good times in your life,
and thank God for everyone of them.
Be patient with yourselves,
for your have earned our love and respect.
Know that this parish is blessed by your presence and prayer.”

The list of groups who might ask, “What should we do?”
could go on and on.
But I’m sure you get the idea.
John’s replies to the crowd, the tax collectors and the soldiers
were simple and direct.
You need not be a theologian to figure out
what John might have said to any group among us.

This time of year can be a difficult one for many people.
Memories, old hurts, disappointments,
failed expecations, personal sorrow:
all these things can make our hearts heavy
between Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Year’s.

The Lord seems to know this
and so reminds us in the words of Zephaniah,
“Sing and rejoice
because the Lord has removed the judgment against you;
you are forgiven.
Don’t be discouraged because God is in your midst,
near you, right beside you.
The Lord sings joyfully on account of you.”

Imagine: God’s love for us moves the Lord to song...

Or as someone else wrote,
“If God had a refrigerator, your picture would be on it.
If God carried a wallet, your photograph would be in it.

This Advent Sunday calls us to rejoice -
we are half way to our celebration of Jesus’ birth.

St. Paul invites us to search out that deeper joy,
a joy not dependent on presents or lights or tinsel or holly,
but the joy of knowing that in spite of anything,
God’s love for us is deep, abiding, patient and forgiving.

As Paul puts it:
“Rejoice in the Lord always!
I shall say it again: rejoice!
(Here, the people were were divided in two groups
and invited to sing “Rejoice in the Lord Always” as a round...)

If Paul’s words and our song uncover joy within you,
then bring that joy as a gift to offer
at the Lord’s table.

If finding such joy is not easy for you,
then come to the table and be nourished by the Lord
whose greatest desire
is for you to know the joy you bring to God’s heart.

Rev. Austin Fleming