Bottom line: As we focus on baptism, we remember the covenant God made with Noah – a covenant that God continues in the voice of conscience.

Today we celebrate the First Sunday of Lent. It is significant that in the opening reading we hear about the covenant that God made with Noah. Our Jewish brothers and sisters refer to this as the Noahide Covenant. This covenant does not just apply to Jews, but to the whole human race. You will remember that in the Bible Noah and his family were the sole survivors of the great flood.

According to Jewish scholars, the Noahide Covenant has seven pillars. They include the prohibition of idolatry, murder, theft, sexual immorality and blasphemy. This applies to us today. Sometimes people ask if there are moral rules that all humans must follow. We have an answer in the Noahide Covenant: It is wrong to kill, to take innocent human life. It is wrong to steal – to do violence to another human being by robbing his possessions. It is wrong to engage in sexual immorality. Do I need to go into details? These teachings are not new – they go back to Noah.¹

God made a covenant with our father, Noah. But something has gone wrong. To understand what happened, I would like to quote from C.S. Lewis:

“What Satan put into the heads of our remote ancestors was the idea that they could ‘be like gods’ – could set up on their own as if they had created themselves – be their own masters – invent some sort of happiness for themselves outside God, apart from God. And out of that hopeless attempt has come nearly all that we call human history – money, poverty, ambition, war, prostitution, classes, empires, slavery – the long terrible story of man trying to find something other than God which will make him happy.”

When you think about it, every sin is a form of idolatry – imagining that something other than God will us peace, lasting happiness. That is why the first pillar of the Noahide covenant is the prohibition of idolatry – the attempt make some person or thing into a god.

Regarding idolatry, it is important to remember that, although as Christians we obey the laws of our country, we cannot allow the government to take the place of God. That is a temptation today. Since we have lost the consensus about right and wrong, we can be tempted to look to the government to tell us what is morally correct. For example, we see our government telling us that it is OK for two men to marry – or that it is OK to take the life of an unborn child. The government is not God. The first Commandment says, “I am the Lord your God. You shall not have strange gods before me.” I will say more about this when we have Generations of Faith, but for now I would to make this observation:

When we are tempted, we need to remember about Jesus going into the desert for forty days. St. Mark states very briefly that Jesus was “tempted by Satan.” Unlike us he withstood temptation. In doing so, he shows us that it is possible – with grace – to resist Satan, to put God first, to recognize that only He can make us happy, only He can give us peace. The things of God’s creation are good. We should receive them with gratitude, but if you have made some created thing into a god, Jesus has a word for you, “Repent.”

“This is the time of fulfillment.
The kingdom of God is at hand.
Repent, and believe in the gospel.”

Now, Jesus is not speaking about some vague repentance. He has a specific plan. The first step is to pray. He gave us an example by spending forty days in prayer. You might say, “How can I get time to pray?” That’s where the second step comes in: fasting. Not just eating more simply – but fasting from other things: video games, chat rooms, television, the Internet and cell phone. Instead of email, why not try knee-mail? Knee mail is getting down on your knees and praying for the person you are concerned about.

So, prayer and fasting. They lead to the third step: financial sacrifice. Let’s face it, as Americans it is easy for us to make money into an idol. When I was in Peru, I saw how a small amount of economic help can make an enormous difference in the life of child or a family. Our financial sacrifices can make a positive change in our world. Giving will not only help the other person, but the giver himself. It is the most practical way of saying, “all that I am and all I have, I owe to you. It belongs to you, not me.”

I began this homily with Noah and I will end with Noah. St. Paul tells us that Noah prefigures baptism because he and his family “were saved through water.” This Lent we look forward to the baptism of our elect – and the renewal of our own baptism.

As we focus on baptism, we remember the covenant God made with Noah – a covenant that God continues in the voice of conscience.² Like our ancestors we often do not listen to that voice; we give into temptations. Jesus has a concrete plan of repentance that includes prayer, fasting and financial sacrifice. Repent, and believe in the gospel. Amen.

¹- The covenant with Noah lives today in the voice of conscience. Just as God spoke to Noah, he speaks to us in our conscience. In recent weeks our bishops have been reminding us Catholics – and our fellow citizens as well – that conscience is real. In our conscience God speaks to us about the meaning of human life and human sexuality. Even if it means fines and imprisonment, our bishops are telling that we must not go against conscience. It is the voice of God. It is good to have that reminder, especially as we begin these forty days of Lent.

²- We have a somewhat anemic sense of conscience today, but it was not always so. Blessed John Newman said, “if I am asked why I believe in a God, I answer that it is because I believe in myself, for I feel it impossible to blieve in my own existence (and of that fact I am quite sure) without believing also in the existence of Him, who lives a Personal, All-seeing, All-judging Being in my conscience.” (Apologia Pro Vita Sua) The Catechism quotes Newman’s definition of conscience: “Conscience is not a long-sighted selfishness, nor a desire to be consistent with oneself; but it is a messenger from Him, Who, both in nature and grace, speaks to us behind a veil, and teaches and rules us by His representatives. Conscience is the aboriginal Vicar of Christ.” (1778)

Bottom line: Today we are witnessing an aggressive attempt to deny sin. More than ever this Lent we need a personal meeting with Jesus who is God, the only one who can forgive sin.

A popular myth about Jesus runs along these lines: The original Jesus was a kindly man who wanted to help people face their problems, feel good about themselves and get along with each other. (Kind of a first century version of Dr. Phil.) But his followers began to add miracle stories to this teaching, then gradually divinize him until finally Paul developed a full blown theology which made him into God.¹

Today’s Gospel explodes that myth. By most scholarly accounts, St. Mark wrote the earliest Gospel. It is certainly the plainest, the most unadorned. Yet right at the outset we have a strong assertion of Jesus’ divinity: He forgives men’s sins.

That may seem innocuous to us, but only because we have forgotten what sin is. Suppose the man lowered through the roof was a swindler who had cheated locals out of their life savings. If you were one of the victims, sorry as you might feel about the man’s present condition, you would still resent Jesus’ absolution.

It would be as if I ministered to a serial killer and announced, “I forgive you.” Family members of those murdered would react quite bitterly. In my case their anger would be justified.

However, with Jesus, the matter is different. Robbery and murder offend him more directly than even the victims. He is the very Source of life and of all created goods. The people were right to ask:

“Who but God alone can forgive sins?” (Mk 2:7)

Accepting Jesus as God – the only one who can forgive sins – has huge implications. I would like to draw out one implication, especially as we enter the season of Lent: If we accept Jesus as God, it means we stand in a radically different posture from the world. We live in a society that attempts to deny sin – and thus deny the need for Christ. I say “attempt” because as J. Budziszewski has shown, conscience has a way of reasserting itself. (see The Revenge of Conscience: Politics and the Fall of Man)²

If a person has a guilty conscience (and does not repent) he cannot bear that others do not accept what he is doing. In recent years we have witnessed how far some will go to get others to say that there is nothing wrong with things like homosexuality, abortion, sterilization and contraception. And that not only that there is nothing wrong with those things, but that they are positive goods. Thus, acceptance of homosexuality requires a redefinition of marriage and the acceptance of contraception, abortifacients and sterilization requires their universal coverage in health care plans.³

The Catechism says that what is involved are “two irreconcilable concepts of the human person and of human sexuality.” (2370) We are in a spiritual combat – and the battle line runs through the middle of our society. And let’s be honest: the battle rages in your heart – and mine.

We need Lent 2012. We need the spiritual disciplines of prayer, fasting and financial sacrifice. In our society, we are witnessing an agressive attempt to deny sin. This campaign has powerful tools (media, universities, courts, etc.) and, without compunction, it uses words not to express truth, but to beat down dissenters. (For them “truth” is not a goal – they only acknowledge “my truth” and “your truth.” But they will use the word as a club.) And the campaign is succeeding; it has subtlely impacted even even those who oppose it.⁴ More than ever this Lent we need a personal meeting with Jesus who is God, the only one who can forgive sin.

¹- Although the letters of Paul come toward the end of the New Testament, they are not, as this myth supposes, the last written. On the contrary, they are the first writings. His Letter to the Thessalonians (c. 52 A.D.) is the earliest New Testament text.

²- This not something new. In his Confessions, Augustine observes how Homer “attributed divine attributes to sinful men, that crimes might not be accounted crimes, and that whoever committed such crimes might appear to imitate the celestial gods and not abandoned men.” (Book 1, Chapter XVI)

³- Along with many other American bishops, Archbishop Sartain has written a strong letter and an insightful column on this issue. In spite of this unprecedented attack on the U.S. Church, we need to thank God for the unity and clarity of our bishops – and for this unique moment to reach out to our American brothers and sisters. (And to renew our own understanding of Jesus teaching on marriage, chastity, conjugal fidelity, marital fecundity, the gift of a child, and the offenses against the dignity of marriage. See Catechism 2331-2400.)

⁴- They have obviously committed a blunder with the HHS Mandate, but they will retrench. A conscience that does not repent can never rest. (For their part our bishops have shown that they will stand firm in calling us all to repentance.)

Bottom line: Jesus cured the leper. He wants to heal the leper inside.

I am sure you have heard of the Scottish novelist, Robert Louis Stevenson. He not only wrote wonderful adventure stories, like “Treasure Island,” but more serious works such as “The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.” In that novel, he explored the odd combination of good and evil in one person.

As Stevenson observed dramatically, a human being can have high aspirations and at the same time do horrendous things. The existence of so much evil and cruelty made Stevenson wonder if God really exists. All of his doubts came together when he first met a leper. Lepers not only suffered a painful physical condition; they often faced harsh, even cruel treatment. How can a good God allow such suffering and cruelty? Before I tell you about Stevenson’s encounter with a leper, I would like to give a short description of the disease:

“Leprosy is a slowly progressing bacterial infection that affects the skin, peripheral nerves in the hands and feet, and mucous membranes of the nose, throat, and eyes. Destruction of the nerve endings causes the the affected areas to lose sensation. Occasionally, because of the loss of feeling, the fingers and toes become mutilated and fall off, causing the deformities that are typically associated with the disease.”

The medical description gives some idea of the horror of leprosy. The horror was heightened because Robert Louis Stevenson first met a leper in a beautiful setting – the Hawaiian Island of Molokai. In the nineteenth century – before they had any cure for leprosy – they simply banished them to remote places. When Stevenson visited the lepers’ colony on Molokai, it shocked him and made him question God’s existence. Stevenson wrote that he saw “abominable deformations of our common manhood … a population as only now and then surrounds us in the horror of a nightmare … the butt-ends of human beings lying there almost unrecognizable but still breathing, still thinking, still remembering … a pitiful place to visit, a hell to dwell in.”

Stevenson probably would have given in to depression, even despair, if he had not seen something else. On that same island, a group of Christians had established a clinic to care for the lepers. Among those Christians was a priest from Belgium, Fr. Damien Joseph de Veuster. The life of Fr. Damien inspired Stevenson so much that wrote a lengthy letter defending him against accusations and predicting his canonization. His predictions were accurate: In 2009 Pope Benedict beatified Fr. Damien. He is now known as Saint Damien of Molokai. The compassion of Saint Damien deeply impressed Stevenson.

Today we see the greatest example of compassion. Remember that, at the time of Jesus, leprosy was more than a hideous physical disease. It also brought painful social and religious consequences: The leper had to keep his distance from others, wear a bell and cry out, “unclean, unclean.” Perhaps most cruel, he was cut off from the consolation of religious rites. Jesus did something extraordinary, really unthinkable. He reached across that social division and touched the leper. By touching the man, Jesus contaminated himself. St. Matthew says, “he took our infirmities upon himself.” Jesus did this because he saw beyond the disfigurement of leprosy. He saw the worth of the person – in spite of external deformity and internal decay.¹

Jesus’ compassion challenges us. Not that leprosy holds terror today. Thanks be to God, we now have medicines that effectively treat the disease. We do, nevertheless, meet people who suffer from a deeper form of leprosy – an internal disfigurement. I can think of people I shy away from. No one in this congregation, of course – but, then, this homily is not a public confession. :)

I would like to mention one person whom we shy away from. His disfigurements make us unwilling to look at him. We have, in fact, lived with him all our lives. I think you know who I mean. Robert Louis Stevenson wrote about him in “The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.” Like the noble Dr. Jekyll, an ignoble being lurks inside. We keep that part hidden – maybe even from our own selves. That’s understandable, but it could be a fatal mistake.

Today’s Gospel contains a simple, powerful prayer: “If you wish, you can make me clean.” Doubt sometimes tempts us, but there is one thing we cannot doubt: Jesus’ compassion. He is willing to take our illness, our infirmity upon himself. In doing so, he can help us show compassion to others. Robert Louis Stevenson glimpsed that compassion when he visited the island of Molokai. It enabled him to overcome his doubts and express his faith in God.

I would like to conclude this homily by reading what Stevenson wrote in the guest book at Molokai. He composed a spontaneous poem, where he admits that he was tempted to deny God. The beauty of compassion, however, caused him to fall silent and adore God. Here is the poem:

To see the infinite pity of this place
The mangled limb, the devastated face,
The innocent sufferer smiling at the rod
A fool was tempted to deny his God.

He sees, he shrinks. But if he gazes again.
Lo, beauty springing from the breast of pain!
He marks the cisterns on the mournful shores;
And even a fool is silent and adores.”

¹- The example of St. Francis might help. For him the act requiring most courage was to embrace the leper. And only by doing so, did he experience freedom and joy. Could something similar be true regarding leper inside? And is it not time to obey Jesus’ command, “Show yourself to the priest…”?

Bottom line: We do not give time and money grudgingly; we are building the Body of Christ. With St. Paul we say, “I do so willingly…I have been entrusted with a stewardship.”

Many years ago, in England, three men were pouring into a trough a mixture of water, sand, lime and other ingredients. A passer-by asked them what they were doing. The first said, “I am making mortar.” The second: “I am laying bricks.” But the third said, “I am building a cathedral.” They were doing the same thing, but each looked at it differently. And what a difference that made!

We can see something similar in the way people relate to their parish, why they give. One person says, “Oh! All they do down there is ask for money.” The second person replies, “Well, you have to pay the bills.” But the third person says, “I am building the Body of Christ.” The three are doing the same thing, but what a difference in their attitudes!

Today’s Scripture readings reflect those differences. Poor Job says that life is nothing but drudgery: When I lie down at night, I toss and turn – and wonder when morning will come. But when I get up, I am tired and I ask how long until I can get back to bed!

For sure, most of us can identify with Job. But St. Paul takes a different approach. Few worked as hard as he did – or went through so many trials. Yet he says: “I do so willingly…I have been entrusted with a stewardship.”

Today’s Gospel presents a fascinating example of stewardship: St. Peter’s mother-in-law. She was in bed, sick, when her son-in-law brought unexpected guests. One of them, Jesus, went to her bedside, took her hand – and she sat up. The fever subsided and, quote, “she waited on them.”

Now, some think she would have preferred to stay in bed. That viewpoint, however, says more about us that it does about that wonderful woman. For people in ancient times, hospitality was their top value.¹ It was the glue that held their society together. For Peter’s mother-in-law, hospitality was a sacred duty. But there is something more. The text says, “She waited on them.” The word for “wait on them” is “diaconia” – the root of our word “deacon.” Jesus had touched her and healed her. To be his “deaconess” would be pure joy, a beautiful honor.

When I was a seminarian, I remember an elderly priest saying, “Since this ‘servant’ concept came into the Church, I have taken a terrible beating.” But he said it with a smile. To serve is hard work – and often, humbling – but being a servant of Christ is joy.

St. Paul illustrates the joy of service. With no fanfare, he says that he is free – and few have greater inner freedom than Paul. Nevertheless, says Paul, I have become a slave to all. He knew that freedom is not license, doing whatever strikes a person’s fancy. Real freedom means service, self-giving.

We are in an election season in the United States. Different candidates will be telling us they have the solution to our problems, but there is one word we are not likely to hear – the “S” word. The “S” word that we avoid is…sacrifice. As Christians, however, we cannot avoid that word; we have to embrace it. Jesus and St. Paul tell us that our time, our abilities, our financial resources do not belong to us. They come from God – and he will require an accounting – a stewardship. For that reason, we do not give time and money grudgingly; we are building the Body of Christ. With St. Paul we say, “I do so willingly…I have been entrusted with a stewardship.”

¹- Hospitality was a basic virtue in the Bible. You can see also the supreme importance of hospitality in the Odyssey, a foundational work of Western civilization.

Bottom line: Jesus freed Dostoevsky from the unclean spirit of gambling. He can also free us from addiction.

In today’s Gospel we hear about a man tormented by an unclean spirit which causes uncontrollable outbursts. At first glance, it seems like we are entering strange world, far removed from our own. Nevertheless, when we think about it, it may not be as distant as it first appears. We often read in the newspaper about fellow humans who act under some inexplicable compulsion, who do things almost unimaginable. Moreover, we know people who appear quite ordinary, yet who are gripped by self-destructive addictions. Indeed, most of us have that kind of experience, at least during some stage of our lives. We may not identify it as an “unclean spirit,” but we find ourselves in the thrall of some power which seems beyond our control. And it is not uncommon for people with great mental abilities to fall victim to some irrational compulsion.

I would like to use an example from one of the greatest geniuses of modern times. I mentioned him last Sunday – the Russian novelist, Feodor Dostoevsky. He is known as the “master of the human heart”¹ on account of his penetrating psychological insights, but he had great difficulty mastering his own emotions. A “demon” which afflicted him was a gambling addiction.

The addiction began when Dostoevsky entered a casino and placed a bet at the roulette wheel. He won – and it seemed like his financial troubles were over. He did not, however, stop when he was ahead; he kept playing and wound up losing everything. In desperation, he pawned his ring, his watch and his coat. Then he proceeded to lose that money as well.

Afterward, he felt miserable, not just because of his losses, but because he had given into a frenzy which drove him to act recklessly. He resolved to never gamble again. To his wife he swore that he would quit, but that turned out to be a promise she would hear over and over. Dostoevsky’s gambling not only plunged him into ever deeper debt; it jeopardized his marriage and his family. This pattern continued for many years.

One day things changed. Dostoevsky had scraped together a sum equaling a few hundred dollars. He carefully calculated what part he would risk and what part he would save. As always, the frenzy overtook him and he not only bet everything, but pleaded with fellow gamblers to loan him money, offering them some item of clothes as collateral. About nine-thirty in the evening, he emerged from the casino, full of remorse. He decided to seek a priest to make a confession. In the distance he saw what looked like a Russian church. When he finally got there, it turned out to be a Jewish synagogue. He later wrote, “It was as though I had cold water poured over me. I came running home…” From that day forward, he never entered another casino.

We do not know exactly what happened to Dostoevsky that night, but somehow his addiction was broken. It certainly had something to do with his desire to confess his sins and seek Christ’s forgiveness. And it was as if an unclean spirit had been cast from him. He entered into some of the most productive – and happiest – years of his life.²

When we see such things happen – and we do, even today – we can only marvel and react as did the townspeople of Capernaum: “What is this? A new teaching with authority. He commands even the unclean spirits and they obey him.” Jesus can also liberate you – and me.

¹- Sigmund Freud drew heavily from Dostoevsky, as did Friedrich Nietzsche. How accurately they understood Dostoevsky is a huge question. To explore that question I recommend Joseph Frank’s five-volume biography of Dostoevsky.

²- During those years he would write his great novels, Crime and Punishment, The Brothers Karamazov and The Idiot. He also wrote a delightful novelette The Gambler.

Bottom line: As the life of G.K. Chesterton illustrates: Whatever the cost, now is the time to place your bet.

This Sunday’s readings speak about repentance. We hear Jonah calling the Assyrians to repentance. Jesus begins his public ministry with similar urgency:

“This is the time of fulfillment.
The Kingdom of God is at hand.
Repent and believe in the Gospel.”

To illustrate repentance I would like to use a famous twentieth century convert.¹ He was a journalist, an author of detective fiction and a respected literary critic. His full name is Gilbert Keith Chesterton, but he is more commonly known as G. K. Chesterton. He was brought up in an agnostic home and the Christianity he was exposed to was a watered down version. It emphasized good deeds and saw Jesus as a moral teacher, but nothing else.

As a journalist, Chesterton got involved in controversies and he began opposing the naive optimism of the early twentieth century. That naive optimism included eugenics, evolutionary determinism and the “Superman” philosophy of Nietzsche.

In opposing these movements Chesterton found himself drawn to the Catholic Church. He became convinced that the Catholic Church told the truth about Jesus: That he is the center of history – God in human flesh.

To enter the Catholic Church, however, would have enormous implications – and Chesterton worried how it would affect those close to him. He admitted, “I tried to forget the Catholic Church.”

A lot of people are in that position. They want to forget the Catholic Church. But like the Gospel we just heard, it is not so simple. Jesus makes it clear that the moment of decision has arrived – a decision no one can avoid.² At stake is something enormous.

Every day people buy lottery tickets. They hope to win the Super Lotto. But all the Super Lottos together are small potatoes compared to the kingdom of heaven. It is time to make your bet.

People try to avoid this decision by saying things like, “I don’t believe in the pope or in priests.” Who asked you to? The issue is Jesus. If you accept him and his kingdom, the rest will follow. It’s time to place your bet.

A lottery ticket costs a few dollars. The kingdom has a higher price. But do not be afraid. In comparison to the kingdom, any sacrifice is small. It’is time to place your bet.

And how will you know you made the right decision? When G.K. Chesterton finally entered the Catholic Church, people asked him why he did it. He replied, “To get rid of my sins.” He added that it made all the difference that confession was for sins of laziness and dishonesty as well as adultery and murder.³

That is the heart of the Gospel. All of us have sins. All of us need forgiveness.

“This is the time of fulfillment.
The Kingdom of God is at hand.
Repent and believe in the Gospel.”

As the life of G.K. Chesterton illustrates: Whatever the cost, now is the time to place your bet.

¹- While in Peru, I am reading Ian Ker’s magnificent Biography of G.K. Chesterton. The information about Chesterton’s conversion is based on that highly recommended book.

²- To attempt to remain neutral is itself a decision. For the trimmers – those who stayed aloof from life’s battle – Dante reserves the vestibule of hell:
“Not to mar its beauty, heaven expelled them,
Nor will the depths of hell take them in there,
Lest the damned have any glory over them.” (see Canto III of the Divine Comedy)

³- Chesterton describes three stages of conversion:
1) The future convert “imagines himself to be entirely detached” and anxious “to be fair to the Church of Rome.”
2) The convert “begins to be conscious not only of the falsehood of the charges levelled at the Church, but of its truth and is enormously excited to find out that there is far more of it than he would have expected.”
3) When the convert “is trying not to be converted.” The convert feels threatened with “the tragic and menacing grandeur of a great love affair.” Chesterton confessed “that I for one was never less troubled by doubts than in the last phase, when I was troubled by fears.”

Bottom line: If we have in our hearts anything like the Jewish people – or the peoples of America – we would thrill to hear John’s exclamation: Behold the Lamb of God.

At the beginning of Advent we received a beautiful gift: the new English translation of the Roman Missal. Many of my priest friends – especially the younger ones – have commented on how much they appreciate this new translation.

One of the parts I particularly like is the invitation to Communion. The priest holds up the Host and says, “Behold the Lamb of God…” We hear these same words in today’s Gospel. John the Baptist sees Jesus and exclaims to Andrew, “Behold the Lamb of God.”

To understand John’s exclamation we need to know some of the Old Testament background. Each year the Jewish priests led a lamb – a year-old male lamb with no blemish – to the high altar. They placed the gentle animal’s head on the stone and with knife opened its throat. The lamb’s blood flowed on the altar. The priest took some of the blood and sprinkled it on the people. It brought forgiveness of sins.

When John called Jesus the Lamb of God, he was saying a lot. Jesus is gentle and like a lamb, submissive to the will of his Father. In obedience to his Father, he would offer his life on the altar of the cross. He would make a sacrifice so complete that it would not need repitition. As the letter to the Hebrews says, it would be “once and for all.”

It is interesting how people in many different places have anticipated the sacrifice of Jesus. I am writing this homily in Peru where I have had a chance to see some of the magnificent Inca culture. They built their great monuments around temples – places where they offered sacrifices of animals and cereals. To offer sacrifice is a natural part of religions everywhere.

Jesus brings to perfection the sacrifices, not only of the Jewish people, but of all who recognize the need for a divine power. If we have in our hearts anything like the Jewish people – or the peoples of America – we would thrill to hear John’s exclamation: Behold the Lamb of God.

Bottom line: Where the sun is, the stars have no light. Astrology and naturalism fade when one discovers Christ.

I’d like to begin this Epiphany homily by describing one of the most beautiful sights a person can see. I admit I have rarely seen it because it involves getting up very early in the morning – before dawn, when there are still stars visible in the sky. The sun has not yet risen, but you can see its light on the eastern horizon. Little by little the stars begin to disappear. Soon there is only one left and it is not a star. It is the planet Venus. Finally the light of the sun overcomes Venus, the Morning Star.

Something like this happens in today’s Gospel. Wise Men – also called Magi or astrologers or The Three Kings – come from the east because they have seen a “star.” We don’t know exactly what the star refers to. The Chicago Planetarium once had an exhibit title “The Star of Bethlehem.” They reconstructed the heavens around the time of Jesus’ birth and speculated that the star may have referred to a comet, some configuration of planets or perhaps the Morning Star itself. Whatever it was, the star led to Jesus. But when the Magi found Jesus, things changed. Jesus was like the sun rising at dawn. The Wise Men no longer need stars and planets. They now had the bright, life-giving sun.

The poet Lope de Vega wrote a beautiful poem about this. It is worth learning Spanish just to read this one poem. Its title is: La llegada de los reyes magos. The arrival of the Magi Kings. Lope de Vega describes how the star guided them in the dark night, but when they found Jesus, the stars faded. Although it is difficult to translate Lope de Vega’s poem into English, let me try a few lines.

You Kings, who come from the East,
are searching the night sky
looking at the their beautiful lights.
Do not follow them now
for where the sun is
the stars have no light.

The Child shines upon you.
And where the sun is
the stars have no light.

Lope de Vega is thinking about the practice of astrology. It was something that attracted him, but he realized that if he was going to follow Christ, he would have to give up astrology. That could be hard for many people – perhaps some in this congregation. The Catechism, however, makes it clear that a Christian has to choose: “Consulting horoscopes, astrology, (etc.) contradict(s) the honor, respect, and loving fear that we owe to God alone.” (2116) Where the sun is, the stars have no light.

There is a more subtle way people want to put their trust the stars, instead of Christ. A famous astronomer named Carl Sagan said, “we are star stuff.” That is a poetic phrase and it is true as far as it goes. The matter that forms us was ultimately forged in the furnace of stars. But, unfortunately, Sagan meant it in an absolute sense: We are only star stuff. For him – and for philosophical naturalists – that is all we are.¹ As Christians, we take a different view. We admit that we are material beings, but we believe that we are something more. When we encounter Christ, his light overwhelms even the stars. Astrology – and naturalism – fade when one discovers Christ.

Today’s Gospel tells what happened when the Magi Kings met Jesus. They gave him their greatest gifts. Gold represents wealth and power. Frankincense and myrrh had legitimate uses, but they were also utilized in occult practices. The Magi placed all this at Jesus’ feet. Then they returned to their land, not guided by stars but more directly by God. They had looked upon the sun and they knew that the stars – beautiful as they are – are dim by comparison.

Do not follow them now
for where the sun is
the stars have no light.

The Child shines upon you.
And where the sun is
the stars have no light.

Aware that Jesus is the light of the World, we now listen to the Proclamation of Date of Easter 2012:

Dear brothers and sisters:

The glory of the Lord has shone upon us, and shall ever be manifest among us, until the day of his return. Through the rhythms of times and seasons, let us celebrate the mysteries of salvation.

Let us recall the year’s culmination, the Easter Triduum of the Lord: his last supper, his crucifixion, his burial, and his rising, celebrated between the evening of the fifth day of April and the evening of the eighth day of April, Easter Sunday. Each Easter as on each Sunday, the Holy church makes present the great and saving deed by which Christ has forever conquered sin and death. From Easter are reckoned all the days we keep holy.

Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, will occur on the twenty-second day of February.

The Ascension of the Lord will be commemorated on the twentieth day of May.

Pentecost, the joyful conclusion of the season of Easter, will be celebrated on the twenty-ninth day of May.

And this year the First Sunday of Advent will be on the second of December.

Likewise, the pilgrim Church proclaims the Passover of Christ in the feasts of the holy Mother of God, in the feasts of the Apostles and Saints, and in the commemoration of the faithful departed.

To Jesus Christ, who was, who is, and who is to come, Lord of time and history, be endless praise forever and ever.

Amen!

(The deacon or lector – or priest – may read this proclamation after the homily or after the Communion Prayer on Epiphany Sunday)

¹- Naturalism is attractive because of its simplicity, but it achieves that simplicity at a price. For a consistent naturalist, good and evil are subjective concepts and there can be no true freedom. As Richard Dawkins wrote, “The universe we observe has precisely the properties we should expect if there is at bottom, no design, no purpose, no evil and no good, nothing but blind pitiless indifference.” In this view the young woman here in King County, who on Christmas eve murdered her parents, her brother and sister-in-law and their two children, committed no evil act. Dinesh D’Sousa points out the logical consequences of such a view:

“If we are purely material beings, then we should no more object to a mass murder than a river objects to drying up in a drought. Nevertheless we are not like rivers. We know that evil is real, and we know that it is wrong. But if evil is real, then good must be real as well. How else could we tell the difference between the two.” (What’s So Great About Christianity, p 276)
In spite of his militant naturalism, Carl Sagan likewise knew that good and evil are real. Take a look at the video where he confidently explains that we are “star stuff.” It shows pictures of primitive life forms gradually morphing into a human (of course, a young woman). At the conclusion he announces that “we are star stuff that has taken destiny in its own hands.” He offers no explanation how this leap has taken place. He simply asks us to accept that it happened gradually. Then, with no show of irony, he exhorts us not to “capitulate to superstition, greed and stupidity.” He urges us to make sacrifices for future generation (who by the way have done nothing for us). :-) Well, like most naturalists Carl Sagan is better than his philosophy.

At the beginning of the baptism ceremony, the priest (or deacon) welcomes the child with a sign of the cross on the baby’s forehead. He then invites the parents and godparents to also mark their child with the same sign of our Savior. During the baptism homily I always encourage the parents – and godparents – to continue that practice. When the mom places the child in the crib, she can call to the dad to bless his child. Then she does the same. This blessing has great power.

Let me give you an example of the power of a blessing. I heard about a family who had blessed their children every day. The oldest son was now leaving the home to go to college. At the moment of parting, the mom and dad made the sign of the cross over her son. The parents, particularly the dad, were not great talkers. In fact, they kept things pretty close to their chest, but they had blessed their children every day. They had a bond more powerful than words.

Today Moses instructs Aaron on how to give a blessing. The words are simple:

The LORD bless you and keep you!
The LORD let his face shine upon
you, and be gracious to you!
The LORD look upon you kindly and
give you peace!

This blessing has passed the test of time. Originating with chosen people, the Levitical Blessing has been pronounced three millennia. The apostle Barnabas, who was a Levite, undoubtedly gave many people that blessing. St. Francis, himself a deacon, used those words to bless others. Rabbis, priests, deacons, ministers and parents have all employed the blessing. If you don’t remember all the words, you can simply say “The Lord bless you.” Or like the rather taciturn parents I mentioned, you can just make the sign of the cross with your hand or your thumb. The blessing will have great power.

The blessing will not only help your child; through him it will come back upon you. If you have a strong bond with your child, you yourself will succeed. A recent study demonstrated this. Researchers analyzed the variables that enabled a person to rise from poverty to prosperity. They found that a combination of two factors almost guaranteed financial success. If a man could make a commitment to his wife and family – and hold a job, any job, for one year, he was almost certain to overcome poverty. It did not matter what his background was, where he had come or what his education was. A family commitment and the ability to hold onto a job – even a very low paying job – for one year were the strongest predictors of a rise to relative prosperity.

A person who blesses their child forms a strong bond between the two of them. That bond can motivate a person to overcome many obstacles. A woman once told me about the rather miserable conditions she was working in. She had to take quite a bit from her boss and co-workers. But she did not just walk off the job. She had two children who motivated her to make the sacrifice. When she blessed them at night, she knew the sacrifice was worth it. Eventually something better did come along – but even if it did not, she would have supported a lot. She blessed her children every day and saw them as her greatest earthly blessing.

As we begin the New Year, I ask you to make this resolution: Bless those who are close to you. At first it may be awkward to do so, but at least begin with a blessing in your heart. When you see your child – or whatever person you live with – say, “The Lord bless you.” Little by little, you can extend that blessing to others: those you work with, your friends, people you meet as you go about your daily business. Your blessing will help them – and it will also help you. I would like to conclude with the levitical blessing Moses taught to his brother Aaron:

The LORD bless you and keep you!
The LORD let his face shine upon
you, and be gracious to you!
The LORD look upon you kindly and
give you peace!

Amen.

Bottom line: By his birth Jesus brings the gift of freedom.

Merry Christmas! Don’t be afraid to say it. Merry Christmas!

I would like to begin this homily with a Christmas story from Fr. Pete Byrne – a Maryknoll missionary in Peru. He once observed a nine year old girl named Juanita selling cookies on a Lima street corner. A car pulled up to the curb and the girl ran over, hoping for a sale. However, instead of making a purchase, the woman went to her trunk, took out a beautiful doll and gave it to the girl. Juanita put down her cookies and clasped the doll to her heart. Father Byrne remarked, “The joy on her face as she looked at her doll was beyond words. The unexpected gift – isn’t that what God gave us in the person of Jesus on that first Christmas?”

By his birth Jesus gives us beautiful – and unexpected gifts: hope in the face of despair, light in a world of darkness, comfort for troubled hearts and forgiveness of sins. This Christmas I would like focus on a specific and important gift: freedom. Jesus came to bring true freedom. You know, there is a difference between superficial freedom and profound freedom. It might surprise you, but someone who understood this was Steve Jobs. When he introduced the iPad, he made the decision not to include access to pornography. A man challenged him by quoting Bob Dylan and saying that “Revolutions are about freedom.” Steve Jobs shot back:

“Yep, freedom from programs that steal your private data. Freedom from programs that trash your battery. Freedom from porn. Yep, freedom. The times they are a changin’, and some traditional PC folks feel like their world is slipping away. It is.”

Steve Jobs was no saint, but he understood that freedom does not mean doing whatever you want, whenever you want.¹ Freedom means the capacity to become the person you were meant to be. That’s the freedom Jesus came to bring.

To illustrate this freedom I would tell you about an incident from who is now a canonized saint: Terese of Liseux. Maybe you saw her in the Catholicism Series, which has been on public TV (as well as EWTN). Fr. Bob Barron tells about how her childhood was shattered when her mother died. Terese was only four years old. She was the youngest of nine children, her father babied her. Therese became hypersensitive – at the slightest setback or criticism, she would burst into tears. If she even imagined someone was criticizing her, she would start to cry. Then she would cry because she had cried! In spite of her extraordinary intelligence, it seemed she would always be emotionally crippled. She prayed to Jesus, but there was no answer.

Finally on Christmas Eve 1886, when Therese was almost 14 years old, the answer came. Shortly after saying a prayer to the Infant Jesus, she overheard a comment by her dad. Normally any negative word from her father would cause her to break into tears. But she didn’t. In an instant God made her more sensitive to her father’s feelings than her own. This was the turning point in Therese’s life. Here is how she described that moment in her autobiography:

“On that blessed night the sweet infant Jesus, scarcely an hour old, filled the darkness of my soul with floods of light. By becoming weak and little, for love of me, He made me strong and brave: He put His own weapons into my hands so that I went on from strength to strength, beginning, if I may say so, ‘to run as a giant.’”

The Holy Child, she said, had healed her of undue sensitivity and “girded her with His weapons.” It was by reason of this vision that she became known as “Therese of the Child Jesus.”

St. Terese of Liseux experienced true freedom: Freedom from fear, freedom from anxiety, the freedom to become the person God meant her to be. She spent the next ten years of her life in a Carmelite Convent. To some this seems like a narrow, restricted environment. As she was dying of tuberculosis, however, she wrote a book that has influenced, literally, millions of people: The Story of Soul. Here is a great New Year’s resolution – to read (or re-read) that amazing book. It speak about the profound freedom that Jesus came to bring.

Our Christmas carols often take up the theme of freedom. On one level they are charming songs about the baby Jesus. But if you listen more carefully, you will hear some challenging words. For example, we have all heard the Christmas hymn, “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.” It has lovely images of angels with “harps of gold.” But, then, it addresses the darkness and misery of our world – and speaks about the hope that Jesus. I would like to conclude with a stanza from that hymn. (Don’t worry, I won’t sing it.):

And ye, beneath life’s crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow,
Look now! for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing:
O rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing.

Amen.

¹- And perhaps because he was an orphan, he had a greater sensitive to family – and recognized that porn is destroying our families and making our young unfit for marriage.