And a very Happy New Year to all my fellow Catholics! Yes, Catholics have three chances, not one, to celebrate New Year’s. On the First Sunday of Advent, you will customarily hear parishioners wishing one another a “Happy New Year!” Non-catholics are generally surprised or confused to hear this, until they discover we follow a liturgical year as well as a calendrical one, and the first Sunday of Advent is the start of another annual cycle!
The second New Year’s Day for Catholics is, of course, January 1. When we can join the rest of the world, have a drink, look back with thanks, and look forward with hope and hopefully set off a few fireworks! On this day we will also celebrate again the birth of the Lord, andthe dawn of our redemption by honoring Mary the Mother of God.
September 13 is the feast day (in the Roman Catholic Church) of Saint John Chrysostom, bishop and Doctor of the Church. An Early Church Father best known for his preaching and public speaking, Saint John was given the name Chrysostomos, meaning “golden mouthed,” after death.
What set him apart from others in his time period was his ability to apply scripture to everyday circumstances, teaching people how to incorporate the Gospel in all that they did. Continue reading “waters rising”→
A wise Irish Man once asked us: “Do you remember, the 21st of September?”
“Yes, we do!”
And there have been indelible marks left behind as the clock changes to 22 September.
Like wine stains on your favorite table-covering that can never be removed, some memories remain forever.
There will be several 21st(s) of September I will always remember.
I will definately add this years’ to the list (along with the others!)
Yesterday Pope Francis delivered one such indelible moment as I listened to the live coverage of his homily message to the thousands gathered in Revolutionary Plaza in Cuba.
I pray a word or two leave an indelible mark on your heart as well.
Pope Francis told the crowds on 21 September 15:
“On a day like any other, as Matthew, the tax collector, was seated at his table, Jesus passed by, saw him, came up to him and said: “Follow me”. Matthew got up and followed him.
Jesus looked at him. How strong was the love in that look of Jesus, which moved Matthew to do what he did! What power must have been in his eyes to make Matthew get up from his table! We know that Matthew was a publican: he collected taxes from the Jews to give to the Romans. Publicans were looked down upon and considered sinners; as such, they lived apart and were despised by others. One could hardly eat, speak or pray with the likes of these. For the people, they were traitors: they extorted from their own to give to others. Publicans belonged to this social class.
Jesus, on the other hand, stopped; he did not quickly take his distance. He looked at Matthew calmly, peacefully. He looked at him with eyes of mercy; he looked at him as no one had ever looked at him before. And this look unlocked Matthew’s heart; it set him free, it healed him, it gave him hope, a new life, as it did to Zacchaeus, to Bartimaeus, to Mary Magdalene, to Peter, and to each of us. Even if we do not dare raise our eyes to the Lord, he looks at us first. This is our story, and it is like that of so many others. Each of us can say: “I, too, am a sinner, whom Jesus has looked upon”. I ask you, in your homes or in the Church, to be still for a moment and to recall with gratitude and happiness those situations, that moment, when the merciful gaze of God was felt in our lives.
Jesus’ love goes before us, his look anticipates our needs. He can see beyond appearances, beyond sin, beyond failures and unworthiness. He sees beyond our rank in society. He sees beyond this, to our dignity as sons and daughters, a dignity at times sullied by sin, but one which endures in the depth of our soul. He came precisely to seek out all those who feel unworthy of God, unworthy of others. Let us allow Jesus to look at us. Let us allow his gaze to run over our streets. Let us allow that look to become our joy, our hope.
After the Lord looked upon him with mercy, he said to Matthew: “Follow me.” Matthew got up and followed him. After the look, a word. After love, the mission. Matthew is no longer the same; he is changed inside. The encounter with Jesus and his loving mercy has transformed him. He leaves behind his table, his money, his exclusion. Before, he had sat waiting to collect his taxes, to take from others; now, with Jesus he must get up and give, give himself to others. Jesus looks at him and Matthew encounters the joy of service. For Matthew and for all who have felt the gaze of Jesus, other people are no longer to be “lived off”, used and abused. The gaze of Jesus gives rise to missionary activity, service, self-giving. Jesus’ love heals our short-sightedness and pushes us to look beyond, not to be satisfied with appearances or with what is politically correct.”
Jesus looks at Matthew with Love and Mercy. Everyone wants to benoticed. Children are forever saying to their parents ‘Look at me, Look at me.” One of the most painful crosses are those who feel invisible. No one seems to notice or look at them.
Jesus looks at us. Jesus looks into our eyes. In the Gospel today, Jesus stops and looks at a man who everyone considered an outcast. Jesus simply looks at him with Love, and Matthew followed him.
Jesus is looking at you today with eyes full of love and mercy.“
And so I ask: “Will you remember?”
these hugs n’ blessings are for that holy moment when you realize God is looking at you.