Joy To The World

Merry Christmas! 

As we sit in the midst of the Christmas season, may JOY be with you and your family!  Jesus has come.  Our Lord has become man for us and for all.  This is something that can never be taken from us and from the history of mankind.

Having just arrived home from our fourth straight day of extended-family celebrations, I personally sit in the midst of my own packed Christmas season.  We have one more family celebration to go this coming weekend.  I am exhausted.

I love Christmas.  I love the preparation of Advent.  I love the 12 days of Christmas.  I love pulling down my street with the glow of Christmas lights shining the way to my home.  I love Christmas mass.  I love the youthful exuberance, and early Christmas morning, and kids ripping open presents.  I even love the never-ending Christmas songs on the radio.  All of these things bring me joy.

Work continues.  I find myself in the office trying to be productive even when it seems I’m the only human working this week.  Bills continue.  Fueled by presents and increased grocery shopping for parties and the electric meter spinning frantically to run Christmas lights, the money is flying out faster now than the rest of the year.  Family commitments continue.  Family is great, but day after day of commitments make it tough to keep smiling.

During all of this, I must never forget the true reason for the season.  Jesus is here.  Our Savior has come to earth.  Joy has come for all time.  Don’t let the Grinches out there take your joy.  Don’t let work and bills and the aspects of the season that may annoy you, steal your joy.  This joy cannot be taken, it can only be given.  This joy is yours, and is so full and complete, that you can give it to others without ever losing it for yourself.  Give joy.  Keep joy.  Be joyful.    

The angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for behold, I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For today in the city of David a savior has been born for you who is Messiah and Lord. "(Luke 2:10-11)

Merry Christmas, and JOY to you and yours!

-Matt Buehrig

The Dance

“Why you here?  This isn’t kindergarten.” Her elder barked silver hair thinning with ribbons of black swept back into a tight ball.  Clearly frustrated, eyes piercing, she reared, coiled like a cobra poised to strike. Startled, the freshman fumbled her marker onto the floor.  Buying time, avoiding contact, Corina searched the forest colored carpet for retreat.  She feared Mrs. Mason’s intolerance to holiday crafts.  The woman had complained earlier about the teen “crafting garbage to fill her trash.”

            Desperate Corina plead.  “I thought we might create decorations for your room?”

            “Child, I don’t need decorations.  Room’s fine.” She cut the teen short. 

            Dorothy withdrew from the table.  Cheeks as fine as black silk supported creases below years of solitary struggle.  She fought age from spoiling her elegance.  A stubborn chin of resolve claimed the visitor’s surrender.  The Hispanic youth dumped the marker and swept her construction paper into the tray.

            Corina had been warned; entertain none of Mrs. Mason’s conversations with the dead; primarily with her dead husband or close friends.  The staff psychologist, Ms. Snow, a cranky academic, rattled, “do not foster the old lady’s dementia.  You’ll only make it worse.” Corina mumbled Spanish insults under her breath wagering the psychologist didn’t speak her language. “Why should she care?” The youth reasoned she could not make things worse.  Corina considered documenting fictitious service hours for her school’s honor society.  This was to be Corina’s third and final visit with Mrs. Mason.  Perhaps, Mrs. Mason operated split personalities; hostile while creating decorations, … delighted when talking to dead people. 

Despite the resident’s right to live in a barren, sterile-smelling room, Corina did find Dorothy’s storied conversations with her dead husband, Cyprian, to be intriguing.  Dorothy’s temperament morphed to a grandmother reciting narrative to be passed forward through generations.  The freshman tossed her remaining markers into the shoebox and sealed the lid to transition. 

Her eighty-six-year old host closed her eyes collecting thoughts while inhaling enough oxygen to drain the room.

Her frown vanished to enlarged eyes lifting her lips to smile. “Girl, Santa came to me, last night!  Dressed in his red suit, white beard trimmed tight, my man looked mighty fine.  I glimpsed my reflection in his polished black boots.  I looked good.  Cyprian wrapped me in his arms and whispered, ‘you’re one fine lookin’ Mrs. Claus.’ And I think I was.”  Dorothy’s giddiness invited the teen to relax. 

“Your husband, Mr. Mason was a Santa Claus?” Corina’s inflection teased Mrs. Mason to tell more.

“He wasn’t ‘a’ Santa Claus.  He was ‘the’ Santa Claus.  Every child dreamed of my Cyprian making a dedicated visit to their house.”

“Do you have any pictures of your husband as Santa?” Corina wished to see him.

Dorothy shook her head disappointed.  “Somewhere, but I cannot find them.  No matter,” she perked, “He visited last night, his face forever in my memory.”

A glimmer in her eye recreated moments from her twenties.  “I’ve never told you about the best dance I never had?” Her fingers orchestrated anticipation.   

“The best dance you never had?”  The afternoon sun cast a glow of expectation upon the teen’s bronzed skin.  

“Nope!” Dorothy laughed.  “And my Cyprian offered to make it up, but I refused to steal his moment from history.”

Born in a Manger

by Fred Vilbig

In my last blog, I talked about the miracle of the Incarnation – how Jesus Christ, the Second Person of the Holy Trinity, emptied Himself of His Divinity and became man so that we could be with Him in Heaven. As I mentioned, the Incarnation is really incomprehensible if you think about the perfection and infinity of God and the insignificance of you and me in comparison.

Since it’s Christmastime, I want to think a little about how God chose to become man. He could have been born into a fabulously rich and powerful family. He could have established a visible earthly empire (like many in Judea were hoping for) that no mere human force could have withstood. He could have done a lot of things, but He didn’t.

Instead, He was born of a Virgin into a poor family, amidst some misunderstandings and perhaps some scandal. Although the Wise Men came to pay Him homage, the Holy Family soon had to flee for their lives and live in hiding as exiles for a while. And when they did return to their homeland, they went to a remote part of their country and lived in relative obscurity. What a way for God to become man!

But it was fitting. God is love, and all He wants from us is our love in return. Love cannot be forced. A forced love is a lie, a counterfeit. True love must be voluntary. If Jesus had become a powerful earthly ruler, people would have felt compelled to honor and obey Him, but probably not love Him. Some people certainly would have tried to manipulate things to become rich and famous themselves. The relationship would have been based on a lot of things, but not love.

No, God chose to become man the way He did because of love. He was born weak and helpless into a poor family so that we could truly love Him freely. From all appearances, there is nothing for us to gain by loving God, and that is how God wants us to love Him – freely and not because of anything that we can get from Him here and now. He wants us to love Him for Who He is – the most beautiful, attractive, and lovable Person that exists.

So Jesus was born in a manger out of love for us and so that we could freely love Him, because God is love … pure, unadulterated love. At Christmas, I think it is good to take a little time to think about that.

Merry Christmas!

Searching for Judas

I've always admired the work of Leonardo Da Vinci, as an artist, an inventor and a philosopher. I've admired the painting, The Last Supper for years, but it wasn't until I heard a story about the creation of that painting that I appreciated it's true beauty.

When Da Vinci committed himself to paint The Last Supper, he decided to approach it in a unique way. He wanted to find thirteen men to pose, one for each of the disciples and one as Jesus. He wanted each of his models to look exactly as he envisioned Jesus and each of the disciples to have looked. And so his search for these men began.

One day while he was sitting in church, the voices of the choir were so moving that he turned around and looked up into the choir loft. As he did his saw a young man in the choir. that perfectly matched how da Vinci had visualized Jesus to look. After church Leonardo approached the young man, explained his project, and inquired as to whether he would be interested in posing for the painting. The young man agreed, and the following week he spent four days posing for da Vinci in his studio in Milan.

Da Vinci’s search continued and he quickly found someone to pose as Peter, Simon, and Matthew. Within eleven months he had found and painted all the persons in the scene except for Judas.

Da Vinci could not find his Judas. He looked everywhere. He would walk through the streets of Milan, some days for endless hours, searching the nameless faces in the crowds for a man who embodied how he envisioned Judas to have looked. He left the painting unfinished for eleven years. Then one day, he found him. This man had a harshness in his face, anger and pain in his eyes - a man who to him looked like Judas.

The following week the man was brought to the studio and da Vinci began the final stage of his work. As he painted, da Vinci noticed that the after only a few hours, the man would look at the painting and then at the ground, becoming more and more restless. Da Vinci stopped working and asked, "Is something wrong? Am I doing something to upset you?" The man brought his hands to his face and began to weep.

He finally looked up at Leonardo and said, "Master, do you not recognize me?" Da Vinci said, "I'm sorry, I don't. Have we met before?

The man said, "Yes. Eleven years ago. I posed for you in this same painting, as the person of Jesus."

In each of us lies a Jesus, as well as a Judas. The challenge we face everyday, is to rise to our greater self, to choose to reflect Christ in all that we do and everyone we encounter.

A Story of New Life. What is Yours?

“How much greater is the God we have than the one we think we have.  Behold the One who can’t take His eyes off of you.  Marinate in the vastness of that.”  Gregory Boyle S.J. founder of Homeboy Industries and shepherd among the gangs of Los Angeles. 

“God can get tiny if we’re not careful.”

Advent is upon us.  For centuries now, Christmas has come and gone.  And yet, the season of Advent like the seasons of nature, it never grows old.  Paradoxically, the season offers new life during a time when nature is at rest and sunlight diminishes.  As I’ve matured, I’ve grown to consider Teilhard de Chardin’s words.  We must “trust in the slow work of God.”  Ours is a God who waits.  Who are we not to? 

Among the festivities, social gatherings, and holiday cheer, God can get tiny if I’m not careful.  I can reduce him even more as I romanticize and commercialize the nativity event.  In a season of anticipation and waiting, one action in all of the scriptures consistently strikes me; Mary’s move to “ponder.”  Advent invites us to intentionally set aside time regardless of our emotional state or life’s busy-ness … to ponder.

The beauty in pondering is; I never know where it will take me, what I will discover, what gift I might receive, what gift I might give. 

Between the proclamations, mysterious visits by the magi, angels everywhere, near escapes, virgin birth, healing, the nativity story makes for good foundations in creative fantasy fiction as inspired by authors such as J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis.  Forever skeptical, I’m in good company with a pair of skeptics in Joseph and Zechariah.

Zechariah resigned to the fact; Elizabeth might never have a child.  Young couples fearing the possibility they may never give birth to children may feel intense pain, loss, threat to separate, inadequacy, hardships beyond what I’m able to describe.  Joseph, on the other hand, prepared to divorce his young wife, Mary, for she had conceived a child, a child Joseph knew was not of his doing.  Imagine his broken heart, distrust, anger, confusion, loss, uncertainty, betrayal, disappointment ….  And yet for both, angels came to their aid.  Angels!  Angels?  I’ve pondered on many occasions what that must have looked like then and what it might look like today. 

 

Luke 1:5-25   Angel to Zechariah

But the angel said to him, “Do not be afraid, Zechariah, because your prayer has been heard.  Your wife Elizabeth will bear a son …”  Elizabeth would bear new life in John.

Matthew 1:18-25 the Gospel during advent and for the Christmas vigil Mass

Such was his intention when, behold, the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary your wife into your home.  For it is through the Holy Spirit that this child has been conceived in her.  She will bear a son and …  Mary would bear new life in Jesus. 

The Gospel reading for both Christmas day and for Easter, new life at birth followed by new life with resurrection

John 1:1-5

In the beginning was the Word,

and the Word was with God,

and the Word was God….

What came to be through Him was life,

and this life was the light of the human race;

the light shines in the darkness,

and the darkness has not overcome it. 

For many, Advent is not an easy season of joy, but I have found it to be a season of hope.  I recently heard Fr. Greg Boyle S.J. speak to a standing room only crowd at St. Louis University’s Global Center.  He spoke of the suffering and dignity of homies, gang members in Los Angeles.  As I listened, I couldn’t help but throw the three passages above into a spiritual blender.  Fr. G described his personal event that, for me, shed light on events leading to the birth of Jesus. Fr. G shared this account from his book “Tattoos on the Heart.”

            On numerous occasions, Fr. Boyle offered rehabilitation to Pedro, a gang member of rage and resentment submerged in alcohol and cocaine abuse.  Pedro had always turned Fr. G away … until one day Pedro accepted.  The gang member began the “long, hard, slow work of returning to himself.”

            Thirty days into treatment, Pedro’s younger brother, Jovan, who fought his own drug demons, succumbed.  One day, to stop the pain, Jovan put a gun to his head and committed suicide.  Intense pain penetrated and overwhelmed Pedro’s core.  Was rehabilitation worth it?  How much longer could he continue, could he hang on? 

            Fr. G appeared on time to drive Pedro to his brother’s funeral.  Without words, Fr. G trusted the “value of simply – showing up.”  The Jesuit feared a relapse or Pedro’s possible surrender to return to the streets.  In the car, Pedro insisted on sharing a dream he’d had the night before.

            “It’s a trip, G (Fr. Greg Boyle).  I had this dream last night.  And you were in it.”

            And in this dream, Pedro and Greg are in this large, empty room, just the two of them.  There are no lights, no illuminated exit signs, no light creeping in from under the doors.  There are no windows.  There is no light.  He seems to know that Greg is there with him.  A sense, really, though they do not speak.  Suddenly, in this dark silence, Greg retrieves a flashlight from his pocket and slides it on.  Greg finds the light switch in the room, on the wall, and he shines this narrow beam of light on the switch.  He does not speak.  He just holds the beam steady, unwavering.  Pedro says that even though no words are exchanged, he knows he is the only one who can turn this light switch on.  He thanks G for happening to have a flashlight.  He makes his way to the switch following the beam with some trepidation.  Pedro arrives at the switch, takes a deep breath, and flips it on.  The room is flooded with light.

            As Pedro completes telling the story, he says, “And the light … is better … than the darkness.”                                                                       

            Pedro bears new life.

“The slow work of God.

            We hope, we wait, for this astonishing light.”

When have you discovered new life?  What is your story?  What new life will you discover?

“How much greater is the God we have than the one we think we have.  Behold the One who can’t take His eyes off of you.”

             

Marinate, ponder in the vastness of that!