Bye-bye 2025: a quarter of the 21st century

In late 2024, I had a decision to make about Καθολικός διάκονος. This decision was basic: Do I keep at it or stop altogether? As an aside, I have grown comfortable with using "blog" as a verb.

I decided to keep blogging not out of any sense of obligation. After all, to whom am I obligated? My decision was based exclusively on how much I missed blogging regularly. In addition to being what I've taken to calling "a vehicle of growth" for me, I find writing enjoyable. I make no claim to be a gifted or even very good writer.

I don't do much free form writing these days. Sometimes, when something strikes me, I'll post something on culture, society, or politics. After the inaguration this past January, I composed a few posts about where I stand on matters political and economic. Frankly, my views haven't changed since I was quote young. Essentially, I am a pretty socially conservative social democrat. As such, I'm not a fan nor am I a member of either major party (or any political party- though in the past for "tactical" reasons I have been registered as both a Republican and as a Democrat).

I dislike both major parties for different reasons but also for some of the same reasons. I take my political cues from the social teaching of the Catholic Church. This makes me a political outsider. My faith doesn't just inform but shapes and forms my politics. My politics, to the extent that I am aware, does not shape my faith!

Even though I've considered conscientiously abstaining from voting, something I think is a legitimate moral stance, I vote in each an every election. Voting requires the use of prudential reason. Being a purist will get you nowhere politically.

Enough about all of that. Politics exhaust. Politics are provisional- "provided or serving only for the time being. synonym: temporary." As a Catholic, I believe it's helpful to take the long view. The Church has survived every political system in which she has found herself for more than 2,000 years. Either Jesus is Lord or He isn't. Which side of that dilemma you choose makes all the difference in the world!

Including this one, Καθολικός διάκονος boasts 156 posts this year! That is the most since 2016, when I put up 161. In future, I envision somewhere between 140-150 post per annum. But, who knows? Readership on my "Blogspot page" has been encouraging. Sure it's a bit of an ego boost to see that people read what I write. I'm only human after all.

Most of my posts are homilies. It seems a shame to prepare and deliver them once and consign them to oblivion. More than an ego boost or a dopamine hit, it is my prayer and sincere hope that those who read what I post find it encouraging, challenging, consoling, thought-provoking, that is, useful in some way.

2025 was a fairly eventful year. Political chaos, the likes of which this country has not seen since the nineteenth century, ensued in January. Flooding the zone results in drowning. I see what we're experiencing as the logical conclusion of the drive toward the imperial presidency, which was more than fifty years in the making. Maybe we're simply having a stress test for our constitutional order. The death of my dearly beloved and much misunderstood and maligned Pope Francis on Easter Monday was an event. As was the selection of Pope Leo XIV as Pope Francis' successor. Adding to the latter event, Robert Prevost is from the U.S. Oddly, Ozzy Osbourne's death seems very culturally significant.

Each year there are losses along the way. Positing "a way" implies we're headed somewhere. It's absurd to view the grave as our destination. You don't just have a destination but a destiny. Nonetheless, an invitable aspect of aging (I'm not old, just not young anymore) is these losses pile up. Even as someone with hope, it is sometimes hard to bear the weight of loss. The good news is, I don't have to. Someone else has already borne that weight!

Looking ahead, I plan to continue posting most of my homilies and, on those Sundays I don't preach, a reflection on the readings for that week. I plan to continue the Friday traditio. I wavered a bit on the past month or so. I still have some news to reveal when the time is right. I hope to put up a few more posts on various topics. For the first time in a few years, I am reading the Bible in a Year- not a podcast, but actual reading according to a chronological reading plan. This will easily generate some (hopefully) thoughtful posts.

While I celebrated 20 years since starting this blog this past August, this coming July will mark twenty years since I began blogging in earnest. As a look at the history of my "Blogspot page" (how quaint to a Substack titan!) will show, I began this effort, which I originally entitled Scott Dodge for Nobody in August 2005. It wasn't until nearly a year later that I changed the name to Καθολικός διάκονος and started posting regularly.

So, 2026 will be a year of change and transition for me. It took me nearly the whole of 2025 to properly discern and decide to make some significant changes. I am grateful that I had the time necessary. I can honestly say that I am excited. I look forward to the New Year. I hope you are too, dear reader. I hope I can continue to extend my diaconal service through my little "Blogspot page."

Enjoy New Year's Eve. Blessings as 2026 begins. We'll catch up on the other side of midnight!

Year A Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph

Readings: Sirach 3:2-6; Psalm 128:1-5; Colossians 3:12-21; Matthew 2:3-15.19-23

On this Fourth Day of Christmas, we celebrate the Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. “Holy” is one of those religious words that tends to make people wary. And so, it is tempting to keep our concept of holiness vague. Or, if not vague, then keep it at a distance.

We create this space to maintain our comfort, to have a cushion. We make holiness a mountain too high and a bridge too far. But the word “holy” in Sacred Scripture simply means, “separate,” “different,” or “set apart for a purpose.”

For a Christian, seeking holiness means recognizing the purpose for which you are set apart, that is, living in accord with the end for which God created and redeemed you. Christian life is a process of sanctification, of being made holy. It means striving for wholeness, for integration, in an increasingly fragmented world.

In Christian terms, the concept of purely and exclusively personal holiness is highly problematic. A person “who is obsessed with his own inner unity,” wrote Thomas Merton, “is failing to face his disunion with God and other men. For it is in union with others that our own inner unity is naturally and easily established.”¹ Stated more succinctly, we need each other. Stated more truthfully, we are made for each other.

It is with members of our families that we live in closest proximity. In families we see each other at our very best and at our very worst. Our family of origin is so fundamental to who we are and how we see and relate to God, the world, and others that it is difficult to exaggerate its importance.

In our reading from Sirach, we hear what is likely a commentary on the fourth commandment, which bids you to honor your parents. In this passage, we find several practical and still-relevant ways of doing so. It bears noting that the fourth of the Ten Commandments serves as a bridge between the first three, which are about loving God, and the final six about loving your neighbor.

This puts the fourth commandment in a category of its own. It is also the commandment to which God attaches a promise- “Honor your faher and mother that you may have a long life in the land which the Lord, your God, is giving you.”² In God’s plan, parents are rightly situated between God and other people. This can be good or bad. For most of us, if we're being hones, it’s a bit of both.

This unique place parents occupy in each of our lives entails mutual responsibilities. Elders should be honored, even revered, because they are the repositories of life’s wisdom. Often it is their hard work, sacrifice, and suffering that have provided many of the benefits you enjoy. Hence, they deserve your respect and care.

In today’s Gospel, Mary and Joseph put aside their own plans to ensure the safety of their child. One would think that such selflessness is inherent to parenthood. However, the news is filled with stories that show us this is not always the case. Children should be cherished. Just as elders carry within the treasury of the past, children are the hope of our future. Without children, there is no future!

Marley's Ghost, by John Leech for the original 1843 edition of A Christmas Carol

In our reading from the Letter to the Colossians, we have a list of values that are to be nurtured in the family. It is in the family that children first experience compassion and kindness. It is within the family that children’s spirits are shaped by gentleness, love, and forgiveness so they can bestow these on others. This feast reminds us that every family, regardless of its composition and circumstances, is called to be holy. From a Christian perspective, the natural family is not an end in itself.

Being holy does not mean becoming a moralistic automaton or a self-righteous busybody. On the contrary, it means becoming more human. Being holy is to be fully human in imitation of Jesus Christ; “He Who is ‘the image of the invisible God’ is Himself the perfect man.” “It is Christ, the final Adam, by the revelation of the mystery of the Father and His love, fully reveals man to man himself and makes his supreme calling clear.”³

Near the beginning of his Apostolic Exhortation Gaudium et Exsultate [“On the Call to Holiness in Today’s World”], Pope Francis pointed out “The Holy Spirit bestows holiness in abundance on God’s holy and faithful people.”⁴ Then, citing Vatican II’s Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, he further explained:

it has pleased God to make men and women holy and to save them, not as individuals without any bond between them, but rather as a people who might acknowledge him in truth and serve him in holiness⁵

It is important to grasp the integral role the Church, God’s family, plays in making us holy. Of course, distracted, obligatory religious observance won’t make anyone holy. But then, neither will neglect of one’s religious duty. “We are never completely ourselves,” Pope Francis continued, “unless we belong to a people. That is why no one is saved alone, as an isolated individual.”⁶

As the lamenting ghost of Jacob Marley told a frightened Ebeneezer Scrooge:

Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!⁷

Just as family relationships are sometimes very difficult, even vexing, so are relationships in the Church. It is by forgiving, seeking forgiveness when needed, cultivating forbearance, patience, and love that one grows into the image of Christ. Striving to be “holy means striving to surrender to God’s light within us when the darkness around us seems overwhelming. It means struggling day after day to bring creative order – if only a bit of it – to the chaos of our lives.”⁸

In other words, we embody holiness by striving to be hale and hearty, by striving to be resilient in combatting the powerful forces that threaten the family and the Church, and not by trying to conform to some hopelessly unrealistic ideal.

Bob Hope once joked about his comedy partner saying, “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Bing Crosby and there’s nothing Bing Crosby wouldn’t do for me. But that’s the trouble. We don’t do anything for each other.” Let this not be the case with us. Let’s be eager in doing things with for and each other.

Dear friends in Christ, it is perfect love that became Incarnate for our sake in the person of Jesus. This season of Christmas and this feast of the Holy Family reminds us that God's Son, the Second Person of the Most Holy Trinity, took on flesh because, as then-Bishop George Niederauer wrote to our diocese at Christmas years ago, He “wants to make a difference in our lives each day, in what we say and do, and especially in why we say and do it- out of love for him, who has loved us enough to come and abide with us now and always.”

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1 Thomas Merton. Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander, 209.^↩
2 Exodus 20:12.^↩
3 Second Vatican Ecumenical Council. Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World [Gaudium et spes], sec. 22; Colossians 1:15.^↩
4 Pope Francis. Apostolic Exhortation, Rejoice and Be Glad [Gaudium et Exsultate], sec. 6.^↩
5 Second Vatican Ecumenical Council. Dogmatic Constitution on the Church [Lumen Gentium], sec. 9..^↩
6 Rejoice and Be Glad, sec. 6.^↩
7 Charles Dickens. A Christmas Carol, Stave One.^↩
8 Mitch Finely- lost the reference.^↩

Feast of Saint Stephen, First Martyr

Readings: Acts 6:8-10.54-59; Psalm 31:3-4.6.8.16-17; Matthew 10:17-22

Today is the Second Day of Christmas. This means the Church is in the Christmas octave. These days, the Church only observes two octaves: Christmas and Easter. Unlike the rest of the Catholic world, extending to the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord, Christmas for Roman Catholics in the United States this year lasts eighteen days.

At the Vatican, decorations are left up for forty days after Christmas. The second of February, traditionally known as Candlemas, is the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord, commemorating when Mary and Joseph presented the infant Jesus in the Temple in accordance with the Law. By then, stores are flooded with Valetine’s Day stuff, Christmas being a fading memory.

Beginning today, during the Christmas octave, the Church celebrates some amazing feasts. December twenty-sixth is the Feast of Saint Stephen, one of the men revered as the Church’s first deacons. Moreover, Stephen, a Greek-speaking Jewish Christian, is the Church’s first martyr. It is as an instigator of the martyrdom of Stephen that one Saul of Tarsus first appears on the scene.

Martyrdom of Saint Stephen, by Francesco Trevisani, ca. 1700

Stephen is the exemplar of what the Lord teaches in our Gospel for today. Yet, Christian martyrdom did not stop in the first century. It has continued for over two millennia, down to our own day. As a deacon, it seems fitting point out that in addition to Stephen, there are three other great deacon martyrs: Philip, who, along with Stephen is part of the group of seven men deemed to be the Church’s first deacons; Saint Lawrence of Rome in the third century, and Saint Vincent of Sargossa in the fourth century.

In Greek, “martyr” simply means “witness.” It is not what Stephen and the Church’s subsequent martyrs bore witness to but of whom they bore witness: Jesus Christ. Throughout his pontificate, Pope Francis reminded us all frequently that by virtue of baptism we are all called to evangelize, that is, to be witnesses of Jesus Christ.

As our Gospel today amply demonstrates, evangelization (i.e., bearing witness to Christ) is not and cannot be a program. Evangelization is born from a living encounter with Christ, which encounter is the work of the Holy Spirit. Far from abstract arguments, evangelization means being able to tell others what difference knowing Christ makes in your life and then having your life reflect that difference.

A Christian bears witness both by her words and deeds. Too often the quote attributed to Saint Francis: “always preach the Gospel and if necessary, use words,” is used to avoid ever having to share one's faith with someone else. But, as far as can be told, Saint Francis never uttered those words. As a matter of fact, Saint Francis and his friars preached and shared the Gospel using words often. Perhaps the primary reason Francis became a deacon (which he remained) was to preach.

“Go Tell It on the Mountain” remains a great Christmas carol!

Let’s not posit or accept any false dilemmas. It is not a question of bearing witness to Jesus Christ by words or by deeds. We bear witness to Him with both. Your deeds should give your words credibility. The deacons Francis, Lawerence, Vincent, Philip, and, of course, Stephen show us this.

Urbi et Orbi- Christmas 2025

URBI ET ORBI MESSAGE
OF THE SUPREME PONTIFF
LEO XIV

Dear brothers and sisters,

“Let us all rejoice in the Lord, for our Savior has been born in the world. Today, true peace has come down to us from heaven” (Entrance Antiphon, Christmas Mass during the Night). Thus sings the liturgy on Christmas night, and the announcement of Bethlehem resounds in the Church: the Child born of the Virgin Mary is Christ the Lord, sent by the Father to save us from sin and death. Indeed, he is our peace; he has conquered hatred and enmity through God’s merciful love. For this reason, “the Lord’s birth is the birth of peace” (Saint Leo the Great, Sermon 26).

Jesus was born in a stable because there was no room for him in the inn. As soon as he was born, his mother Mary “wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger” (cf. Lk 2:7). The Son of God, through whom all things were created, was not welcomed, and a poor manger for animals was his crib.

The eternal Word of the Father whom the heavens cannot contain chose to come into the world in this way. Out of love, he wanted to be born of a woman and so share our humanity; out of love, he accepted poverty and rejection, identifying himself with those who are discarded and excluded.

READ THE ENTIRE ADDRESS

Christmas: Mass During the Night

Readings: Isaiah 9:1-6; Ps 96:1-3.11-3; Titus 2:11-14; Luke 2:1-14

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.”¹ We are gathered here in the dark of night because we have been drawn to the Light. A few days ago, we observed the Winter Solstice, the shortest, darkest day of the year in the northern hemisphere.

As we drive and walk around the neighborhoods of our city this time of year, we see many lights. As you walked into the church tonight it is likely you noticed the lights illuminating the lovely stained-glass window above the main doors. In the dark and cold of a deep winter night (even a warm one!) the light draws us, comforts us, gives us hope for longer, warmer days.

But the light we hear about from Isaiah is not sunlight, electric light, firelight, or even candlelight. It is the Light of World: Jesus Christ, who was given to you at Baptism when the priest or deacon lit a taper from the Paschal Candle and, handing it to one of your godparents, said: “Receive the light of Christ.”²

Once received, your parents and godparents were exhorted to keep this light burning brightly so that you always walk “as a child of the light and, persevering in the faith, may run to meet the Lord when he comes with all the Saints in the heavenly court.”³

Jesus tells his followers, “You are the light of the world.”⁴ He describes this using two brief images- a city set on a hill and setting a lamp on a lampstand to light the whole house. He then tells His followers- “your light must shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your heavenly Father.”⁵

Baptism is your deliverance from what Isaiah described as the “land of gloom.”⁶ This is salvation, the greatest gift of all. Years ago, in his annual Christmas speech to the Roman Curia, Pope Francis noted: “Salvation is a gift … but one that must be accepted, cherished and made to bear fruit.”⁷

In our second reading, taken from Saint Paul’s Letter to Titus, we receive practical guidance on how salvation can be made to bear fruit. Living as a Christian means living ascetically. The Greek word askesis, or “ascesis,” as it is usually pronounced in English, “means ‘exercise,’ ‘practice,’ or ‘training’ for the purpose of obtaining something that is worth aspiring to, that represents an ideal.”⁸

Living temperately, justly, and devoutly means practicing the three spiritual disciplines taught to us by our Lord himself: prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. Prayer corresponds to being devout, fasting to being temperate, and almsgiving to being just, not merely charitable. This is how we make ourselves and the world ready for “the appearance of the glory of our great God and savior Jesus Christ.”⁹

Birth of Christ, by William Congdon, 1965

Advent, which ended at sundown, is not really meant to be a time for parties and feasting. Advent is to Christmas as Lent is to Easter. It is a time gift we are given to prepare for the feast of the Lord’s coming-into-the world. Advent reminds us to be sober and alert, ready for Christ’s return. But the good thing about Christmas, as my dad, who never shopped before the last minute, used to say, is that it comes whether you’re ready or not. This is good news, indeed!

Living ascetically is not an end, but the means to the end of making God’s kingdom present here and now. Christ’s birth dramatically shows us how this really looks. It is tempting to sentimentalize the Lord’s birth, to clean it up to meet our standards.

In dated English, we say the Christ child was “wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.”¹⁰ But what this means in modern English is that the poor couple were forced to stay in what was probably a dark, wet, cold cave used to shelter animals, where their baby was born, whom they then wrapped in rags and laid him in a feeding trough.

Since Jesus is “the kingdom in person,” it is no exaggeration to say that the reign of God began with a baby being wrapped in rags and lying in a feeding trough. It’s difficult to imagine a less imposing start to a kingdom that! The Lord’s Nativity is the third Joyful mystery of the Holy Rosary. The spiritual fruit of this mystery is Poverty.

Once fully established, however, this Kingdom will fill the universe and last forever. But until Christ returns in glory, God’s reign is present almost exclusively in ways that are inconspicuous, not likely to make the headlines, the evening news, or trend on social media.

Msgr Luigi Giussani insisted: “we get up every morning… to help Christ save the world, with the strength we have, with the light we possess, asking Christ to give us more light and more strength.”¹¹ We do this by living ascetically, by practicing temperance, justice, and devotion to God through Christ. This is what it means to be to be people who have not only seen a great light but who have been bathed in light by the “Father of lights” and called to illuminate “this present darkness.”¹²

Going back to your baptism candle, you were told, “You have been enlightened by Christ. Walk always as a child of the light.”¹³ It is by walking as children of the Light that the Light of Christ continues to shine in the darkness until the dawning of that day when He returns in glory.

The city of God, we learn in the Book of Revelation, will have “no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God” will give “it light, and its lamp” will be the Lamb of God.¹⁴ The one who will be all the light the city of God needs is the same Lamb of God who was born in Bethlehem, wrapped in rags, and placed in a feeding trough for animals.

This same Lamb who was born, lived, died, rose, ascended and will return, by our participation in this Eucharist tonight, illumines us from within and then sends us to radiate Christ in the darkness of this world. Keep this Light burning brightly.

Merry Christmas.

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1 Isaiah 9:1.^↩
2 Order of Baptism of Children, Second Edition.^↩
3 Ibid.^↩
4 Matthew 5:14.^↩
5 Matthew 5:16.^↩
6 Isaiah 9:1.^↩
7 Matthew 25:14-30; Pope Francis, Christmas Greetings to the Roman Curia, 2018.^↩
8 R. Arbesman. “Asceticism,” in New Catholic Encyclopedia, Vol. 1, 772.^↩
9 Titus 2:13.^↩
10 Luke 2:12.^↩
11 Luigi Giussani, Is It Possible to Live This Way?: An Unusual Approach to Christian Existence, Vol. 3- Charity, 127.^↩
12 James 1:17; Ephesians 6:12.^↩
13 Order of Baptism of Children, Second Edition.^↩
14 Revelation 21:23.^↩

Year A Fourth Sunday of Advent

Readings: Isaiah 7:10-14; Psalm 24:1-6; Romans 1:1-7; Matthew 1:18-24

Our readings for this Fourth Sunday of Advent are pretty linear. We start with the prophecy in Isaiah about a virgin conceiving and bearing a son and naming him Emmanuel, which, in Hebrew, “God is with us.” From there we move to the opening verses of Saint Paul’s Letter to the Romans where the apostle identifies Jesus Christ as the fulfillment of prophecies, like the one found in Isaiah.

It is important to note that contextually speaking, Isaiah is not alluding to the birth of the Messiah. This passage from Isaiah is an oracle for Ahaz, king of Judah, in a time of crisis. He is told that a child, to be named Emmanuel, would be born as a sign of God's presence and protection.

Given before the Babylonian exile, this oracle was meant to assure Ahaz regarding immediate threats from Judah’s enemies. It seems to indicate that these threats would be eliminated before this child becomes a man. Well, it didn’t work out that way- a different story for a different day.

Finally, we wind up in the first chapter of Saint Matthew’s Gospel. It is here that Christ is identified as the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy- long delayed in its realization. It is here where the “righteous man,” Joseph of Nazareth, of the house of David, learns in a dream that his betrothed, Mary, has not been unfaithful to him or the victim of any assault.

Rather, Mary has miraculously conceived a child by the Holy Spirit. It is this child who will “save his people from their sins.” “Jesus,” or Yesh'ua, meaning something like “the Lord who saves.” Emmanuel comes to save God’s people from their true enemies: sin and death.

Our Gospel brings us right up to the edge of Matthew’s account of the Lord’s Nativity, which we will celebrate this week. It is a passage pregnant with anticipation, with expectation for the arrival of Emmanuel- God with us- Jesus Christ.

Since Advent, even on its final Sunday, bids us to live the tension between the already and the not yet (the time known as “now” or “today”), like Scrooge with the final ghost, let’s leap forward to end of salvation history. Specifically, to the penultimate chapter of Revelation.

As the holy city, which Sacred Scripture calls “a new Jerusalem,” descends from heaven to earth, “a loud voice” is heard to say,

Behold, God’s dwelling is with the human race. He will dwell with them and they will be his people and God himself will always be with them [as their God]¹

There is one covenant between God and man. What is “new” about the new and everlasting covenant isn’t that it’s everlasting. What’s new about is that through Jesus Christ, the fulfillment of all the prophecies, it is open to everyone and anyone who puts their faith in Him.

We ratify God’s covenant in every Eucharist. Towards the beginning of Eucharistic Prayer III, speaking to the Father, the priest says,

you give life to all things and make them holy, and you never cease to gather a people to yourself, so that from the rising of the sun to its setting a pure sacrifice may be offered to your name²

My friends, we are the people God has gathered to offer sacrifice to Him. Through Christ and by the Holy Spirit, the sacrifice we offer God, symbolized by the gifts and bread and wine and the collection, is nothing other than ourselves, each of us and all of us together.

Of course, during the consecration in the Eucharistic Prayer, when consecrating the wine, the priest says, “This is the cup of my blood, the blood of the new and everlasting covenant.” Until the Lord returns, it is by receiving Holy Communion that God through Christ by the power and working of the Holy Spirit dwells not just with but in and through us, His Body, the Church.

Our Collect for today is the prayer for the end of the Angelus. In it, we ask God, at the beginning of this Eucharist, to pour His grace into our hearts. We pray this believing that it is only through the Lord’s Passion and Cross that we can “be brought to the glory of his Resurrection.”³

Indeed, it was through wood of a living tree that mankind fell. It is through the wood of a dead tree that we are redeemed. Salvation is paradoxical from beginning to end. Just so, the wood of the manger- a feeding trough- is also connected to the wood of the Cross, which makes it possible for us to receive the Bread of Life and Chalice of Salvation.

When we eat his Bread and drink this Cup,
we proclaim your Death, O Lord,
and profess your Resurrection, until you come again⁴

Again, without Good Friday, without Easter, Christmas means nothing.

It is the next-to-last verse of the last chapter of the Holy Bible that gives us a fitting end for this reflection: Maranatha! “Come, Lord Jesus!”⁵

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1 Revelation 21:3.^↩
2 Roman Missal. Eucharistic Prayer III, sec. 108.^↩
3 Roman Missal. Fourth Sunday of Advent, Collect.^↩
4 Roman Missal. Eucharisic Prayer III, sec. 112.^↩
5 Revelation 22:20.^↩

"Here we go Lord, you're in charge" PP. Leo

Wow! The last Friday before we celebrate our Lord's Nativity. Since I started the year writing about discernment and have spent the past eleven months discerning, I figured I would spill some, but not all, of the beans.

As both of my readers know, I have been discerning. What about? I have been discerning about whether to retire from my longtime career to pursue a new opportunity.

Last week, I (finally!) I decided to retire this coming March and do something different. What that something is I will not divulge right now. I will say that it is coming back to work for the Church fulltime. I worked fulltime for the Church when I was newly married some thirty years ago both at the diocesan and parish levels. A year into what became my career, I nearly left to come back to work for the Church.

It was during the latter part of those 2+ years working for the Church that I was invited to discern a call to the diaconate. But I did not start diaconal formation until after I had embarked on the career from which I am now retiring.

There was a lot to consider in making this decision. I won't bore you with the details. I very much appreciate both the patience I was granted and the persistence I was pursued while trying to figure this out. It's a rare thing to have that long. I was very much encouraged by a few friends (also deacons) who were in my position and made the choice I made.

Even when you know how to discern, there is still a decision to be made. In other words, you can get stuck in discernment mode. Saint Ignatius' way of figuring out if you discerned well is that the decision brings you peace.

After requesting retirement, I waited a day until the formal process was under way. Once it was, I felt at peace. I had an intial indication up front that this is the path down which the Lord is calling me.

Nonethless, there were still some things to be figured out. I also couldn't make a good decision by putting too much pressure on myself. I needed time and space. But still, eleven months in this case was not time spent dawdling. There comes a time to decide. As Rush famously sang: "If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice."

I was patient with the Lord and with myself. Others were patient with me. I am grateful for that and for this new opportunity. I will share the specifics in due course.

"And now for something completely different..."

I followed up reading British historian Laurence Rees' recently published The Nazi Mind: 12 Warnings from History by reading one of his earlier works: Auschwitz: A New History. I have been supplementing this reading by watching some documentaries on this period. The documentaries I am watching are 30 minutes or less. These are filling in some gaps in my knowledge and looking at things a in a more granular way. To give an example, last night I watched French Priest Turned Nazi Traitor with 2 Lovers Executed: Alesch.

And so, a few days ago I listened to Amy Grant sing Michael W. Smith's song about the Holocaust: "Lead Me On," which is our Friday traditio. Smith wrote the song for Grant who recorded if for her 1988 album of the same name.

Year II Monday of the Third Week of Advent

Readings: Numbers 24:2-7.15-17a; Psalm 25:4-9; Matthew 21:23-27

During Advent it is easy to suffer from Isaiah burnout. But today, the Church gives us a bit of relief with a passage from the Book of Numbers. While we’re more inclined to think of Exodus, Leviticus, and even Deutronomy when discussing the Pentateuch, Numbers is also one of the Bibe’s first five books.

Like the Advent readings from Isaiah, generally, our reading from Numbers is a prophecy about the Messiah, who, as Christians, we recognize as Jesus Christ. Specifically, this is found at the end of Balaam’s second oracle:

I see him, though not now; I behold him, though not near: A star shall advance from Jacob, and a staff shall rise from Israel¹

In our Gospel, John the Baptist comes up again, as he is wont to do during this season. Over time, especially in the Western Church, the Baptist has been greatly reduced in status. Both historically and still today in most Eastern Churches, both Catholic and Orthodox, John retains his rightful place. We tend to view him functionally, thus failing to recognize the uniqueness of his divine call, which, while not identical with, is like Mary’s unique call.

Yesterday, in our Gospel for the Third Sunday of Advent, Jesus says of John that he is more than a prophet and that of women there has been born no one greater than him.² Both of these glowing praises are attributable to John’s unique role as the Messiah’s precursor. It is the Lord himself who affirms the Baptist as the fulfillment of Malachi’s prophecy: Behold, I am sending my messenger ahead of you; he will prepare your way before you.³

Balaam Blesses Israel

In Jesus’ response to those who question His authority, the Baptist’s popularity is brought into bold relief. The people seemed certain that John was sent by God and acted with divine authority. We know from our reading that those haranguing Jesus didn’t believe this. Now, this itinerant from backwards Galilee was teaching like John and gathering a following.

Instead of teaching by the Jordan in the desert east of Jerusalem, Jesus was teaching in the very precincts of the Temple! Quelle horreur! Of course, the irony is that those harassing Jesus, while willing to tacitly acknowledge John’s authority, fail to recognize Jesus’ divinity.

Jesus, in concert with the Father and the Holy Spirit, acts on His own authority. Since His interlocuters have no eyes to see or ears to hear, He does not explicitly tell them, “I am the Son of God in the flesh.”

Far from being a blind leap, faith is a form of knowledge, knowledge of divine mysteries. Theologically, a mystery is something known because God has revealed it.

The mystery for which Advent serves as preparation, if we let it (something that takes no little determination and effort) isn’t just the mystery of God in Christ, “the mystery hidden from ages and generation past” and has “now been manifested to the holy ones…”⁴ It is the mystery of “Christ in you, the hope for glory.”⁵

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1 Numbers 24:17.^↩
2 See Matthew 11:9-11.^↩
3 See Matthew 11:10; Malachi 3:1.^↩
4 Colossians 1:26.^↩
5 Colossians 1:27.^↩

All I want for Christmas is Advent

Due to the pace of life brought on by the least wonderful time of year (i.e., the kitschy consumerist nightmare I call Kwanzhaanukkahmas), posting has been difficult lately. "Wait for it," my aching eye.

It took me all the way to December to miss a Friday traditio. But miss one I did the Friday before last, 5 December. Thank heavens for Our Lady of Guadalupe this past Friday! She rescued me.

Today is Gaudete Sunday; "rejoice" Sunday. In a way similar to Laetare Sunday, which occurs toward the middle of Lent, Gaudete Sunday is supposed to be both a break from penitential practices that prepare us for the feast of the Lord's Nativity and a turn in the season when we focus more on celebrating Christ's birth

Culturally, I think we might consider Paenitemini Sunday, "repent" Sunday, when we take a break from all the busyness and partying.

As you can tell, I have strong views on this. It bears noting that there are two very common ways to reduce faith. Faith can be reduced to sentimentality. Faith can also be reduced to moralism. Christmas is a case study in both.

Christmas is often overly sentimental, even sickeningly sweet, which sentimentality is basically a hugely successful marketing technique. Perhaps the most notable result of Christmas sentimentality is how much we endeavor to clean up our Lord's Nativity. "Swaddling clothes," at least to modern ears, sounds much better than "filthy rags."

It's Santa Claus who brings the moralism: you get what you deserve or what you have earned by your good behavior. Sentimentality can denigrate the Incarnation, the circumstances of which are neither incidental nor accidental. Santa Claus basically gives us an anti-Gospel. I don't designate the Santa moralism as such only because it is premised on getting what deserve/earn but because of the manipulating way it urges you to do what is right. Such a manipulation can never be a genuine good.

Historically, for Christians, Christmas is not just a day. It is a season. At least in the United States this year, Christmas extends from sundown on 24 December through sundown 11 January, when we celebrate the Baptism of the Lord. A season lasting 18 days, nearly three weeks.

With all of that out of the way, I want make an exegetical observation on today's Gospel reading from Sain Matthew. It is wrongheaded to assert or imply that Jesus did not answer the question posed to him by the disciples of John the Baptist. Of course, it was the imprisoned Baptist himself who bid his followers to ask it.

Jesus' reply, which the Baptist would've understood completely, was an emphatic "Yes! I am the one who is to come. I am here!" Jesus essentially replies by saying that He is fulfilling the Messianic prophecy found in our first reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah. Of course, this assumes that John the Baptist's disciples relayed the Lord's reply to him.

So, while the Baptist may have had some doubts prior to receiving Jesus' response, perhaps wondering in light of his near certain death, whether he had wasted his life and given it up for nothing, he died knowing he did not. This is surely a reason to rejoice!

No doubt many people who follow Christ, especially those who have made great sacrifices to do so, very likely including some martyrs, have wondered whether it matters in the end or even if they've made a grave mistake by casting their lot with the Galilean. It's especially easy to wonder this when your life doesn't seem to be going the way you want it go, or, by any outward measure, not going well at all.

For Christian parents distraught over children who have left the practice of the faith or left the faith altogether, for believers who've suddenly and unexpectedly lost their spouse or someone very close, received a dire diagnosis either for themselves or someone near to them, who have lost their livelihood, it can all seem for nothing, perhaps even seem pointless.

Contrary to the prosperity Gospel, which even sometimes finds its way into Catholic preaching, Jesus never promised those who follow Him health, wealth, and good fortune. He says, "Take up your cross and follow me." Your destination, while it necessarily passes through the cross, lies beyond the cross, just as hope lies beyond optimism. Following Jesus is not about living your best life now. Advent reminds us the best is yet to come and encourages us in that hope against all odds.

The Lord promises us ever so much more than passing things. Even someone who lives a long and healthy life can only count on perhaps 100 years. So, we wait in hope. Hope, which is a theological virtue, a gift from God, really kicks in when, like the Baptist, you find yourself in difficult circumstances, even dire straits. As a priest of my acquaintance once said, "God has a wondeful plan for your life. It may include being eaten by lions."

Hope brings joy. Joy, in turn, is overcoming adversity. Joy is not the result of the absence of hardship and pain. True joy, which is born from hope, comes from experiencing for yourself just how the Lord accompanies you as you walk through the valley of the shadow of death. Life is an Advent. Salvation history, with one brief interlude, is also an Advent.

The Antiphon for Gaudete Sunday, quoting Saint Paul's Letter to the Philippians, is "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say rejoice." Or, as each Preface for the Eucharistic Prayer emphatically states:

It is truly right and just, our duty and salvation,
always and everywhere to give you thanks, Father most holy,
through your beloved Son, Jesus Christ

Christian life is Eucharistic life, a thankful life. Giving thanks for our hope: Jesus Christ.

Our Lady of Guadalupe

Readings: Rev 11:19a.12:1-6a; Judith 13:18-19; Luke 1:39-47

¡Hoy es un gran día de celebración para todos los cristianos, incluso gringos, como yo! En la Basílica de San Pedro, el papa León celebró la misa en honor a Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe.

En su homilía, el Papa León dijo que le pidió a la Santísima Virgen «que enseñe a las naciones que quieren ser sus hijos a no dividir el mundo en bandos irreconciliables, a no permitir que el odio marque su historia ni que las mentiras escriban su memoria».

Today is a great day of celebration for all Christians! At St. Peter's Basilica, Pope Leo celebrated Mass in honor of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

In his homily, Pope Leo said he asked the Blessed Virgin “to teach the nations that want to be her children not to divide the world into irreconcilable factions, not to allow hatred to mark their history, nor lies to write their memory.”

Celebrar la festividad de la Virgen de Guadalupe es recordar no solo algo bueno, sino también algo verdadero y hermoso. El tiempo de Adviento contiene muchas celebraciones marianas: la Inmaculada Concepción el lunes, Nuestra Señora de Loreto el miércoles y hoy la Virgen de Guadalupe. Como dijo Santa Teresa de Calcuta: «Sin María, no hay Jesús».

Celebrating the memorial of the Virgin of Guadalupe is to call to mind not only something good but something true and beautiful. The season of Advent contains many Marian celebrations: Immaculate Conception on Monday, Our Lady of Loreto on Wednesday, and today the Virgin of Guadalupe. As Saint Teresa of Calcutta said: "No Mary, no Jesus.

Under the title Immaculate Conception, Mary is the patroness of the United States of America and under the title Our Lady of Guadalupe, she is patroness of all the Americas and secondary patroness of our diocese. On Tuesday, the Church remembered Saint Juan Diego to whom Mary appeared.

Bajo el título de Inmaculada Concepción, María es la patrona de los Estados Unidos de América y, bajo el título de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, es la patrona de toda América y patrona secundaria de nuestra diócesis. La Iglesia recordó este martes a San Juan Diego, a quien se le apareció María.

Durante el tiempo en que fue favorecido con las apariciones de Nuestra Señora, Juan Diego era catecúmeno, miembro de lo que hoy llamamos OCIA. La primera aparición que experimentó fue mientras caminaba desde su casa hacia la misión franciscana donde recibía instrucción. Según las fuentes, la Santísima Virgen se le apareció a Juan cinco veces.

Fue en su primera aparición cuando le pidió, a través de él, que el obispo construyera una capilla en su honor. El obispo Juan Zumárraga, aunque nunca dudó seriamente del testimonio de Juan Diego, pidió una señal para autentificar lo que se le estaba contando.

During the time Juan Diego was favored with the appearances of Our Lady, he was a catechumen, a member of what we today call OCIA. The first apparition he experienced was while walking from his home to the Franciscan mission where he was receiving instruction. According to the sources, the Blessed Virgin appeared to Juan five times.

It was in her very first appearance that she requested, through him, that the bishop build a chapel in her honor. The bishop Juan Zumárraga, while never seriously doubting the witness of Juan Diego, asked for a sign to authenticate what he was being told.

During her fourth apparition Our Lady provided the sign requested by the bishop. This appearance took place under interesting circumstances. Juan Diego was determined to miss his appointment with Our Lady because his uncle had fallen ill and was in danger of death. As a result of his uncle’s illness, he set out to retrieve a priest to hear his uncle’s confession, anoint him and give him communion. In order not to be delayed by his appointed meeting with the Virgin, Juan chose another route, one that avoided the place he was to meet her.

Durante su cuarta aparición, Nuestra Señora proporcionó la señal solicitada por el obispo. Esta aparición tuvo lugar en circunstancias interesantes. Juan Diego estaba decidido a faltar a su cita con Nuestra Señora porque su tío había enfermado y se encontraba en peligro de muerte. Como consecuencia de la enfermedad de su tío, se dispuso a buscar a un sacerdote para que le confesara, le ungiera y le diera la comunión. Para no retrasarse en su cita con la Virgen, Juan eligió otro camino, uno que evitaba el lugar donde debía encontrarse con ella.

Pero ella apareció en su ruta alternativa y le preguntó adónde iba. Después de que Juan se lo explicara, la Virgen le reprendió suavemente por no haber recurrido a ella, utilizando sus palabras más famosas, las palabras que hoy están grabadas sobre la entrada principal de la Basílica de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe en la Ciudad de México: «¿No estoy yo aquí, que soy tu madre?».

But she appeared along his alternate route and asked him where he was going. After Juan explained, the Virgin gently chided him for not having had recourse to her, using her most famous words to him, the words that today are etched over the main entrance to the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City: ¿No estoy yo aqui, que soy tu madre? (Am I not here, I who am your mother?).

The Blessed Virgin assured Juan Diego that his uncle was now completely healed. She then instructed him to climb a nearby hill and collect flowers growing there. Heeding her instructions, Juan found many flowers growing out of season on a rocky outcrop of the hill where normally only cactus and scrub brush grew.

Using his open mantle, or tilma, as a sack (with the ends tied around his neck) he returned to the Virgin; she re-arranged the flowers in his mantle and told him to take them to the bishop. On gaining admission to the bishop later that day, Juan Diego opened his mantle, the flowers poured to the floor, and the bishop saw that the flowers had left on the mantle an imprint of the Virgin's image which he immediately venerated. Juan’s tilma is with image of Our Lady of Guadalupe can miraculously still be seen today.

Nuestra primera lectura, tomada del último libro de la Biblia, Apocalipsis, nos brinda muchas de las imágenes que encontramos en la imagen de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe. Esto nos muestra que la Santísima Virgen es quien dio a luz al hijo de Dios, quien quitó la maldición de nuestros primeros padres.

Our first reading, taken from the last book of the Bible- Revelation- gives us much of the imagery we find in the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe. This shows us that the Blessed Virgin is the one who gave birth to God’s son, who took away the curse of our first parents.

In thinking of the flowers the Virgin used to imprint her beautiful image on Juan’s mantle, it’s important to note that our word “Rosary” comes from the Latin word rosarium. A rosarium is a garland of roses. It’s vitally important to pray the Rosary often, preferably daily. Offering our prayers and petitions and those of people who have asked for our prayers to God through our Blessed Mother. So, don’t ever hesitate to ask the Virgin Mary to intercede for you.

Ofreciendo nuestras oraciones y peticiones y las de las personas que han pedido nuestras oraciones a Dios a través de nuestra Madre Santísima. Así que no dudes nunca en pedirle a la Virgen María que interceda por ti y/o por los demás. Ella constantemente nos dice lo que le dijo al humilde Juan Diego hace siglos: ¿No estoy yo aqui, que soy tu madre?

Year A Second Sunday of Advent

Readings: Isaiah 11:1-10; Psalm 72:1-2; 7-8; 12-13; 17; Romans 15:4-9; Matthew 3:1-12

The question is sometimes asked, “What is the main thrust of your preaching?” I think has to preach for quite a few years before discernible patterns emerge. My answer to this question certainly includes something like, “One of the main points of my preaching is that hope lies beyond optimism.”

In our second reading, taken from Romans, Saint Paul addresses this directly when he writes: “that by endurance and by the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.”¹ Indeed, hope can’t be developed in any other way than through endurance. While it can be said that hope is born from the labor of enduring life's ups and downs, hope arises especially by enduring life’s downs. According to theo-logic, crucifixion always precedes resurrection. As we rush toward Christmas, barely stopping to prepare ourselves, it bears noting that the wood of the manger becomes the wood of the cross.

Eugene Peterson expressed the nature of hope quite well:

When nothing we can do makes any difference and we are left standing around empty-handed and clueless, we are ready for God to create. When the conditions in which we live seem totally alien to life and salvation, we are reduced to waiting for God to do what only God can do, create ²

What is the difference between hope and optimism? Optimism is being convinced that you’ll figure it out and get everything under control and realize, if not your desired outcome, at least one that is acceptable. Hope steps in when you realize you don’t have a clue, you’ve no idea what’s going to happen, and you’re not likely to figure it out, at least not on your own.

Our first reading from Isaiah is an expression of hope. It is likely passages like this Saint Paul had in mind when he wrote that hope not only comes from endurance but through “the encouragement of the scriptures.”³ By prophesying that “on that [non-specific] day [sometime in the future] the root of Jesse… shall become a banner to the nations” and that “Nations shall seek him out and his resting place shall be glory,” the scriptures Paul references bring hope not only to Israel, whose prospects look dim in the context in which this was written, but to the whole world.⁴

In his commentary on the tenth verse of the eleventh chapter of Isaiah, Robert Alter asserts that the phrase “his resting place” is typically “used for a place of settlement that is safe from enemies.”⁵ He goes on to say that its use at the end of this passage is likely “to resonate with the spirit of the LORD that ‘shall rest’ on the ideal king.”⁶ Of course, from a Christian perspective, Jesus Christ is the ideal king whose Advent, or coming, Isaiah is predicting, for which Israel is waiting, and in whom they’ve placed their hope during this dark time.

Of course, it is the kingdom of which Jesus is the king, which, in the end, will be the only kingdom, that John the Baptist announces announce with the words: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”⁷ The word “repent” in this passage is the Greek word metanoeite. It comes from the word metanoia and means “to have a change of heart,” to change from the inside out, to be completely transformed, that is, converted.⁸

John the Bapstist Preaching, by Mattia Preti (Il Cavaliere Calabrese), ca. 1665

As we look forward to Jesus’s return at the end of time, which is something the first two weeks of Advent, extending from the end of the last liturgical year, bid us do, we are called upon to have a change of heart, to conform our hearts more to Jesus’s Sacred Heart and his Blessed Mother’s Immaculate Heart. This is why the Sacrament of Penace, or confession, is not only mentioned more but is made more available during Advent.

Beginning next Sunday, which is Gaudete Sunday, the relatively short season of Advent takes a turn, makes a pivot. We turn our focus from the “not yet” to the “already.” But between the already and the not yet is now, today. As we heard on the First Sunday of Advent- it’s later than you think!

Looking at it from the perspective of this Sunday, it’s important to point out that when Jesus came as a babe in Bethlehem, he inaugurated the kingdom of God. “Kingdom” in Greek, the word John uses in today’s Gospel, is basileia. Jesus, to use a word coined by the Church Father, Origen, is autobasileia- the kingdom-in-person. Where Christ is, there is the Kingdom.

In his work, On Prayer, Origen noted that people

who pray for the coming of the Kingdom of God pray without any doubt for the Kingdom of God that they contain in themselves, and they pray that this Kingdom might bear fruit and attain its fullness. For in every holy [person] it is God who reigns⁹

If you want God to reign in you and bring his kingdom to completion in and through you, then you must not allow sin to reign over you.¹⁰ Indeed, at Baptism, you rejected “sin so as to live in the freedom of God's children.”¹¹

The Sacrament of Penance is an extension of Baptism. What better time to be reminded of this than on the Second Sunday of Advent when, each year, we hear the words of the Baptist, the seal of the prophets, which are as relevant now as when he first proclaimed them? And so, over the remainder of this Advent prepare the Lord’s way by making your heart a straight path. Go to confession and experience for yourself God’s love and mercy.

I hope that each of us and all of us together receive that baptism “with the holy Spirit and fire.”¹² And being so transformed, strive to make God’s Kingdom a present reality, for Christ to be born in us. As the second verse of the old hymn goes:

Then cleansed be every life from sin:
make straight the way for God within,
and let us all our hearts prepare
for Christ to come and enter there¹³

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1 Romans 15:14.^↩
2 Eugene Peterson, Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places: A Conversation in Spiritual Theology, 64.^↩
3 Romans 15:14.^↩
4 Isaiah 11:10 in The Hebrew Bible: A Translation With Commentary: The Prophets. Trans. Robert Alter, 660^↩
5 Ibid.^↩
6 Ibid.^↩
7 Matthew 3:1.^↩
8 Matthew 3:1 in The New Testament: A Translation. Trans. David Bentley Hart, 4.^↩
9 Cited in Pope Benedict XVI, Jesus of Nazareth: From the Baptism of John to the Transfiguration. Trans. Adrian J. Walker, 50.^↩
10 Romans 6:12.^↩
11 Roman Missal. “The Easter Vigil,” sec. 55.^↩
12 Matthew 3:11.^↩
13 Charles Coffin. "On Jordan's Bank the Baptist's Cry."^↩

Year II Monday of the First Week of Advent

Readings: Isaiah 4:2-6; Psalm 122:1-9; Matthew 8:5-11

Worthiness. It’s often an issue, even if sometimes a bit overwrought. Over time, even among Christians, the issue has shifted from the default of not being worthy to the presumption of worthiness. What is lost in this shift is a sense of sin’s gravity. Its effects on one’s relationship with God, who alone is holy.

The Roman centurion’s response to Jesus’ declaration that He would follow him home to cure his servant are words with which we are very familiar: “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof.”¹ We say these words at every Mass after being told to “Behold, the Lamb of God. Behold Him who takes away the sins of the world.”

It’s easy for our Mass responses to become rote, uttered thoughtlessly and without passion. This must be resisted mightily. After all, I am not worthy.

Left to my own merits, no matter how much I strive, I will never be worthy. While this is simply a recognition of reality, it should pain me, nonetheless. I want to be worthy or should at least want to desire to be worthy.

One’s motivation for wanting to be worthy can be a mixed bag. On the debit side of the ledger, it’s often the case that someone doesn’t like needing help to be deemed worthy. It isn’t enough to want to be holy. One’s desire to be holy must be a holy desire, that is, rightly motivated. Part of this holy desire means recognizing that I need God, that I need grace given in and through Christ by the power of the Spirit.

Our first reading from the Isaiah (who we hear a lot from over Advent) is from first Isaiah. Therefore, it was written before Israel’s exile. This oracle speaks of those who remain in Jerusalem during exile. Remember, it was the elites who were led away into captivity. The hoi polloi, or, in Hebrew, the anawim- the little ones, those of no account, who remained. These, pronounces the prophet, “Will be called holy.”²

It is the poor and the weak who know they need assistance who remain in the holy city. These least among us ask for help, sometimes beg for it, like the blind beggar Jesus encountered in Jericho about whom we heard a few Mondays ago. God delights in these humble souls.

After acknowledging our unworthiness, we implore the Lord to “only say the word and my soul shall be healed.” As often as we earnestly ask, the Lord says the healing word. When one is aware of serious sin, Christ beckons him to the confessional to say the healing word.

Lord longs to say, “I absolve you of your sins.” Sometimes, we forget the extent to which Jesus turned things upside down. It isn’t humility to insist that your sins are greater than God’s mercy. On the contrary, it is damnable pride. After all, didn’t God give His only Son to extend divine mercy to you? As Saint Paul insisted, “you have been purchased at a price.”³

Confession is not where you go to admit defeat. It is where you go to claim the victory Christ won for you over sin and death! Don’t let pride, one of the devil’s best tools, keep you from claiming your victory. Christ’s Easter victory is your victory. Without Easter, Christmas doesn’t matter.

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1 Isaiah 4:3.^↩
2 Matthew 8:8.^↩
3 See 1 Corinthians 6:20.^↩