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The Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph

December 31, 2023

Let us pray for Francis, our Pope, and ____, our Bishop. May all leaders serve the love of God and the dignity of all people on earth. May we dedicate our lives to serve all human life.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for the family of the Church. May we, born of water and the Holy Spirit, be united in the mission of justice and peace, of integrity and hope. May every worshipping community unite for the betterment of the Church and world.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for peace among families in need of reconciliation. May we listen attentively to those whom we have hurt by our words and actions. May love be a healing balm to all families.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for foster families, divorced families, our families of origin and those whom we trust to be our families. May we all find love and courage in this Christmas season. May love heal our loneliness. May we see the face of God in all whom we love.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for the courage to serve people who are different from ourselves. May we welcome families at our borders and encourage families who seek employment and a better life. May hope be found in the wonder of our children.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for families across the world in these times of war and violence. May the utter destruction of war be replaced with hope in the challenges of loss and grief. May we recognize the beauty of all life and humanity.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for children who have been abused. May we bring dignity and courage to our young and may adult children be healed of past violence. May we trust in the loving presence of the Holy Spirit to mend our aching hearts.

We pray to the Lord.

For our elderly who live behind the closed blinds of their rooms. May we not forget those who have loved us in our families and who now need us in their ill-health and aging process.

We pray to the Lord.

For family members who have gone before us marked with the sign of faith. May our beloved dead find eternal happiness and light in the face of Christ Jesus.

We pray to the Lord.

Posted on November 1, 2009

Sock Exchange

Preaching on Christmas Eve frustrates me. I never know how to reach the exhausted, “perfect mother” struggling to bring her newborn baby to Mass because her in-laws insist. The tired father drenched with worry over paying for the family’s gifts strains to hear the evening Gospel. The single relatives back from college often feel most alone on Christmas Eve. The aging parents grieve the loss of Christmas’ past and the recent death of their only daughter. Some people scurry into the church building at the last minute feeling their place is only on the margins of the community anyway.

Christmas evokes mostly tears of loss for me as I look behind people’s smiles and sugar-induced enthusiasm. Behind the red scarves and new neckties lies the reality of people often forcing their way into happiness and love. On Christmas Eve real life comes to the surface when we least expect. I uncovered this authentic life several years ago when I tried a different approach to preaching during the holy Eve of Christmas.

Before Mass, I wrapped three items as gifts to be opened during the homily. I carried the three gifts in a colorful shopping bag and explained I had just received these gifts and wanted to open them at Mass on Christmas Eve. I ripped open the first gift with wide-eyed enthusiasm. My childlike approach revealed a new teddy bear. I reminisced about our sacred memories as children and the holy bonds of family. I spoke softly that Christmas also conjures up memories of grief, loss and unhappiness with many people we love. The grace of Christmas heals the past and makes room for Christ to be born even in our brokenness and sadness.

The second gift revealed a bag of candy. I preached the sweetness of God’s covenant of love even in times of war and uncertainty. After I spoke about each of these first two gifts, I gave each gift to a different stranger sitting in the pews. What you receive as a gift, give as a gift.

I tore off the wrapping paper from the third gift which revealed a pair of nylon socks. The assembly laughed as my face fell and I muttered about getting such an ordinary gift. I told the assembly that the Incarnation demands a lot of work on our part. I explained that Christ was born on earth to reveal the divine and human dignity of all people. I held up the dark socks and begged them to serve people who long for such dignity. The socks called people to action to serve others who go without adequate clothing, food, shelter, purpose and relationships. Walking in the footsteps of the Crucified demands a life commitment for all believers. I handed the pair of black dress socks to a stranger, a stocky, older man sitting at the end of a crowded pew. His rugged features, deep wrinkles and sparkling eyes revealed a man who had obviously made his living working with his hands with diligence and care.

The Advent Gospels prepare us for this holy night. Our hearts cannot weary while we wait for the face of Christ. Anxieties must not catch us by surprise like a trap. Great signs and wonders will tell the story of redemption. After Mass I introduced myself to the working class, kindly man and his wife. She had suddenly begun to feel ill after everyone had left the church. The three of us sat in the pew for a few minutes until her heart felt better and she felt strong enough to leave.

Beware that your hearts do not become drowsy in waiting for the Lord. I was seeing before me a woman making crooked ways straight, waiting for Christ’s promise to be fulfilled. I saw in her eyes the readiness to see the salvation of God. Her heart was preparing to be birthed into eternal Light. I felt drawn to this couple. I knew I had given this man the socks for a reason. I could already feel in our first encounter that our relationship was only just beginning.

A few days later I received a phone call from the gentleman who received the socks. His wife was very ill and in the hospital. I raced over to the hospital’s Intensive Care Unit to find her entire family at her bedside. She looked up at me and whispered to her husband, “It’s the sock-priest.” A few days later she died in her sleep.

At her funeral, her husband walked into the church to greet me. He pulled up his pant legs and told me that he was wearing his new socks for his wife’s funeral. We hugged each other and we both wept in our newborn friendship. I heard the Prophet John’s words rattling in my heart. If you have extra socks, give them away. Stop hoarding possessions and give them freely to others. I felt deep within my soul the reason for the giving. His grief was now being aided with the parish’s presence. The socks had now become the instrument of healing. He would always remember and grieve over the Christmas his wife died. He would also remember the Christmas Eve the parish reached out to both of them.

Every Christmas and every Easter that followed, the elderly widower wore his black dress socks to Mass. After Mass he made a point of stopping me in the lobby, shaking my hand with one hand and pulling up his pant leg with the other. He greeted me with gratitude and with tears. I looked forward to those holy greetings each year, where kindness and peace embraced. The holy greeting was a reminder for me that God is still coming to earth to save us from ourselves.

I preach now on Christmas Eve with even greater sensitivity to peoples’ stories. I realize the sock exchange with a kind-hearted stranger will never be duplicated. So I strive to break through the cultural wrappings that hide the season’s love. I reach out to tired parents, the bickering relatives, the ill single man or the couple drowning in debt. Now I wait for the gift God gives me, this authentic life, in the apprehensive stranger with cold feet sitting at the end of the crowded pew.

Christmas Eve 2023 Homily: Holy Cross House

My dear Followers of Jesus,

Tonight is a tender night.

Let us rest in love. For our Savior is birthed through water and blood into our waiting world. Jesus is King. Mary, his mother, our new Eve. His first birth becomes our entry into hope. His second birth from blood and water from his side, becomes our redemption from death itself. Let us rest in Jesus.

Tonight is a tender night.  

There was no room in the inn for Mary and Joseph to birth their child. Love was manifest on straw in a cave. Jesus now finds his home in our hearts. We are now one family. Tonight, we invite Christ Jesus into our home.  

Tonight is a tender night.   

For our eyes shed a tear when memories well-up in us. We miss our parents, our siblings, our ministries, and those who loved us in the past. We may think we have outlived love. We may believe love will never happen again. We are here now in this shelter, this house, where Christ still desires to be born in our midst with bounty and grace. So, be open and do not be afraid. Let not your hearts age with hardness and anxiety. We can’t think we have seen it all. We are not in charge of miracles. Christ is knocking.  Open up with longing, be ready for the Promised Light.  

Tonight is a tender night.

So, relinquish fear and doubt. Do not let your stubbornness determine your life or cynical words form your identity. Instead, continue to dream with me tonight. Like angels and shepherds, we have words of encouragement to offer one another. We have love that cannot be lost in our impatience or complaints. We have love to be lived for one another, our caregivers, our benefactors, and those who depend on us for prayer. We possess faith and love to pray for the lost, the discouraged, the orphaned, the abused, and the war-weary.   

Tonight is a tender night.

We hold the mystery of the Incarnate Word in our ears and God’s Only Begotten Son on our tongues. We clear our throats to sing again of our Savior born not just on the margins of a village, but in the ill-health of our bodies. Our voices may not be what they used to be and our strength may have weakened, but our faith remains strong on Christmas Eve. Christ is here for all eternity. So be a child again this night, wait for the Lord with wonder and joy. Wait as Holy Cross religious for justice and for peace. Love is born here. What more do we dare ask?  

Tonight is a radical and evocative night.

God give you peace.

CLICK HERE to read today’s scriptures

CLICK HERE to listen to today’s reflection

The editor of Ministry and Liturgy Magazine asked all of the contributors to create a wish list for the Church, October issue, 2014.

A Christmas Wish List for the Church

I pray that when we place the infant Jesus in the manger in all of our parishes that we will also work hard to find adequate placements for foster and orphan children and learn to receive children running across national boarders trying to escape poverty or war.

I pray that when we decorate our sanctuaries for Christmas that we will also use our resources to find housing for mothers and children who face domestic violence especially in our suburbs.

I pray that when we set up our manger scenes in our churches that we will also tell the truth about families torn apart from generational alcoholism, about the truth of loneliness in family life on Christmas Eve.

I pray that when we celebrate the Word-Made-Flesh, we will also acknowledge and affirm all of God’s people, men and women, gay and straight, rich and poor, housed and homeless and then remove all of these labels in our prayer and service well beyond the Christmas season.

I pray that when we celebrate the three wise men traveling to the place of the Child, we will go out of our way as a Church to discover the real stories of our people lost in war, hatred and violence across the boundaries of nations and find again a star of hope that leads us to Christ Jesus.

I pray that when we celebrate Mary, the Mother of God, we will also acknowledge and care for the many mothers who abandon their children because of mental illness, drug and alcohol addiction and poverty and realize that we must mother the lost and forgotten.

I pray that when we celebrate the Flight into Egypt, we will begin to take our dreams seriously to protect our families. We need to pray for fathers who no longer act on their dreams for their families. I pray that the Church might flee into the night to save our runaway children, the children lost among heart-numbing poverty.

I pray that when we take down the dried trees and the dead poinsettias and put away the nativity scenes that we will then get to work in a new way for the dignity of family life, for the health and welfare of youth and parents who live in terrifying addictions, for children coming home from war and work hard to care for grandparents who will die alone this new year.

Christmas Eve/Day

December 24/25, 2023

Let us pray for peace on our earth. May restful times flourish in our households on Christmas. May anguish vanish and conflicts melt in the promise of our Savior’s presence. May hope’s fire never end.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for our Church Universal. May our leaders perpetuate joy in serving people most in need. May we listen to the voices of the voiceless in the silent night of Christmas. May we sing forever of Christ’s redeeming love in every church on earth.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for all families this Christmas. May every relationship be sustained with forgiveness and kindness. May every family find joy this day as they gather around dining room tables and listen to the voices of those they love.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for survivors of hatred and violence. May the children and widows and loved ones be sustained in hope. May the Incarnation of Christ invigorate us to reach across the globe to help rebuild homes, futures and lives.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for the healing of our planet. May the Incarnation form our work for the benefit of our water, food, oceans, forests, ecosystems and birds of the sky.  May mercy flourish on the earth where Christ was born.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for courage this Christmas. May the King of Glory enlighten our lives. May the Prince of Peace reveal love among us. May the silent night of Christ’s coming show us how to speak up for justice and all good.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for those who sleep not in peace but on our streets. May every human find adequate shelter and every heart know God’s eternal love. May Christmas challenge us to serve beyond our fear.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for the lonely on Christmas Day. May all who shiver in isolation know the healing love of Christ on earth. May our elderly, our desperate poor, our disabled, find sustaining relationships. May hope renew us all.

We pray to the Lord.

.Let us pray for all who have died since last Christmas morning. May our families find consolation and love in the miracles of the Incarnation of Christ Jesus. May the dead be brought to the joy of heaven.

We pray to the Lord.

Fourth Sunday of Advent

December 24, 2023

Let us pray for God’s endless mercy and love. May we prepare for Christ daily in our lives with hope, love and joy. May Christ become miracle in our waiting lives.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for impossible things. May peace abide in God’s promise that all things are possible. May truth become known in every land under the sun.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for wisdom in our last-minute Advent preparation. May our hearts be broken open to prepare for our Savior. May we long for all that seems unattainable on earth in the richness of the Incarnation.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for delight in our family gatherings this Christmas. May our loved ones find a voice of gratitude and joy. May Christ’s presence among one another discourage discord and bickering. May love be born again around our family tables.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for leaders of nations in this season of hope. May we end war, violence, conflict and gunfire in this season that penetrates hopelessness with abiding love.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for sheer delight in this season of waiting. May the veil of human loss be open to God’s eternal presence. May Christ find us longing for him alone.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for miracles upon miracles. May God’s angels sing hymns of awe and wonder in the ears of people despairing from ill health, job loss and divorce. May Christ awaken our call to serve from every household.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for tenderness in our grief. May we discover the miracle of God’s healing grace even when our loved ones leave the earth. May our loss become a new home for faith and compassion.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for all who have died. May our Advent longing be real among our beloved dead who now see God face to face.

We pray to the Lord.

CLICK HERE to read today’s scriptures

CLICK HERE to listen to today’s reflection

God’s messengers are often just as surprising as the words they bear.

Advent always opens me up. Just when I think I am in control of my life and ministry, I am confronted by the challenges of a new liturgical year. The prophets get under my skin. The gospels splash my soul to surprise and awaken me.

Never has Advent shaken my priorities as the year Bonnie camped out in front of the red doors at our urban parish. Our small chapel in Old Town, Portland, Oregon serves our low-income neighbors, our homeless friends, and people just getting on their feet after prison. Just before Thanksgiving Bonnie wheeled a shopping cart to the front door filled with her stolen treasures: picture frames and toys, extra sweaters and fake flowers.

Bonnie signed up for our hospitality center on her first morning in search of new clothing and a warm breakfast. Her boundless energy disturbed everyone’s routine in the small basement room. Suddenly our entire staff, volunteers, and the room full of guests awakened to her forceful presence. We panicked as she stuffed food into her pockets, paperback novels under her jacket, and rolls of toilet paper in her plastic bag.

Bonnie’s kleptomania unnerved the staff, her penetrating voice disturbed many of our shy guests, and her wiry presence evoked fear in me. Bonnie began her Advent journey by disturbing our entire operation.

She prayed during Mass on her first day with a voice that could stop a train, screaming out every liturgical response at the right time but with a dozen extra words. She threw off the rhythm of our common prayer so completely that the entire congregation stopped speaking. People erupted with complaints and tried to quiet her. Bonnie persisted with her prayer.

Many of us were left confused and bewildered in those first few days with Bonnie. She stirred up resentment among our neighbors, angered many parishioners, and even blocked people from entering our front door.

But I also began to notice something shift inside me. Slowly I opened my eyes to see her differently. I began to hear the message of Jesus in Mark’s gospel: “Be watchful! Be alert!” Bonnie shook me out of my own sleepiness toward people who suffer beyond my imagining. I started to interpret her disturbing actions and screeching voice as our Advent wake-up call, a real prophet in our midst.

She challenged our professional ideals regarding how we deal with crisis and how we try to keep order as we serve the poor. As the voice crying out in the desert, she echoed the words of Isaiah and John the Baptist to get our acts together and let go of our control. Bonnie was not going to let us get too comfortable thinking we were in charge of our lives or even of the parish. Once we all began to see her as a gift to us, she started to change our experience both of her and of the Advent season.

One day during Mass I heard Bonnie screaming outside the chapel. She was trying to stop people from stealing her things. When Bonnie started screaming, I saw one of our parishioners leap out of the pew to go outside. There was something about her scream that day that was raw and primal.

I felt deep sadness rise up in me. Bonnie was communicating to us that many things in our society are not right. Her haunting scream reminded me of all the ancient prophets who tried to get the attention of people to reform their lives and society. I heard in her scream the challenge to wake up and realize that addicts need shelter and sobriety, people need adequate housing, and the mentally ill need affordable medications. I felt in her scream the poverty of the world.

Bonnie also changed my perceptions of her loud responses at Mass. In the very predictable patterns of common prayer, I understood by her piercing voice that those who are marginalized by poverty or mental illness need to be heard. Mass could no longer be prayed on autopilot. We had to think about what, how, and why we were praying the liturgy. She made us think about our responses to the Word that was proclaimed. She halted us in the middle of blindly reciting the Creed. Like the biblical prophets before her, she was teaching us how to pray and live with new awareness and intention.

Bonnie still reminds me that most of the suffering around us remains hidden and secret. She helps me realize we all must take on the prophet’s role when disease, poverty, loneliness, and financial instability grab hold of our communities. People who suffer silently need the voices of the rest of us to speak up for the abandoned and neglected. The Advent season calls for courage and conviction to make faith real, inviting, truthful. Advent is a time to go deeper into our human condition, beyond the surface of relating to one another from our financial status or educational backgrounds or the styles of clothing we wear.

One day Bonnie approached a woman named Sally, who was born with one arm shorter than the other. Bonnie walked up to Sally and said, “Don’t worry about that arm, honey. When Jesus comes back, he will fix that right up for you!” Bonnie really believes in Emmanuel, God-with-us. She even voiced God’s consolation and joy announced in the prophet Isaiah: “Comfort, give comfort to my people, says your God.”

I thank God for our prophet Bonnie. Even though she washed her glazed donuts in our baptismal font, collected our hymnals in her shopping cart, and took hundreds of our plastic rosaries to wear around her neck, we all recognized that she carried Christ into our midst. She unstuck my notion that Advent is about the purple polyester fabric in the sanctuary or the flattened, artificial greens with faded, purple ribbons posing as the circle of life. She helped me break open the lie that Christmas is for the rich and well-deserving. God desires to be in relationship with all of God’s beloved.

Before Bonnie left our parish, she knelt down in front of the crèche on Christmas Eve. Several parishioners feared her kleptomania as she approached the newborn king. Instead, poised in prayer, she placed a clean, meticulously folded purple blanket in the small stable. It was her cleanest blanket, her source of warmth on the cold Portland streets.

I never realized I would find the birth of Jesus in the center of mental illness, homelessness, and my own insecurity. God gave us the gift of hope years ago in a small stable and continues to grace us with real human beings who teach us that faith is about relationship. I wait patiently for Advent this year to see if our prophetic sister returns. I wait for love again to awaken me.