Camouflage Christmas

We celebrated five Masses on Christmas Eve in my first year at Sacred Heart Church (Tri-Community) in Colorado Springs. I remember well that my heart carried much grief that first Christmas after leaving downtown Portland where I was part of a community that cared for people living on the streets and who suffer from mental illness and long-term addictions. I left behind something very familiar where I witnessed every day the miracles of hope being born in such poverty.

I welcomed parishioners and visitors into the simple stucco church of Sacred Heart that night. I extended my hand in welcome and I am sure people felt in my handshake the shivering grief of loss that night. The crowds at each Mass seemed overwhelming to me because I was visualizing the contrast of a small group of folks gathering in the urban chapel in Portland. I was not sure why people came to our church on Christmas Eve, what they were expecting from God and me. I was not sure of how to speak about such a mystery to families. I was at a loss to make God real for people who gather one night a year with profound cultural expectations about Christmas.

Just before the third Mass of the evening at Sacred Heart, I took my post at the door. I noticed an older gentleman walk up the steps of the entrance. His wife wearing an oversized wool coat was slow to take the stairs and remained tightly next to her husband’s side. I extended my hand to him and he politely received my greeting. I welcomed his wife but she did not respond. The husband quickly took her hand and led her into the church.

I stared at the couple and I realized that the woman wrapped in wool was suffering from some form of dementia. The husband’s quick gesture to take her hand was his way of not only keeping her safe but also his way of keeping her illness a secret or at bay for at least one more Christmas Eve. I felt my heart open as I realized that these people coming to Eucharist on Christmas Eve are no different from any community. We are all suffering on such a silent night with deep expectations that life, family and even our bodies are to be perfect given society’s expectations about what Christmas means.

On that Christmas Eve in my new role as pastor, I realized that suffering on Christmas Eve is so often camouflaged. Family relationships are tender and hidden behind the exhausted faces of parents. The loss of family life for the elderly is so veiled behind the quiet presence of grandparents in the second pew. On Christmas Eve, young parents cover their anger about the fact that their marriage may not survive another year.

As I ponder the gospels of the Christmas season, I am aware again that Jesus is born in camouflage among people who did not have room for him. Among the animals during the nighttime, the Savior brought hope. Jesus still runs after the lost, the forsaken and hope abounds when we finally become aware that God is among us for real. Even when we try to hide our human needs, God breaks through our lonely hearts. Christmas is for those who believe that they cannot make it through one more night in pain.

The shepherds got word that God was born in the camouflage of straw and darkness. Even Kings followed a star to find their way through the darkness where another King was born among people in poverty. Our Savior still makes his home among those bundled in wool to protect themselves from the cold and the exposure of their disease. Jesus even strips us of our grief when we finally trust again that we cannot control the past or fix people in the present.

Mary the Mother of God models for us a life of fidelity and it is at Christmas that we all wish we could make our home in the mercy of her Son. Mary helps us all become aware that love abounds in the limitless mercy of God. I want Mary to hold the hands of those whose bodies are growing weaker and whose lives are shattered by disbelief that God could be born in their pain.

On Christmas Eve, my desire is for all ministers of the Eucharist to know that God’s mercy is revealed among the lost, the lonely and weak. There is no hiding from the God who desires to be among the fray. Our ministries must help people find their way up stairs of our churches and into the rituals that will expose love among them.

On Christmas Eve, the Mass is more that gold cups, elaborate decorations and perfect music. On this night we help unveil the mystery that is often camouflaged among the poinsettias and artificial trees. Our ministry especially on Christmas Eve is not a performance of perfection, but a rich and deep belief that God is being revealed among the quiet desperation of people who struggle to make it up the stairs of our churches.

Dear Believers in Emmanuel, 

Today, the Church celebrates the Feast of Epiphany. In Matthew 2:1-12, we overhear the magi asking the question, “Where is the newborn King of the Jews?” Their search for him is our search. Their quest to find the child is our journey in this Christmas season. They laid before the child their gifts. We lay before the Incarnate Word, the gifts already given us, of faith, love and hope within our Church and world. The quest to find the child is deep within our hearts, for we long for him. The search is never over on this side of grave. We constantly ache for God to heal us, to offer us hope, and to convert our hearts in his love. 

This week we celebrate the memorial of St. André Bessette. Depending on which country you live, the memorial is celebrated either on January 6 or 7. Brother André is the first saint in the Congregation of Holy Cross. He ministered in Montreal, welcoming the ill and marginalized. Brother André was canonized on October 17, 2010 in Rome by Pope Benedict XVI.

I find Brother André incredibly fascinating. He was a sickly child who was not expected to live. Instead, he died at 91. He grew up illiterate. In the work of the Holy Spirit, he was accepted into the Congregation of Holy Cross that is best known for education. Our religious community really did not know where to assign him. They appointed him porter at their college in Montreal. He stayed in the doorway for over 40 years. He had a great devotion to St. Joseph, especially after his own father died when André was very young. God used that devotion to St. Joseph to heal people as they came to the door.

In the high point of St. André’s ministry, he encountered 600 people a day. He would invite them to go to confession or to Mass. He would suggest that people pray to St. Joseph or any form of prayer. He would use oil from a lamp in the chapel to anoint some people in their pain and frustration. He offered people hope when there was little medical care accessible to them. He even told a mother of a very ill child to wash the child in dishwater only to test her faith. That child was completely healed. 

St. André slept only one or two hours a night. He spent the night praying for all the people who had come to him during the day. He was a simple man with an amazing life of prayer. He thought of himself as God’s little one, as God’s little puppy, not only because he was short in stature, but also because he was leading people to God through St. Joseph. St. André never considered himself a healer. When he died on January 6, 1937, over one million people came to his funeral in Montreal. 

The Shrine of St. Joseph in Montreal is the largest shrine in the world to honor the foster father of Jesus. The families that had a miraculous healing of a family member financially supported the shrine. Unfortunately, André did not live to see its completion. The shrine continues today, and millions of people still search for healing on that hill. 

A first-class relic of St. André Bessette is housed in our altar at Sacred Heart Church. I am so grateful that St. André’s presence is in the center of our community in a real way. The relic is a gift from St. Joseph’s Oratory in Montreal, Canada. 

After the remodeling of the former rectory, we will name that building, “Saint André House.” I am delighted that St. André’s name will welcome us to socialize and to help our continuing education.  

Learn more about St. André Bessette by visiting our website at www.sacredheartcos.org.

Please offer your life, your suffering, to St. André. He will help you pray. He will lead you to God, to the love and miraculous power of Christ Jesus. Pray for the completion of Saint André House. Pray for the weak and the weary, the lost and the desperate. 

St. André Bessette, pray for us!

God give you peace,

Fr. Ron Raab, CSC, Pastor

A Christmas Creed 2021

I believe wild grace connects heaven and earth.

I believe miracles rouse crazy love.

I believe cooing children imitate angels.

I believe tears consecrate forgiveness.

I believe hearts shelter hope.

I believe relationships name holy families.

I believe radical epiphanies.

I believe baptism never ends.

I believe John the Baptist faces the Son.

I believe Isaiah paints word pictures of heaven.

I believe Mary births unending hope.

I believe Elisabeth and Zechariah voice unimaginable love.

I believe Anna and Simeon wait to embrace us.

I believe a sword pierces our hearts and egos.

I believe we ponder mysteries of heaven within us.

I believe hope is freedom.

I believe the cross and the crib hold miracles.

I believe wisdom rising from humility and sorrow.

I believe the gifts we offer are hidden within us.

I believe love melts fear.

I believe Light.

I believe Wisdom.

I believe Peace.

I believe God-among-us.

This article from Celebrate! Magazine, published in 2009, remains a favorite Christmas season reflection for me. Hope you enjoy it again.

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 people’s’ 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.

Read today’s scriptures

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Read today’s scriptures

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Dear Followers of Jesus,

Today’s gospel, Luke 2:41-52, illustrates a parent’s worst fear, a missing child. With much miscommunication, Jesus stayed behind to preach in the temple without the knowledge of his parents, Mary and Joseph. We can all imagine the fear that ran through the minds and bodies of Mary and Joseph as they searched diligently for Jesus in the caravan. 

Mary and Joseph find Jesus in the temple. Jesus does not seem concerned that his parents are frantic. This gospel begins to outline his death and resurrection, even though he is still a youth. First, he is lost and then his parents find him after three days. This refers to his passion, death, and resurrection. After three days, he becomes a new person. Well, we see this visibly in the temple where he is preaching and answering questions. In other words, his real identity emerges, his place among the leaders of faith. He was lost but now is found among those who hear his message of peace. 

How ironic that as we celebrate the Incarnation during the Christmas season, today in the gospel the real presence of Jesus is already lost. Jesus asks his parents, “Why are you looking for me?” Jesus assumes that his parents would know that he is in the temple doing the work of the Father. I want to hold on to this question because so often I do not fully understand why I search for him. This question from a youth is a deep question for all people, no matter our age. It is also a question that in the Christmas season is essential for our spiritual growth, “Why are you looking for me?”

We need to be honest about why we search for Christ, the person of Jesus. We cannot live the mystery of our lives apart from Jesus. He is our hope when we are lost, when we get caught in personal sin, heartache, and ill will. He is our direction when we believe we have all the answers, when we are confident that we can do life on our own. Jesus is our creative life even when we feel lost in our jobs or unimportant in our families. Jesus is the place we rest when we are tired and emptied from beating ourselves up when things just do not go the way we planned. We pursue Jesus because he desires us; we already belong to him. 

I wonder how we would answer the question Jesus poses to his parents? I desire with all my heart to find my way to his side, to his creative love for our world and for me. This Christmas season is just another step in our awkward search for Jesus, of being lost and found. Yet, Jesus makes a home within us. We already have what we desire, the love God has for each of us. Christmas is creating a home within our hearts to find that Jesus is not lost, but living among us today in all that we do. 

The gospel tells us that Mary, the mother of Jesus, held all these things in her heart. She pondered the mystery of his sorrows as well as his goodness. I hold on to the life of Jesus in this Christmas season within my heart, as I know we all long to do. For the mystery of the Incarnation is teaching us still how to love and how to live together. We seek the Holy Family since we find our home in such a mystery. 

God give you peace,

Fr. Ron Raab, CSC, Pastor

Fundraising for Saint André House

Dear Parishioners and Friends,

I am deeply humbled by your response to remodeling the former rectory. I am so grateful for the funds raised so far in our campaign. This is the next step to our continuing to update our parish buildings in preparation for our 100th Anniversary. I am very excited about finishing this project. The building should be finished by March 2022. 

I realize not all of you can contribute to this project. It has been quite a year. Amid a worldwide pandemic, there are so many loose ends to our next phases of life, school, and family relationships. However, I am so pleased that you have trusted us in this pandemic to provide a safe place for worship and education. I am so grateful to see so many people returning to Masses on the weekends. Thank you for being here at our parish. 

As we have said, the reason for the remodel is that the building has not been used for its intended purpose for 25 years. I can’t continue to justify not caring for our goods, our resources, and our buildings here on this block. Many may not know that it would have been too expensive to demolish the old rectory and build something new because of the water issues along Colorado Ave. I am happy to keep the historical building which will now provide handicap accessible restrooms and extra meeting space. Currently on Sunday mornings, our Faith Formation is cramped in the Parish Center. With the addition of the Saint André House, we will have some room in the new building for coffee and donuts and two classrooms upstairs. I am sure when the building is finished, we will have to adjust our use of the building. We will take one step at a time and experiment to find the best combinations of use for the Parish Center and for Saint André House. 

People have also asked why I don’t live there. Over 25 years ago, the parish decided not to have the priests on site. The building is too exposed and unsafe for people to live there. At night, the grounds become littered with needles, bottles, and folks sleeping around our buildings. I am very aware that our neighbors need a place to sleep. I felt it would be too much for priests to live in the old rectory. We would never have privacy if a light was on at night. Also, I don’t think it is good for our Holy Cross community life to live so close to where we work. We are on call 24 hours a day; we also need so time to rest.  

When I arrived here as pastor in 2013, there were no obvious signs or mention of the Congregation of Holy Cross at the parish. It was not in the bulletin and there were no images on the walls. Since I arrived, I have tried to introduce you to the spirituality of our religious community, Holy Cross. We now have a Cross and Anchor in the church lobby and a first-class relic of Saint André Bessette in the new altar. And now, one of our buildings will reflect the name of Saint André Bessette. He is the first saint in our religious community. His spirituality of prayer and service, I pray, will continue to teach us at Sacred Heart how to include the example of Saint André in our own lives of prayer. 

Saint André House. I love the name and even more the spirituality of service his name stands for in our community. We will continue to strive to extend God’s love beyond our parish block. The pandemic has limited some of our outreach services, but we shall prevail. 

Our fundraising efforts will end in February 2022. Thank you for all you have offered this project. I am deeply grateful. Now, we need to continue our efforts. The costs have fluctuated because of code issues and the availability of goods. I know you are as confident as I am that this project will be for our common good. It will be such a great complement to our restored church. I have tried my best to restore our buildings. I want this community to last more than just 100 years. There is more to come. I can’t wait. 

Please, if you have not yet contributed to the restoration of Saint André House, please do so. Please know of my prayer for you as we grow, change, develop and pray. I am so happy to be your pastor as we continue to move through the pandemic and the upkeep of our community and its buildings. 

Blessings to you all in this Christmas season, 

Fr. Ron Raab, CSC, Pastor

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The Longest Night. Tuesday December 21, 2021. 5:30pm. Colorado Springs, CO. Ronald Raab, CSC

Tonight, we enter the longest darkness.

We wait together for promised light.

We wait to clearly see the meaning of life

As we remember the deaths of our sisters and brothers.

Tonight, our memories recall

Steve Handen, our brother, who stood on this ground

For so many years, inviting us to become light,

So that others may be warmed by our fire.

He challenges us still to breathe deeply into

The justice we long for, the hope

That awakens in the darkness.  

Tonight, we breathe the mystery of life.

We see our breath in the cold

And we hear our words of grief

That come from quivering lips.

Our shallow breaths hold sustained grief.

Tonight, in long darkness, we weep,

For our nameless who died alone.

For our neighbors who died without comfort, care, or affection.

For our people whose stories were not known to us.

For our sisters who huddled under doorways, fearful of being raped.

For our brothers who were too mentally ill to cry out their need.

For our friends who curled up near campfires to stay warm as cold slayed them.

For the stranger who huddled under a bridge taking his last breath.

For people who starved to death.

For a mother who died because she could not afford healthcare.

For a brother who could not tame his inner voices of suicide.

For our adults who were abused as children and never recovered.

For our brothers who carried their belongs on their backs and died of exhaustion.

For those who closed their eyes for the last time never seeing justice or tenderness.

For those who died of fright, whose bodies never relaxed on earth.

For our brothers who died on the street corner in daylight.  

For acquaintances who drank themselves to death in a cold tent.

For our sisters who never found love.

For our brother who died covered in feces and filth after years of depression.

For our neighbors murdered in homeless camps.

For our brother who died of bladder cancer without a change of clothing.

For a friend who died waiting for a tender lover.

For our brothers who found acceptance at the end of needles.

For those who waited for a second chance and died in regret.

For over ninety marginalized human beings who died this year in Colorado Springs.

For thousands of people in our nation who will not be remembered in darkness or daylight.

So, we huddle at this columbarium.

The loose ends of life are not ours to tie up.

The uncertainty of tomorrow is not ours to control.

The loss we know in grief cannot be measured or healed.

The love we experience here opens light for our future.

Tonight, we grieve as lovers.

We hope because every breath matters.

We love because we stand on the shoulders of those who loved us.

We work diligently because love is imbedded within us.

Love rouses hope.

Hope ignites justice.

Justice brings us to dignified life.

And life is beautiful.

Let us pray:

God, beyond our imagining,

Receive our dead,

Embrace every soul,

Recall on your lips the names we know not,

Save a place at your table,

For our sisters and brothers who were not welcome in our world.

Hold forever our hearts that grieve,

And receive us all home.

In the words of Psalm 17:

Keep me as the apple of your eye,

Hide me in the shadow of your wings.

But I in justice shall behold your face.

On waking I shall be content in your presence.

Amen

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