Month: November 2024

The ABC of Advent

(Jer.33:14-16; Thess.3:12-4:2; Lk.21:25-28, 34-36)

Today we begin a brand-new liturgical Year C, the Year of the Gospel of Luke, and once again it starts with Advent. Let’s now explore what the season of Advent is all about, using the letters A to L of the alphabet. (Next week we’ll cover M to Z).

A is for Advent, the liturgical season that begins every Church year. The word ‘Advent’ comes from the Latin adventus, meaning ‘coming,’ and it typically lasts for four weeks before Christmas. It’s a time of preparing, anticipating and reflecting on the threefold coming of Christ: his birth in Bethlehem at Christmas, his Second Coming at the end of all time, and in between, when he comes to us in our day-to-day lives.

B is for the Blessed Virgin Mary, who is central to Advent. She is the simple Jewish girl who humbly and courageously accepted God’s invitation to become the Mother of Jesus. In Advent, we too are invited to help bring Jesus into the world.

C is for the Candles in our Advent wreath. There are five of them, all symbolising the light of Christ, and one is lit each week. The first (purple) candle signifies our hope for the Messiah’s coming. The second (purple) candle reflects the peace that only Christ can bring. The third (pink) candle represents our joy in knowing that Jesus is coming. The fourth (purple) candle symbolises the love God has for us. And the final (white) candle, which is lit on Christmas Day, represents Jesus himself.

D is for the Decision we must all make to find and follow Jesus, and the Determination we need to keep doing so faithfully.

E is for Expectation, because Advent is a time of joyful expectation. In his writings, St. Bernard of Clairvaux encourages us to prepare our hearts for the coming of Christ in a spirit of anticipation and longing, just as the ancient Israelites waited for the Messiah all those years ago.

But E is also for Eternity, because we know the earth is not our final home, and it’s important that we prepare ourselves for our real home in heaven.

F is for Faith, because Advent is a good time to strengthen our faith through prayer, reflection and community. Here, St. Therese of Lisieux teaches us that faith can be both simple and profound. In her ‘Little Way,’ she encourages us to always be loving towards each other, even in tiny little ways, and to always trust in God’s love and mercy.

G is for St. Gregory the Great, who was an important figure in the early Church. He emphasised the importance of the liturgical seasons, including Advent. His teachings on preparation and prayer remind us to engage deeply with the spiritual practices of the season.

H is for Hope, which is a central theme of Advent, for it reflects our waiting for Christ’s coming. In his writings, St. Augustine calls hope a theological virtue, and he encourages us to always trust in God’s promises, especially in times of uncertainty and waiting.

I is for the Incarnation, the mystery of God becoming man in Jesus. This is fundamental to Advent, because Christmas is all about God becoming one of us. St. Athanasius often talked about this mystery, and emphasised how important it is for our salvation.

J is for Jesus, who is the Son of God and the very heart of Advent. He is the source of all life and the One we all yearn for, even when we don’t know it.

But J is also for Joy, which Jesus brings and which we celebrate on Gaudete Sunday, the third Sunday of Advent. It gives us joy to know that Jesus is coming to save us. St. Francis of Assisi was filled with this joy, and he spent his life spreading the Gospel and celebrating God’s creation.

K is for Kindness, which is a reflection of Christ’s love. St. Vincent de Paul modelled this kindness by spending his life serving the poor and marginalised. As Christmas approaches, we all need to be just as kind. Why?

It’s because L is for Love, which is exactly what Advent is all about. God loves each of us unconditionally, and that’s why Jesus came to live among us. He wants to tell us personally how much he loves us.

And that’s why he is coming again.

Advent, then, is the perfect time for us to reflect on our own lives: are we as kind, loving and forgiving as we need to be? Are we ready to receive Jesus when he comes?

It’s only by living lives of love that we will truly be prepared to receive Jesus, who is love itself.

(Next week we will explore Advent through the letters M – Z.)

The Pearl of York

(Dan.7:13-14; Rev.1:5-8; Jn.18:33b-37)

On the last Sunday of each liturgical year, we celebrate the Feast of Christ the King. This is the day we’re reminded that Jesus Christ is our ultimate leader, for he reigns over heaven and earth with immense wisdom and the most selfless love.

Jesus’ kingship is totally different to the rule of so many earthly leaders, who too often are cruel and only interested in themselves. Take Henry VIII, for example. He was desperate for money and a divorce from Catherine of Aragon. He grabbed these things by ruthlessly trying to destroy the Catholic Church and installing himself as head of the Church of England.

Twenty years later, in 1556 and during the reign of Henry’s daughter Queen Elizabeth I, Margaret Middleton was born in the City of York. She grew to detest the persecution of Catholics and the laws enforcing attendance at Anglican church services.

When she was 18, Margaret married John Clitherow, a wealthy butcher twice her age, and together they ran his shop. Three years later, and with her husband’s blessing, she secretly became a Catholic.

Margaret raised their children as Catholics, and often sheltered priests in their home. She encouraged them to say Mass there, and later she sent her first child, Henry, to the Catholic college at Douai in France.

But people started to ask questions, and in 1577 she was gaoled for almost a year for refusing to attend Anglican services. While in prison, she gave birth to her third child and she taught herself to read and write, so that she could teach her children the faith.

Margaret was often in trouble, but her husband always paid her fines. And then in 1586, the sheriff and his men raided their home and found children being taught the Catholic faith. They threatened one boy with torture, forcing him to reveal the location of the secret ‘priest-hole,’ and again Margaret was arrested.

This time she knew the penalty was death, but she wanted to protect her family, so she refused to plead her guilt or innocence. ‘No, no, Mr. Sheriff, I die for the love of my Lord Jesu,’ she said. ‘I know of no offense whereof I should confess myself guilty. Having made no offense, I need no trial.’

But four days later, she was formally charged with having sheltered priests and attending Mass. Once again she refused to enter a plea, and when she was sentenced to death, she exclaimed, ‘God be thanked, I am not worthy of so good a death as this.’

After sentencing, she had her shoes sent to her daughter Anne as a reminder to follow in her faithful footsteps.

On Good Friday in 1586, Margaret was stripped naked and a handkerchief was tied over her face. Like Jesus on the Cross, her arms were stretched out wide and tied to stakes, and her own door was placed on top of her. Her executioners then crushed her with some 700 pounds of rocks.

‘Jesu! Jesu! Jesu! Have mercy on me!’ she cried out.

Fifteen minutes later Margaret Clitherow was dead. She was only 33 years old, and pregnant with her fourth child. She was buried near a dunghill, and today her right hand is preserved at St. Mary’s Convent in York.

Every martyrdom has its fruits.

Margaret would have been pleased to learn that her children Henry and William became priests, and Anne became a nun. And she would have been humbled to discover that in 1970, Pope St Paul VI canonised her among the Forty Martyrs of England and Wales.

Today, St Margaret Clitherow is the patron saint of converts, martyrs and the Catholic Women’s League.

If ever you visit that oddly-shaped street known as The Shambles in York, go to number 35. On the wall outside is a green plaque which reads, ‘The Shrine of St Margaret Clitherow.’ This was her home, and today it serves as a chapel. The priest-hole is still there, near the fireplace.

The English poet-priest Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-89) was deeply moved by Margaret’s story, and wrote a poem about her. In it, he condemns the deceitful authorities who tried to talk her out of her faith:

‘Fawning fawning crocodiles
Days and days came round about
With tears to put her candle out;
They wound their winch of wicked smiles
To take her; while their tongues would go
God lighten your dark heart – but no,
Christ lived in Margaret Clitheroe.’ [i]

St Margaret’s faith in Jesus Christ was unbreakable, even in the face of the most brutal persecution. That’s why today she is known as ‘The Pearl of York.’

May she inspire us all.

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[i] https://catholicism.org/the-poets-eye-gerard-manley-hopkins-margaret-clitheroe.html

Last Will and Testament

(Dan.12:1-3; Heb.10:11-14; Mk.13:24-32)

When they realise that their days are numbered, most people like to ensure that their affairs are in order. This usually includes preparing a last will and testament.

It makes life so much easier for those they leave behind.

William Shakespeare did this. He left most of his property to his daughters, and to his wife he surprisingly left his second-best bed. [i]

In the Scriptures, too, several important figures gather their family or followers together in their last days, to give them their final testaments.

Jacob, for example, calls his twelve sons together to give each a blessing, and then he announces that Judah will next be ruling the family (Gen.49:1-28). In Deuteronomy 31-32, Moses knows he’s dying. He gathers the Israelites together, he sings God’s praises and encourages them all to stand firm in the faith, and he announces that Joshua will succeed him.

And in Mark’s Gospel today, Jesus knows his days are numbered. So, he calls his disciples together to give them one last teaching on what is to come.

Jesus warns them (and us) that the world as we know it will not last. But before it ends, there will be a period of terror, persecution and great distress. People will be betrayed, and there will be wars, earthquakes and famines. (See also Mt.24, Lk.21). The prophet Daniel describes some of this in our first reading today.

In these end-times, there will be cosmic upheavals, too – the sun will be darkened, the moon will fade, and stars will fall from the sky.

All this sounds quite frightening, but Jesus then adds a note of hope by promising to return, like a good shepherd, to gather the elect into one community, who will then live in peace. This parousia, Christ’s second coming, will mark the beginning of ‘a new heaven and a new earth’ (Rev.21:1), and the fulfilment of God’s plans for us.

But who are the elect? They are Jesus’ disciples, scattered across the globe. They are the people of God who lived their lives in faith, hope and love, and who tried to nurture some peace, justice and beauty in the world.

And when might all this happen? Jesus says that not even he knows, so don’t waste time trying to predict it. However, it’s important that we prepare ourselves.

How? By reading the signs. By learning to distinguish between what is of God and therefore essential, and what is merely fashionable and worldly. Some of these signs will be obvious, while others will be more subtle, like the sprouting leaves of a fig tree.

By mentioning the fig tree, Jesus is alluding to his famous parable in which a barren tree is given a second chance to bear fruit (Lk.13:6-9). Here, he’s making the point that we, too, need to be fruitful, for God is on his way. Are our hearts full of love, and are we truly ready to receive him?

Our challenge is not to predict the end of the world, but to start getting our lives in order. And in doing this, we need to remember that God knows us better than we know ourselves (Lk.12:7), so there’s no point trying to pretend. We must try to follow the Gospel, and live as though these days are our last.

Jesus’ last testament does not read like a legal document; it sounds more like apocalyptic poetry. But the things he is saying are no less important: you cannot put your faith in the powers of this world to give you the peace and security you need for the future. The world is going to end one day, and it’s important that we prepare ourselves.

Not long before my dear mother died, she gave me a little envelope with a handwritten note inside. It was a personal and loving farewell that included a little card, on which she had written out the beautiful little prayer known as ‘St Teresa’s Bookmark.’

St Teresa of Avila always kept this with her in her prayer book. It was found after her death in 1582.

These are good words to remember as we try to get our lives in order:

Let nothing disturb you,
Let nothing frighten you
All things are passing,
God never changes.
Patience obtains all things,
All that it strives for.
He who has God
Finds he lacks nothing.
God alone suffices.

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[i] https://www.shakespeare.org.uk/explore-shakespeare/shakespedia/william-shakespeare/second-best-bed/

A Generous Heart

(1 Kgs.17:10-16; Heb.9:24-28; Mk.12:38-44)

All over Italy, there’s a well-loved tradition known as La Passeggiata.

At certain hours after work and on weekends, people of all ages go out for a casual stroll around their local area. This is a great time for people-watching, so they tend to dress up – fare bella figura. It’s also an important time for talking, laughing and building community.

But sometimes, if you look, you’ll see un uomo che si pavoneggia – a well-dressed man strutting about like a peacock. He’s not much interested in building community; he’s trying to draw attention to himself.

There are people like this in every society.

They’re even in Mark’s Gospel today, and Jesus warns us about them. They’re the Temple scribes, who love to strut about in fine clothes, parading their wealth and importance. They like being seen and admired for their success.

But Mark then contrasts this life of pride and selfishness with the story of a poor widow. She quietly donates two tiny copper coins to the Temple, a sum that’s barely enough to buy two sparrows (Mt.10:29).

It’s not much, but Jesus says her gift is the greatest of all because she’s given all she had. This is a real sacrifice, compared to the wealthy who only give from their abundance.

This widow’s tale is the final story from Jesus’ public ministry in Mark’s Gospel, before he begins his passion. It’s significant, because it summarises what Jesus has been trying to teach us about discipleship.

This widow represents Christ himself, because soon afterwards Jesus does the same thing. He gives up everything has – even his life – for the people he loves: you and me.

This widow is an icon of Christ, a living image of Jesus himself. And her two coins represent his two greatest commandments: to love God and to love each other, with all our hearts, souls and minds. This is the challenge Jesus has set for all of us.

But can we do that? Can we let go of our worldly attachments, and turn our hearts, souls and minds towards God and our neighbours?

Someone once said that if we want God’s kingdom to come, then we need to let go of our own personal kingdoms.  

Let me tell you of three people who did just that.

The first is Dolores Hart, an aspiring Hollywood actress who was raised by her grandparents. Her grandfather, a film projectionist, had spurred her love for the movies. In the 1950s, she found herself acting with several famous stars, including Elvis Presley (in Loving You and King Creole).

In 1961, she was a nun in Francis of Assisi, and in 1962 she starred in Lisa, as a Jewish woman who has a spiritual awakening during WWII. This started her thinking, and soon afterwards she gave it all away to become a nun.

Since then, she has dedicated her life to prayer and service, and helping young people to find their vocation in Christ through the medium of the theatre.

The second is Kevin Fagan, an Australian doctor who became a prisoner-of-war at the fall of Singapore in 1942. He was imprisoned first at Changi, and then on the infamous Thai-Burma Railway. His selflessness, courage and endurance became legendary.

To the best of his ability, and in the most appalling conditions, he treated anyone who needed help. He carried men who fell, and he carried the kit of those in danger of falling.

He marched up and down the length of the column as it moved – meaning that if everyone else marched 100 miles in the jungle, he marched 200. And at night when everyone collapsed and slept, he was there to clean ulcers, set bones and give first aid to anyone in need. But his biggest challenge was controlling a severe epidemic of cholera among the men.

And he did all this with the humour of someone who wasn’t tired at all. [i]

The third person is Laura, a simple woman who has served for years as the sacristan at a local parish church. She is only a pensioner, but for years she has given all she can to ensure that her local church has everything it needs for daily Mass – including flowers, altar wine, breads and freshly starched altar linens. She has dedicated her life to this work.

Laura has a generous heart, just like the poor widow in today’s Gospel. She has no interest in preening her appearance or drawing attention to herself. She simply wants to help Jesus.

What can you do that would make a difference?

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[i] Braddon, Russell, The Naked Island, Atheneum Books, NY, 1982.