Sermons
The meal at the house of Jesuit students was coming to an end. We had invited the parents and young sister of Gerry, one of our companions, for evening meal with us. Gerry’s sister Molly (a person with Downs Syndrome) was bored with the conversation. But she noticed what was happening. It was time for coffee. Two young students left the table and went to the kitchen. They were there for what seemed a long time. As everyone was waiting patiently for the coffee, young Molly piped up, in a loud voice: ‘I think they’ve run out of sugar’. And her da replied naturally, giving a glance at the table, ‘Molly you’re right – they don’t have any sugar!’
Like the students in that house, we too experience shortages of what’s vital to us, from time to time. When someone we love dies, we might wonder, how will I ever be able to continue? And similarly, when a key relationship in our life breaks down. Or when unemployment or sickness shatters our hopes and plans, and leave us flattened. Like the family hosting the wedding when the wine ran out, we can feel powerless, dejected, without any energy to go forward.
At the wedding feast, when the wine ran out, Jesus changed the water into wine. This is good news for us today. God’s graciousness towards us is at work. Jesus’ name is Emmanuel – God with us. God is on our side. Precisely in our loss, in our need, when the battery runs out, Jesus may enter and bring new life, like those large water containers at the wedding feast, filled to the brim, almost overflowing. We think of another picture Jesus used – the sack or big bag of grain, filled so generously that the grain is spilling over. The big water containers filled with fine wine show us that God is a generous giver.
However, Jesus does not work alone. In some way he needs our cooperation. In the noisy crowd at the wedding, it was his mother Mary who noticed the embarrassing situation. It was Mary who gently nudged her son, and whispered, ‘They have no wine’. Just like Mary, we too remind Jesus of people who are in need. We pray for them. We hold them before the Lord, and we ask Him to help them, to guide them, to protect them. We all pray for those dear to us, and those we know. Parents and grandparents pray for children (at whatever stage in life) and for grandchildren. Their prayers are valuable. Like Mary, we tell Jesus of their need. And at Mass and other occasions, we pray for whole categories of people in especial need – prisoners, the homeless, those who flee violence and poverty in their homelands with the hope of a better life elsewhere.
Mary in her turn gets the banqueting staff involved. ‘Do whatever he tells you’, she says to the waiters. So it’s not just Jesus and Mary who are responding to the wine drama. The waiters, men and women doing an ordinary job, are part of God’s generous engagement with this situation of need. Their efforts too contribute to the miracle of transformation. Jesus invites us to trust that our humble efforts at being faithful, at being loyal, at serving people in ordinary ways, are being transformed into something pleasing to God. When we live and think and act out of patience with others (and ourselves!), out of service and forgiveness, then we believe that we too are contributing to how God’s plan is unfolding.
At the start of exploration in space about 1960, then US president Kennedy visited the space station, and met the high-tech engineers. As the president was leaving the building, he spotted the cleaner, mopping the floor. ‘And what are you doing?’, quipped the president. ‘ I’m helping to put a man on the moon’, the cleaner replied. In God’s plan, each person’s contribution is important. Let’s not undervalue what God might be doing through us – our word of encouragement to child or adult, a smile of welcome, our desire to find the right word, or indeed a hospitable silence, when faced with an upset colleague or family member.
‘Do what he tells you’, Mary says to the banquet staff. Deep down, we want to align our hopes and desires with those the Lord has for us. For us to be able to hear the Lord, we need to give him space – some of our time, and our desire to focus on him by switching off what might distract us, like the ping from the mobile fone. We call this disposition, prayer. We make a space in our day or week where He can reach us perhaps more clearly. God is always communicating to us through the events of our day. The radio waves are always there. But prayer is like adjusting a radio, so that we can hear the station more clearly, with less distraction. Like Mary, we tell him of people who are running short of what they need; those people include ourselves when we are in a spot of bother. We ask His help, and some small indication of what we are to do. We trust that He will indicate some small step that we can take, here and now.
The prayer of Teresa of Avila comes to mind:
‘Christ has no body now but yours. No hands, no feet on earth but yours. Yours are the eyes through which he looks compassion on this world. Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good. Yours are the hands through which he blesses all the world. Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, yours are the eyes, you are his body. Christ has no body now on earth but yours.’
We take heart from the Lord’s overflowing generosity to us. We ask for the grace to co-operate with Him in responding to His plan.
Brian Mac Cuarta SJ
Is this night different from other nights? Tonight, is there something different?
Or is it business as usual?
Refugees freeze at the border - Soldiers march on another border - In crowded intensive care units, people grapple with death - A child will be born somewhere in the wilderness.
Nothing is different tonight.
But look at how many people are connected to each other tonight!
Emperor Augustus and his governor Quirinius ...
Mary and Joseph with their first child, just born ...
King David, great, great, great, grandfather ...
Shepherds and ...Angels (well – angels are not human beings, I know).
And since we are still missing in the queue, we join them.
We come as spectators, pilgrims and strangers - curious, disappointed and people full of hope.
Then we set up the crib - with the characters who have been waiting for so long to be there again.
Magical landscapes are created. Or barren deserts. Or an apartment building. Or a refugee camp. Or a prison. Or a bombed city.
Right in the middle - the crib.
Sometimes you have to look for the crib - it seems lost.
Or maybe it's just hidden so that we can find it.
Tonight, something is emerging.
The night belongs to Christmas.
Silent Night Holy Night. All is calm, all is bright,
There are many stories about the cold, and about icy nights.
And many stories are about hearts of ice.
In the Gospel, Luke does not talk about a night.
Strangely enough, Luke only reports that the glory, the splendor of God comes to earth.
But someone else long before Luke had laid the trail into the night.
Isaiah - the prophet of Israel:
The people that walked in darkness has seen a great light; on those who live in a land of deep shadow a light has shone.
Darkness is more than just night. The stars are missing. The moon is missing.
Darkness is the world in the dark - people's lives are lost.
Darkness is waiting without a glimmer of light - night is without day.
Darkness is death - it haunts and hides between every line.
Amazed and astounded, we hear the angels singing their praises.
Is there anything left to singabout? And is there something left to be joyful?
When God comes, the sky becomes bright and the earth becomes beautiful with splendor.
For there is a child born for us, a son given to us and dominion is laid on his shoulders; and this is the name they give him: Wonder-Counsellor, Mighty-God, Eternal-Father, Prince-of-Peace.
Yes, there is something to be seen tonight?
A child saw the light of day – just now. A little note in the gospel. Not more.
The child doesn't have a name either.
We have to wait a little longer.
The story is only about a child. About one child among many.
Nothing special. Nothing sacred.
If it weren't for the angels, If it weren't for the words, If it weren't for the shine - we wouldn't know anything.
We wouldn't know anything about God either.
But we are to see the diapers - and the crib. We are to smell the straw – straw smells like summer:
Mary wrapped the child in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger because there was no room for them at the inn.
Just like that: Mary put the child in a crib.
A child dreams. You can watch the child do it. Hour after hour.
You can't get enough of it. A child begins - with the first small steps.
It doesn't have a past yet. Future only. A child grows. It grows into life.
It is conquering the world.
There was no space in the hostel! What if there is no more space in the world?
No place for people? No place for a child?
This night makes things in the world different.
We celebrate that God himself becomes one of us humans.
God is leaving the throne we wanted to ban him to - far away from us!
God doesn't just become human - he becomes a child.
God dreams. God grows. The angels come to him.
They sing to God the song of his honor.
They sing to us the song of peace.
Listen to Isaiah:
Wide is his dominion in a peace that has no end, for the throne of David and for his royal power, which he establishes and makes secure in justice and integrity.
From this time onwards and for ever.
What the masters of this world mess up is sung anew in heaven:
a child carries the world.
Love is almighty – only love.
Love just starts small, it doesn't need a past - just a future.
Sometimes love is all defiant - it always grants closeness – love conquered the world.
It's all very different tonight.
If we look for God, we will find him in a manger.
If we long for God, he leads us to people.
If we love God, justice and equity will grow among us.
Everything will be very different tonight.
In my head, in my heart, in my world.
I'll be different tonight.
And the peace of God, which makes the nights bright, gives clarity to our lives.
In Christ Jesus our Lord.
Wolfgang Felber SJ
Lord our God,
we praise you for your Son, Jesus Christ:
he is Emmanuel, the hope of the peoples,
he is the wisdom that teaches and guides us,
he is the Savior of every nation.
Lord God,
let your blessing come upon us
as we light the candles of this wreath.
May the wreath and its light
be a sign of Christ’s promise to bring us salvation.
May he come quickly and not delay.
We ask this through Christ our Lord.
R/. Amen.
The blessing may conclude with a verse from
“O Come, O Come, Emmanuel”:
O come, desire of nations, bind
in one the hearts of humankind;
bid ev’ry sad division cease
and be thyself our Prince of peace.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
shall come to thee, O Israel.