On the Second Day of Christmas

When they heard this, they were infuriated, and they ground their teeth at (Stephen). But he, filled with the Holy Spirit, looked up intently to heaven and saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God, and he said, “Behold, I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God.” But they cried out in a loud voice, covered their ears, and rushed upon him together. They threw him out of the city, and began to stone him. The witnesses laid down their cloaks at the feet of a young man named Saul. As they were stoning Stephen, he called out “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” Then he fell to his knees and cried out in a loud voice, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them”; and when he said this, he fell asleep.

-Acts 7:54-60

First, welcome to the octave of Christmas! Keep celebrating, keep singing, and keep saying, "Merry Christmas!" 

Second, as we celebrate the feast of St. Stephen today, the first martyr, the Church reminds us, in somewhat shocking fashion, of the cost of discipleship. Amidst the silent, holy nights, silver bells, chestnuts, sleigh rides and jingle bells, we hear that following this babe wrapped in swaddling clothes demands our lives. 

Discipleship requires discipline and discipline requires sacrifice. Most of us will not be asked to lay down our lives for our faith in Jesus Christ; but discipleship entails humility. To truly give glory to this new born King, we must be willing to follow Him. 

We can't just meet Him away in the manager, see Him at the wedding at Cana, hear about His deeds of multiplying food, walking on water, curing people, and bringing people back from the dead, and finally go visit the empty tomb and call ourselves disciples. 

We must walk in His footsteps: into the desert, along the Via Dolorosa, and to the Cross. 

We must continually follow His way, learn about His truth, and participate in His life. 

This isn't meant to break up the Christmas party, though I have been told more than once in my life that I'm too serious. Remember, Christmas is an octave after all. And, hearing this story of St. Stephen shouldn't be something that we block out because it doesn't quite fit with the holiday cheer. 

In fact, as believers in Jesus Christ, this second day of Christmas should be encouragement for our journey. 

It should fill us with hope that this Christ whom shepherds guard and angels sing is who He was foretold to be, who He says He is, and who He proved Himself to be. 

He came to conquer sin and death. He came to show us the way, teach us the truth, and give us new life.  He came so that we might have life and have it more abundantly (John 10:10). The more that we can submit ourselves to His burden and yoke, the more that we might come to see that nothing - not even death - can take away the victory that Christ won for us. We should take heart that like St. Stephen, as disciples we might also see the glory of God during the darkest trials of our lives. 

On this, the second day of Christmas, may our true love, Jesus Christ, give to us the faith, hope, and love of St. Stephen to give our lives, completely, to Christ.

Merry Christmas!

The Point

"And the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us, and we saw his glory, the glory as of the Father’s only Son, full of grace and truth."

-John 1:14

At a certain point in time God became incarnate. The second person of the Trinity was born in a particular place, Bethlehem of Judea. 

This specific point in both history and on the earth changed the world. 

From the moment that God sanctified our humanity by becoming one of us in all ways except sin in the person of Jesus Christ, He created a ripple that has emanated out in an attempt to have a relationship with each and every one of us. 

From this point in time - the first Christmas - and space - the manager - and matter - baby Jesus, there has been a wave rolling outward in all directions and at all times hoping to encounter you and me and everyone. 

This is the essence of the name of the Catholic Church. The word "catholic" is often defined as universal. Universal, though, might not be the best way to consider why our Church bears the name Catholic and how to claim that Jesus established this one, holy, catholic and apostolic church. 

Universal comes from two Latin words unum meaning “one” and vertere meaning “turn”. In this way, consider a compass that you used in geometry class to make a circle. From a certain point, the other arm of the compass encircles it: one turn. 

The problem with this, though, is that no matter where the line ends up, when you make the one turn there will undoubtedly be people outside of it. Christ came for all, not those fortunate enough to be on the inside of the line. 

Instead, if we look at the Greek word, katholikos, we see that the words kata meaning “throughout” and holos meaning “whole” give us a different idea of the point of Christmas. 

Instead of the compass that draws a line, katholikos offers the image of a drop at a certain point in a body of water. Ripples will emanate outward in all directions. 

If we consider the point in time, space, and matter that is Jesus Christ, we might be able to visualize a drop big enough, powerful enough, magnificent enough to continue to extend outward, infinitely and everywhere. 

To you. To me. To everyone. 

May this Christmas be another point in time that will emanate outward throughout the whole of time, space, and matter. 

Go, tell it on the mountain, over the hills, up on the rooftops, around the Christmas tree, on the city sidewalks, and in winter wonderlands, and everywhere that Jesus Christ is born. 

That is the point of Christmas. 

Grace

"...I believe it's necessary to recognize that we all need mercy, we all need justice, and - perhaps - we all need some measure of unmerited grace.”

-Bryan Stevenson, Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption

This evening I talked to my kids about unmerited grace. Admittedly, I am no expert on the topic, just a recipient and beneficiary of it. Grace is one of those words that I have heard and used probably thousands of times, yet a word that escapes my ability to succinctly and successfully define. 

What was probably just a cover for a weakness in my parenting, my kids still got a previously promised ice cream treat despite less than ideal behavior prior to bed. We had had a great day as a family, yet the final hour was fraught with arguments and fights. My wife's and my initial instinct was just to send them off to bed ice-cream-less. Instead, we tried to make a connection to Christmas. 

We give gifts, generously, to imitate the abundant, radical, and reckless generosity of our God giving the world His only Son. 

"For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn* the world, but that the world might be saved through him" (John 3:16-17). 

As a way to imitate this divine grace, we let them have ice cream. 

We did nothing to deserve the gift of Jesus. In a sense, there is nothing that could merit such a gift. No action, no word, no deed, nothing could justify God's grace in sending us Jesus to show us the way, teach us the truth, and bring us to life in abundance. 

Christmas is unmerited grace. 

And so, perhaps one of the best explanations of grace I can think of is simply: favor. 

This favor might come in the form of unconditional love. This idea of grace might be forgiveness. It could come through healing. We might experience it as hope. It could be a spark of life, a flicker of light, in the midst of darkness. 

Maybe sometimes it comes in the form of ice cream or in the form of being forgiven for a bad move as a parent. 

As Bryan Stevenson said in a speech to at the United States Senate Hearing on the Death Penalty in 1993, "(W)e all need mercy, we all need justice, and - perhaps - we all need some measure of unmerited grace.”

This Christmas, during a year where we could all use an extra measure of it, may we all recognize that we have received an overwhelming amount of unmerited grace, and in recognizing it, may we have the grace to give it away. 

Because, grace wins. 

Stars in the Night

Yesterday evening my family and I went outside in hopes of seeing the Christmas star. 

The last time it happened was 800 years ago. It may have also been the star that the Magi followed in search of the Christ child. 

It was cloudy. 

While we will go back out today, tomorrow, and the next day and the day after that, too, if need be, in hopes of seeing it, winter in the Midwest is famous for its perma-cloud. Chances are good that this celestial event will pass without the Zelenkas witnessing it. 

But, knowing that there is a potential explanation for the star that the Magi tracked, even if I can't experience it for myself, is yet another hint of how incredibly awesome our God is. 

In August the past few years, we have either camped out or woken up in the middle of the night to watch the Perseid meteor shower. Most of what we observed was nothing more than a slow moving, faint dot. But, seeing even just one bright, streaky flash is yet another reminder of just how great our God is. 

These types of events evoke wonder, awe, and mystery. They are visible signs of our invisible God. 

Yet, these rare night sky events shouldn't be the only thing that inspires this type of curiosity. The sun rises every morning. Our earth is perhaps the perfect distance away from the sun: a bit closer or farther away and we'd be either too hot or too cold. God orchestrated things like oranges, apples, bananas and other hand-held, portion-sized, protected, nutritious, delicious food that would help nourish us. A hug can flood us with oxytocin, bringing calm, security, and a deeper connection to a loved one. A mother carries, grows, and brings into the world another human being. 

Stars and the moon provide light in the darkness, even on a cloudy evening. 

There are countless reasons, even just in ordinary times, for us to be amazed at the creativity of our God. 

And, He loved us so much that He became one of us. 

A Christmas star highlighted the first Christmas. It was a sign of the presence of God in our world. 

Don't let the clouds or the darkness keep you from seeing the countless stars in the night lighting the way to God this Christmas. 

A Voice in the Desert

During my senior year of high school, after losing in the first round of the double elimination sectional tournament for wrestling, the head coach, Ron Alexander, took me out into the hallway outside the gym and laid into me.  

I don't remember what he said outside of that he was disappointed in me and my effort. For the first time in my short two season wrestling career, I was seeded in the tournament and therefore expected to advance to districts. Instead, I lost in the first round to someone who should not have beaten me. Coach Al, as he was affectionately known, had up until this point only ever encouraged me, supported me, and affirmed me. This was the first time he expressed disappointment in me. It was the first time that he ever yelled, let alone yelled at me.  

As I said, I don't remember all that he said. But, I remember that I felt awful. 

I also remember that he believed that I should have won that match, even if I didn't. 

Entering the "loser's bracket", I won the rest of my matches that day, claiming third place - higher than I had been seeded - and advancing to the district tournament. 

I have been blessed to have had a handful of other such conversations throughout my life. I have been blessed to have had a handful of other voices crying out in the various deserts I have traversed.

Advent is a time to listen to the voices, like Coach Alexander's, of those crying out to us to repent, reform,  start again, and prepare the way of the Lord.  

We were made for more. 

Listen up. 

 

Rescued

This evening my family and I went for a drive through a local neighborhood here in South Bend where just about the entire community decorates their houses for Christmas. 

A few things jumped out at me. First, the number of angels that were on display this year in comparison to years past. The word "JOY" also seemed to be more prominent than what I remember. 

But, the thing that stood out to me more than anything was a homemade sign that read:

Rescued.

Thank you, Jesus!

There was something about this language that struck me. Whereas I have heard this verb associated with Jesus before, and it is the name and part of the chorus of a song by perhaps my favorite musical group, Rend Collective (see below), seeing it in the context of lights and Santas and reindeer and Frosty and Nativity scenes framed the act of God sending His only Son in the person of Jesus Christ in a way that resonated with me deeply. 

Titles like Lord and Savior are particular to Jesus in my life. Even King carries no other meaning to me outside of how Jesus occupies that throne. And, in this way, my only real association with it is in an abstract way through my faith. 

I don't experience or connect with real sovereignty. 

But, when I consider the act of rescuing, I can put myself in the context of an emergency situation. I can imagine myself or a loved one or even a complete stranger in danger, or hurt, or in need of immediate assistance, and those who would carry out the act of rescuing. From first responders to the military to nurses and doctors to lifeguards and good Samaritans, there are, thankfully, countless rescuers who come to the aid of others selflessly, quickly, and heroically. 

So, I can put myself in the role of the one in need of rescuing. And, Jesus can easily assume the part of my rescuer. 

Rescued. Thank you, Jesus. 

Rescued from sin. From death. From hopelessness. From despair. From fear. From doubt. From myself. 

There are two main takeaways: 

1. I am in need of being rescued. 
2. Jesus is at the ready to rescue me. 

This Christmas, we will hear these words of the prophet Isaiah: "For a child is born to us, a son is given to us; upon his shoulder dominion rests. They name him Wonder-Counselor, God-Hero, Father-Forever, Prince of Peace" (9:5).

In my mind and heart, I will also be adding "Rescuer" to this list, because I, too, have been:

Rescued.

Thank you, Jesus!

Light a Candle in the Dark

At the conclusion of the celebration of the Eucharist for the Alliance for Catholic Education's faculty and staff today, Fr. Lou Delfra, C.S.C. offered the following words of encouragement: 

It is an act of faith and hope to join Mass via Zoom. You are lighting candles in the dark.

I get that we are not meant to celebrate Mass on a screen. This is not how it is supposed to be. Masses via Zoom, or social media, or television, from the comforts of my own home, isolated and separated from the other icons on the screen representing real people, muted so that only my family and my basement walls can hear me, it would be easy to just ditch the whole enterprise. 

Like a store-bought cupcake or microwave popcorn - they are never as good as the homemade versions and they leave a film in your mouth in their wake - it might be easier to think that it would be better to fast from Mass until we can return to normal.    

But, it is an act of faith and hope to join Mass via Zoom. 

It is like lighting a candle in the dark. 

I have been fortunate enough to return to in-person Mass a few times since the pandemic began. I will say that even that might cause some people to throw in the towel. There's music but you can't sing... 

Okay, that one isn't much different in many Catholic churches. Now people just have an excuse. But, for me, that is huge. I remember the first time we returned to in-person church this fall, I caught myself a few times singing along out of habit. During those songs that I was able to abstain, my heart ached to sing. 

No exchange of peace. Communion only under one species. Wearing masks. 

But, it is an act of faith and hope to join Mass during a pandemic and to put up with the various restrictions for the health and safety of the entire community. 

It is like lighting a candle in the dark. 

May we have the courage, hope, and faith to keep lighting them. May our efforts to participate in Mass virtually, to show up in person and endure the restrictions, fill this dark world with the light of Christ. 

Every time you read the Bible, every time you perform an act of mercy, every time you sacrifice for the sake of another, every time you offer kindness when a different response may be both merited and desired, every time you stand up for those who cannot do so, speak for those with no voice, and advocate for those with no one to champion them, you are lighting a candle in the darkness. 

During the prayer after Communion from Mass today, Fr. Lou prayed the following words: 

May these mysteries, O Lord, in which we have participated, profit us, we pray, for even now, as we walk amid passing things, you teach us by them to love the things of heaven and hold fast to what endures.

As long as we have to and by whatever means available to us, may we hold fast to what endures. May we continue to attend Zoom Mass, or watch via social media, or television, or show up to a modified version in person. 

Jesus is teaching us, even amid the passing things of this world, to love the things of heaven. 

Let us keep lighting the candles of faith and hope amid the darkness so that we can see Him who is the way, the truth, and the life. 

Let 'em shine.