A NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION

A SERMON FOR THE SUNDAY WITHIN THE CHRISTMAS OCTAVE

The last few days of 2019 are now ebbing away into history, and we have entered that strange limbo between last year and the new year of 2020 when we both look back at what has been (and possibly with a tinge of regret at what should have been) and then forward to what we hope will be.  We have no control over the past—it’s over and done with, it is what it is, and we cannot change it.  The future of course, is a different story, and much, though obviously not all of it lies within our power to shape as we will.  That’s why, at the start of every year, we make New Year’s resolutions… 

Here’s a quick resolution you can keep:  every morning, spare a quick glance at least to your liturgical wall calendar.  As you know, to help us keep our sense of the Church’s spirit, the Guild of St. Peter ad Vincula has published a liturgical calendar.  It’s available still at the back of the church, and I encourage you all to buy at least one and keep it prominently displayed in your home.  It should be the family’s quick and easy reference for every day of the year, answering questions that we really ought to be asking, but alas so seldom do.  “What’s today’s feast day?” for instance, so that you can honour the saint of the day as he or she deserves.  Or why not take that daily morning look at the calendar to see if, by chance, today might be a fast day or a holyday of obligation that you’ve forgotten about?  That’s one quick and easy resolution I would encourage you to make.  But let’s go beyond the superficial, and come up with something a bit more meaningful, something that should be essential even, in your lives.  

Before we leave the subject of our calendar altogether, I wanted to mention my favorite image from the 2019 calendar, the one from December.  Perhaps you’ve seen it on your wall, but haven’t realized the significance of it.  You see, I try whenever possible to choose images that have a particular relevance to the theme of the month, or even to a particular feast day.  Our December image this year shows the ancient cathedral of Canterbury in England, its rooftops covered with the cold winter snow.  And why Canterbury?  Because of today’s feast day.  December 29^th this year falls on the Sunday after Christmas—today.  It is the feast of St. Thomas of Canterbury, otherwise known as St. Thomas à Becket, Bishop and Martyr.  He was the Archbishop of Canterbury during the reign of King Henry II, and was martyred inside Canterbury Cathedral on this very day in the year 1170.

Rather than take up our precious time here this morning, I’ve included the story of St. Thomas Becket more fully in today’s Bulletin.  If you haven’t read it yet, please take the time at some point today to get to know a little more about him, and particularly the way he died.  I think it might help us have the right spirit when we make our New Year’s resolutions in time for Tuesday night.  We try so hard to think up things we want to do—stop smoking, lose weight, not spend so much money online, be more obedient to our parents, and so on.  But there’s one resolution and only one that makes any real, spiritual sense for us.  It is this resolution above all others that I’d like to encourage you to make this New Year’s Eve, and commit to it with all your heart and soul.   It is simply this—to follow the example of St. Thomas Becket and place God above all, giving the highest priority in our lives not to our friends, our employers, not even our family and their needs, but to God and our duties and obligations we owe him alone.  If we do this, we’ll find that all those other things we want for ourselves, all those things that have some natural importance in our lives, will fall into place. 

If you make this resolution and really commit to it, don’t be afraid of the consequences.  And yes, you may find that by doing so you’ll encounter a few unintended, perhaps even unwanted effects in your personal life.  But don’t worry about that—you can be sure that if you make God First at all times, it’s a resolution you will not live to regret, especially as you approach your last days on earth.  Look at our saint today, St. Thomas Becket, for example.  By maintaining supreme allegiance to the Creator, he could no longer tolerate the anti-religious behavior of the King, and that, of course, spelled trouble for Thomas.  But what of that?  A violent death, yes, but a glorious death—martyrdom, in fact—and an eternity of triumphant joy in heaven.  Was that terrible death in the cathedral such a hard price to pay for this, his ultimate reward?

So whatever the consequences, remember that everything does eventually fall into place.  And if something falls into a place that you don’t like, remember that it’s a place that God wants it to be in, even if we don’t.  Let’s take just one example.  And it is just one, but it’s very common today and I doubt there are many parents here who haven’t encountered it in their own lives.  Here’s the deal—when it calls for a little tough love with your teenage kids, remind yourself that their little acts of rebellion against you are really just a part of their battle between them and their own fallen nature, rather than against you, and even less so against their God.  It’s part of growing up.  That’s why it’s so common and exists in almost every family.  Your job is to provide the firm hand they need to help them get past these little battles and temptations.  Your job is to get them to heaven.  But if you give in to their sloth, their lack of faith, their refusal to go to Mass on Sunday, their sinful lifestyle, or whatever it might be, you’re not going to help them get to heaven.  Yielding to their whims isn’t going to help you either—your prime duty as a parent is make sure as best you can that they do get to heaven.  So simply, quietly, but firmly and with true charity, remind them that as long as they live under your roof they must obey your rules.  And of course, make sure your rules are based on the Ten Commandments, so that by obeying you, they’re obeying God.  Once they’re eighteen and they flex their muscles of independence, it’s even easier for you—“You don’t want to obey the rules of the house, well, there’s the door!”  You may feel guilty, you may feel uncharitable, but actually, you are performing your duty to God.  Remember St. Thomas Becket, and ask yourself why on earth you would give priority to a rebellious teenager over the great High God!

Kids aren’t really bad, for the most part.  They’re simply growing up as God intended them to, becoming more and more independent, as they need to be in life.  All the more reason why you must instill in them the rock-solid belief that independence doesn’t mean “doing whatever they want.”  That’s the devil’s code, as we all know, and their free will must be grounded on loving God first and above all, in other words, on keeping the commandments.

Like I said, this is just one example, but it’s one you can apply anywhere—to the workplace and the relationship between employer and employee, to school and the relationship between teachers and students, even to friends whose lifestyle is so sinful that perhaps you can’t attend their wedding, or visit their homes.  All of this is called “tough love.”    It’s the “God First” principle in action.  And it’s one I’d like you to consider adopting and committing to, as we venture into the New Year.  

This tough love may be a big step forward in your spiritual life.  Just remember that no matter how tough it might be, it is at the same time truly Love.  When they prepared St. Thomas Becket’s body for burial, they found that he was wearing a hairshirt under his episcopal garments.  His love for God was such that he applied this tough love even on himself.  And that, of course, is the ultimate tough love, which eventually we too must apply to our own life.  We should dwell on that hairshirt, that nasty, itchy, scratchy, but voluntary penance that was always rubbing against his skin.  It’s a little-known fact about Saint Thomas Becket, and yet it says it all.  Let’s pray that the light of Christ illuminate the darkness of our ill-conceived tolerance not only of the faults of others, but especially of our own.  Let us be enlightened by a sense of horror at how far we really are from being holy, and by a renewed fire within us to spend the future trying to catch up.  By the time this sermon is over, the future will have begun, so let’s waste no more time.  You want to make a New Year’s Resolution?  Here you have it.  Go forth and make the year 2020 the holiest of your life so far.  Put God First. 

A MEDDLESOME PRIEST

A MESSAGE FOR THE FEAST OF ST. THOMAS BECKET

Today’s Sunday within the Christmas Octave this year falls on the feast of St. Thomas, the Archbishop of Canterbury, better known as Saint Thomas Becket, who was murdered on this day in his cathedral.  In one sense, it’s kind of a sad story, the gradual erosion of a great friendship between the English King Henry and Thomas.  In their youth they had been inseparable, together in their hunting, their feasting and even their womanizing.  We should remember, all saints were once sinners, and all sinners have the potential to become saints.  As such, we who are indeed sinners, may take our inspiration from St. Thomas of Canterbury, who ended up putting God first, and giving up his sinful life.  

King Henry, however, was less willing to give up his selfish ways.  In an effort to ensure every effort was being made to enforce the king’s sources of revenue, he decided to appoint his good friend Thomas to the post of Chancellor of England, sure that he could be relied upon to carry out his royal wishes.  Thomas thus became Chancellor in 1155, and at first continued to exact taxes from all landowners, including churches and bishoprics.  However, a few years later in 1162, Thomas was nominated and then elected Archbishop of Canterbury, perhaps a surprising development for the king, as he didn’t think he was particularly religious and wasn’t even a cleric.  However, the Church wasted no time, ordaining him a priest on June 2 and then consecrating him a bishop the very next day.  King Henry was happy at first with Thomas’s appointment to England’s primatial see of Canterbury, no doubt hoping that he would continue to put the wishes of the royal government first rather than the Church.  However, it was at this time that Thomas the sinner changed his lifestyle to that of an ascetic, a holy man who observed the evangelical counsels of poverty, chastity, and obedience.  And that meant obedience to Rome.  It had become his prime duty to protect the rights of the Church, something that would inevitably lead to conflict with his old friend, the King.

Thomas’s last days were fast approaching, thanks to a new-found commitment to his supreme duty to God.  His one-time friend, King Henry, grew more and more frustrated, and around Christmas time in the year 1170, is said to have exclaimed in the presence of some of his loyal knights, those fateful words, “Will no one rid me of this meddlesome priest?”  With this, four of his knights set off for Canterbury.

They arrived there in the late afternoon of December 29^th.  The holy Archbishop was vested in his cope and mitre, preparing to officiate at the Office of Vespers.  As he made his way to the High Altar, word came that the knights were outside the Cathedral armed to the teeth.  The other monks tried to bolt the doors of the church, but Becket said to them, "It is not right to make a fortress out of the house of prayer!" and ordered them to reopen the doors.  The four knights, with swords in their hands, ran in saying "Where is Thomas Becket, traitor to the King and country?" They found Becket in a spot near a door to the monastic cloister, and the stairs leading up into the cathedral, where the monks were chanting vespers.  Upon seeing them, Becket said, "I am no traitor and I am ready to die." One knight grabbed him and tried to pull him outside, but Becket grabbed onto a pillar and bowed his head to make peace with God.

The following is the account of eyewitness Edward Grim, who was wounded in the attack:

“The impious knight suddenly set upon him and shaved off the summit of his crown which the sacred chrism consecrated to God... Then, with another blow received on the head, he remained firm. But with the third the stricken martyr bent his knees and elbows, offering himself as a living sacrifice, saying in a low voice, "For the name of Jesus and the protection of the church I am ready to embrace death." But the third knight inflicted a grave wound on the fallen one; with this blow his crown, which was large, separated from his head so that the blood turned white from the brain yet no less did the brain turn red from the blood; it purpled the appearance of the church.  The fifth – not a knight but a cleric who had entered with the knights placed his foot on the neck of the holy priest and precious martyr and (it is horrible to say) scattered the brains with the blood across the floor, exclaiming to the rest, 'We can leave this place, knights, he will not get up again.”

Soon after, the faithful throughout Europe began venerating Becket as a saint, and on 21 February 1173—little more than two years after his death—he was canonized by Pope Alexander III.  On 12 July 1174, in the midst of the Revolt of 1173–74, Henry humbled himself with public penance at Becket's tomb, which became one of the most popular pilgrimage sites in England.

UNTO US A CHILD IS BORN

A SERMON FOR CHRISTMAS DAY

“Unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given.”  I was thinking the other day how little we know about the birth of history’s famous men.    Kings, presidents, great explorers and inventors, writers and artists, men renowned in their generation, whose names we remember and admire even today.  We may be quite familiar with their exploits and their works, and many of them are even famous for the way they died, but what do we know about the circumstances of their birth, or even their childhood?  The fact is, we usually don’t care to know or bother to remember, because quite simply, that part of their life just isn’t relevant to the deeds for which they are famous.

So why has God revealed so much about the birth of his only-begotten Son at Christmas?  Why did the evangelists St. Matthew and more especially St. Luke, record so much about the birth of Christ?  It would surely have been sufficient if the Gospels had begun with the baptism of our Lord in the River Jordan, and the start of his earthly ministry at the age of thirty.  Or would it?

God doesn’t reveal his truths to us for no reason.  And there are many, many reasons why we have been given so much information about our Blessed Lord’s birth.  We can learn so much about our Saviour from the events surrounding his nativity in Bethlehem.  We witness his poverty and humility, as he is born in a stable, and at the same time, his royalty, born the descendant of the House of King David.  We behold his divinity, declared by the herald angels, and his humanity as he is wrapped in swaddling clothes to keep him warm.  He manifests himself first to his chosen people the Jews, when the shepherds come to adore him, and then to the Gentiles, Wise Men from the east who follow the star and bring him gifts.

All these things and more we learn from the Christmas story.  The Nativity of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ in the stable at Bethlehem is a scene familiar to all Christians.  We meditate upon these events in the Third Joyful Mystery of the Rosary, and it is truly a joyful festival day unalloyed by sadness of any kind.  “Joy to the world, the Lord is come, let earth receive her King.”

For no matter how incongruous it might sound, this newborn baby was born a king.  Kings are not usually born as king.  The normal procedure is that a king and queen have a baby boy, who spends his early years as a prince until his father, the king, dies.  At that point, and at that point only, does he become king.  But in the case of our Lord Jesus Christ, his Father was the most High Almighty God, who was and is eternal and shall never die.  Thus, the Son of God was never a “king in waiting” but the living Heir, human and divine, born the King of Israel.

And so we have this apparent contrast between the idea of a high and mighty king on the one hand, a ruler and judge of his people, and this tiny newborn infant, wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger, the epitome of innocence, pure of soul and body, and so apparently indifferent to the world around him.  

God has reasons for presenting us with this paradoxical concept of an Infant King.  He is our King whom we revere and worship, our Judge whom we must fear, but at one and the same time he is a tiny baby whom we would cherish and protect and love.  Our Christmas carols provide some hints as to this mysterious contrast.  For example, in the carol “Hark, the herald angels sing, Glory to the newborn King,” we find a most meaningful and consequential line in the  third verse, where we sing “Veiled in flesh the Godhead see, hail the incarnate Deity.”  Think about those words for a moment—"Veiled in flesh the Godhead see, hail the incarnate Deity.”  It’s not just the kingship of God’s own Son hidden in the form of a little Child, it’s far more.  What we have in this little Child of Bethelehem is the Divinity itself hidden in the form of a human being.  And not just any human being, but a human in his most simple, most innocent, and most vulnerable form of all, that of a tiny baby.

The mystery of God made man, “the incarnate Deity”, is the very essence of the Christmas story.  It is the reason and purpose for which Christ was born, that he may take on human form so that he could suffer and die, while retaining his divine nature so that he could make the sufficient and infinite reparation for the sins of humanity.  God and man, it was the only possible way to reopen the gates of heaven after Adam’s Fall.  

With this in mind, we Christians should be quite open to the mystery of the Real Presence in the Blessed Sacrament.  If the Godhead can hide himself in the form of a little baby, then why not in the form of a tiny piece of unleavened bread?  Is it any more or less a miracle than the events of this wondrous day when God’s presence became visible for the first time in this world of sin?  “O Godhead hid, devoutly I adore thee.”  Adoro te devote, latens Deitas.   It’s a famous eucharistic hymn known to all of us, written by St. Thomas Aquinas for the feast of Corpus Christi.  We could equally sing it before the image of the Christ Child lying in the tabernacle of his manger.  Remember what a manger is.  It comes from the French word, manger, which means “to eat”, and it’s a trough or rack, a feeder used to contain food for the animals in the stable.  The Christ Child’s first home in this cold world was where animals take their food.

The Child who lies in the manger would grow to change water into wine at Cana, and wine into his Precious Blood at the Last Supper.  His flesh would become “food indeed,” he told his disciples, and he described himself as the Bread of Life, an unambiguous reference to the Blessed Sacrament of the Altar.  He was born in the House of Bread, which if you translate the words into Hebrew, are Beth Lehem, Bethlehem.  The manger where the animals fed was his first tabernacle, and he still dwells today in the tabernacles of our churches, his new House of Bread and our new Bethlehem, where we once again “Come to the Manger,” where all we faithful “Come and Adore Him, Christ the Lord.”  There is no essential difference between the Child in the Manger and the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Christ in the Blessed Sacrament.  They are one and the same, God divinely human.

It’s Christmas Day.  Unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given.  And this gift of a Saviour is a gift that keeps giving.  If you don’t believe me, come back to Mass next Sunday, every Sunday.  What we celebrate so very specially on this, Christ’s birth-day, it’s our joy to celebrate every day the Mass is said on our altars, where the Word is made flesh, and dwells amongst us.  

For now, blessed be this day on which it all began.  Let us kneel in awe before this mystery of our Redemption, and give Glory to God in the highest.  Come, all ye faithful, joyful, triumphant, and let us give thanks unto God for the gift of the Infant King.