A Very Merry Christmas to All

It must have been Christmas of 1979 or 1980 when I discovered under the tree a Millennium Falcon. It was amazing! I presumed that its tons of little parts and stickers had been assembled in the North Pole and had been delivered to me ready to go. I presumed that was the case for all of the gifts that appeared under the tree for my brothers and me each Christmas. I also presumed that, like my brothers and me, my parents had received a full night of sleep and that they would be delighted to be awakened at 4:45 am as we blared Christmas music and reveled in the bonanza of gifts that had magically appeared. While my parents were happy for us, perhaps they experienced in their own bodies the exhaustion that the elves up in the North Pole must feel after Christmas. For my brothers and me, all we knew was that a world of goodness had magically appeared in our parlor. I’m still a lot like that kid in 1979. I show up for Mass and it seems the elves have come and set everything up. The facilities are always clean. Decorations go up and decorations come down. Plants get delivered to our homebound. Tons of toys and gifts are collected, sorted, and delivered to those who are in need at Christmas. Schedules are made, bills are paid, records are kept, the bulletin gets published, the website gets updated, the sick are visited, the poor are assisted, the youth are instructed, tons of confessions are heard, the phones are answered, mailings go out, the bereaved are attended to, parish events are organized and take place, altar servers get trained, youth groups meet, prayer groups and bible studies gather, those who are joining the Catholic Church receive formation, the pews get cleaned after every Mass, the pew hymnals are returned to their right places, the Mass intention list gets placed on the altar each week, funerals are booked and all of the details are attended to, servers set up and serve the funerals, music is planned and sung, the General Intercessions at Mass are typed out and prepared, the front steps of the church get repaired, and a host of other things happen . . . every single day, every single week. If you’re like eight-year-old me, you might think it all happens by magic. You might forget that all of these things–and many, many more–are accomplished through the hard work of an extraordinarily dedicated staff and a host of volunteers. We all benefit and enjoy the fruits of their labor, but sometimes we might forget just how hard they work, how generous they are, and how much gratitude we owe them. From time to time, I like to use this column to express–on behalf of all of us–gratitude to all of those who do so much for this parish. Often their work is either hidden behind the scenes or, we just become so accustomed to it happening that we forget that someone actually DOES it. They don’t do it for the thanks or for the credit. They do it out of love. Nonetheless, on behalf of myself and the whole parish, I want to say thank you to all of those who–through your hard work and generosity–make this parish so great. I am grateful that I walk into this parish each day and experience childlike wonder and joy because charity always has a surprisingly beautiful newness about it. In 1979 I crept down the stairs to our parlor and was elated that magic had happened. Forty-six years later, I look at that same event with even deeper gratitude because I know it was not magic, but love. To all of those who fill this parish with love, thank you and a very Merry Christmas. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes

You may notice in our pew missals that on every Sunday and feast day, in addition to the Responsorial Psalm, there are three antiphons–Entrance, Offertory, and Communion–listed. Eventually we will move toward using these antiphons more frequently in our Masses. They are almost always passages from Scripture and they help us to enter into the Liturgy in a deeper way. The antiphons help us to think and to pray with the Church. They are not randomly chosen, but rather give a profound cohesiveness to our prayer and meditation. The antiphons are a marvelous treasury of spiritual nourishment and I encourage you each week to look them over as a way of entering into the Sacred Mysteries. A good example of this would be today’s Entrance Antiphon. The Third Sunday of Advent, which we celebrate today, is often referred to as, “Gaudete Sunday.” It is called that because the first word of today’s Entrance Antiphon is “Rejoice” (in Latin, “Gaudete”). It is taken from St. Paul’s Letter to the Philippians, is, “Rejoice in the Lord always; again, I say rejoice. Indeed, the Lord is near.” This antiphon is a key for unlocking the mysteries of today’s Liturgy. It also binds us all together. It binds us not only to one another here at St. Patrick Parish, but it binds us together with the whole Church throughout the ages. It binds us to all of salvation history, to the patriarchs, prophets, to all who longed for Christ, to the apostles, the saints, and to Christians in every time and place. One of the things that draws me to these antiphons is that they are for everyone. The antiphons are not chosen based upon how we feel or what we want to hear. They are given. Sometimes in life, we read things or listen to things depending upon our mood, right? In the Liturgy, it works the other way. The Liturgy indicates to us what our disposition should be. So, whether we arrived at Mass today in the mood for rejoicing or whether we arrived here feeling far from rejoicing, it does not matter. The antiphon is the same for all of us. It instructs us that all of us should rejoice. Does that mean that the Liturgy is telling us that by our sheer force of will we should rejoice despite how we might feel? No. The antiphon tells us precisely why we should rejoice. We should rejoice because the Lord is near. We should always rejoice. We should rejoice when things are all going well and we should rejoice when things are falling apart. Why? Because the Lord is near. We rejoice not because of our circumstances, but because the Lord is near to us. True rejoicing is always because of the nearness of the Lord. Does that mean that the Church’s liturgy is insensitive to people’s circumstances, sufferings, and pain? No! It’s the exact opposite. The Liturgy is saying, “You who are weighed down by many burdens, you can still rejoice because the Lord is near to you. He loves you. He is close to you. Circumstances and situations might be awful right now, but there is good news for you. The Lord is near to you.” This antiphon comes to us, in fact, during the darkest days of the year. It’s as though the Liturgy is reminding us that whatever darkness is present in our life, we can still rejoice because the Lord is close at hand. I want to say to anyone who reads these words today, but especially to those who are heavily burdened; to those who are suffering from illness, those weighed down by grief, depression, addiction, anxiety, marital problems, family problems; to those weighed down by the memory of past sins or the struggle with present sins; to those who feel alone; to those who feel as though they are a burden to others; to those who feel as though they are a disappointment or that their life has not turned out how they thought; to those who feel weak in faith and who are on the brink of despair; and especially to those who feel unloved: To all of you: Today is for you. Today you are free to rejoice because the Lord is near to you. He is always near to you. Are you still thinking that your situation precludes you from rejoicing? The Liturgy today is prepared for such a reaction. The Communion Antiphon is taken from the Lord’s words to the Prophet Isaiah: “Say to the faint of heart: Be strong and do not fear. Behold, our God will come, and he will save us.” God is speaking to you. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes

A central, albeit mysterious, figure who appears especially during Advent is St. John the Baptist. He is the one who prepares the way for the Messiah. If John’s message were to be distilled into a single word, it would likely be, “Repent!” There is something in us that recoils from this call to “repent.” Perhaps our reluctance to respond positively to this term arises from the experience of seeing some angry person on a street corner shouting, “Repent!” Often enough, people who call us to repentance seem less interested in our well-being than they do in promoting their own sense of self-righteousness. While telling us to repent, they seem to separate themselves from the rest of us. It can feel as though they are suggesting that they themselves have no need of repentance. They convey a sense that they are fully prepared already and they are warning the rest of us. (But, even though they are warning us, you get the sense that they would much rather leave us in our unprepared state. They like giving warnings more than they actually want to help us.) John the Baptist appears as a sign. I think it is interesting that he appears in the desert. He is not on a street corner or in the main square. He is in the desert. He is where there is emptiness, dryness, and silence. He practices an ascetic life, wearing camel hair clothing and eating locusts. Unusual? Yes, but his witness attracts people. They come to see him. The people go out to the desert to see John and to hear him. Seeing his witness and hearing his message, what do they do? They acknowledge their sins and are baptized. They repent. John’s figure is so interesting to me. Clearly, his appearance must have been somewhat startling. Startling too was his message. Yet, people were drawn to him. They came to him and were moved to do something that is so difficult for us human beings. They admitted their faults. They admitted that they needed to change. They admitted they were wrong. They acknowledged their sins. This humble acknowledgement of sins and the desire to turn away from them is what prepares us to welcome the Lord. One of the greatest privileges of being a priest is to witness people repent of their sins. It is such an extraordinary thing to hear someone acknowledge that they, in fact, have sinned. I cannot tell you how moving it is to sit on the other side of the screen and listen to a person say things like, “I have been so arrogant. I have been so selfish. I have had such a hardened heart. I have been filled with hatred. I have committed lustful acts, been deceptive, or spiritually lazy.” When I hear those (and many other things), all I can think is, “Blessed Be God!” What an amazing work of grace must be happening in this person’s heart to make them able to do this courageous thing! Similarly, it is absolutely extraordinary to hear someone come to confess something that they have been carrying around for years, maybe even decades. As time goes on, they feel paralyzed from ever bringing this matter to confession. They think too much time has passed. Somehow, however, by God’s grace, they bring this matter to the confessional, and what happens? Does the roof of the church collapse? Does the priest die of shock? No, the Church rejoices and provides this brave and repentant soul with the medicine of mercy. John the Baptist is indeed a central figure of Advent. His appearance and his message are a bit startling. His appearance and his message are different. They do not seek center stage. He is not a social media influencer, a wielder of political power, or a TV personality. He appears outside the limelight, in the quiet of the desert. Somehow, people recognized that there was something true about his message. He was saying something that–even though difficult to hear–was necessary for their life. His call to repentance was authentic. The people went to him and acknowledged their sins. They prepared the way of the Lord. Dear Friends, this Advent, John the Baptist is once again appearing and calling to us from the solitude of the desert. His message is as true today as it was two thousand years ago. He does not only call us to repent, but he wants us to know that repentance is indeed possible. He is calling us to risk leaving the busy cities of our lives; the places that seem to offer us flashy solutions to our weary hearts. He is calling us to the place of repentance, to the quiet of the confessional where we can humbly acknowledge our sins, receive mercy, and to prepare a place for the Lord. In the next few weeks, there are innumerable opportunities to go to confession–here and elsewhere–and to experience that incredible joy that comes from repentance. Be courageous! And remember what the Gospel says today. All the people were going out to John and acknowledging their sins. You might think you’re the biggest and worst sinner in the whole world. If you do think that, “Blessed Be God!” That’s a sign of true sorrow and repentance. The rest of us who are standing in line with you, we are thinking the same thing about ourselves. And when we leave the confessional, we are no longer thinking of ourselves. We are thinking about the Lord and how kind and merciful He is. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes

Each First Sunday of Advent, the Church begins a new liturgical year. At the same time that the new liturgical year begins, the cycle of readings also changes. The Church has three sets of Sunday readings. They are known as Year A, Year B, and Year C. We have just concluded Year C which draws primarily from the Gospel of Luke on Sundays. Year B draws most of its Sunday gospels from Mark, and the Sunday gospels for Year A, which we now begin, are most often from Matthew. St. John’s Gospel is interspersed throughout all three years. When I was a boy, it felt like my Mother was dragging us around Filene’s Basement and Jordan’s in Downtown Crossing all the time. We were always taking the Red Line into Town. This time of year in Downtown Boston was always magical to me as a child. The Salvation Army bell ringers seemed to be on every corner accompanied by their brass bands playing carols. Once a week or so, there would be one of the animated Christmas specials on television. You had one chance to see it all year and everyone in the school yard was talking about it for days before and on the day after. There was an amazing sense of anticipation. At school, we would light the Advent Wreath every day. (I don’t think any fire chief would have dared challenged the Sisters about that)! In the days before Christmas, we all went to Confession. At home, we had the Advent Calendar where every day we could open one window. The Nativity Scene that my Mom made in Ceramics Class would be set up, but no Baby Jesus until Christmas. Gradually, wrapped gifts would appear under the tree and we would beg our parents–to no avail–to open just one present early. Anticipation and waiting was on one level tortuous, but it was also amazing! Learning to anticipate, to long, to wait, and to live with expectation prepares us to experience true joy when what we long for is fulfilled. The heart needs to prepare itself to receive. And waiting is part of the preparation. When we wait with expectation, we experience greater joy when the object of our expectation arrives. As a child, I wanted my parents to short-circuit the “waiting” and let me open a present “NOW!” In a similar way, the culture attempts to short-circuit the waiting by celebrating Christmas weeks before Christmas. Instead of awaiting with anticipation the coming of something great, the culture tries to force things and manufacture joy. The Church–loving and wise mother that she is–teachers her children the valuable gift of waiting. This is what Advent is for us. The Church, by providing to us a season of waiting, helps us to experience true joy at Christmas. It is, as the Christmas hymn reminds us, a time for “every heart to prepare Him room.” The culture’s rush to celebrate Christmas early sucks the oxygen out of Christmas and deprives us of the opportunity to prepare ourselves for the joy that God wants to give to us. I hope that during these next few weeks, our St. Patrick Parish might provide a place for all of us to practice the great art of waiting and preparing. Some possible ways for you to do that? Come to daily Mass or to our Tuesday night Holy Hour. Join the Monday Night Advent Group, the Thursday Night Bible Study, or the Saturday morning Men’s Group. Go to Confession. For the stouthearted, we will also offer on Saturday, December 6th and 13th a 6:30am “Rorate Mass.” This Mass celebrated only by candlelight, begins before dawn. It recalls the coming of Christ, the Light, into the world and it honors the Blessed Virgin Mary. The term, “Rorate” is taken from the entrance antiphon of that Mass: “Rorate, caeli, desuper, et nubes pluant justum,” which means, “Drop down dew, ye heavens, from above, and let the clouds rain down the Just One.” IS 45:8). It is a beautiful chant that well expresses the heart’s longing for salvation. It will be a chanted Mass. Any of us who have ever sat under a Christmas Tree and shaken presents and tried to figure out what was inside knows that “waiting” is not a passive reality. True waiting is something we actually do. The anticipation prepares us to receive. God wants to give us all great graces at Christmas. The best way to prepare to receive those Christmas graces is to live now the beautiful graces of Advent. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes

This weekend at the Ten o’clock Mass, we will celebrate the Rite of Acceptance and Welcoming. Some of these men and women are preparing for Baptism, Confirmation, and First Eucharist at Easter. Others who were previously baptized are seeking admission into the Catholic Church, Confirmation, and First Eucharist. Still others who were baptized as Catholics are preparing for Confirmation. They meet every Sunday morning with Diane McCarthy–our Pastoral Associate–and her team. That team does the hard work each week of helping to teach and form these men and women. I will have the privilege of baptizing, confirming, and administering the Eucharist to them. The desire to belong is present in every human heart. In our present moment in time, one way that this desire is expressed is through social media. Many people spend enormous amounts of time scrolling, posting, liking, and seeking out “likes.” There can be an almost frenetic frenzy in the online world. And yet, it seems that this online world only deepens a sense of loneliness, isolation, and emptiness in people’s lives. The algorithms seem designed to isolate us into ghettoes of echo-chambers where we are exposed only to what our masters think we want to hear. Controversies are constantly being contrived in order to keep us contained in a never-ending circle of anger, bitterness, and antagonism. What begins as a desire to have contact with others can devolve into a race to the bottom of nothingness. Many people set out online in search of some human contact or some shared experience. Of course, the online world offers many positive things. There is, however, as we all know, a dark side to it. The search for belonging in a virtual world can become a ruinous journey. Addictive gambling, online shopping, online gaming, pornography, hatred, and anger all portend to offer the human person a way to feel better, but they all leave the person more alone and empty. The bets get bigger, the UPS truck arrives more frequently, the need to get to the next level keeps people awake all night, the pornography gets more grotesque, the hatred and anger become all-consuming. In a world where the chemical rush of dopamine is a click away, people are becoming increasingly isolated. Despite all of that, a recent study of Catholics discovered that what most people are looking for in a parish is authentic community and meaningful relationships. (There are other factors also like more traditional forms of worship, good sermons, and the Sacraments.) At the top of the list, however, was authentic community and meaningful relationships. Of course, in a Catholic context, authentic community and meaningful relationships will always arise from and lead to authentic community and meaningful relationship with God himself. And, of course, the Sacraments are all about drawing us into life-giving communion. While I was a college chaplain, I was impressed by the evangelical genius of the young people there. At Sunday Mass, for instance, they would notice someone sitting alone. They’d go and introduce themselves to that person. They’d say, “Hey, a group of us are going to the dining hall after Mass for breakfast if you’d like to come.” And, one by one, that’s how community and meaningful relationships get built. The men and women who today will be accepted and welcomed are here because they desire to belong. That belonging is a life-long and ever-deepening reality. For all of us too, we don’t belong simply because we filled out a registration card somewhere along the way. Belonging is something we cultivate and continuously deepen. As a parish, I hope that we are continuously drawing others into authentic community and meaningful relationships. That’s what people are looking for. That’s what we are all looking for. Let’s be serious and intentional about making it happen. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes