Happy Epiphany!

Recently I woke up at what I thought was 5:30am. When it turned out that it was only 12:30am, and I knew that I definitely was not falling back to sleep, I spent the next four hours listening to an audio book entitled, “Vipers’ Tangle” by François Mauriac. Written in 1932, the book is almost entirely in the form of a letter penned by an angry and bitter man to his estranged wife. For almost all of their married life, there has been a simmering hatred that spills over into the lives of their children and grandchildren. Envies, greed, and resentments have poisoned the entire family. As the letter progresses, it becomes clear that there is a battle occurring for the soul of the protagonist. Are hatreds and resentments set in stone? Is it possible to be changed? In many ways, he has lived his life fulfilling the expectations of the role assigned to him by everyone. He was considered to be a miserly and hateful man. Because everyone treated him in this way, the more he “dug in” to be that way. He also realizes that he too has done the same to others. He has observed some fault or weakness in that family member and reduced the person to that one trait or characteristic. He–and his family members–never give one another the benefit of the doubt. They ascribe nefarious intentions to every act of each other. Hatred, rivalry, suspicion, and antagonism become a way of life for all of them. Although all of us know how a family ought to be, we also know that our families are made up of imperfect people who live through imperfect situations. One of the beautiful aspects of the “Vipers’ Tangle” is that the main character moves from the recognition that he is the way he is–in part–because of the ways that others have treated him, to realizing that others in his family are the way they are because of how he has treated them. All of us can have a tendency to identify the fault or failure of another and then define the other by that fault or failure. None of us would particularly care to be identified by our worst moment in life. Yet, we are often all too willing to define others by their worst moment. We are often all too easily willing to attribute nefarious motives to those with whom we have difficulty. There was a great line in the book that said (and I am liberally paraphrasing), “We attribute lofty intentions to people whose real motives are much baser.” In other words, when someone doesn’t wish you a happy birthday, it is more likely because they are absent-minded and forgetful rather than they have devised a sinister plot to make you feel awful on your birthday. So many people feel locked into terrible family situations. They feel as though they are compelled to play a certain role. “I’m the rebellious one, so I have to live forever in rebellion.” “I’m the angry one, so I have to be angry.” “I’m the marshmallow, so I can never stand up for what is right.” “I am the failure, so I have to live up to being the failure.” In “Vipers’ Tangle” grace begins imperceptibly to do its work. We begin to see that wherever the door is opened to Christ, something beautiful can happen. Sin, brokenness, resentments, hardened hearts all dissolve before the beauty of the Christ Child. The tangle of vipers that can take up residence in the human heart and in so many familial situations has no power wherever the Christ Child is welcomed. The character in the book clung to money, resentments, and a prideful image of himself. It was only when he was willing to let go of these and cling to Christ that he was set free. Today, as we look into the manger, let us resolve to let go of all the bitterness, resentments, prides, lusts, envies, avarices, gluttonies, and rash judgments that we cling to and instead take the Christ Child into our arms. When we embrace Him, evil melts away. (Apologies if you wind up hearing some of the above in a homily on Christmas or on Holy Family! I had to write this a couple of weeks ago and may decide to use it in a homily.) Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes

A Very Merry Christmas to you and to all those whom you love. On Christmas night the church is filled with light, warmth, music, and faces. Some of those faces we see every Sunday, some we have not seen for a long time, and some we are seeing for the very first time. To all of you: Welcome Home. There is room here for all of you. Christmas reminds us of the great truth that God does not wait for us to be perfect before he draws close to us. His Son is born in the cold and messiness of a stable. Is your life messy, chaotic, imperfect, cold, or confused? Do you feel forgotten or unworthy? Do you have regrets? Do you just not know how to re-establish a connection with the Lord or with the Church? Wow, do I have good news for you! It is precisely into this kind of world that the Infant Jesus enters. God did not send His Son into a perfect world. He sent His Son into this messy world. That is how much He loves us. If it has been a while since you’ve been to Mass, or if you feel life has been pulling you in a thousand different directions, please know that Christmas is for you and returning is easy! In the new year, we’ll have many simple (and easy!) ways for you to reconnect, go deeper, or explore. Whether it is:  Sunday Mass (where there are always opportunities to meet others) On Sunday, January 4th, a special 10:00 am Mass with coffee and donuts afterwards and a chance to meet others. (We will also bless chalk on that day for the children. Sounds strange, but it is an Epiphany custom to bless chalk and then use it to bless your home!). Confessions: Scheduled many times during the week so that it is convenient. Small Groups, Bible Studies, Young Adult Group, Young Couple and Families Group, Men’s Group. A Church that is open most of the day and affords a quiet place to come and pray. How about inviting a priest from the parish to come bless your home? I’d love to come! For now, I hope the light, the warmth, the music, and the faces that surround you simply remind you how much the Holy Child who is born for us this day loves you. He loves you deeply and profoundly. He loves you no matter how messy life might be! Bask in that love today. May the extraordinary peace and joy of Christmas stay with you throughout the coming year and may 2026 be the year you discover—or rediscover—how good it is to belong to Christ and His Church. If you are reading this, please know that you are loved and that you are home. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes

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