December 19, 2016
Editor’s note: Paulist Fr. Rich Andre preached this homily for a penance service at St. Austin Parish in Austin, TX on December 19, 2016. The following readings were proclaimed at the service: Ephesians 5:8-14a; Psalm 27; and Matthew 5:14-16.
While the Church is still celebrating the season of Advent right now, the outside world is in the full swing of Christmas. We travel through a world of loud, festive music. Thousands of miniature lights greet us on every block as we drive. Before we get caught up in the final frantic preparations for Christmas, let us take this time tonight for one last, brief moment to retreat to the humbler, simpler sounds and sights of Advent. And so, let us pray:
God of the unexpected,
Calm our hearts and minds.
Remove the things that hinder us from receiving Christ.
In the cacophony of noise,
help us to hear your voice and to heed your instructions.
In our world of information overload,
help us to see joy and to point it out to others.
May we become ever more like Christ
as we prepare to live with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God for ever and ever. Amen.
By design, in the northern hemisphere, Christmas takes place in the darkest week of the year. We celebrate that even in the darkest days and the longest nights, the light of Christ can still break into our world in new and exciting ways.
When I started celebrating the sacrament of reconciliation as a priest, I was surprised to discover that I have a gift for “reading” people. It must be a grace from the Holy Spirit, because I’ve never taken a psychology class in my life.
Over the past five years, I’ve come to see the Christian struggle with sin in terms of light and darkness. But not just in the ways that you might initially expect.
Our Ephesians reading, written nearly two millennia before the advent of modern psychology, speaks of our fear of the darkness. We all have “shadow” sides – feelings and desires that we’re scared to admit that we have. Confession is an opportunity to shine the light on these areas of darkness. As I reflect on my own struggles to live a life of holiness, I’ve discovered that when I shine the light of Christ on my shadows, the shadows are usually not nearly as dark and as scary as I initially believed.
Ephesians wisely counsels us: “everything that becomes visible is light.” Once we acknowledge our regrets about the past and our worries about the future, they don’t pre-occupy our thoughts. We have a greater ability to be open to God in the present moment, to hear God’s still small voice and to see the light of Christ in the people around us. We’re scared of the dark, but the season of Advent assures us that the light can penetrate the darkness.
But the reverse is also true: we’re often scared of the light. Jesus calls us to be the light of the world, to be his agents of peace and joy and forgiveness. But often, we’re scared to be “bright and shiny” around other people, so we stifle our gifts. Marianne Williamson famously said:
“We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?
“You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world.
There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.
“We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
“As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
To quote a beloved Christmas carol, our “hopes and fears of all the years are met in [Christ] tonight.”