“The
King of Israel, the LORD, is in your midst, you have no further misfortune to
fear.” (Zephaniah 3:15)
The following is the true
story of something that actually happened during my homily this morning. Almost a homily within a homily:
Yesterday
morning, our Emmaus brothers and sisters went out to deliver Christmas trees
and toys to poor families in our area.
They chose the families, but I sent them to a particular family that
really needed our help. Earlier this
month, I sadly had to officiate the funeral Mass of a 12-day-old baby. No matter how long you are a priest, these
are never easy. I sat down with the
mother half an hour before the funeral started to talk. I started noticing that her and her family
had never been to church before. We
talked about the loss of her baby. She
had two other daughters and a son who were not taking it well as one can
imagine. As I started to think of her
other children, I asked her if she had gotten them gifts for Christmas, but she
said no and that she hadn’t even put up a Christmas tree. I told her not to worry because the Church
would take care of it as I prayed that our Emmaus brothers had one more tree on
their list left to give which they did.
But as I talked to this mother, my mind kept wondering how she got
here. She wasn’t baptized. Her children weren’t baptized. She kept asking me how to pray during this
time of crisis and if she was allowed to come to our church on Sundays. “Of course you can! Anytime! But I have to ask you: who told you
come here today to offer this Mass for your baby?” She responded without hesitation: “There was
this woman in the hospital with me while I was recovering, and when she found
out that I lost my baby she told me: `You have to go to Immaculate to give her
a Mass.’” Imagine that! One of our
parishioners, from her hospital bed!, was able to send this family to our
parish and in turn allowed us to give them a proper Christmas…
(It was at this point of my
telling of this story during my homily that I noticed three people walking
towards me down the center aisle which is usually blocked off by the
ushers. I looked up and it was this
mother I had been talking about with her two daughters! I froze!
I looked up, smiled, and said to the mother, “I was just talking about
you!” I open up my arms to give her and
her daughters a hug. My congregation and
I were speechless. This wasn’t planned. This wasn’t scripted. Right at the climax of the story she just
happened to walk into the church. As I
embraced her family, the congregation erupted in applause out of sheer delight
or maybe just astonishment of what had just taken place or maybe to welcome
this family to their new home. When they
sat down so I could proceed with my homily, for the first time in all my years
of preaching, I was speechless. I turned around and looked up to the crucifix
and turned back to the people and told them: “You know that line in the movie
Analyze This when Robert DeNiro turns to Billy Crystal and points to him and
tells him: `You! You are very good! You
are! You’re good!” And so I turned to the crucifix and uttered the same lines
to our Lord. How else could I react to
what had just happened. So I gathered myself and fumbled my way to the finish
line with the rest of the homily I had prepared...)
Yea,
I don’t know what to say after that entrance except that they are here because
one of you was like John the Baptist and brought someone closer to Christ by
inviting them to our church, and they did it from their hospital bed no less. We are always, at every moment, called to
invite others to partake in our Savior’s joy.
And this is what this Sunday is all about because today is Gaudate
Sunday, the Sunday of Joy! We are called
to rejoice because Christmas is almost here.
And boy are we rejoicing this morning with what just happened! A sister and her family have come home! Now we must go and invite others to come home
as well. There is much joy to spread and
we want everyone home.
Just
the other day, I was home listening to Christmas music and Darlene Love’s
classic “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)” started playing. Every year on the night before Christmas Eve,
David Letterman would have Darlene Love on his show to sing this song. I would stay up to watch it year after year
as my pump up song for the following two days.
Each year on the show, they would add more singers, more instruments and
Darlene Love would sing it with more gusto, until they did it last year for the
final time and really brought the house down.
There’s a verse in the middle of that song that has been stuck in my
head for the last few days which goes: “They’re singing Deck the Halls, but
it’s not like Christmas at all, because I remember when you were here, and all
the fun we had last year.” It’s as if we’re about to have this big party and we don’t want anyone to miss
out on the joy. Please come home has to
be our mantra these last few weeks of Advent.
(As I uttered that last
phrase of the homily, I paused and turned to the congregation and said, “I feel
like everything I said after this sister walked in with her family was just
nonsense. Not that it didn’t need to be
said, but I probably should have just stayed quiet and sat down after she
walked in when all of us saw just how great our God is. Yet this sister is a living example for all
of us that we need to come home to God this Christmas.)
One last thing: After Mass,
I think more people may have approached this mother and her family than said
hello to me outside. I totally didn’t
mind. Today I saw the compassion of the
people of God as they kept asking me if this family needed anything else this
Christmas. When I finally made my way to
the mother after my parishioners welcomed her, the first thing she said to me
was “Sorry I was late.” I started
laughing because God whisked her through those church doors at the perfect
time. A true Advent miracle! The Lord has done great things for us and we are
indeed filled with joy!
