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Born in 1938 and raised in St. Paul, Minnesota, I am the youngest of three children. My sister, Jackie, is the oldest, my brother, Tom, is in the middle, and then me. Our parents, devout Catholics, insisted that the three of us attend our local parish grade school, St. Columba.
When I was in the sixth grade, Sister Victoria suggested I consider studying for the priesthood. Not because I was the smartest kid in class, but because she knew I came from a loving, caring family and was such a “good little boy.”
I laughed at the idea. But in the eighth grade, three of my classmates and I decided we wanted to attend the seminary for high school. In those days it was common to go into the seminary. When I told my parents my plan, Dad emphatically said, “No, you are way too young. If you have a vocation to the priesthood, you wait until after high school. Priesthood, like marriage, is a lifetime commitment.”
I was truly blessed to go to Cretin High School, a boys-only military academy staffed by the De LaSalle Christian Brothers. The Brothers also asked me to consider becoming a member of their community or the priesthood. They didn’t invite me because I was the smartest kid or a “good little boy,” but because they sensed my strong interest in promoting the social values of the gospels. But, at that point, I had discovered sports and girls so that idea of the priesthood melted away, like snow on a warm spring day.
As a small boy, I had learned that if I just tried my best, it would please my parents. Winning wasn’t that important to them; they just encouraged me to persevere and enjoy the challenge. Dad was fond of saying, “Billy, never cease trying to be the best you can be.” My parents had a great influence on my personal definition of success. To this day, success to me means “never giving up.”
I grew up in a generation where commitment was common, expected and rewarded. Loyalty was treasured. Dad worked for the St. Paul Fire and Marine Insurance Company for 40 years, only taking a break to serve in World War II. He was proud of what he did. Ma and Dad so looked forward to celebrating their 50 years of marriage, but unfortunately, two months before the big day, Ma died unexpectedly. It was our parents who modeled the importance of commitment as they sacrificed themselves for each other, ourselves, and whomever they could help.
To this day, I consider commitment sacred. When Ma would get upset, she would humorously threaten us kids, saying, “I promised to honor and cherish your father for the rest of my life but that doesn’t mean I can’t trade you kids off!” By the same token, Dad was fond of saying, “God only gave me one wife. I better treat her right, because I’ve got her for the rest of my life.”
My brother, Tom, echoed these ideas when he reminded me on the day I was ordained, “Billy, there is only one difference between us now that you are a priest: I have a wife and you don’t. But we are both in it for life.” Simple, but true. I was well trained that marriage and the priesthood were both lifetime commitments.
Still, it wasn’t until my third year at the University of Minnesota that I gave any serious thought to either. I was leaning towards marriage. I had found Claire, the woman of my dreams. I wanted to marry her and she wanted to marry me, but we decided that we would wait until we graduated.
During that time, a sense of restlessness resounded inside of me. I began praying that if I had a priestly vocation, it be given to someone worthier. I know God hears all prayers but I also know God doesn’t always answer them the way we want.
I can still feel the pain and anguish of telling Claire that I had to resolve my uneasiness about becoming a priest ... one way or the other. Somehow, she understood. To this day I remember the last night we hugged and kissed, tearfully wondering if we would ever intimately hold one another again. We never did. I left for the seminary and only saw Claire one more time in my life when she attended my ordination.
This “calling” was difficult for me to understand, so it was even more challenging to explain to my close friends. When I told Ma, Dad, my sister and my brother, it was my sister, Jackie, who said, “If that is what you want to be, then be the best priest you can be.”
What attracted me to the priesthood was the excitement and the opportunity to preach and implement Christ’s Gospel messages. By celebrating the sacraments and leading others to a personal relationship with Jesus Christ I could spread faith, love and justice. I was on fire to share His unconditional forgiveness and promote the intrinsic value of every human person, even though I wasn’t absolutely sure I would “make the cut” to be ordained.
I entered the Oblate of Mary Immaculate Seminary before the start of the Second Vatican Council. It was a time when we were literally asked to leave the world behind and separate ourselves from family and friends. Those early days as a seminarian were extremely rigid and isolated. The seminary was built like a fortress. We walked around in drab black cassocks and behaved like cloistered monks. One of the things I found most problematic was the insistence upon deadening our feelings and emotions. We were constantly warned against having friendships because they were considered divisive. In fact, such friendships could be a cause for dismissal from the seminary.
Fortunately, I had experienced a wholesome relationship with Claire. When I shared this with my spiritual director, Father Hurkes, he directed me to be grateful to God. “Bill,” he said, “most of your classmates have never been blessed with such a loving relationship. Your love for Claire is to be cherished and always treasured. You were gifted with the experience to love another and to be loved by another.”
Pope John XXlll formally opened the Second Vatican Council on October 11, 1962. Its main purpose was to help apply the truths of Christ to modern-day life; it was more a pastoral council than a doctrinal one.
When Vatican II closed on the Feast of the Immaculate Conception on December 8, 1965, it changed the way seminarians were trained. There was a new emphasis on openness. Priests, seminarians and nuns were now to be directly involved with the modern world and interact in people’s lives. The pendulum had swung from one side to the other. Rather than being aloof, unapproachable and discouraged from building personal relationships, we were now encouraged to be warm and supportive. I welcomed those changes!
One of the priests who also embraced the Vatican II changes was an Oblate Priest, Father Joe O’Brien, who was a prison chaplain with the Texas Department of Corrections. It was in my first year at the Oblate School of Theology in San Antonio, Texas, that I initially met Father Joe. Each year he would personally introduce himself to every first-year theologian, in hopes of recruiting one or two to help him with his prison ministry. His compassionate, positive and caring demeanor intrigued me, and when he spoke about his prison ministry, I knew I wanted to experience what it would be like to minister with him to the men who were incarcerated.
So, in the summer of 1964, I unhesitatingly began interning with Father Joe at the state prison in Huntsville, Texas. I shadowed his every move inside the facility. It was easier to interact with the men who were incarcerated, as the correctional staff viewed chaplains as “naïve do-gooders.”
However, Father Joe constantly reminded me that I would be totally ineffective if I could not maintain a healthy balance in relating to both the staff and the inmates.
I worked with Father Joe in the prison for three summers and the experience sparked my passion to share the love I had for Jesus Christ with people who are incarcerated. Just before ordination, Father Joe asked me to consider ministering in prison as a full- time chaplain. He told me, “I’d like for you to think about taking my place.” I told him I would pray to the Holy Spirit about it.
After six years in the seminary, I “made the cut” and was ordained on September 8, 1968, the Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary. During the ordination liturgy, as the Litany of Saints was sung, I experienced the Holy Spirit inspiring me to minister to prisoners.
As newly ordained priests, we were asked by the Prefect of Studies to list our three preferences for ministry work.
My first choice was prison ministry, followed by preaching and then working with the poor. My Superior told me I needed some normal priestly experiences before assigning me to prison ministry.
He appointed me to our Oblate pre-novitiate seminary for three years, where I taught classes in criminology and served as a spiritual director for the seminarians. Because of my business degree from the University of Minnesota, I was also the seminary’s treasurer. My subsequent assignment was to the Oblate Mission in Stockholm, Sweden, where I served for two years as a missionary priest in a parish.
In 1973, I learned that my next assignment was to prison ministry. My first chaplaincy was back in Huntsville with the Texas Department of Corrections. I then ministered in various prisons for the Federal Bureau of Prisons.
What drew me to prison ministry was that I realized I could just as easily have been locked up as any one of the men there. I knew that God created these men and that they were good people, who had done bad things. I was not concerned about their guilt or innocence. I wanted them to experience Christ’s love and forgiveness.
The prison environment can be hostile, dangerous and mean-spirited, but it can also be redemptive. Celebrating the sacraments, listening attentively to their stories, counseling their families and just being present to the men who were imprisoned could be restorative and give them hope.
Most of my ministry in prison was a ministry of presence. Eating together, playing chess, bridge or handball. Or just talking with the men in their dorms or cells - that was the best way to get to know them. The years in prison brought me into close contact with many Protestant, Jewish and Muslim people.
After 25 years of prison ministry, I retired. I was more nervous walking out of the Terminal Island Federal Prison for the last time than I was walking into the Huntsville Prison on my first day of work. I had no idea where God was taking me next.
It wasn’t long before I received an invitation from Bishop Phillip Francis Straling to minister in the missionary Diocese of Reno, Nevada. My first assignment was St. Gall’s Parish in Gardnerville.
From prison to parish was not an easy transition.
It was compounded by the fact I was replacing a pastor, Father John Corona, who was an icon with a legacy. Fortunately, the parishioners at St. Gall were open to change and most welcoming. For my part, I committed myself to preparing and writing out every weekend homily. To this day, I still type my homilies, even though I don’t read them word-for-word.
Preaching is not an easy task. I have taken to heart what Paul wrote to the Corinthians 9:16: “Woe to me if I do not preach the gospels.” It takes me several days to produce what I will call an acceptable homily. I prepare by envisioning myself in the congregation, so I do preach to myself and this is the reason I speak about forgiveness so often. My style of preaching is storytelling, interactive with the congregation and in a conversational tone, with a touch of humor. I make an effort to talk from my heart so I can touch people’s hearts first and then touch their minds.
My Ma was my best and strictest homiletics professor and critic. She used to say, “Billy, that homily was a six on a scale of 10, but it was too long.” I try to keep that in mind each time I prepare.
In 2005, Bishop Straling assigned me to St. Francis of Assisi in Incline Village, Nevada, on the shores of Lake Tahoe. I took the place of another iconic pastor, Father Mike Mahone.
Little did I know that Bishop Straling had envisioned the total renovation of St. Francis as the church was too small, had some aging issues and needed major repairs. With the help of generous parishioners, the $5 million needed for the project was raised in six months. It was the start of intentional discipleship at St. Francis of Assisi.
My life as a priest has been extremely fulfilling and joyful.
My priestly ministry has been clearly defined by my love for what I am called to do. That is described in Father James Mallon’s book, Divine Renovation: “To preach the Word of God, to celebrate and minister the sacraments and to lead God’s people.” How blessed can one be, when you are doing what you most enjoy?
Of course, the most sacred thing I do is celebrate the Eucharist. I believe that the weekend Masses should be an experience that leads to a deeper conversion for every person participating in the liturgy. A lofty goal that invites our liturgy committee to be creative.
The Eucharist is the central mystery of our Faith and ideally the center of our lives. To actively celebrate this historical and traditional ritual act with all of its beauty and grace is more than I imagined. It is miraculous.
It is the gratitude of people who are so encouraging and affirming that motivates and inspires me to continue to be the best priest I can be, despite my age. I will continue to serve, as long as my physical health is strong enough to maintain my duties and I continue to have the passion to preach, celebrate and lead.
Rev. William Nadeau
If I were to choose just three qualities that have endeared Father Bill to so many people, I would select listening, inspiring and his sense of joy. These are the qualities that make him authentically present to others. He listens without an agenda. He inspires us to use our God-given talents to make a difference in this world. His sense of joy and laughter is a gift he gives to others.
Father Bill listens patiently. His door is literally always open and all are welcome. From my office, which is adjacent to his, I observe people as they leave his office. I can’t remember a time that anyone walked out the door without a smile and a little hug.
He inspires. Often, he will say we need to go visit someone in the hospital in Reno, Carson City or Truckee. I will ask, “Who is it we are visiting?” Many times, his response is, “I have no idea, but they need someone and we want to minister to them.”
He elevates the ordinary with joy. The first time I accompanied Father Bill to a house blessing, he handed me the holy water and told me to just follow him. Traditionally a house blessing consists of blessing the front entrance. Not for Father Bill. He blessed everything in every room. We entered the kitchen and I watched as he blessed the spices and the pots and pans. I am not sure who was more surprised, the owners or me!
If you have had the opportunity to hear Father Bill preach, you know what a special priest and man he is. Father Bill invites us to be present and experience the feelings of the people in the biblical accounts, to place ourselves in that moment of time, making our wonderful relationship with God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit come alive.
Two of my favorite Father Bill homilies are the stories of the Samaritan woman at the well and the innkeeper who turns Mary and Joseph away. Both are excellent examples of how Father Bill helps make God’s message in parables accessible to modern day listeners.
The idea to publish “Reflections of Father Bill,” a selection of his homilies, came about as a way to commemorate and honor his 50th anniversary ministering as a priest. This website grew out of that project. We hope Father Bill’s homilies will become your “go to” when a little refresher is needed - a reminder of how Father Bill has touched our hearts, our minds and our lives. And, it’s a great tool to share your faith.
I will always be grateful for Father Bill’s friendship, love, support and encouragement in living my faith. His message has always been the same: pray every day, seek a personal relationship with our Lord, forgive, be forgiven and go out, be disciples, share the Good News.
Katie Christensen
Former Pastoral Associate, St. Francis of Assisi ParishPostscript - added in 2024:
Father Bill died on December 21, 2023, just nine days after having open heart surgery. He was a dear friend to me and to so many of you.
Whenever I would go with him to visit grieving families, he would always say to them:
"May your personal faith in a merciful and loving God ease your pain and temper your sorrow."
I would like to share a prayer from the candle light ceremony offered in his memory at a prayer service at the Carmel of Reno Monastery shortly after he died:
We seem to give Bill back to you, O God who gave him to us. Yet as You did not lose him in the giving, so we do not lose him by his return. Not as the world gives do You give, O lover of souls. What You give, You take not away, for what is yours is ours, if we are yours.
While we all miss him dearly, Father Bill will forever be in our hearts.
Father William Nadeau, a devoted servant of God, passed away on December 21, 2023, leaving behind a legacy of faith, compassion, and unwavering commitment to his calling. Born on October 24, 1938, in St. Paul, Minnesota, to William and Marion Nadeau, Father Bill was the youngest of three children, sharing his upbringing with his sister Jackie and brother Tom.
Father Bill's journey of faith began when he graduated from Cretin High School; a boys- only military academy staffed by the De LaSalle Christian Brothers, and later upon his graduation from the University of Minnesota with a degree in business. He then entered the Oblate of Mary Immaculate Seminary in San Antonio, Texas. Father Bill was ordained on September 8, 1968, at The Church of the Assumption in Richfield, Minnesota—coincidentally, the Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary.
In 1973, he embraced a new calling in prison ministry with the Texas Department of Corrections, where he would go on to dedicate 25 years to this transformative work within the federal prison system.
Not long after his retirement from prison ministry, Father Bill answered the call to serve in the missionary Diocese of Reno. He was initially assigned to St. Gall Parish in Gardnerville in 1999, where he faithfully served for six years before moving to St. Francis of Assisi in Incline Village in 2005. At St. Francis, Father Bill's charismatic leadership was instrumental in raising $5 million in six months for the complete renovation of the church.
Guided by the belief that success means "never giving up," Father Bill's life was rooted in an era where commitment was not only common but sacred. He cherished every opportunity to preach and implement Christ’s Gospel messages, believing that through the celebration of sacraments and the guidance towards a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, he could spread faith, love, and justice.
"Faith is to believe without totally understanding," a quote dear to Father Bill, encapsulated his profound connection with spirituality. His love for the outdoors and Lake Tahoe area was evident in his enjoyment of activities like paddleboarding, skiing, and golfing. His distinctive preaching style, characterized by storytelling, interactivity, and a conversational tone, endeared him to the congregations he served.
Father Bill's profound sense of joy, infectious laughter, and remarkable generosity left an indelible mark on all who were fortunate enough to know him. Preceded in death by his parents, William and Marion Nadeau, and his sister, Jackie Slagerman, he is survived by his brother Tom Nadeau (Carole), nephews Mike Mack, David Bower (Jen), Tom Nadeau Jr. (Theresa), and Brian Nadeau (Felicia), nieces Lisa Debill, Barbara Cabrera (Eddie), Michelle Lauridsen (James), and Lynne Van Wyk, along with several great- nieces and nephews.
Father Bill's favorite Scripture, Micah 6:8, epitomized his life's mission, urging all to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God. We can all honor Father Bill’s legacy by praying every day, seeking a personal relationship with our Lord, forgiving, and being forgiven by others, and being disciples who share the Good News.
In lieu of flowers, donations in Father Bill Nadeau's name to the Diocese of Reno, specifically for prison ministry, will be appreciated. Father Bill's enduring spirit and dedication to justice will continue to inspire all who were touched by his life and ministry. May he rest in eternal peace, leaving behind a legacy of love and faith.
What a wonderful pleasure it is to extend a joyous Christmas to all of you as together we celebrate the birth of Christ, Our Savior! Hopefully, you are not too tired or worn out from your Christmas preparations, skiing, snowboarding or anything else that you have done to get ready for Christmas.
A successful businessman went to a florist shop to have a poinsettia delivered to his mother for Christmas Day. He knew he should drive across town and bring it to her, but as usual, he was way too busy.
While at the shop, a 12 year boy came in, also to buy a poinsettia for his mother, but he didn’t have enough money for the fancy one he picked out. The businessman was impressed with the young boy’s sincerity and said he’d cover the remaining cost.
The little boy spontaneously hugged the man and thanked him. He took the poinsettia and hurried out the door. The man watched the boy as he carefully crossed the street and went to the cemetery. The clerk told the man that the little boy had been buying a poinsettia every Christmas for years and taking it to the cemetery.
The man was inquisitive so he followed the boy and watched as the boy carefully and gently placed the beautiful poinsettia on top of a flat gravestone. Then he saw the boy kneel at a gravesite. This made the businessman very curious, so he went to where the boy was kneeling in prayer and asked him what he was doing.
“My Ma has been dead since I was 5, and I always bring her a poinsettia on Christmas,” he said. “She loved Christmas and the legend about the poinsettia.”
The businessman had not heard about a legend surrounding the poinsettia, so he asked, “What is the legend?”
“My mother told me that a long time ago, a small boy in Mexico with no gift to set before the nativity scene, knelt to pray in the snow outside his village church. As he prayed, a beautiful plant with star- like leaves turned red before his eyes. He dug up the plant and it was the little boy’s loving gift that he presented to the Christ Child. This is my loving gift to my mother.”
The man stayed with the boy for a while as the boy prayed and thought about his own mother. He then returned to the flower shop and asked the florist, “Did you deliver the poinsettia yet?”
“No,” the florist replied.
“Good. I’ll take it with me and bring this Christmas present to my mother myself.”
Your presence at this Mass is a gift you bring to the Christ Child this Christmas. Don’t we have to bring ourselves to Christ? Isn’t that the best gift we can give to Jesus?
There are people who do not believe in the Incarnation, that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us and that our Divine God actually took on our human condition. There are some who have never even heard of the first Christmas.
Barbara Robinson writes about this in her book entitled, “The Best Christmas Pageant Ever,” which tells the story of the Herdman family.
These kids were absolutely the worst kids in the whole wide world.
They lied, stole, beat up on other kids, cursed their teachers, and even set fires to buildings just to watch them burn. There were four boys and two girls, and they were all skinny, with dirty stringy hair and each of them were bullies and mean. No one liked them. Ralph was the oldest, followed by Imogene, Leroy, Allen, Ollie and the youngest, Gladys.
All the neighbors wished they would move away and none of the teachers wanted them in their class. The teachers would just pass them to the next class to get rid of them.
They didn’t have any friends, just each other. And they even fought with each other.
The Herdman family was a single-parent family and the mother held down two jobs. This meant that the kids pretty much looked after each other and that was the reason they were always in trouble. They would steal food to survive. In fact, that is how they got involved in the Christmas pageant. They heard that the church gave away food to the children who were in the Christmas play. So, they went to church to volunteer to be in the Christmas pageant even though they didn’t know the first thing about the Christmas story.
When all the other kids saw the Herdmans in church, they got nervous, but not the teacher. The Herdmans didn’t know that it was the smart, neat and well-behaved kids who were always asked to be Joseph and Mary.
But this year was going to be different. None of the regulars wanted to volunteer because the Herdman kids were going to be in the pageant.
Then the people in the village got really upset with the teacher in charge when they heard that Ralph would be Joseph and Imogene would be Mary. Leroy, Allen and Ollie would be the Three Wise Men and Gladys, the angel.
Rehearsals began, and the Herdmans were always late, but they eventually arrived because of the food. The Herdman kids didn’t know anything about the Christmas story. They never went to church. When they did go to school, Christmas was all about snow days and Santa Claus.
So, the teacher read the story of the Incarnation and the birth of Jesus Christ from the Gospels of Matthew and Luke. The other kids who knew the story got bored and started talking, but the Herdman kids told them to “shut up.” This was one of the first times that the Herdman children ever sat still and paid attention.
They were full of questions. “What is an inn?” “What is a census?” “What is a stable?” “What is a manger?”
“What does it mean to be ‘with child’”? Ralph knew the answer to that and yelled, “Pregnant.”
When they got to the part of the innkeeper who had no room, the Herdman boys wanted to beat the kid up who played the innkeeper and said they would burn his motel down.
When they heard that the baby Jesus was born in a barn without a bed, well they knew about that. None of them ever had beds. As newborns, they were just put in the bottom drawer of a dresser.
Imogene said that if Child Protective Services could see that Jesus was laid in a box from which the animals ate, the social workers would have taken Jesus away from Mary and Joseph.
They didn’t like the fat kid who played King Herod and they wanted to do the same thing to him that King Herod did to those other newborn babies and boys under two years old.
During rehearsals, Ralph fought with his sister Imogene, who played Mary, because she wouldn’t let anybody get near the baby, Jesus. Imogene insisted that she use her only doll as the baby, because she loved her doll so much.
Finally, the night of the pageant came.
The Herdman kids didn’t want to wear the costumes, so they wore their own clothes. They looked like refugees from a strange land.
When they walked on stage, it occurred to everybody that this is probably what the Holy Family looked like anyway. They wouldn’t be neat and clean from the long, hard journey. Imogene even held her baby doll as if she was scared to death. Ralph would not let anyone harm his sister that night, as he knew his sister was the perfect person to be Mary.
Then the Three Kings, Leroy, Allen and Ollie, came on stage, each carrying a gift. But they didn’t have gold, frankincense or myrrh. They brought something the baby could use: diapers, baby food and blankets.
And then something happened that never happened before in a Christmas pageant.
Imogene began to cry and kiss her doll while Joseph hugged Mary. The curtain closed with the sounds of Silent Night, and everyone agreed it was the Best Christmas Pageant Ever.
My Christmas prayer is that you and your family have the Best Christmas Ever.
Our First Reading on this last Sunday of Advent is from the prophet Micah. Micah, like his colleagues, Isaiah, Amos, Hosea and Jeremiah all wrote some 800 years before the birth of Christ, and were known as the Prophets of Doom for a number of reasons.
They were continually harping, warning and threatening the chosen people to be faithful to Yahweh. Their message was one of doom and gloom; rarely was their message ever upbeat and positive. They were like the Grinch or Scrooge. But, on a brighter note, all of these prophets, at certain times, also had their softer moments and messages of hope.
An example of Micah’s hope and optimism is found in our First Reading. Despite the corruption of the political leaders who were inflicting injustices upon the people, Micah proclaimed that a new ruler would be born in the tiny village of Bethlehem and this ruler would bring peace. Bethlehem? Really? It was a sleepy unimportant town, just six miles from Jerusalem.
Yet this insignificant and ordinary village became an extraordinary place. Our Divine God, Our Lord of Lords and King of Kings chose Bethlehem as the place where Jesus was born. Actually, it is not out of character for God to choose the ordinary to do extraordinary deeds.
As today’s Gospel from Luke points out, God chose two insignificant, unknown and seemingly unimportant women: an old woman past child-bearing age and a young virgin filling them with the extraordinary miracle of life.
Luke’s emphasizes the two women as we close out Advent. They were both filled with the Holy Spirit.
Elizabeth was inspired to greet Mary, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.” And then to ask “ ... and who am I that the mother of my Lord should come to me?”
Mary was filled with the gift of the Holy Spirit. She was able to believe through the eyes of faith and trust in God’s surprising Divine Providence, giving birth to the long-awaited Messiah.
The ordinary became the extraordinary.
We ordinary everyday run-of-the-mill people are also asked to do many ordinary things. These deeds can become extraordinary because of our love and our faith in God.
The ordinary can become the extraordinary because of love. An ordinary Advent can become an extraordinary Christmas because there is love.
Without love, we are nothing.
Love stops the decorating to hug your child. Love sets aside the baking to tenderly show affection to your spouse.
Love is always patient and kind, especially to the poor, uneducated, and those assaulted or abused, and especially towards those who grieve the death of a loved one. We also extend our love and respect to the men and women in the Armed Forces or any people away from home.
Love is not rude, even when exhausted from shopping or annoyed by traffic. Love doesn’t rejoice in only gifting family and friends but rejoices in sharing with the homeless, unemployed and those physically and mentally challenged.
Love bears all things. Love never fails. Giving with love is the greatest of all.
Love does make the ordinary extraordinary.
Bethlehem was just an ordinary little town. Elizabeth and Zachariah were ordinary people asked to do extraordinary things with love. Mary and Joseph were ordinary people doing extraordinary things with love. You and I are ordinary people, hopefully doing extraordinary things with love.
A story to illustrate the point:
Father Bob and I were at a fast-food restaurant, and I had the ‘view seat’ ... the one where you get to see the front door and what is going on in the restaurant.
There was a young couple in the restaurant with their baby boy who was sitting in a highchair. Suddenly, out of the clear blue, he joyfully yelled out “Hi.” He pounded his chubby baby hands on the highchair tray and laughed showing his toothless grin.
His mother looked around to see what made their little boy so happy. It was a woman with baggy, filthy, dirty pants. Her shirt was just as bad, with soiled food stains. Her hair was unwashed and uncombed and you could see her toes poking out of holes in her tennis shoes. Her nose was so varicose from drinking, that it looked like a road map.
The parents were far from where the homeless woman stood, but we could all smell her. And, there she was, waving and flapping her hands, talking to the little boy as if they were long-time friends.
“Eric, be quiet,” the mother tried to hush the boy as Eric waved back and continued to sing out in joy, one of the few words in his vocabulary, “Hi, Hi.”
The apparent homeless woman walked over to little Eric and said, “Do you know peek-a-boo? And do you know, ‘Patty cake patty cake, baker’s man…’”
Bob and I quickly intervened by offering to buy her a meal. I will never forget that, while we bought her a meal, we never asked her what her name was nor did we invite her to sit down with us and eat her meal with us. She just smelled too bad.
The parents finished their meal and the father went out in the cold and snow to get the car. The mother picked Eric out of the highchair and probably prayed to herself, “Lord, let me get past this homeless woman before she says anymore to Eric.”
Walking by her, Eric immediately reached out to her with both arms in that “baby pick me up position” and leaped into her open arms.
Eric, in a total act of trust, love and submission, laid his tiny head on the woman’s shoulder. The woman’s eyes closed, and tears streamed down her face as she cradled little Eric’s bottom and stroked his back, gently rocking Eric back and forth. The mother was awestruck.
Looking directly at Eric’s mother the homeless woman said, “You take good care of your baby.” Eric clung to her but the woman lovingly pried Eric’s hands loose and handed him back to his mom.
To the mother, the homeless woman said, “God bless you ma’am. You’ve given me the best Christmas gift.”
The mother went away realizing that her tiny innocent child had seen no dirty clothes or dirty hair and made no judgments about the woman.
The ordinary becomes the extraordinary.
As these final days and hours of our Advent Journey come to a close, I suggest we continue to do ordinary acts of kindness and mercy out of love. It is love that will turn our ordinary acts into extraordinary acts.
The American people have been led to believe that they are divided into Republicans (“red”) or Democrats (“blue”). But on this Gaudete Sunday, it might be better to see ourselves as a blend of red and blue. If you mix the primary colors of red and blue, you get shades of purple. And if you add some white to the red and blue, you will get lavender or rose, like the rose-colored vestments worn by the priest on Gaudete Sunday.
The English translation for “Gaudete” is “to rejoice.”
Maybe this third week of our Advent pilgrimage should represent how we as a nation (and Catholic Christians), while often divided, need of healing ... which leads to rejoicing.
In our world, where social media allows anyone to broadcast or post their every thought and feeling, emotion-laden reactions are now the norm and they are divisive and not always a reason for rejoicing. Just this morning I was reading another article addressing the issue of how technology leads to depression among teenagers. I’m afraid it leads to depression among adults, too.
What we see in the nightly news and daily newspapers is often presented as red or blue. During this Advent/Christmas season, we can begin to see through rose- tinted glasses, not just red or blue. This is the way the Lord of Lords and Kings of Kings view us.
Healing the anger that divides us takes time, understanding and forgiveness. What better time of the year than this Advent and Christmas Season to begin the healing! This is the time for new birth expressed in love, joy and hope.
We are invited to prepare the way of the Lord by repentance, which is the first component of John the Baptist’s message. John’s second component is sharing. I hope you heard this in today’s gospel. When the people asked John the Baptist, “What must I do?” his response was very clear,“You should share what you have.”
John the Baptist states unmistakably, “Whoever has two cloaks should share with the person who has none.” It was a common cultural belief in the days of John the Baptist that if someone had more than one of something, he or she was considered greedy.
I would have been considered extremely greedy. I have more than two coats. I have more than two pairs of shoes. How about you? How good are we about sharing?
When the tax collectors asked the same question, “What must I do?” John the Baptist told them to stop cheating people, to be honest, and not use their position to enrich themselves.
When the soldiers wanted to know what they were to do, John the Baptist told them to stop harassing and intimidating others. In short, to stop abusing your power.
John answered their questions by addressing the inequities and injustices of society. Food and clothing is to be shared. Taxes are not to be based on the greed of the powerful. The military must stop victimizing, threatening and intimidating.
John’s advice is practical. He didn’t indulge in a cliché like “Pray about it.” John wanted people to live out their faith everyday by repenting and sharing. What are you to do?
Many of us are familiar with a traditional Christmas story about sharing, “The Gift of the Magi,” by O. Henry.
The story is about a desperately poor young couple living in New York City at the turn of the century. Neither of them had money to buy a Christmas gift for the other. So they secretly went out and sold something of value they owned.
Jim sold his prized pocket watch to buy Della ornamental combs for her long hair. Della cut her beautiful long hair and sold it to purchase a gold chain for Jim’s pocket watch.
On Christmas Day, they exchanged gifts and realized they were now left with gifts that neither one could use.
But they both realized how far they were willing to go to show their shared spirit of love for each other.
What about you and me? We need to ask the same question, “What must I do?”
We are asked to repent and to share by making simple efforts to resolve the inequities and injustices of our society.
Here is a practical example from my own life:
In front of me in the checkout line were two small children, a boy about ten years old and a younger girl, obviously his sister, around five years old. The boy wore an old ragged coat that was way too large for him and jeans that he had clearly outgrown, which only highlighted his tattered sneakers. The girl’s clothes resembled her brother’s but in reverse. Her coat was way too small and her jeans too long, but her sneakers looked as threadbare as his.
He clutched several wrinkled dollars in his callused hands; calluses probably earned from shoveling snow. In her hands she carried a pair of woman’s pajamas. She was humming to the Christmas music in the store’s sound system, a little off-key but happy.
She carefully placed the pajamas on the counter. The clerk rang them up. “That will be $16.09,” the clerk said. The boy quickly searched his pockets and laid his crumpled dollars and change on the counter totaling, $13.12.
“We will have to come back tomorrow,” he said bravely to the clerk. The little girl broke into a soft sob. “But Jesus would love these pajamas,” she cried.
Quickly I handed $3.00 to the cashier. After all, it was Christmas and I remembered how I had slighted another person in my past and did not want to be haunted by denying these children the chance to buy a gift “that Jesus would love.”
Suddenly a pair of arms came around me, and a small voice said, “Thank you, sir.” It totally startled me. I asked, her, “What did you mean when you said Jesus would love these pajamas?”
She responded, “Our mommy is very sick and is going to heaven. Daddy said she might even go before Christmas to be with Jesus. My brother and I thought she should have some beautiful pajamas in heaven.”
Silently I thanked God and smiled as I thought of my Ma and Dad walking around heaven in pajamas. I embraced the children, asked them their names and thanked them for loving their mother and father. I assured them that the angels would take care of their Mom just as they take care of my parents.
The children ran into their father’s supportive arms as they left the store.
Tears dampened my eyes, as I found myself silently praying to the Lord for the children and their father and mother. I asked the Lord to surround them with the courage they would need this Advent and Christmas season.
I was overwhelmed with a sense of sadness, thinking I could give three bucks for the pajamas, but I could not give them what they needed most: their mother.
However, I was also filled with joyfulness. I rejoiced, believing in what Paul wrote to the Philippians as we heard in our second reading today:
The Lord is near. Have no anxiety at all but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving make your requests known to God. Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.
Advent and Christmas speaks to us of wonder, innocence, joy, love and forgiveness. This is the challenge of the Advent and Christmas message, to repent and to share.
Last week, we began this Holy Season of Advent and embarked as pilgrims on the journey to Bethlehem.
I started my pilgrimage with two cracked ribs and a fractured T4 vertebra, forcing me to accept I would not be skiing this season.
Others have started their journey with cancer or other illness diagnoses, compelling them to clarify the purpose of their life. Some are beginning their journey with an unexpected or perhaps anticipated death of a loved one, reminding them that their relationships are more important than their successes or achievements.
Many are forced to journey without their homes because of fires, floods, hurricanes or tornadoes, yet have gained a new perspective on the value of their belongings.
So, how do we continue this adventure of a journey physically, emotionally and spiritually?
Last week, we lit the First Advent candle and reflected on Scripture passages that propelled us into the future to consider the end of the world, the apocalypse. Today, we light the Second Advent candle and meditate on the voice of one crying in the desert.
We all know what this weirdo in a camel’s hair shirt and who eats grasshoppers is going to say. He says the same thing every year. It is like a broken record, over and over.
You know what he preaches, don’t you? “Repent from your sins.” “Prepare the way of the Lord.” That’s it.
No cute stories, no three points, no worn-out pious clichés, he just goes throughout all of Jordan, roaring his one-line sermon of preparing for the Lord by repenting.
How do you do that? How do you “Prepare the Way of the Lord” this Advent?
Pray for guidance to:
This is what a prophet worth his or her salt does. A holy prophet calls us to conversion. Some folks think that a prophet is someone who can foretell the future. That might be part of what they do, but what they also talk about the present.
What they say about the present moment is, “You’ve got it wrong. You need to repent and prepare for the coming of the Lord.” Prophets tell us what we already know, which is why it is like a broken record and why we don’t like to hear it.
There are two kinds of prophets: those who seek to be protect the the status quo and those who demand conversion and change.
Status quo prophets demand that we keep the rules, rites, rituals and everything will be fine. When they cry out, their mantra is “This is the way we have always done it.” We have bishops, priests and parishioners like that. The status quo prophets don’t require any commitment.
Conversion prophets, on the other hand, see what can be done to correct injustices, sinful behavior, and what fails to promote peace, mercy and equality for all people. They cry out “Things are not OK and we need to do something about it.” Conversion prophets demand repentance, change and commitment.
John the Baptist was a conversion prophet.
A conversion prophet of modern times who made a profound impact on me is the American Trappist monk and author, Thomas Merton. He died on Monday, December 10, 1968.
Like many of our youth today, Merton grew up in an environment lacking strong religious influence or guidance. He questioned the existence of God, religious beliefs and practices and he got into trouble. His life as a young adult was probably like that of an average college student today. He was preoccupied with himself.
You can read his conversion experiences in his best selling 1948 autobiography about his restless youth and personal conversion entitled “The Seven Storey Mountain.”
I read this book in 1959 while at the University of Minnesota, and its wisdom remains relevant. Thomas Merton’s honest admissions of his shortcomings, imperfections and sins, inspired me to do what he did: join the seminary.
I want to share one of my favorite passages from Merton’s writing. It is from his “Thoughts in Solitude” and is actually a prayer that everyone can pray.
“… My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following Your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please You does, in fact, please You. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me on the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore, will I trust You always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death ? I will not fear, for You are ever with me, and yYou will never leave me to face my perils alone.”
I encourage you to carry this prayer with you every day during this Second Week of Advent as a means to Prepare the Way of the Lord.
A Catholic priest and a Lutheran pastor were standing by the side of the road after pounding a sign into the ground. The sign read, “BEWARE THE END IS NEAR. TURN YOURSELF AROUND NOW BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE.”
Just then a driver sped past and yelled, “You guys are religious nuts. Leave us alone.” Next, there was a loud screeching of brakes and a big splash.
The priest turned to the pastor and asked, “Do you think the sign should have read, “BRIDGE OUT” instead?
Last week, as we concluded the liturgical year, we were warned in Mark’s Gospel. This week, as we begin the new liturgical year, we are warned again with the Gospel of Luke.
Yes, most of the gospel readings for this liturgical year will be from Luke. Most of you know that he is the author of two books in the Bible, the Gospel of Luke and the Acts of the Apostles. Luke is said to have been a physician, a historian, and a lawyer who wrote to the Gentiles. His gospel is sometimes referred to as the Gospel of Women and the Gospel of the Poor, as he was concerned with those who lived on the fringes of society, the sick, and the outcast.
Luke’s warning in today’s reading could be called practicing some preventive medicine, as he does not want us to be caught off-guard.
However, I am afraid many of us will drive right through Luke’s warning, running the yellow light or not stopping at the red light. The second paragraph reads, “Beware that your hearts do not become drowsy from carousing and drunkenness and the anxieties of daily life, and that day catch you by surprise like a trap.”
The word “trap” should catch our attention. I wonder how many of us have been caught in a speed trap and ticketed for going too fast. This reminds me of the story of the police who pulled over a driver for speeding. His wife was in the passenger seat.
Police Officer: “Sir, did you know you were going 50-mph in a 25- mph zone?
Driver: “Oh, I didn’t know it was a 25-mph zone.”
Wife: “Oh, yes you did George. We live at the end of this road.”
Driver: Turns to wife and says, “Be quiet.”
Police Officer: And sir, I notice you don’t have your seat belt fastened.”
Wife: “He never wears his seatbelt.”
Driver: Turns to wife and says, “Be quiet.”
Police Officer: “Madam, does he always talk to you like that?”
Wife: “Only when he’s drunk.”
Luke warns us about the drunkenness and anxieties of daily life and suggests that we be vigilant in prayer so we will be ready for our last judgment.
Spiritually, we are presently in what can be called “between times.” The past was the first historical coming of Christ, who silently came into the world, born to poor parents in an obscure village. The future is the second coming of Christ, which will be anything but silent!
There is an ancient story that depicts a man entering the gates of heaven. Once inside, he discovers nothing but a place to sit facing a huge blank wall. He asks his escort, St. Peter, for an explanation. Peter replies, “You have only entered the waiting room of paradise. Heaven is on the other side of the wall. There is an opening in the wall, but the opening only happens once a year. It could be opened at any time, possibly within the hour, possibly in four weeks … no one knows. Keep vigil and watch. If you miss it, your waiting will continue.”
There are two striking similarities between this man’s situation and our own. Like the man who has already passed the gates of heaven, we, too, are already saved by the historical life of Christ’s redemption. We have to wait for the second opening when Christ will come again.
Advent takes place during the shortest days and the longest nights of the year. The natural world is pausing and inviting us to do the same. Finding time to be quiet and reflective might seem like a luxury.
Black Friday, Cyber Monday and other shopping events might be more familiar indications of the coming of Christmas than Advent. Our short Advent season can easily be overshadowed by the frenzy of shopping, decorating, and partying.
This Advent is a good opportunity to remember the importance of mercy. To be merciful rather than indifferent, to be merciful in our own lives and bring mercy to others. At the same time, we do not ignore justice in our society as God’s justice is mercy.
Let’s focus on the corporal works of mercy: to feed the hungry, to give drink to the thirsty, to clothe the naked, to welcome strangers, to heal the sick, to visit the imprisoned, and to bury the dead.
Concurrently, let’s incorporate the spiritual works of mercy: to counsel the doubtful, to instruct the ignorant, to admonish sinners, to comfort the afflicted, to forgive offenses, to bear patiently with those who do us ill, and to pray for the living and the dead.
This Advent, let’s remember that mercy is the essence of the gospel and the key to Christian life.