Would You Come Here?

"For God loved the world so much that He gave His one and only Son..."

This past week's tragedy in Sandy Hook, Connecticut (not to be confused with the Superstorm tragedy in Sandy Hook, NJ) left most of us speechless.

Twenty beautiful children and eight innocent adults were killed in what can only be described as a nightmare.

It was horrifying.  Sad.  Unexplainable.

And you know what?  It feels like this kind of stuff happens way too often.

So I'm left asking myself one question.

No, it's not the ever popular "how could God have let this happen?"

I know full well it is human choice that has led to this, not God.

I want to know something different.

In the spirit of Advent, I want to know why on Earth God chose to come here to dwell among us?

How could He love us so much to come to a place where this kind of stuff happens?

God Bless.

P.S.  You can read my companion post to this here at the Community of Catholic Bloggers.

Did You Just Miss Today?

Today.

It's what passes us by while we are planning for tomorrow.

Or the weekend.

Or next week.

Or next year.  

Or when we are older/smarter/richer/less busy.

Yes indeed, we are a people that like to plan.  To think about what's next.  

Half the time we ignore what is right in front of us because it is in the way of what we perceive to be our finish line.

And you know what?  

We are missing God's beauty today.

In fact, I shudder to think about how much I have missed.  

And maybe that is why, today, on the first Sunday of Advent (ironically a time of preparation) we need to stop and smell the roses.  

To slow down our sprint to Christmas and enjoy God in this minute.

Because in our race to get all our gifts for December 25th, we are missing all of His...


May God Bless you and your families this Advent Season.

Stirring Up the Pot

I had the pleasure of hearing a wonderful homily on Thanksgiving.

I wanted to pass it on to all of you (I'll paraphrase, of course).

Our priest commented that with so many negative things happening in our country right now, it is easy to question what God is doing during all this.

Unemployment is still high.

We just elected a president that does not share many of the same values as Catholics, namely pro-life initiatives.

Hurricane Sandy just wreaked havoc in the northeast, leaving many homeless.

Etcetera, etcetera.

He then gave us an analogy.

He told us that each morning, he makes instant coffee.  He puts two scoops of powdered coffee in a mug, then two packets of Splenda, and finally some creamer.  

Then he stirs it vigorously, and made the hand motion to emphasize the point.

Finally he adds steaming hot water, to make, in his words, a delicious cup of coffee.

He then asked those in attendance what ingredient made the coffee taste so great?

Was it the coffee?  The Splenda?  The water?

"No," he told us, shaking his head.  "It was the stirring."

Without the stirring, he said, the coffee would have tasted either too black, or too creamy, or too sugary.  

"It was the stirring that made the goodness come out," he said  as he smiled.

"And that is what I believe God is doing right now.  He is stirring all of us to bring out the sweetness... to make all the goodness come out."

What a beautiful perspective, on a day that begs us to look at the silver lining in everything and offer thanks.

God Bless.

But Mostly, I Pray

I see the destruction of Superstorm Sandy all around me, and I wonder how people will deal with the giant trees on their houses.  Or the debris blocking the roads.  Or not having power for two weeks.

But mostly, I pray.

I wonder how we could get a Nor'easter in November, and how people with no power kept warm in the middle of a snowstorm.

But mostly, I pray.

I wonder how people can give blankets and coats to those who lost everything, and then curse each other out while waiting on a mile-long gas line.  

But mostly, I pray.

I wonder if America made the right decision to re-elect President Obama, and how much more of God's will will be removed from this country.

But mostly, I pray.

I wonder if people used these past two weeks to reflect on all that God has given them, and realize that even if they lost their home, clothes, gadgets, cars and power, they will still have the most important thing in the world.  His love.

But mostly, I pray.

God Bless.

Son of David

This week we read about Bartimaeus.  

While Jesus restoring his sight is nothing short of a true miracle, there is another amazing fact that often goes overlooked.

Bartimaeus calls Jesus the Son of David, which is a Messianic phrase.  

Assuming that phrase was not added later by Mark, that means this blind man knew what all the people with sight did not.

That Jesus was the Messiah.   

Which goes to show you that sight is not always as important as insight.

God Bless.

It's a Celebration

I was visiting another church this weekend, and the deacon ended the mass by saying:

"Go in peace ... this Celebration of the Eucharist has ended."

I'm used to hearing "The Mass has ended, go in peace," or something to that effect, but I really liked that Deacon's perspective.

In one short phrase, he reminded us that the Mass is really one 
big celebration of the Body and Blood of Christ.   

Something I sometimes take for granted.

God Bless.

LaGuardian Angel

"Go, sell what you have, and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in Heaven."

That line was from this week's Gospel - a Gospel that is mainly known for a line about a dromedary and needle.  

You know that story, so no need to repeat it here.

But our Deacon told us a different one this weekend.  One that focused on what it means to help the poor. 

Fiorello LaGuardia was the mayor of New York city during the Great Depression.   He often took over the judge's bench in one of the poorest parts of the city.  

One night, when he was presiding, a poor woman was brought before him.  She was charged with stealing a loaf of bread to feed her family.  

LaGuardia reportedly told her that the law is the law, and he could not make exceptions for her. He fined her $10, then reached into his wallet and paid the fine himself.

He then turned to the courtroom and fined each person fifty cents for living in a town where a woman had to resort to stealing bread so her family could eat.  

In other words, even the poor in the Great Depression were expected to help those less fortunate.

I imagine the same applied, tenfold, to the rich.

God Bless.