The most influential chapter of any book I have ever read has to be the one entitled “The hour that makes my day” in the autobiography of Venerable Fulton Sheen, Treasure in Clay. I remember reading it over twenty-three years ago as a seminarian and being so inspired that I too resolved, from that time on, to make a holy hour before the Blessed Sacrament every day. Apart from the Mass itself, this hour of prayer remains the fulcrum of my day even still.

Recently I gave a talk to a group of promoters of Eucharistic Adoration in my diocese. These are the good folks who are involved in promoting Eucharistic adoration in parishes. During the talk, I mentioned that while it is important to encourage people to commit themselves to regularly spending a holy hour before the Blessed Sacrament, it is also important to teach and guide them how to make that holy hour. Without this deeper catechesis, we can easily become bored, begin to fidget, and lose sight of what Adoration is all about. Without the necessary spiritual direction and guidance of how to make a holy hour, we can forget that this precious time with the Lord is more about his desire to be with us than our desire to be with him. He is the one who longs for our company more than we long for him: “Could you not watch with me one hour?” (Mark 14:37). Here I offer a few guidelines of how we can make a holy hour by dividing it into three blocks of twenty minutes.

The first twenty minutes before the Lord really present in the Eucharist is a sacred time of intimacy between us and him. It is a time to just be present to our God who welcomes us and accepts us. In the words of St. John Vianney, it is a time when “I look at Him and he looks at me.” Before the Eucharist is a time when we lean on Jesus’ breast, like John did at the last supper, and allow his heart to speak to ours. This was the episcopal motto of Blessed John Henry Newman: cor ad cor loquitur (heart speaks to heart). We begin to grow in our “interior knowledge of the Lord” as we contemplate his words, his life, and his real presence before us (St. Ignatius of Loyola, Spiritual Exercises, 104). Here is the zone into which we are drawn in the first third of our holy hour, where our heart speaks to his. It is also a time when we listen to him and allow him to speak to us. This is a time when we can tell him everything about how we are and how we feel. It is a time to tell him about our day and to ask his help in ways in which we need it. Above all it is a time to thank the Lord for his presence and action in our lives and to adore him for his goodness, truth, and mercy. It is also an opportunity to present to him the things we don’t understand, our sins, failings, and the worries that burden us. In this twenty minutes of our holy hour, we bask in the light of his love that never fails us.

The second twenty minutes can be a time when we intercede for all the people we know and are part of our lives. At this stage of our prayer, we bring to the Lord all who have asked us to pray for them, our families and friends both living and dead. In this time we pray for all we have met in the past day or week, the conversations we had, the things we have said and done. Often during this time in the holy hour, some person will arise in our minds who we feel the Lord is calling us to pray for, reach out to, to contact or to visit. It is also a time to focus on what lies ahead —our next appointment, our next challenge, or perhaps a courageous conversation we need to have with someone to clear the air. In this time of prayer, our hearts are reminded that our call is to love others in Christ’s name, and that the same Lord before us in the Eucharist is the same Lord present in everyone, especially in the least of his brothers and sisters (cf. Matt 25:31ff).

The final twenty minutes can be a time when we pray for the entire human family and the whole universe. So we might pray for persecuted Christians around the world, for the victims of famine, and for an end to conflicts and wars. We might pray for the Church around the world, for the Holy Father on a foreign visit, or for all missionaries away from home. We might pray for the environment and for the care of the earth, thinking of ways to conserve more and consume less. For his beauty revealed in creation, this is a time to thank God for the sun, moon, and stars that were made through his Word present before us in the Eucharist. Finally, we can pray in this time for the peace among all nations for which Jesus lived and died—and that it might become a reality in our troubled world today.

There are many ways of praying and many ways of making a holy hour for “the Spirit blows where it wills” (John 3:8). But sometimes we need a little guidance that helps us to focus. Above is a guide for a holy hour of Adoration before the Lord, truly present in the Blessed Sacrament. It starts off with his love for us but ends with a prayer that blesses God for the whole of creation. In this way we exercise our share in Christ’s priesthood that lovingly embraces every individual but extends to the entire cosmos we inhabit.

“O sacrament most holy, O sacrament divine, all praise and all thanksgiving be every moment thine!”

Fr. Billy Swan is a priest of the Diocese of Ferns, Ireland. He served for four years as the Director of Seminary Formation at the Pontifical Irish College, Rome. He is currently based at St Aidan’s Cathedral, Enniscorthy, Co. Wexford.

Ever since I was a kid I have had a fascination with the Magi and that fascination evolved into a religious devotion to these mysterious, sainted travelers. The Gospel of Matthew tells us little about them, and history and Tradition tell us even less. Matthew names three gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh and so developed the tradition of three individuals who have been given the names of Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar.

Popularly we have called them kings and wise men; the former in an attempt to show fulfillment of Old Testament prophecies and the latter being possibly more accurate. The Scriptures only give them the title of Magi, plural for mage. Another tradition says that they came representing Europe, Africa, and Asia, but that is probably not the case either. Most historians and Scripture scholars point to their origin as being from ancient Persia, modern day Iran. They were likely followers of Zoroastrianism, which in its more ancient form placed an emphasis on the study of the stars by its priests.

Matthew’s Gospel tells us that they observed “the star at its rising.” What they exactly saw we do not know. Modern day astronomers have suggested a possible supernova or an unusual alignment of planets. The fact that this may have been a natural phenomenon does not in any way diminish the fact that this sign heralded a supernatural event on earth; after all, does not creation serve its master and creator? More fascinating still is that there is evidence that this astronomical event took place within the constellation of Aries which was the Zodiac sign for Judea and would have lead the Magi to Jerusalem its capital and then on to Bethlehem following their audience with Herod.

Following the star would not have been easy. The journey from Persia to Bethlehem would have been long, difficult and fraught with danger, yet the Magi made the journey. Why? God called them.

On their hearts was placed the hope that something wonderful was waiting for them beneath that star.

While they were guided by the star’s light, it was actually faith and hope that moved them. They did not know where they were going, when the journey would end, or what they would find, but they were called and they went.

This is why the story of the Magi remains relevant for us as disciples. God is always calling to us, many times through the natural realities of our lives, beckoning us to follow the light that leads to him. The path is not always easy, sometimes we do not know where we are going, and maybe we might ask ourselves at times is the journey worth it?

The Magi did indeed find the journey worth it because in presenting their gifts to the Christ child they were given a special gift: the joy that comes from God alone.

Of course, there is a great tragedy in this story and that is Herod and his brutal decision to murder all boys in Bethlehem two years old and younger. God was calling Herod also, not through the star, but through the Magi themselves when they came asking about the new born king, but Herod was closed off to anyone but himself and was only concerned with following his own light. God was not seeking Herod’s throne or his kingdom, just his heart.

May the grace of this wonderful Solemnity of the Epiphany teach us to guard against being selfreferential and closed off, from thinking that life is all about us and that we have all the answers. May the grace of God open our eyes in faith to behold the many and varied ways that God’s light is calling to us through the challenges and difficulties of this life, to the path that ultimately will lead us to true life in Christ and the joy that he alone gives.

Father Christopher House is the Rector of the Cathedral and serves in various leadership roles within the diocesan curia, namely Chancellor and Vicar Judicial.

“The Story of the Other Wise Man” by Henry Van Dyke was first published in 1895. It tells the fictional story of Artaban, a fourth wise man who began a journey to visit Jesus, the newborn King. Unlike his fellow Magi, he failed to make it there for the birth of Jesus because he kept pausing to help various people in need. In fact, it took him about 33 years of searching before his quest comes to an abrupt end when he is hit in the head with a falling roof shingle. His final breath takes place in Jerusalem near the place where Jesus is being crucified. As he lies dying, he hears the voice of Jesus telling him that the gifts he has given all along the way to “the least of these” he has actually given to Jesus himself.

If you have never read this story or seen the made-fortelevision movie based on the tale, you really should seek it out. It is a story that reminds us of a profound truth: Jesus himself rests in the lives of all those around us in need. In the story, it was the wise man’s constant response to a stewardship call that prevented him from getting where he wanted to go. In the end, where he needed to go was more significant than where he thought he should go.

If we live lives of generosity and graciousness, we may find ourselves on constant detours from the road on which we are traveling. It is in the detours and the unexpected circumstances of our journey that often times we find our true purpose in life. We think God is somewhere we must travel to, when in reality, God is closer than we think in the least likely of places.

— Tracy Earl Welliver, MTS

Tracy Earl Welliver works for Liturgical Publications, Inc. and writes on various stewardship topics. This article is used with permission.

One of the commonest observations made by opponents of religion is that we don’t need God in order to have a coherent and integral morality. Atheists and agnostics are extremely sensitive to the charge that the rejection of God will conduce automatically to moral chaos. Consequently, they argue that a robust sense of ethics can be grounded in the consensus of the human community over time or in the intuitions and sensibilities of decent people, etc.

What I would like to do is lay out, in very brief compass, the Catholic understanding of the relationship between morality and the existence of God and to show, thereby, why it is indispensably important for a society that wishes to maintain its moral integrity to maintain, at the same time, a vibrant belief in God.

Why do we do the things that we do? What motivates us ethically? Right now , I a m typing words on my keyboard. Why am I doing that? Well, I want to finish my weekly column. Why do I want to do that? I want to communicate the truth as I see it to an audience who might benefit from it. Why would I want that? Well, I’m convinced that the truth is good in itself. Do you see what we’ve uncovered by this simple exercise? By searching out the motivation for the act of typing words, we have come to a basic or fundamental good, a value that is worthwhile for its own sake. My acts of typing, writing, and communicating are subordinate, finally, to the intrinsic value of the truth. Take another example. Just before composing that last sentence, I took a swig of water from a plastic bottle on my desk. Why did I do that? Well, I was thirsty and wanted to slake my thirst. But why did I want to do that? Hydrating my system is healthy. Why is health important? Because it sustains my life. Why is life worth pursuing? Well, because life is good in itself. Once more, this analysis of desire has revealed a basic or irreducible good. Catholic moral philosophy recognizes, besides truth and life, other basic values, including friendship, justice, and beauty, and it sees them as the structuring elements of the moral life.

When Pope Benedict XVI complained about a “dictatorship of relativism” and when Catholic philosophers worry over the triumph of the subjective in our culture, they are expressing their concerns that these irreducible values have been forgotten or occluded. In her great meditations on the sovereignty of the good, the Irish philosopher Iris Murdoch strenuously insists that the authentic good legitimately imposes itself on the human will and is not a creation of that will. At the limit, contemporary subjectivism apotheosizes the will so that it becomes the source of value, but this puffing up of our freedom is actually ruinous, for it prevents the appropriation of the objective values that will truly benefit us.

This “basic goods” theory also grounds the keen Catholic sense that there are certain acts which are intrinsically evil, that is, wrong no matter the circumstances of the act or the motivations of the agent. Slavery, the sexual abuse of children, adultery, racism, murder, etc. are intrinsically evil precisely because they involve direct attacks on basic goods. The moment we unmoor a moral system from these objective values, no act can be designated as intrinsically evil and from that state of affairs moral chaos follows.

So far we have determined the objectivity of the ethical enterprise, but how does God figure into the system? Couldn’t an honest secularist hold to objective moral goods but not hold to God’s existence? Let’s return to our analysis of the will in action. As we saw, the will is motivated, even in its simplest moves, by some sense, perhaps inchoate, of a moral value: truth, life, beauty, justice, etc. But having achieved some worldly good—say of writing this column, or slaking a thirst, or educating a child— the will is only incompletely satisfied. In point of fact, the achievement of some finite good tends to spur the will to want more of that good. Every scientist or philosopher knows that the answering of one question tends to open a hundred new ones; every social activist knows that righting one wrong awakens a desire to right a hundred more. Indeed, no achievement of truth, justice, life, or beauty in this world can satisfy the will, for the will is ordered to each of those goods in its properly unconditioned form. As Bernard Lonergan said, “the mind wants to know everything about everything.” And as St. Augustine said, “Lord, you have made us for yourself; therefore our heart is restless until it rests in thee.” You’ve noticed that I’ve slipped God somewhat slyly into the discussion! But I haven’t done so illegitimately, for in the Catholic philosophical tradition, “God” is the name that we give to absolute or unconditioned goodness, justice, truth, and life.

Now we can see the relationship between God and the basic goods that ground the moral life: the latter are reflections of and participations in the former. As C.S. Lewis points out in Mere Christianity, the moral absolutes are, therefore, signposts of God. And this is precisely why the negation of God leads by a short route to the negation of moral absolutes and finally to a crass subjectivism. Removing God is tantamount to removing the ground for the basic goods, and once the basic goods have been eliminated, all that is left is the self-legislating and self-creating will. Thus, we should be wary indeed when atheists and agnostics blithely suggest that morality can endure apart from God. Much truer is Dostoyevsky’s observation that once God is removed, anything is permissible.

Bishop Robert Barron is the founder of Word on Fire Catholic Ministries and Auxiliary Bishop of the Archdiocese of Los Angeles.

I confess: I’ve never been particularly successful at keeping New Year ’s resolutions because I’m more successful at finding excuses to ignore them. In years past I’ve been sidetracked by crowded gyms, the sniffles, and my general inability to resist temptation. This year, I decided I need some extra help, so I’m turning to the saints. I’m used to asking for the intercession of saints for big concerns, for example, laying my parenting woes at the feet of St. Monica, or asking for St. Peregrine’s support for a friend battling cancer. But what about intercession for life’s more mundane issues? Studies show we are more successful reaching goals when we enlist the help of a friend, and who better than our saint friends? Here are a few of my resolutions with the saints who will help me stay on track in 2018.

Getting in shape with St. Sebastian, Pope St. John Paul II, and St. Expeditus

Getting more exercise is a perennial New Year’s resolution for me. I thought I’d turn to the patron of athletes, St. Sebastian, or Pope St. John Paul II, well known for his athleticism and love of the outdoors. But my gym time flailing doesn’t quite rise to the level of athleticism and John Paul II surely has more important intercessions and Sebastian is also the patron of those wishing a saintly death. (While I feel like dying when I exercise, I don’t think I’m likely to actually meet my demise and certainly not in a saintly way.) Honestly, my real issue is one of procrastination and lack of motivation. So, I think I need to turn to St. Expeditus, patron of procrastinators. In the early days of the Church, Roman soldier Expeditus, when about to convert to Christianity, was tempted by the devil (in the form of a crow) telling him to “wait until tomorrow.” Expeditus wouldn’t be swayed from his goal saying, “No. Today I will become a Christian.” That’s just the determination I need on those mornings when I’m tempted to say to myself, “Maybe I’ll just go to the gym tomorrow.”

Being more organized with St. Benedict and St. Zita

Another one of my resolutions this year is to finally get more organized. I’ve tried old-school to-do lists and digital solutions, but I still feel overwhelmed keeping up with my schedule, my responsibilities, and of course, the stacks of magazines and mail that threaten to swallow up my desk. While St. Expeditus can help with my general procrastination, I might need to consult an organizational expert on this one. I thought of St. Benedict, whose “rules” set out how to efficiently run a monastery. Then I read that Benedict was so strict in his organizational skills that some of his fellow brothers tried to poison him. Maybe I will ask for his help sparingly. St. Zita, the patron of homemakers and house cleaners might be a gentler and more accessible choice to support me. She managed to keep up with the daunting level of chores her demanding employer required while never missing Mass. And all in the days before dishwashers and washing machines.

Overcoming bad habits with St. Jude and St. Charles Borromeo

A brand new calendar year brings a sense of new possibilities. While your vision of the new-improved-you might not be the same as mine, we all crave the fresh start New Year’s resolutions can bring. But if you’re like me, after starting strong your enthusiasm and energy flag. Asking a saint to intercede on our behalf is like having an accountability partner, someone who either encountered the same challenges in life or is a role model for the goal we wish to achieve. So maybe you don’t need the help of St. Expeditus or St. Zita, but St. Jude, the patron saint of hopeless causes, might be able to support you in your quest to finally quit smoking or St. Charles Borromeo, who was unable to eat what he liked due to stomach issues, can help in your struggle to lose weight. Ask them to intercede for you, trusting that they know the challenges you’re facing. It’s good to know you have a friend in heaven.

Susan Anthony is the mother emeritus to three grown sons and blogs with her lifelong friend Anne at www.yallneedjesusblog.com. This article is used with permission and found at https://bustedhalo.com/ministry

We continue our journey through the Octave of Christmas this weekend with the celebration of the Feast of the Holy Family. This feast reminds us that Jesus was raised in a home, that he grew in age, wisdom, and in knowledge of God’s will for his life. He also grew in grace and obedience under the care of Mary and Joseph.

The Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God follows the Feast of the Holy Family on New Year’s Day. This solemnity marks the end of the Octave of Christmas by celebrating the motherhood of Mary, remembering that it was from her that Jesus took his human nature, becoming one with us in all things but sin. This solemnity is a holy day of obligation and Mass will be offered on Monday evening at 5:15PM and on Tuesday morning, New Year’s Day, at 9AM.

As we continue our journey though the Christmas season, I wish to thank all who ministered and assisted in making our Christmas Eve and Christmas Day celebrations so wonderful, especially to those in our music ministry and to our maintenance staff for their work in setting the environment in the church.

How blessed we are to have this joyous season of light in the midst of the darkest days of winter, but also at a time when the light begins to lengthen ever so slightly and the darkness begins to recede. Please continue to enjoy the beauty of the season. It began, not ended, on December 25th and continues through Epiphany and the Baptism of the Lord on January 13th. May the joy of Christmas continue to be yours and may you know God’s abundant grace and blessings in 2019. Happy New Year!

 Father Christopher House is the Rector of the Cathedral and serves in various leadership roles within the diocesan curia, namely Chancellor and Vicar Judicial.

We are not very good at inviting. I can’t tell you how many conversations I have had with Catholics recently when that phrase came up. Why is that? Can we grow deeper in holiness by inviting?

Some of you may be thinking you could never ask someone. I ask people if they will come to an event or program at our church and there is hesitation. I imagine they don’t get asked to go to a church event very often. I get it; this isn’t a normal request nowadays. It is not like, “let’s go get a casual cup of coffee,” instead it is, “let’s go get some spiritual nourishment and possibly talk about things that may make us uncomfortable.” Right?

It may be hard to invite, but it may be equally hard for the person to accept. If we enter into this invitation with sensitivity to the person on the receiving end, we might be more successful. Frankly, people might not want to be asked, as much as we don’t want to ask them. However, Jesus’ ministry would not have gotten very far without inviting. He asked, too. He said to go make disciples, which requires invitation. It is now our turn to invite. Go make disciples in the new year!

Katie Price is the Coordinator for Stewardship at the Cathedral.

Do you practice good stewardship with your family? Stewardship is about more than offerings to a church or charity. It is about continually giving of ourselves in a way that gives glory to God. Sharing our gifts with those in our immediate family honors God and is evidence of your gratitude for these people in your life.

How can we effectively accomplish this? One way is to reflect on how the 6 characteristics of an Everyday Steward are present in our family relationships. Are we mindful when we are with our family members? Do we focus on them and their needs rather than our phone or TV? Do we hold up our family in prayer? Their concerns should be our concerns. Do we find ways to show how grateful we are for having them in our lives?

When we find ourselves lacking in gratitude, we should reflect on what life would be like without them. Do we help one another without being asked because we have a gracious heart? It is easy to take for granted those we see all the time. Hospitality is not just for the stranger or guest. Are we committed to a life of stewardship that not only serves as a good example, but also helps our relatives thrive?

Using our gifts without wisdom might mean we have little to give to those we love. Finally, do we hold each other accountable for our decisions and shortcomings?

We are on the journey of life together, and no one exists in the Body of Christ alone. Stewardship is about the entirety of our lives. Our faith life is not reserved to Mass on a Sunday. It all begins and ends with those we love.

Tracy Earl Welliver, MTS,
Written for LPi and used with permission

Entering into this world with eyes for excitement, children have a sense of amazement over everything that is. As adults, we find this sensation in watching movies or reading books or playing video games. In a word, from escapism. We see Star Wars or read The Lord of the Rings and experience childlike wonder again. But for children, the world just is The Lord of the Rings. It’s altogether a little bit creepy, and totally fantastic.

Now, there are many things we can learn from children, but one of them—and perhaps the best of all—is how to look at the world. Very quickly: Here is something children know that adults forget. Everything in this world is, but doesn’t have to be. Children bearundiluted, clear witness to the radical contingency of everything that exists; to the preposterous and hair-raising fact that something like crocodiles exist. Because, quite frankly, it is preposterous that something like crocodiles exist. Surely, it is the stuff of fairy tales that these bizarre and bumpy, green creatures are out there. And so, it would seem to me—as it seems so clear to my children—that everything from rice pilaf to Spanish octopi points simply to the fact that life is just one big ball of magic. It’s all here. But it doesn’t have to be. And yet we’re all so darn glad that it is. We’ve got front row seats to the greatest show to ever be staged.

But the lessons from children don’t stop there; not even close. For children are not only bemused at the wonder of existence but appreciative of it. They want to know everything about, say, goblin sharks—why they live where they do, what’s up with their grotesque snouts and pink skin and mangled, sharp, scraggly teeth—and then, of all things, they tell me they love them. (“Goblin sharks? Really? Okay!”) Same with tarantulas, or crayons and coloring books, or trolley cars and pizza delivery people. Everything gets the attention of children, even (and especially) the stuff that we as grownups have come to view as unimportant, or kind of gross. There’s something to be learned from this. Something important.

Because there is nothing necessary about any of these things, nothing about why goblin sharks and not some other hideous-yetfascinating deep sea creature, or why pizza delivery people or trolley cars, or why these laws of physics or these fermions and bosons and not some other fundamental “stuff,” and so that’s what makes the world all the more incredible. It is. But it doesn’t have to be. It’s not just the fact that these things exist that intrigues us, but also that we can ask questions about them, as children do. We can ask why.

Children see there must be some reason for the magic happening; they can see we live in a world that is no different (in principle, at least) than fairyland, only instead of fairies, we have platypus and pocket lint. There must be some kind of explanation for it: all magic requires a magician, or so we think. And so who, we would all like to know, is the one behind all this? Who is the one pulling the universe from his sleeve, conducting the celestial symphony, writing the cosmic narrative? We look around at this great and fantastic drama we’re in—with all its amazing stage props and characters and events—and we demand to know something about the stage designer, the prop master, or whatever we want to call him. We get that Caesar died because Brutus stabbed him—that we can figure out from reading the story alone, just as we can figure out that objects are attracted to one another by the law of gravity from observing the universe alone—but who wrote the story to begin with? Who breathed the fire and made things just so? Why Brutus at all? Why is the law of gravity this way and not that?

Children see the world in the way it is meant to be seen. They see it as magic, mystical, awe-inspiring. They see it as unnecessary and, because of this, infinitely precious and worth admiring. Worth asking questions about. Worth taking in. They want to know everything they can about, well, everything they can, from crocodiles to clouds, from cars to catapults. Children get us to see, quite clearly, and quite rightly, I believe, that there is nothing about this universe that explains itself, just as there is nothing within The Lord of the Rings that explains The Lord of the Rings. To answer that, we would need to take the question up with J.R.R. Tolkien. For the universe itself, that question is kicked to God.

There are theological implications here, as there are theological implications in (almost) everything. Children not only get this, but are unaffected by it; unpestered by social pressure or political influence, children are wholly unconcerned about whether certain lines of inquiry might lead to religious outcomes or not. They just want to know why the world is the way it is.

This is the mind of the philosopher, the scientist, the theologian; the honest seeking person of everyday common sense melded with an adventurous spirit; the person who not only wants to know truth but humbles themselves before the biggest questions in life, yet loves the hunt, lives for the hunt. There are so many things my children have taught me. But to love, wonder at, and appreciate the world again, from the eyes of someone new to it— which, to me, is simply to love, wonder at, and appreciate God— is the greatest lesson of all.

Writer, entrepreneur, and “re-converted” Catholic, Pat Flynn focuses his efforts on helping others find happiness and wholeness through fitness, philosophy, and religion. He is a writer for the Word on Fire blog and this article can be found here: https://www.wordonfire.org/resources/blog/what-children-canteach- us-about-god/5975/

The time is almost here. Few things give me more joy than Christmastime. While it will truly be here in just a few more sleeps, I know some folks, sadly, are ready for it to be over. Perhaps, among other reasons, its because we “jump the gun” on Christmas to the point that we seem to have Christmas fatigue by the time the actual day and true season arrives. But, I digress; another debate for another time.

 The first reading and the Gospel for this Fourth Sunday of Advent help to set the stage for our celebration of Christmas this coming week. Starting last Monday on December 17th, the focus of the season of Advent changed. We found ourselves looking forward to the return of Jesus at the end of time for the majority of the season; the tale-end of Advent, always starting on December 17th, invites us to begin to focus on the coming of Jesus as the child of Bethlehem. In the first reading we hear t h e Prophet Micah speaking of Bethlehem. The Gospel tells us of Mary’s visitation to her cousin Elizabeth where Mary finds her faith in the words of Gabriel confirmed by the fact that Elizabeth is with

child.

What both Bethlehem and Mary have in common is that no one would have expected either of them to have anything to do with the coming of the Messiah; Bethlehem lacked the glory of its neighbor Jerusalem, even though Bethlehem truly is “David’s city” and Mary was a girl from a non-descript family in a back-water town called Nazareth, a town of maybe two-hundred people at the time. However, with both Bethlehem and Mary we see God doing wonderful things in and through them.

 As we prepare to approach the manger, may it remind us that God performs some of his greatest acts in the unlikeliest of situations with some of the unlikeliest people.

If God chose for the birth of his only begotten son to take place in these circumstances then why do we at times think that God is limited by the circumstances of our individual lives? Psalm 126 declares “the Lord has done great things for us; we are filled with joy.” The birth of our savior truly is a great and wondrous thing, but the goodness of God is not locked in the past. God is still looking to do great things in our lives. Like Mary, may we open our hearts in faith to the power and possibility of God’s action in our lives.

On behalf of Bishop Paprocki, Father Stock, Father Friedel, Deacon Smith, Deacon Keen, and the Cathedral parish staff, I wish you and yours a blessed and Merry Christmas. May the Christ child turn his tender face to you and gift you the joy and peace that come from him alone. God bless you!

 PS – Here is a fun Christmas fact for you.

Did you know that this Christmas Eve will be the 200th anniversary of the first performance of Silent Night? It was originally composed in German in Austria when, as the likely dubious tradition states, the organ was in disrepair on Christmas Eve. The pastor had actually written the text two years earlier in 1816 and just before Christmas in 1818 asked the parish musician to set the words to music for guitar. Today the beloved Christmas hymn has been translated into approximately 140 languages and Bing Crosby’s recording of it is the third bestselling single of all-time

 Father Christopher House is the Rector of the Cathedral and serves in various leadership roles within the diocesan curia, namely Chancellor and Vicar Judicial.