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In my opinion, one of the biggest blessings of being a Catholic is the liturgy. Catholic liturgy is not only a collection of symbolic gestures, the reenactment of a divine drama or a mere aesthetic experience. In the liturgy, two things happen: 1) the mystery of our salvation that is being celebrated is made present again, today; and 2) we are being included, with our present lives and circumstances, in this same mystery. Both things are fundamental. We are celebrating today the solemnity of Mary, Mother of God. We heard in the Gospel the narrative of Jesus’ circumcision and the adoration of the shepherds. As Catholics, we believe that these facts helped to form the pathway for our salvation. The way Jesus was born, lived and died has something very important for every Christian, for every human being to learn.

In my homily last week, I mentioned how Zechariah let his fear take the place his faith should have in his heart. He doubted the words of the angel and after that, he became dumb and he entered a long and dark period in his interior life. While John the Baptist grew in Elisabeth’s womb, Christ was silent growing in Zechariah’s heart as well.

“How shall I know this?”, asks Zechariah. I always wondered why Zechariah’s question was punished, while Mary’s question was rewarded – both placed very similar questions. In my opinion, the difference does not lie in the question itself, but in what lies underneath the question itself. Zechariah was a very pious man. He observed all the commandments, he diligently expected the Messiah, and as a priest, he celebrated the liturgy and all the rites full of good zeal and love. But when the angel appeared to him, right in the middle of the liturgy, he realized that God was real, incarnate. God was not simply an idea, a distant object of faith, too far above the clouds to get enmeshed with our mundane, daily life’s issues.

St. Luke is very careful to give time, place, naming the various leaders, both Roman and Jewish, because he wanted to situate what follows in actual history. This event really took place; John, son of Zecheriah and Elizabeth, was the herald preparing the way of the Lord, his very cousin “the Lamb of God.” John fully lived his vocation to his martyrdom by calling people to repentance, still today calling us; he was filled with the inspired words of the prophet Isaiah and on fire as the Lord’s herald.

“Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you”. In the Gospel this morning the angel Gabriel greets Mary full of grace almost as if that were her last name: Mary Full-of-grace. And she is in fact filled with the grace of God, more than any other human being. What the angel said is truer of Mary than of any other creature: “You have found favor with God”

“Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men”. Jesus always calls his disciples – each one of us. With some, this calling is very explicit. Most monks and nuns have a story about their calling, that moment in their lives when everything changed forever. For some, it was a very contemplative, silent, crystal-clear moment when we know that God exists and our life makes sense in Him. For others, this calling came as a turmoil, an upheaval, when everything turned upside down for a long time, and when the dust subsided – we were changed. And for many, maybe for most, this calling seems silent, never coming.

According to the Roman Breviary this feast commemorates the dedication of the Church of St. Mary built in Jerusalem near the site of the temple. With Christians of the East, the Latin Church also recalls on this day the tradition according to which Mary, as a small child, was presented to the Lord by her parents in the Temple.

“Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away”. As the liturgical year draws to a close, the liturgy invites us to reflect on the things that pass away and the things that remain in our lives. It is not exactly a pleasant topic: reflecting on the end of everything. On the end of the things we love, the people we love, and ultimately on our own end.

The words of God through the prophet Isaiah most fittingly describe the saints - canonized or not - of the huge Benedictine Family, centuries old. Our own brothers beginning with Brother Denis and recently ending with Brother Walter are crowned, clothed with a robe of salvation, wrapped in a mantle of justice, embraced in the eternal love of God. They knew that God’s hand was upon them so they sought, they found, they lived Benedicine life and now repose in that love forever, never ending and always new. These monks and nuns are the bridegrooms, the brides in Jesus, the Bridegroom whom they see face to face.

“Rejoice with me because I have found”. This is the refrain which comes time and again in the 15 th chapter of St Luke’s Gospel, in its three parables. It is a chapter that talks of losses and love. In fact, in the first parable, that of the lost sheep, the shepherd lost one sheep out of 100 (i.e., just 1% of his sheep). Even so, he leaves all the other sheep behind, out of love, and goes after the lost one. And when he finds it, he brings it back on his shoulders, full of joy.

In the reading from the Book of Revelation St. John presents a picture, a glance into heaven; the great multitude, 144,000 (12x12x1000) - the Scriptural way of stating a number beyond any count. This multitude stands before the Lamb and cries out, “Salvation comes from our God, who is seated on the throne and from the Lamb!”

Sometime in the 17th century, the poet Richard Baxter described a common experience when he wrote: They want not friends that have thy love, And may converse and walk with thee, And with thy saints here and above, With whom forever I must be. His experience was that God first loved him, and invited him to deeper friendship with him. When he responded by trying to rid himself of every obstacle to God’s love, he discovered that not only was God his friend, but all the friends of God became his friends, both on earth and in heaven: “thy saints here and above”, he calls them. And as we heard from our retreat master this past week, when the friends of God come together, they form the basis of a community, in which one person can learn from the experience of the community, and the community can learn from the experience of the person.

“Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” Psychologists say that a common symptom of depression is grandiosity. When we feel downcast, undervalued or diminished, we often develop an inflated persona, one which is proud, magnificent, garbed in flashy colors. And that is how the disciples approach Jesus today. Their question is so blatantly proud – “Lord, who among us is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” – that what lies underneath can only be the disciples huge lack of confidence, self-value and meaning in their lives. Because they felt so poor and empty, they built this self-image where they are worthy of the kingdom of heaven.

Ps 128 begins: “O blessed are those who fear the Lord and walk in His ways.” This ‘fear of the Lord’ is proclaimed requently in the Scriptures, especially in the Old Testament, and it has nothing to do with terror or fright. Fear of the Lord is a profound reverence, and encompassing grace of regard for our God, in a word, a love for God which marks the life of one who ‘walks in His ways’ a believer - us - fearers and walkers.

According to Jewish law, a woman had not many rights in society. She could not testify in a civil process; she could not divorce her husband and her participation in the liturgy was certainly secondary when compared to Jewish men. But Jesus was not happy with such a poor treatment of women, and he chose them to take a privileged part in his Incarnation, in his ministry and during his Passion. All these women had a characteristic in common: they were all marginal Jews, set aside because of their sins – especially against chastity. In fact, in Jesus’ genealogy, we find 5 women: Tamar, involved in an incestuous relationship with her father-in-law; Raab, a prostitute; Ruth, a pagan; Bathsheba, an adulteress; and the Virgin Mary, whose immaculate conception would seem a scandal for anyone who did not know that Joseph was not the biological father of her son.

In all four Gospels the account of Jesus’ passion and death is rather brief; there are few details because it was not written for the sake of curiosity. Rather it is the proclamation of the Good News to bring people to faith in Jesus Christ; theGospel accounts tell us all we need to know.

In the opening verse of today’s Gospel, St Luke says that “Jesus departed to the mountain to pray, and he spent the night in prayer to God”. That shows us that even Jesus needed time to get away for a while, to gain separation from the noise and distractions of the world. That’s good to know, because it means that those who follow Jesus will also need time away to pray to God. And not only monks.

Some people gripe about all the rules in the Catholic Church. They want to be able to pick and choose. They feel all the rules inhibit their freedom and keep them from becoming mature adults. They see rules and guidelines as something negative. Similarly, monastic life has many further rules and guidelines. For someone who is a free spirit it may feel somewhat smothering, but the rules are a helpful tool for what to leave in and what to leave out.

Today’s Gospel of the wise and foolish virgins is read every day in Coptic monasteries at the Office of Midnight Prayer. It’s a reminder that wearing the habit won’t do us any good unless we prepare for the coming of the Bridegroom by devoting ourselves humbly to a life of prayer and penance. And so the monks continue by singing this Troparion: “Remember, my soul, that awesome day, awake and light your lamp with the oil of joy for you do not know when the voice will call: ‘Behold, here comes the Bridegroom’. Watch, my soul, that you do not fall asleep lest you should stay outside knocking like the five foolish virgins. But watch with prayers in order to meet the Lord, Christ, with rich oil. He will bestow upon you the joys of His true divine glory”.

“For this reason, a man shall leave his father and his mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh. This is a great mystery, but I speak in reference to Christ and the Church”. According to St Paul – and all the Church ever since – when someone leaves his parents and joins his/ her spouse, he/she becomes another person – a collective person, a joint person, a unity with the one he/ she loves. Love binds, generates and renovates all things. And this is a great mystery, and Paul – and all the Church – applies it to Christ and the Church as well.