My dear brothers and sisters in Christ, in this Sunday First Reading, Sirach reminds us that our life, from here to eternity, is built on our choices. The Lord created us as free beings, but with freedom comes responsibility.

We always have to "own" what we have done and what we have failed to do, which is why we make a Penitential Act at the start of every celebration of the Eucharist. Sirach doesn't just remind us today that we're free to choose; he encourages us to make the right choices.

God's Commandments reflect God's wisdom, and that not only makes them good choices, but the best choices, even if sometimes in the uncertainty of faith we have to trust in God in making his choices our choices.

In the Second Reading, St. Paul reminds us that our choices shouldn't be done just out of obligation, but out of love. They have to be choices made from the heart, or they'll never achieve their full potential.

The world has a wisdom to it, but its surface has to be scratched to realize how superficial that wisdom can be. Sometimes scratching below the surface reveals "wisdom" to be folly.

The best attitude of a wise man is to acknowledge how much he doesn't know. That's what makes him always continue to seek wisdom. Wisdom is not just an accumulation of information; it is an insight into the big picture. God not only has the big picture, he "painted" it, and he unveils it little by little if we pay attention and seek to learn.

However, Paul gives us a shortcut to getting the big picture: love. We've been created by God out of love and all he wants in return is our love. He wants it, but love is incredible in that you can't make someone love you; it's the greatest and freest choice you can make. A hint of coercion and it's not love. Nobody who has chosen not to love is every truly happy.

Then, in the Gospel, Our Lord teaches us that all the commandments have a purpose and reflect a wisdom that can shape our lives for the better if we choose to observe them from the heart. In his discourse he is also calling out those who observe the commandments superficially and without heart.

God doesn't do anything pointless; everything is part of his loving plan for us. He hasn't come to simply discard the old covenant, the "law and the prophets," as never having had any purpose at all. Rather, he puts the old covenant's purpose into context. In his own words he did not come to abolish the law or the prophets, but to fulfil them.

A common recurring defense today for a watered down life ethic is, "hey, at least I'm not killing anybody." Our Lord reminds us that not killing anybody is good, but we have to go way beyond that if we don't want to be Pharisaical. When we can say, "hey, at least I don't hate anybody," we're getting closer to the mark. In a violent world maybe sometimes we look the other way in the face of a lack of kindness, but Our Lord today reminds us to go the distance and not only not kill anybody, but to actually be kind to everybody.

When tempers flare and rash words are said the best thing to do, as Our Lord teaches, is to try to make amends as soon as possible and simply apologize. If we live a life of cruel and cold justice, focusing especially on the justice due to us, we'll be in for a surprise when the eternal Judge brings us to "court" by the same harsh standards to which we held others. As Our Lord's prayer reminds us, "forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us."

Our Lord teaches us that chastity starts in the heart. The eyes are the windows to our soul, and if we start ogling and fantasizing a radical response is needed if we are to preserve our chastity and keep our hearts pure, since no one can intervene regarding the hidden desires of the heart except ourselves. Our Lord reminds us that making a promise or giving testimony is a powerful thing. The promises we make give witness to who we are, and the witness we give is a testimony to how seriously we take our promises.

We've all experienced how unedifying it is when someone swears something to be true, promises to deliver on something, and then is revealed to have lied or fails to deliver, and not just because of circumstances beyond their control. When something is as simple as "Yes" or "No," as Our Lord teaches us today, there's no room for spin, for sophistry, for fine print, or for establishing little grey areas in our conscience instead of admitting we can or can't deliver on something or whether we know or don't know something.

Our Lord gives a laundry list of things the people of his day were using as collateral to show how serious they were about the oaths they made. He also puts his finger on the problem: that collateral is not theirs, nor is it under their control. It's not as common today, but when someone swears "on my life," or any other number of things or people, we are put on a guard, exactly because they are swearing on something over which they have no control or ownership and usually as a way of convincing others of their sincerity.

Spiritual writers speak of different kinds of private prayer: vocal and mental prayer, affective and discursive prayer, formal and spontaneous prayer, meditation, contemplation, and mystical prayer. But distinctions often break down as one type of prayer shades over into another. The vocal praying of the Rosary can easily lead to a contemplative centering of the person or to an imaginative meditation on the mysteries of the life of Jesus. A discursive meditation can simplify into contemplation, including the deep contemplation verging on what the tradition has called "infused" or "mystical" prayer. For the sake of clarity we will follow the traditional distinctions of vocal (oratio), mental (meditatio), and contemplative prayer (contemplatio), recognizing the limitations of the categories themselves.

Vocal Prayer

Vocal prayer is a way of addressing God using either formal as the Our Father, the Hail Mary, the Glory to the Father, or simply sharing prayers with God the thoughts and concerns of our hearts in our own words. We should never think of such formal or conversational prayer as a kind of second-class prayer. Formal people want to pray but find themselves without the words to express their feelings, prayers can be a great help in those times when we particularly experience the emptiness we sometimes experience.

Praying to God conversationally can be a profound experience when we feel great interior joy or sorrow or struggle. We should be able to express ourselves freely to God when we are so moved. Both kinds of vocal prayer should be a part of our daily lives, just as sometimes we need to wait for the Lord in silence and expectation. What is important is that we pray honestly from the heart rather than trying to force something that doesn't truly express our inner feelings.

Some kinds of vocal prayer call not just on our minds and feelings but on our bodies and imaginations. The Rosary is an ancient method of prayer that combines simple prayers hallowed by the tradition with brief meditations on events in the life of Jesus and Our Lady. It is a kind of mantra prayer, quieting the mind and the imagination by fingering the beads and repeating over and over the simple words of the Hail Mary while focusing on the mystery the annunciation, the birth of Jesus, his crucifixion, the descent of the Holy Spirit, and so forth. The Stations of the Cross is another prayer that combines vocal prayer and meditation on the mysteries of Christ's passion with bodily movement, sometimes standing, sometimes kneeling, walking with Jesus from one scene to the next. 

My dear brothers and sisters, Jesus chose his words carefully – including the words we listened to in this Sunday Mass. They are part of his famous Sermon on the Mount, which is like a highlight film of all his sermons.

Christianity is not a message or revelation about a God who remains distant. God was near, not far and that we could open ourselves to God's presence. In Augustine's words, God is more intimate to me than I am to myself. God's self-revelation in the person of Jesus means that God is both the giver and the gift itself. In Jesus, who made us his brothers and sisters and poured out upon us his Spirit, we have been given a share in God's inner life as a Trinity of persons. Christian prayer is always Trinitarian; we pray to the Father in the Son through the Spirit. A great part of the mystery of the Trinity is precisely the mystery of our own share in the divine life. "Whoever loves me will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our dwelling with him" (John 14:23).

One theme has unified all of Pope Benedict XVI's homilies and speeches since the publication of his last encyclical, "Saved by Hope."

He has been talking to us, his spiritual children in Christ, and also to the rest of the world, insistently about one thing: hope. Hope is a supernatural virtue. That means that when we were baptized, when God poured his grace into our soul, he also planted there the seed of hope.

And like all virtues, whether the seed takes root, grows, and bears fruit depends on us. Virtues are like talents: they are given to us in potential, and it is up to us to develop them, through disciplined practice.

Some people are gifted with a talent for music, but unless they study and practice, the talent will not reach its full potential. Some people are gifted with a talent for sports, but unless they study and practice, that talent cannot reach its full potential.

As Christians, we have all been gifted with the virtue of hope, along with faith and Christian love, or charity. But unless we put these virtues into action, they cannot reach their full potential, and if they don't reach their full potential, we will never really grow up as Christians.

Since the Pope has been speaking about this virtue so insistently, it would be good for us to give ourselves a check-up on it, to see why this virtue is so important, and how well-developed it is in our lives, and what we can do to make it grow.

The Beatitudes Tell Us What Hope Is

First, let's look at what hope really is. We have just listened to the beginning of Jesus' first homily. In those few verses, he sums up all his teaching on how to live life to the full. Each one of the eight Beatitudes is phrased in the same way, a very curious way.

First Jesus says, "Blessed are..." and then he names a specific type of suffering. The first thing to note in this construction is the word "Blessed". This is one of the most important words in the Bible. It is always used to refer to the fullness of life that comes only to those who follow God.

The Greek word used for it in the New Testament is "makarios" [mah- CAR-ee-ohss]. That word comes from the name of an island that the ancient Greeks considered to be a perfect paradise. The people who lived on that island were completely self-sufficient. They had no need to depend on outside sources for their prosperity, since the island was so perfectly situated and endowed.

And this is the impression that the word "blessed" should give us: the kind of happiness that is so strong and stable that not even the storms and sufferings of life in the world can shake it; the deep, interior sense of joy and meaning that we all long to experience, because we are made to experience.

But the amazing thing about these Beatitudes, the ones Jesus teaches, is where they say this perfect blessedness can be found. They say that we can experience it on earth - each time, Jesus says, "blessed ARE..."

But that experience can only come if our hearts are set on heaven, on Christ's Kingdom, on friendship with God. If we want anything else more than that - food, wealth, fame, comfort, power, praise - if we set our hearts on those things, we will not experience the blessedness that Christ wants to give us.

But as soon as we accept the hard reality that earth will never be heaven, that nothing on earth can fulfill our heart's desire completely, that we will always experience limitations like hunger, humiliation, sorrow, temptation, and injustice - in other words, as soon as we accept fully that this life is a journey to a fuller life, then we will begin to experience that fuller life, in part, even here and now, along the journey. And this is exactly what we mean by the Christian virtue of hope: the assurance that if we stay united to Christ here on earth, we will experience fulfillment, blessedness, more and more, until we are filled completely in heaven.

Why Hope Is Important

Now that we have a clearer idea of what Christian hope really is, we can understand how crucial it is for us to develop this virtue. Since all of us desire fulfillment more than we desire anything else - that's how God made us - if we aren't seeking it in the right place, we can't help seeking it in the wrong place.

But if we look for blessedness in the wrong place, are lives will fall apart, sooner or later. Hope is our compass: if we don't use it, we will get lost, fall off a cliff, get eaten by wild animals, or starve to death - spiritually speaking. Hope is our anchor: without it, we will be tossed into the rocks by life's storms and end up shipwrecked.

Hope is like magnetism. We are like a piece of metal, and the magnet is blessedness, which is God, the source of all blessings. When the piece of metal is far away from the magnet, it experiences only a slight pull, only a slight degree of blessedness. But the closer the piece of the metal comes to the magnet, the stronger the pull, the more intense the experience of blessedness. Finally, the metal is drawn into direct contact with the magnet - the perfection of blessedness, in heaven.

The better we know and follow Christ, our magnet, the more fully we experience life as he created it to be experienced. In his encyclical, Pope Benedict pointed out that sometimes we get too used to the fact that, as Christians, the mystery of human happiness has been revealed to us. He wrote, "We who have always lived with the Christian concept of God, and have grown accustomed to it, have almost ceased to notice that we possess the hope that ensues from a real encounter with this God" (Spe salvi, 3).

How to Grow in Hope

What can we do to grow in this life-changing virtue? The whole Bible is an answer to this question. All the teachings of the Church are an answer to this question. The entire life of a Christian is really an exercise of the virtue of hope. And the more we exercise it, the more it grows.

We exercise hope when we follow the commandments: as Zephaniah says in the First Reading: "They shall do no wrong and speak no lies." This exercises hope because it usually involves renouncing a desire for gratification now in order to continue forward on the path that leads to true gratification later, the path of following Christ.

Sometimes telling a lie, cooking the account books, or covering up a dishonest deed would seem to be a shortcut to blessedness. But the virtue of hope shouts in our conscience: "Blessedness comes from closeness to God, not from earthly goods." When we listen to that voice, doing the right thing even when it hurts, we are exercising hope.

We also exercise hope when we take our spiritual life seriously. Again the Prophet Zephaniah puts it well: "Seek the Lord... seek justice, seek humility." When we try to learn to pray better, to study our faith, to live the sacraments more and more deeply - all of this exercises the virtue of hope, because it takes effort, and the results don't always come right away; it's a long-term investment.

Today the Church has reminded us of one of the most precious gifts we received at our baptism: the virtue of hope. When Jesus comes to us again in Holy Communion, he will nourish that virtue, as sunlight nourishes a garden. When he does, let's talk to him about what we can do this week, on our part, to help that virtue grow, to tend to the garden of our soul.

Because, as Pope Benedict wrote: "...the present, even if it is arduous, can be lived and accepted if it leads towards a goal, if we can be sure of this goal, and if this goal is great enough to justify the effort of the journey" (Spe salvi, 1) 

In addition to serving as a vehicle for the prayer of beings composed of body and spirit, the postures and gestures in which we engage at Mass have another very important function. The Church sees in these common postures and gestures both a symbol of the unity of those who have come together to worship and a means of fostering that unity. We are not free to change these postures to suit our own individual piety, for the Church makes it clear that our unity of posture and gesture is an expression of our participation in the one Body formed by the baptized with Christ, our head. When we stand, kneel, sit, bow and sign ourselves in common action, we given unambiguous witness that we are indeed the Body of Christ, united in heart, mind and spirit. Each posture we assume at Mass underlines and reinforces the meaning of the action in which we are taking part at that moment in our worship.

The arrest of St John the Baptist, mentioned at the beginning of this Gospel passage, was a moment of transition for Jesus. Before that point, Jesus had begun gathering his Apostles and preaching, but only on a part-time basis.

As long as John continued preaching and baptizing, Jesus stayed in the wings. But when John was arrested, that was the sign. The last prophet had been silenced, and the moment had come for Jesus, the Messiah whom all the prophets had announced, to take center stage.

St Matthew tells us that when that moment came, Jesus moved to Capernaum [cup-HER-knee-uhm], a more cosmopolitan city than his small hometown of Nazareth.

And then he called his first Apostles. Peter, Andrew, James, and John had all met Jesus before, when they were still disciples of John the Baptist. They had spent time with Jesus. They had seen him perform the miracle at Cana, turning water into wine at the wedding feast. They had started to get to know him - the Gospel of John tells us that they had even come to believe that he was the Messiah.

But that's not enough for Jesus. Jesus has more to show them, and more for them to do. So at this crucial moment, when he is ready to begin his full-time ministry, Jesus goes out to these fishermen as they ply their trade on the Sea of Galilee, calls them by name, and invites them to help build his Kingdom. Jesus didn't start his mission alone, and he doesn't continue it alone.

He established his Church and began his work of salvation with the help of these chosen apostles, and today he continues his work in the same way, calling normal fishermen, folks like you and me, to become his apostles.

Interrupting Our Daily Routine

It is interesting to notice exactly how Jesus issues this invitation. The Apostles are on the lake, fishing - in the middle of their work, their business. Jesus comes to meet them there. He walks out to the lakeshore. He enters into their environment. He walks into their everyday lives.

Up until this point his only contact with them had been in extraordinary circumstances - festal gatherings and holidays. But now he comes right into the warp and woof of their daily lives. He could have dropped by their houses after work. He could have spoken to them after Saturday services in the synagogue. He could have met them in town on one of their days off. That would have been easier on them - less of an interruption, less of an inconvenience.

But he doesn't. He wants to be part of their lives. He doesn't want to be on the fringe - he wants to be involved.

He deals with us the same way. He is always coming out to meet us, walking along the shore of our lives. He is always thinking of us, watching us, and calling out to us through the Church and through our conscience - regardless of convenience.

He wants us to follow him more closely today than yesterday, more passionately tomorrow than today. We just need to listen, to pay attention, and when necessary, to leave behind our nets, our relationships, our boats - anything that hinders us from hearing and heeding the call of our Lord.

How overjoyed Jesus must have been when he saw these men, who had everything to lose, put it all on the line for him! How it must have thrilled his heart to find friends and followers who were willing to trust him completely!

How and Why to Respond to Christ's Call

Jesus doesn't work alone. He calls us to work with him. We respond to that call by following his commandments and obeying the teachings of his Church. We respond by keeping our prayer life in shape and embracing the sacraments.

We respond by looking for opportunities to draw others closer to Christ through our courageous but respectful words and through our tireless example of humility, faith, and selfless concern for our neighbor. We respond by listening for the small inspirations the Holy Spirit sends us each day - inspirations that almost always lead us out of our comfort zones for the sake of our neighbor.

Jesus calls, and we must respond, leaving behind the boat that we love and the nets that we depend on. It is not always easy to respond to Christ's call. Life is already hard. When he asks more of us, our first reaction is usually to hesitate, or even to rebel.

That's when we have to remember why Jesus keeps calling us. It's because he loves us. It's because he wants us to be with him. It's because he knows that only he can fill our hearts with the meaning and purpose we yearn for. Jesus does not call us for selfish reasons - he can't be selfish. He calls us for our sake, and when we respond, he always stays right there at our side.

He will remind us of this today during Mass. It's only because he has called us to be his followers that we will have this remarkable opportunity to receive God himself at Holy Communion.

When we do, let's thank him for not giving up on us, for continuing to call us - and let's promise him that this week we will listen with extra attention. 

Humans are creatures that consist of a body as well as a spirit so that our prayers are not confined to our minds, hearts and voices, but are also expressed by our bodies as well. When our body participates in our prayer, we pray with our whole person. As embodied spirits, this engagement of our entire being in prayer helps us to pray with greater attention.

During Mass we assume different postures: standing, kneeling, sitting, and we are also invited to make a variety of gestures. These postures and gestures are not merely ceremonial. They have profound meaning and, when done with understanding, can enhance our personal participation in Mass. In fact, these actions are the way in which we engage our bodies in the prayer that is the Mass. Each posture we assume at Mass underlines and reinforces the meaning of the action in which we are taking part at that moment in our worship.

Kneeling is one of the most distinctive physical gestures of prayer during the celebration of Mass. In fact, for many centuries the lay faithful of the Roman Rite would kneel for almost the entire duration of Mass. Why is that?

While it's true that standing during prayer was a common posture of the early Christians (and is currently maintained by many Eastern Christians during the Divine Liturgy), kneeling was also part of early Christian tradition. Ratzinger claimed that, "Kneeling does not come from any culture — it comes from the Bible and its knowledge of God." In particular, "Saint Luke, who in his whole work (both the Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles) is in a special way the theologian of kneeling prayer, tells us that Jesus prayed on His knees. This prayer, the prayer by which Jesus enters into His Passion, is an example for us."

Additionally, kneeling is typically seen in the Gospels as a way to express supplication and adoration. Often in the New Testament kneeling is preceded by an act of faith, "I do believe, Lord," and completed by an act of adoration at the majesty of God (cf. John 9:35-38).

Elsewhere, like in many of the healing narratives, the person is presented kneeling in supplication, asking to be healed. For these reasons the Roman Rite instructs the faithful to kneel during Mass specifically when Jesus is made present on the altar.

This physical posture is meant to express a spiritual attitude of adoration before the triune God, truly and substantially present in the Holy Eucharist. It is an act of humility, recognizing our own littleness before the Creator of the world. The act of kneeling prepares our hearts to receive God within our souls, striking down our pride with a physical reminder of what our soul should be like spiritually. In this way, kneeling in the context of the Roman liturgy is directly tied to Jesus' presence in the Eucharist. Kneeling during Mass is an ancient posture, one that expresses a deep spiritual truth that is connected to the Real Presence of Jesus on the altar.

At the moment of his baptism, Jesus began his public ministry. From then on, he no longer spent his days in the carpenter shop in Nazareth, as he had for the first thirty years of his life.

Now he sets off on the next stage of his mission. The prophecy from Isaiah, which we heard in the First Reading, summarizes this mission with a very interesting word: "servant."

Isaiah writes that God says to the Messiah, "You are my servant." The Hebrew word translated servant is "ebed", which literally means "slave." In the Old Testament it was often used in the context of "slave of the King." Moses, when addressing Yahweh, called himself, "your slave" as a way to express his humility in God's presence. The Psalms also describe King David with this term, as a title of honour. Yahweh calls him "my servant whom I have chosen." The prophets are also referred to as Yahweh's special, honoured "servants."

But in the passage from Isaiah, the term is not used to refer to just another prophet or king. Rather, it refers to the Messiah, the unique servant who will "restore Israel" and be a "light to the nations," bringing God's salvation "to the ends of the earth."

This term has much to teach us. It tells us much about Christ, but it also tells us much about ourselves.

Christ the Servant

By using this term to refer to the Messiah, Scripture teaches us two things about Jesus.

First of all, he had a unique relationship with God. The "slave of the king" was the one, in Old Testament times, who had special access to the king. He was the one who the king depended on, who advised the king, who the king confided in. He was like the prime minister, the viceroy, the chief of staff. No one else had direct access to the throne - they all had to go through the king's special servant. Moses went up the mountain and into the tent of God's presence, but everyone else waited outside.

Just so, Jesus' relationship to the Father is unique. This is why John the Baptist, whom Jesus himself later called the greatest of all prophets, says that Jesus is "a man who ranks before me, because he existed before me." Jesus Christ was not just a smart, enlightened man who stumbled across some wisdom and became a famous teacher.

Jesus is not just another Socrates. He is the Eternal Son of God made man, the Saviour, the one Mediator between God and man. Here we see Christ's glory. Here we see why St Paul's favourite title for Jesus is "Lord," a word reserved for God alone in the Old Testament.

And yet, at the same time, he is the servant of his Father. He has come to earth to do his Father's will. He has received a mission from his Father, and he is responsible for carrying it out. Here we see Christ's humility. Later in John's Gospel Jesus says that "my food is to do the will of the one who sent me, to accomplish the task he has given me" (John 4:34).

So Christ occupies both a place of supernatural honour, and also a place of complete dependence on his Father. That is what the term "servant" teaches us about Christ.

Christians - Other Christs

But at the same time, every Christian is another Christ. When we were baptized, we received the same Holy Spirit that came upon him at his baptism, and God's grace flowed into our souls, and we became sons with the Son, children of God - not just symbolically, but really.

So we too occupy a double place in the history of salvation. Each one of us is a slave of the king, an intimate companion and collaborator with the Lord. We have direct access to the heavenly throne - access unique to a king's son or daughter. Our true dignity comes from this sharing in the divine nature - not from our intelligence or athleticism or good-looks, but from each one of us having been adopted by God and brought into his intimate circle of friends and collaborators.

But this also means that we, like Christ, have a mission on this earth. We too are called to do God's will, to fulfil his plan for our lives. And that plan consists of continuing Christ's own work, restoring this fallen world, one heart at a time, bringing the salvation of God to the "ends of the earth."

As Christians, we are noble and honoured way beyond anything we can imagine, but we are also dependent - we are "slaves of the King," servants of Yahweh. Like Paul, we can say that we have been "called to be an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God" - an apostle, a messenger, an ambassador of Jesus Christ to this world full of darkness and sin.

Conclusion: Heeding the Call

This is who we are. This is who we are called to become more fully. Today, when Jesus renews this call and gives us his own life through Holy Communion, let's renew our commitment to this mission.

And this week, in our words, example, and decisions, let's strive to be worthy brothers and sisters of our Saviour Jesus Christ, worthy slaves of the King, willing to give up even our very lives in order to love God with all our hearts and to love our neighbours as ourselves.

by: FR. JEFFREY KIRBY

As we receive and nurture sanctifying grace in our souls, we are strengthened to follow the way of the Lord Jesus. St. Paul describes this as being "clothed" in Jesus Christ. The figurative language is meant to express not only an external obedient to Jesus Christ, but an internal surrender to the workings of His grace in our lives.

As many of you as were baptised into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. —(Galatians 3:27) The imagery is helpful as we reflect upon our Baptism, our status as the children of God, our esteemed name of Christian, and the reliving of the Paschal Mystery of Jesus Christ and the dwelling of His grace within us. Imprisoned and preparing to die for the Lord Jesus, St. Paul reminds us of our Christian vocation:

I therefore, the prisoner in the Lord, beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all. —(Ephesians 4:1–6)

The imagery of being clothed in Jesus Christ and living according to His way of life is also helpful as we seek to understand the pious tradition of the scapular, since a scapular is a piece of clothing (or an abbreviated piece of clothing) that is worn as a sacramental on our bodies.

Outside of our spiritual tradition, the word scapular refers to anything relating to our shoulders or shoulder blades. Within our religious tradition, therefore, the clothing that covers the shoulders has come to traditionally be called a scapular. Full scapulars were initially worn by Carmelite Friars and Sisters (and other religious orders) to cover their habits. Scapulars were worn during times of labor or strenuous work projects so that the habit of the Religious would not be torn or dirtied. Eventually, the scapular itself became acclimated as a part of the habit.

In the course of time, baptised lay Christians saw the spirituality and work of the Carmelite Order and wanted to participate in it. The Carmelite spirituality focuses on an active listening to God, the practice of contemplation, and on a deep love for the Mother of God. These spiritual aspects greatly inspired many Christians to deepen in their own commitment to the Lord Jesus. As such, they sought to follow the Carmelites on the way of the Lord.

Such an accompaniment with the Carmelites led to the laity taking on a small form of the scapular themselves. Such a scapular consists of two small cloth squares joined by shoulder tapes and worn under a person's clothing along their chest and back. It was a small sign of their baptismal consecration to Jesus Christ through His Blessed Mother within the contemplative tradition of the ancient Carmelite way of life.

The Brown Scapular is not jewelry. It is not an accessory to our clothing. It is not a good luck or other magical charm. The Brown Scapular is a sign of our baptismal consecration to Jesus Christ. It is a revered sacramental within the Christian tradition. It symbolises the convictions of our heart and represents the greatest aspirations of our lives: we belong to Christ. We seek to live Christ. We labor to share Christ. These are the messages of the Brown Scapular.

Do I understand that the scapular is a sign of my consecration to Jesus Christ? Do I let the scapular remind and convict me of my responsibilities as a disciple of the Lord Jesus?

Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom; and with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.—Colossians 3:14–17

Introduction

Happy New Year my dear brothers and sisters of St. Anne's Church. Eight days have passed since we celebrated Christ's birth on Christmas. Most of the world has already left the message of Christmas far behind. But the Church, in its wisdom, has been spending these days in unceasing celebration and contemplation of this most astonishing event in the entire history of the human family. And the liturgy will continue doing so all the way through the feast of Epiphany.

Let's stay in tune with the Church. Let's keep enjoying the message of Christmas, savouring it, living it deeply. Unfortunately, there are fewer people here at Mass with us today than there were on Christmas Eve.

Maybe the noise of New Year's Day has distracted them from the true meaning of every year and every day. That's all right - we are here to pray for them, to take their place beside the manger, so Jesus and Mary don't have to celebrate New Year's Day all alone. In fact, another New Year's Day would have little meaning if Christ had never been born to give us hope and guidance.

One way to activate that hope and make use of that guidance is by following in the Shepherds' footsteps. St Luke paints a beautiful picture of those poor, hardworking shepherds making their way to the stable cave at Bethlehem.

Where did St Luke find out about this encounter? He wasn't there. No newspapers covered it. None of the Apostles were there. Only Mary could have told him about it. And when she told him, she chose her words carefully, to make the full meaning come out.

And so, the three verbs that describe the shepherds' actions are not mere coincidence - they are the inspired pattern of how every Christian should live out the message of Christmas.

Making Haste to See Christ

First, St Luke tells us that the shepherds "went in haste" to find Christ, to seek him out in the midst of his family, the Church, here represented by Mary and Joseph.

They were eager to meet the Saviour, to spend time with him, to get to know him, to receive his blessing. That's why Jesus came to earth in the first place - so that we could more easily find him. The history of humanity is the history of a people lost in darkness and searching for meaning, forgiveness, grace, and light. Jesus is the source of all those things. He is our salvation. That's the significance of the name "Jesus", which means "God saves."

The Jews traditionally had their boy children circumcised on the eighth day after their birth. During the ceremony, the child would also be given his name. St Luke tells us that Joseph and Mary followed this tradition with Jesus.

Circumcision was the sign of God's covenant with ancient Israel, and the most important thing about that covenant was God's promise to send a Saviour. Receiving one's name at the same time that the boy was circumcised was a symbolic way of emphasizing that the boy's life, his very identity, was now tied up with that promise. And performing the ceremony on the eighth day was also significant.

God had created the universe in seven days. But that creation was wrecked by original sin. The eighth day is a symbol of the redemption - the first day of the new creation in Christ.

God's promise of blessing, our true identity, redemption and everlasting life - this is what Christ comes to give us, this is why we, like the shepherds, should be eager to go and look for Christ, to "make haste" to find him each day in prayer, the Bible, and the sacraments.

Making Known the Message

Second, the shepherds "made known the message that had been told them." The news the angels announced to them was too good to keep to themselves. They felt a need to share it, to tell others about the Savior. That is always a sign of an authentic encounter with God.

The ancient philosophers had an adage that said, "bonum diffisivum est" [goodness is overflowing]. When we have or discover something wonderful, we can't hold it back, we simply have to share it. Even on a merely human level - if you find a great golf club or book or Web site, you tell your friends about it.

When we truly experience Christ, even just a little bit, something similar happens. Our hearts automatically overflow with a desire to share that experience. And if we don't feel that desire, it probably means that our friendship with Christ needs some maintenance.

Being committed Christians doesn't make us immune to temptation. If we are not careful, we can fall into routine. We can come to Mass, say our prayers, keep up appearances - but underneath it all, we can be falling into spiritual mediocrity.

An excellent thermometer for mediocrity is precisely this: if we feel an inner urge to spread Christ's Kingdom, to bring others into Christ's friendship, to share our experience of Christ - as the shepherds did, then we know we are spiritually healthy.

But if we don't feel that urge - it is a warning sign that our friendship with Christ is growing cold, and that we need to "make haste" to Bethlehem to take a fresh look at our Savior.

Letting Loose Christmas Joy

The third verb that Mary used to describe this scene to St Luke is a double verb. St Luke tells us that after the shepherds made haste to come and see Jesus, and after they told their amazing story to everyone who would listen, they "returned glorifying and praising God." When we seek Christ and share Christ, he fills our hearts with a deep, inner joy.

The shepherds were so full of this joy that they couldn't hold it in. Materially and economically nothing had changed. They didn't have more money, a better job, a nicer house, or even a few more Christmas presents. And yet, if while they were walking back to their flocks someone had asked them, "What did you get for Christmas," they would have had a ready answer.

They would have said, "We have seen God, our Saviour, and we have seen his Mother, our Queen. And now we know that God loves us more than we could ever have imagined." Their bank accounts weren't affected by their encounter with the new-born Christ, but they were immeasurably richer on Christmas Day than they had been the day before.

And if we follow in the shepherds' footsteps this year, actively seeking Christ in prayer, the Bible, and the sacraments, and bringing Christ's grace and presence to those around us, we too will experience the true joy of Christmas - all year round.

Conclusion: Mary's Secret

The shepherds are models for every Christian. They clarify what's most important in life: seeking Christ, sharing Christ, and rejoicing in Christ. But life for the shepherds didn't end on Christmas. They had to return to the humdrum of the daily grind. And after today, we will too.

How can we keep the meaning and lessons of Christmas shining in our hearts even after we take down the Christmas lights? Mary, whose motherhood we remember in a special way today, gives us the secret. Mary didn't let life's hustle and bustle drown out the beauty and wonder of Christmas.

St Luke tells us that "Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart." God did not tell Mary his entire plan. We know much more than she did about how everything was going to work out.

She had to walk in the dim light of faith, one step at a time, trusting in God, witnessing his action, and seconding it whenever she could. But she paid attention. She pondered in her heart all of God's gifts to her, all of his words and deeds.

Today in Holy Communion we will receive the Body of Christ, which was formed in the womb of Mary. When we do, let's ask our spiritual Mother, the Mother of God and of all Christians, to teach us how to take care of the precious faith we have received and renewed during these days, just as she took care of the baby Jesus. 

The image of Mary as Queen Mother is directly related to the first official Marian dogma defined by the Church: Mary's status as Mother of God. The Greek word for the title is Theotokos, which literally means "God-bearer." That title is one of the oldest and most commonly used titles for Mary, with Christians using it in the very first centuries of the Church. The title also appears in one of the oldest known Christian prayers, the Sub Tuum Praesidium ("Beneath Your Protection"), an early form of the Memorare that dates to the third century.

The first Christians called Mary the "Mother of God" without hesitation. There was scriptural precedent, and it seemed logical. If Jesus was God, and Mary was his mother, then that made her the Mother of God. That sort of logic depends on a principle called the "Communication of Idioms." According to that principle, whatever one says about either of Christ's natures can be truly said of Christ himself. That's because His two natures, the divine nature and the human nature, were united in Him. He is one divine person.

In the fifth century, however, some people raised the same objections to the title that many non-Catholics raise today: They argued that the title "Mother of God" implied that Mary was the "originator of God." Those objectors said that they could accept the title "Mother of Christ," but not "Mother of God." At the heart of those objections, however, was an objection to the unity of Christ's two natures. Mary, they claimed, gave birth only to Christ's human nature, not his divine nature. The Church, led by Pope Celestine I and St. Cyril of Alexandria, disagreed. As St. Cyril pointed out, a mother gives birth to a person, not a nature. Accordingly, Mary gave birth to Jesus Christ, who was and is a divine person. Although Mary did not "originate" or "generate" God, she did bear Him in her womb and give birth to Him. She was God's mother.

The controversy over Mary's title as "Mother of God" was addressed in 431 A.D. at the Council of Ephesus. There, more was at stake than simply defending Mary's title. The Christian teaching about Christ's two natures was the real issue. The Church wanted to settle one question: Was Jesus one person or two? Rejecting the teaching of the heretic Nestorius, the Church declared that Jesus is one divine person, with two natures—his mother's human nature and his Father's divine nature. Mary did not give Jesus his divine nature or his divine personhood—those He possessed from all eternity as the only begotten Son of the Father. But she also didn't just give Him His flesh: She gave birth to the whole person. She gave birth to Jesus Christ, both God and man. That is what we confess every time we say the Apostles' Creed.

Calling Mary "Mother of God" states a truth that must be stated in order to protect an essential truth about Christ. In a similar way, that's what all Mary's queenly predecessors did for their sons. One of the three essential tasks of the Queen Mother was to be a sign of her son's legitimacy. She was the link between his father, the former rightful king, and her son, the present rightful king. Likewise, Mary as the virginal "Mother of God" is the link between her Son's humanity and divinity. She is the sign that He is both God and man.

https://stpaulcenter.com/why-do-we-call-mary-the-mother-of-god-2/