New Year's Day Sermon: From Broken to Blessed

"Death Never Takes a Holiday"

"Christmas the deadliest day of the year"

These are some of the news headlines you may have recently encountered, which stem from a publication in the American journal 'Social Science and Medicine'. The study has confirmed that mortality rates rise between 3 - 9% over the Christmas/ New Years holidays.

Researchers are debating how to interpret this data, which was culled from 58 million death certificates over a 25yr period. But the leading explanation has to do with the 'psychological stress' people experience over this period.

And this stress is amplified by the eerie stillness that the Christmas holidays bring. After the initial shopping frenzy, it's like the whole world comes grinding to a halt; work and school stops, stores close, programs and activities are postponed.

And we are left standing naked before our own reality, before our own brokenness; and it's then we feel the true weight of the child who never calls… of the marriage disintegrating by the day… of the ever-worsening health problem.

But it is in that same eerie stillness that we can also hear the whisperings of grace.

If you ask any 12 Stepper where healing begins, they will say it comes from that moment of clarity; that moment when reality pierces their self-delusion and they can say -- "Yes, there's a real problem I've been running from, and I can't face it alone... I need help."

Inside each of us we hear that same spiritual cry for wholeness, for God's healing.

Paul talks about God sending the Spirit of His Son into our hearts; "As proof that you are sons, God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying out 'Abba, Father!'"

It reminds me of my 1yr old, Jack, who whenever his mother is trying to do something he doesn’t like, like put on his snowsuit, he cries out in protest, "DADADADADA!!!!" Like he's saying, "Father save me from this!!! I don't want to go in the car seat!!!"

One of the biggest wounds that I hear from churchgoers today has to do with the fact that their children are leaving the faith. I recently read the five-part Globe and Mail series on faith and it confirmed this trend. The article talked about how fewer and fewer young Canadians are identifying with any particular religion, and how even less are regularly attending church.

But as depressing as it was, the real story for me was that regardless of religious practice or identifcation, this same study reported that 80% of Canadians still believed in God. And that was an unbelievable sign of hope. That confirmed for me Paul's words, that even in this secular age, that the vast majority of our hearts still cry out 'Abba, Father!'

So things are messy and far from ideal -- inside our church and outside of it.

But that just amplifies the scandal of the manger. Our reading from Luke today talks about how the shepherds went in haste to Bethlehem and found Mary and Joseph and the infant Jesus lying in the manger.

Now so much of our Christmas imagery today romanticizes this setting; the manger is typically portrayed as a kind of picturesque petting zoo, bathed by the light of that special star. It makes it completely appealing.

But the truth is that Jesus entered into a dirty, smelly manger, full of bacteria and feces. Certainly an unworthy birthplace for the Messiah.

And that's the point. Jesus meets us amidst the brokenness of our lives. That's where he wants to meet us because that's where we need him... when we're broken, when we're down and out, when our hearts cry out, "Abba, Father!"

As followers of Jesus, this applies to us in particular; Cardinal Marc Ouellet once said "The church is not a society of perfect people. The church is a hospital for the soul." We all need to be continually reaching out for our Lord and savior.

So when the music stops and the guests have left, I pray that we do not find ourselves alone in our anguish. But instead, that it may be at time for spiritual renewal, a time to deepen our relationship with Jesus.

After all, the Chinese use the same character for both 'crisis' AND 'opportunity.'

from "The Art of Comforting"

"Though he (my father) was the one with the illness - the one in pain - he gave US comfort by showing how much we meant to him. He strongly believed in keeping positive, not for himself so much as for others around him. He told me repeatedly 'If you are having a good day, you can make someone's day better. But if you are having a bad day, you can make someone's good day worse.' He taught me we had a great effect on each other's days, for better or worse, with just our demeanor, mood, and outlook. With this short life, he showed me we mattered by making others feel they mattered."

-Jeff Lewis, Nurse Practitioner, from "The Art of Comforting" by Val Walker p.46

A Prayer for Direction

Jesus said, 'From those to whom much has been given, much will be expected.' Lk12:48

Lord, You've blessed so many of us with prosperity, talent, health, freedom and opportunity.

And You know we are constantly tempted by competing forces; temptations of power, status, pleasure, and wealth...

Give us the strength and wisdom to hear our true calling amidst this cacophony of sirens, and to lay the harvest of our blessings upon Your feet.

Help us become servants of mercy and peace in this broken world.

AMEN

PRAYING WHEN PRAYER BECOMES ELUSIVE

It’s common to have times in our prayer life when prayer feels challenged. It’s happened to the saints, its happened to me, and there’s a good chance it may happen to you.

Here’s what I’ve learned (and am still learning) from the experience.

1] ASK FOR HELP

Most parishes will be able to connect you with a Spiritual Director. They are great for a number of reasons, but with regards to problems in prayer they are vital. The key is accountability. When we let someone else ‘behind the curtain’ of our self, and can share our troubles and struggles in prayer, we can no longer run from the problem--hiding in our work, our busyness, even hiding in our exhaustion. Someone else is there who can ask us frankly, ‘How’s it going? How’s your prayer life?’

2] ACKNOWLEDGE REALITY

When I am struggling I sometimes expect that prayer will just happen again; however this enables me to avoid the arduous work and confrontation with reality that is necessary for true healing to occur.

Let me use a metaphor. If you invited me to supper at your house, I couldn’t get a seat at the table without first knocking at the door. Too often we are impatient and want to go directly to the feast without knocking at the door. But that impatience has to do with denial. We want to deny the factors causing our struggle. We want to deny our problems and just carry on--but then find ourselves surprised to find it no longer working, that we can’t find our seat at the table.

So the point is this: when struggling in prayer, acknowledge this first and foremost in prayer. Purposely and humbly spend time on the doorstep of the house of prayer, knocking, preparing--even pleading. This must be the substance of prayer; acknowledging our spiritual desolation and bringing it before God. Talk to God about it like a friend; “Lord, You know how I’ve been struggling lately. Help me face my fears, my shortcomings.. whatever is blocking me. And even though I feel far from You, help me return like the Prodigal Son. Help me find my way back to prayer...”

Praying for prayer is still a powerful and authentic prayer. Perhaps even more so.

3] THINK BIG PICTURE

Think of the possible meanings behind such struggles. Could God be preparing us for something profound? Perhaps some kind of tragedy is lurking down the road, and by learning how to get through these periods of spiritual aridity we are being prepared to find our way back to God through adversity? Or perhaps we are acquiring the spiritual skills that will help others navigate through their times of spiritual hardship?

And of course there’s always the lesson of gratitude. By dwelling in the darkness of the valley, we will surely appreciate those hard won summits all the more.

Theophany of Parenthood

God is love, and parenthood is pure theophany. I understand now why the central images the bible uses to communicate God's love revolve around the love/loss of children.

It's not only important to ask, 'Where God did I encounter You today?', but to also ask, 'Where God did I ignore You today?'

-J Hanshaw

"I am a former Trotskyite--which, as you all know--is the royal road to NeoConservatism".

-Charles Krauthammer

"What if we're all wrong?"

"I was on stage with Allen Ginsberg in the 1967 Human Be-In in Golden Gate Park and we're sitting there looking out at 10,000 people and the sun is setting and there's a parachutist coming down... Timothy Leary is on stage with Gary Snyder, and Allen turns to me and whispers, 'What if we're all wrong?'"

-from an interview with Beat poet, Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Sermon: What is real?

What is real?

For most of us, this probably includes the material world, the world we can see, hear and touch. It might also include a 'spiritual' dimension that lurks somewhere behind the scenes. We may even get a glimpse of this dimension during those 'depth moments'--the birth of a child, falling in love, or perhaps during a peaceful sunset when everything suddenly makes sense.

The point is that the spiritual dimension appears mostly beyond our grasp; mysterious, somewhere out there--perhaps to be unveiled in the next world, or to the mystic.

But what if I were to tell you that for Christians, the cat's already out of the bag?

The whole point of the Incarnation is to give us direct contact with God, and a glimpse of the Kingdom of Heaven, so we would have some bearing and understanding into this mysterious realm. We call this 'revelation' because it 'reveals' the mystery that has occupied philosophers and sages since the beginning of time.

And what does Jesus tell us? First and foremost that we have to resist seeing the 'spiritual' dimension of reality as an 'extra' layer, maybe even as an option. He tells us that the God of love is our creator and sustainer, and is at the center of reality. And when we understand that and live it out, we too become 'real'. This means that we are more real when we give food to a homeless person than when we buy ourselves that new smartphone.

What takes place at the wedding banquet in Jesus’ parable is emblematic of this.

Jesus ministered in a world without health insurance, without social security, even without a trustworthy judicial system. Life was precarious which meant doing everything one could to get an edge, to get a little security for oneself and for ones family. One of the ways people did this--and still do to some extent--is to curry favour with the elites. And this happened at the table. Meals, feasts, and banquets were the place where honour was bestowed upon others, so that one might be repayed down the road. It may result in a business deal, a favourable legal decision, or even a marriage. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. Sound familiar?

But Jesus turns this around. His advice is to abstain from the 'business as usual' approach. He says not to invite the wealthy who can repay us, but instead to invite the crippled, the poor and the blind. And because of their inability to repay us, we will be blessed at the resurrection of the righteous.

“All who exalt themselves will be humbled,” our Lord concludes, “and those who humble themselves will be exalted."

This is not the practical advice from the everyday world we know so well. And if we are to believe Jesus, the ordinary rules of human greed and pride suddenly no longer apply. In the upside-down, topsy-turvy world of the Kingdom of God, everything is turned around. The humble are the exalted ones. The poor are the rich. The crippled and lame are the well. And the blind are the ones who see.

The world turns out to be not as solid as we thought. But what remains is the foundation the world rests upon, and that is our Loving Creator. And we also discover that love and charity are real because love and charity are one with God, who is the heart of reality. Anytime we love we act in accord with reality, and the resurrection is where this is authenticated.

There is a Jewish saying that illustrates this. Everytime we do a good deed, it is said, we get a single stitch in an invisible garment. So when our lives are over, all that remains is this garment of our deeds; be it resplendent or a tattered rag.

So when we slow down and reflect we might ask ourselves, What shape is our garment in?

Some people may feel uncomfortable talking about the Resurrection, but as the great theologian Von Balthazar cautions us, to take away the Resurrection is to take away the Cross. And without this, there’s not much left to Christianity.

But if we let Jesus be our guide he will show us that by committing our lives to a God of Love—right here, today—we are partaking in the very life of God, which is eternal. If our heart is set on that which is eternal in this life, there will be a continuity with the next life, to be discovered in its fullness at the Resurrection. And death shall have no dominion.

Jesus came into the world not to condemn it, but to show us the way to reality, the way to become truly alive. Our job is to respond to this truth by our faith, and to become the people we are called to be.

The Paradox of Proof

"A proof for the existence of God can be constructed by means of the most rigorous formal logic and yet prove nothing since a god who must permit his existence to be proved in the first place is ultimately a very ungodly god. The best such proofs of existence can yield is blasphemy."

-Martin Heidegger

WHY DO I HAVE TO GO TO CHURCH?

Here's one I get a lot: "I don't need church to be a good/'spiritual' person..."

No, you don't, but the fact that you are going is most likely an outward sign of an inward commitment to a life of compassion, forgiveness and love.

Church is where this faith decision is affirmed, refreshed and strengthened by prayer, sacraments, and by community.

JESUS: LIBERATOR OF DESIRE?

I remember soon after President Obama took the White House, the Republicans did everything they could to stop whatever he wanted to accomplish. Economic bailout package? No way. Healthcare reform? Forget it. Tougher regulations for Wall Street? Never…

And not because they had any better ideas, but simply for the sake of stopping Obama. Political pundits began to refer to the Republican Party as 'The Party of No.'

I wonder if its not the same for Christians today; are we not portrayed as the 'Relgion of No'? Whenever Christianity appears in the news, it seems like it's because we are saying NO to something the modern world has deemed OK. One might even get the impression that Christians were just a bunch of sourpusses shaking their fingers at the world in condemnation.

With this in mind, one might be amazed to discover that Jesus came into the world not to shrink or restrict our desire, but actually came to expand it--even to set it aflame.

Despite all of his critiques of wealth and materialism, Jesus has nothing against desire. Rather, he is saying that by focusing on material things, that we are not desiring ENOUGH. We have set the bar way too low. Instead of focusing on that which perishes, Jesus wants us to refocus our desire on that which is permanent, "that which does not wear out, an inexhaustible treasure in heaven that no theif can reach nor moth destroy." (Lk 12:32)

And what keeps our desire low? Perhaps because we live in a consumer based culture that exploits our desire, using it as the grease that makes the economic machinery turn? That may be one factor. But I think Jesus nails the problem at its root, and that is fear. It is the fear that we live in 'what-you-see-is-what-you-get' universe. The fear that if I lose what is tangible, I lose everything; that if I have nothing to show, then I have nothing. Jesus tells us over and over again to not be afraid: "Do not be afraid any longer, for your Father is pleased to give you the Kingdom." (Lk 12:32)

God wants to intrust us with the Kingdom--but we have to want it. If our hearts are not longing for it, how can they hold its bounty? "For where your treasure is, there also will your heart be." (Lk 12:34) All too often our fear builds a wall of indifference. Comfort and security can lull us into complacency. We become numb, dead to our spiritual purpose.

And that's when we're in danger.

That's what we must be able to recognize this within ourselves, but we must also have relationships with people we trust who can guide us through these times, who can see this in us and can awaken us from our slumber. That's when we have to rely on the power of the sacraments and the renewing spirit of the liturgy. And finally, that's when we must rely on prayer. So let us close with a prayer by Sir Francis Drake that speaks powerfully to this matter;


DISTURB US LORD

Disturb us Lord
When we are too pleased with ourselves;
When our dreams have come true because we dream too little,
when we have arrived safely because we sailed too close to the shore.

Disturb us Lord
When the abundance of our possessions has made us lose our thirst
for the abundance of life.

Disturb us Lord,
To dream more boldly
To venture on wider seas
Where storms will show your mastery
Where losing sight of land
We shall find stars

We ask you to push back
The horizon of our hopes
And to push us into the future
In strength, courage, hope and love.

AMEN

Theologically 'Moderate'?

I was recently asked to characterize my religious views on a form.

A long time ago I would have put 'liberal.' Not so long ago I would have put 'conservative.'

But now I put 'moderate.'

Liberal or conservative means the other side is wrong. But I think 'moderate' is a way of saying it's all one massive dilemna.

And I'm OK with that.

Woe to anyone attempting to appoint Jesus Christ, son of the Living God, to Minister of Religion for the _______ political party.

OUR SPIRITUAL HOMECOMING

Ecclesiastes wrestles with some major existential questions. He asks, What good is it that I spend my life accumulating goods, when I can’t take them with me? When I am forced to leave them to undeserving hands? How is this fair?

His infinite desire is colliding with his finite flesh, and this is causing despair. His conclusion? “…All things are vanity!”

People think of the bible as a book. But really it is a library with books assembled over hundreds of years chronicling what is called Revelation History, which is God’s self-disclosure to humanity over time.

But in this process, God is revealing more than His identity: He is also revealing OUR identity. God is teaching us who WE are as well. Understanding who God is profoundly impacts the way we understand ourselves.

So in this historical unfolding, Ecclesiastes is like a primitive snapshot of the spiritual landscape. Before you can appreciate the answers, you must grasp the basic human problems.

Then the lectionary brings Jesus and Paul into the dialogue, and what they have to say is nothing short of revolutionary. Jesus offers a parable that speaks to the heart of the matter: that of the rich man who toils to fill his barn with wealth for years to come, and is ready to congratulate himself on a job well done. God says to him; “You fool, this night your life will be demanded of you; and the things you have prepared, to whom will they belong? Thus it will be for all who store up treasure for themselves but are not rich in what matters to God.” (Lk 12:13-21)

What Jesus is doing is expanding the horizon. No longer does the struggle for meaning and happiness occur in a flat, what-you-see-is-what-you-get universe. Jesus reveals the broader context, and that is our relationship with God.

That is the game-changer. With this revealed, our meaning does not depend on holding onto that which is passing, which is intrinsically disappointing. Rather, we are called from our finitude to partake in the realm of the eternal; to participate in the life of God in charity, in hope and in love.

And this is why Paul’s language is so dramatic. He literally speaks of a death and rebirth in this new life in Christ. It is a life where the old divisions and tawdry habits have dwindled away, where “Christ is all and in all”. (Col 3:11)

We all know that as nice as this sounds, in reality it’s a lot of hard work. Sometimes the spiritual life feels like an eat-your-vegetables grind. Sometimes it feels forced or down-right unnatural. But let’s not forget what sin is; it’s the distortion of our true nature. If the goodness the bible calls us to feels unnatural, it’s not because it calls us to a place we do not belong—it’s because the veil of sin is so thick that we have lost our way, and lost a sense of who we really are.

On a deeper level, what feels like painful work today is really a healing, that in the end will feel more like a loving homecoming to our true nature.

But for now we remain pilgrims on a journey. It may at times feel arduous, but it’s the only one that truly matters.

HUMILITY AND FREEDOM

Oscar Wilde once said that when the gods wanted to punish us, they fulfilled our wishes.

That’s another way of saying that our own ego, our own desire, when left unchecked is destructive. It often stands in the way of God’s purpose for us.

So the religious path is one of surrender; of letting go of our attachments, our fears, our comforts, and trusting our life to God. ‘Not my will, but Thy will,’ says the Psalmist.

And this is echoed by Paul when he pleads, “May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world.” And this is something quite profound. Paul has crossed that inner threshold having died to his selfishness, and has become alive in a more profound way. His entire being and reason for existence has become one with the Creator.

This sounds like a luxury, perhaps something for those who have the time for ‘self-actualization.’ Today we may think of those who have the time, money and desire to attend a personal growth seminar or yoga retreat. But certainly NOT US—we have kids and bills to pay…

But think again. In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus not only commissions the 12 disciples, but here he sends out 72 others to go out and herald the Kingdom of God. Jesus did not come down to do it all himself. He certainly did the heavy lifting, but he calls human beings like us to join him in the great work of redemption. That includes all of us. And this is the amazing thing; that God would place such trust in humanity, cooperating with us in something so important.

And when the 72 returned to Jesus, they were in awe of how even the evil spirits were under their authority. Jesus however rebuked them saying; “Do not rejoice because the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice because your names are written in heaven.”

It’s a reality check for them. Jesus is saying, Yes, you are doing God’s work… but don’t let it get to your head. And that’s the truth. It’s a wonderful thing to be on the side of truth and life, but it is too heavy a load and we can easily stumble. The human mind can only stand so much reality.

So that is why we are called to humility. Humility keeps us turning it over to God. It keeps our spirit at once free yet grounded, and ready to respond in service and in love.

It has been said that the door of life is a door of mystery; it becomes slightly shorter than the one who wishes to enter it. And thus only one who bows in humility can cross its threshold.

THE INNER VOICE OF LOVE

There seems to be a paradox at the heart of Christian life: That we are free only when we serve Christ.

But how can we be both? How is it possible to be 'free servants'?

This of course, depends on the nature of our master, and in our case God is our master.

A lot can be gleaned by our reading from Paul today. He is addressing the confusion and the abuse of freedom that the Galatian community is experiencing. They are (mis)interpreting their new-found freedom in Christ as a license to do whatever they want (since they are redeemed anyways...) Some wishful thinking indeed.

Paul admonishes them by saying: "You were called for freedom, but do not use this as an opportunity for the flesh, but serve one another through love. For the whole law is fulfilled in one statement: Love your neighbour as yourself."

When we serve a God of love, we are called into a relationship of love with the other. But sin blocks this. Usually it's because it places a love-of-self before love-of-other. A dangerous path indeed. Sin is true slavery because it restricts by orienting us towards the finite, passing things of this world. This typically involves turning inward; either gratifying our base desires or serving our own ego.

But to be turned towards our neighbour in love is to be involved in the affairs of the eternal, because we are all children of God, and God cares deeply for each and every one of us.

What determines the path we're on? Whether we are on the path of sin or the path of redemption?

Having previously worked with L'arche, I lived in the community of Fr Henri Nouwen, who wrote a very important book called 'The Inner Voice of Love.' The book was originally a journal he kept through a very profound personal crisis. Throughout this painful time he realized that his inner life was dominated by two voices; one of his father who said "Henri, go out and be something great, make a name for yourself." And the voice of his mother, who encouraged him to always remain close to Jesus. He found himself constantly in the throes of these two voices that he carried with him deep in his psyche his entire life, and in a way they formed who he was.

But I want to suggest that we all have these voices that we carry with us. Sometimes they are the voices of our parents, or perhaps friends, but they can also be harmful voices, voices that urge us to follow the path of vanity, selfishness, or even hatred; just as in our world today people blow themselves up and kill innocent people because they have internalized the voices of their leaders.

It is in this context that I want to introduce our Gospel reading today. At face value, it is often considered harsh. Jesus tells a young man who wishes to follow him that he must come NOW. The young man says he is willing, but that he must first go home to bury his father. Jesus says, "Let the dead bury their dead. But you, go and proclaim the Kingdom of God." This is seen as extreme because burial customs were extremely important in the time the Gospels were written, and that this would obviously be a huge insult to his family.

Another man who wishes to simply bid farewell to his family before following Jesus is told, "No one who sets a hand on the plow and looks to what was left behind is fit for the Kingdom of God." This agrarian allusion is lost on most of us today, but what it means is that is that when you were plowing a field, you needed a straight row. By turning around to see what is behind you, you are going to veer slightly off to
the side. Your focus needs to be on the target in front of you.

Now this passage from Luke is often interpreted as hyperbole, which means that Jesus is using striking language to make a point (as when he instructs his followers to cut off their hand if it is causing them to sin). But what Jesus is asking is: Who is ultimately your master? Whose voice takes priority; the voice of family obligation, the voices of social expectations and norms?

It is a call to be aware of which voices have power in your life. Are they liberating or holding you back? Where is the voice of Jesus? Does he have a back seat, or is he your co-pilot? Take this question into prayer regularly.

Our goal is to live an incarnate spirituality, that is, wherever we are, to let the voice of Jesus come alive in our hearts and to let it transform the world around us. By following His voice we become free, as it liberates us from the prison of the self, from our ego and from our preoccupation with the passing, superficial temptations of this world towards something far more beautiful, far more profound, and far more holy.

LOVE THY ENEMY

To 'love thy enemy' is probably the hardest thing about being Christian--but it's also the most important.

And it's something that I think about every day… On our street we are friends (or friendly) with most of our neighbours, but a couple houses down live some known drug dealers. Sometimes I think they should install a drive-thru window, with all the customers they get coming up to the house.

I often wonder: What would Jesus Do? I imagine him going over for a fireside chat, working a couple miracles… I don’t know, but personally I havent been able to do anything but avoid eye contact.

But we all have people like that in our lives, people who seem flat-out irreconcilable.

However if we look closely at what Jesus is calling us to do, he is not saying we must have 100% outcomes all the time. It's not a call for perfect results in all situations. It's simply a call to love.

And when you break it down, love starts with a fundamental concern for another's well-being.

So in the case with my neighbours, What are my intentions? I admit, mostly I wish Clint Eastwood also lived on our street and would execute some vigilante justice a la Gran Torino. But do I love them in the sense that I hope and pray for them to turn their lives around? For them to find the peace and healing of Christ?

That's the big question we must all take into prayer. But that's where loving our enemy starts; in our intentions, in our heart of hearts.

So don’t be overwhelmed if it seems impossible. Just take those first steps of prayerfully examining your intentions, and God will be sure to meet you half way.

A QUICK CURE FOR PRIDE

Any man too pleased with his own virtue need only attend to his self-talk while operating a motor vehicle.

A BRIEF THEOLOGY OF SPORTS

Though the organization I work for places a premium on physical fitness, my boss half-jokingly reminds me I'm not there on a 'sports scholarship.'

Guilty as charged; but if I have the opportunity to play sports (tennis, squash, floor-hockey, golf are currently my favorites), I will.

For chaplains, sports have their practical advantages; they're a great way to meet people and to network. But from a theological perspective, I will not apologize for my love of sports.

I first want to dispel the myth that it's all about competition. I am competitive when I play, but I do not play primarily for the satisfactiion of beating people. I remember when I was a kid, I drew far more pleasure from cranking out fly balls to my friends at the park or playing catch with the aerobie (a frisbee on crack), than from playing formal 'organized' sports.

For me, it's simply a love for moving through space... timing a leaping catch, or the joy of ripping the cover off a golf ball driven cleanly down a fairway.

You could break this down further to say that playing sports is one of the crowning joys of being incarnate, that is, of having a body and using it well.

The Greeks percieved a duality between spirit and flesh, but for Christians this duality was negated when God became man. The body became holy, a vessel worthy of the Son of God, and this is affirmed doctrinally in the resurrection of the flesh.

I remember golfing the other day; I was hitting the ball really well, the ocean was in full view and you could taste the salt in the air. The wind was blowing the clouds enough to create dancing patterns of light across the endlessly rolling green fields. And I remember suddenly understanding why there were so many golf jokes with their punchlines involving heaven.

And in my heart I said a little prayer of thanks, but what I really wanted to do was drop to my knees and give God full praise -- I just didn't know how that would have gone over with the other guys in the foursome.

Kidding aside, the point is this: if Christians are going to be advocates for a 'culture of life' we have to go beyond the hot-button 'sperm and worm' issues (abortion, euthanasia etc.), and start celebrating all the goodness and joy of living we find in between.

THOMAS MERTON QUOTE

"We should let ourselves be brought naked and defenceless into the center of dread when we stand alone before God in our nothingness without explanation, without theories, completely dependent on His providential care, in dire need of his gift of grace, his mercy, and the light of faith... True contemplation is not a psychological trick but a theological grace." from Contemplative Prayer, 1973

SERMON: ON THE ASCENSION OF JESUS

The Ascension of Jesus caps the end of a roller coaster ride for the
disciples.

They went from humble fisherman, to friends and followers of the
Messiah.

Then when He went to the cross, they too faced persecution and fear, not
knowing what was next.

And then, in the midst of their terror, Jesus does the unthinkable and
returns from the dead... only to say goodbye once again, as he
disappears into the heavens, leaving them speechless, staring at the
sky.

We too know what its like to have the rug pulled from under us, for
things to suddenly change in the blink of an eye.

A friend came to me the other day, eyes filled with tears saying she
went to the doctor just for an routine exam and they found 'a lump'...

I work with soldiers and sailors still young and strong, but who never
would have guessed that PTSD would be ravaging their careers, their
marriages, their lives....

Or that family near Montreal, who one minute are cheering for the Habs
in their living room, and the next minute they're all dead, house swept
away in a landslide...

As much as we try to fight uncertainty through insurance policies, house
alarms, healthy eating and exercise, visits to the doctor; the fact
remains we're all so vulnerable to forces outside our control. That's
just the nature of reality.

People who are critical of faith often say that religion is just a
crutch, a coping mechanism or a security blanket to protect us from the
chaos of life.

But that couldn't be more false. We don't approach God like a magic
lantern, whom we rub to receive wishes. The cross is not an amulet, a
lucky charm to protect us against misfortune.

In fact, as Christians we accept that sometimes we MUST bear our cross, and that the challenges of life can build us up spiritually.

But to make it even more confusing, sometimes we may not even know that
our blessings can come in the form of misfortune.

A story that I love that illustrates this involves a farmer who had a
fine stallion that one day escaped and ran off. The farmer's neighbours
commiserated with him. "What bad luck you have," they said sadly. But
the farmer responded, "Who really knows? It could be bad. But it could
also be good."

Sure enough, the very next day, the stallion returned followed by twelve
wild and healthy young steeds. "How fortunate you are!" exclaimed the
neighbours. "Who knows," countered the farmer to his neighbours'
surprise, "if it is good fortune or not?"

Not long after, the farmer's strapping son attempted to break one of the
wild horses when he tumbled and shattered his leg. "How unlucky you
are!" exclaimed the neighbours. The farmer shrugged his shoulders and
asked again, "Who knows if it is bad luck or good?"

Later, the king's soldiers arrived, recruiting young men for battle and
war in far-off lands, but they quickly passed over the farmer's son with
the bad leg. "How very lucky you are," said the amazed neighbors as the
old man muttered once again, "Who knows? Maybe it is good, maybe it is
bad."

Good or bad? Who can say?

So given all of this, how do we orient ourselves spiritually? How do we
approach God?

Do we pray for a perfect life, that no harm will come our way, or to our
loved ones? Or perhaps we should pray that bad stuff happens to us, but
only bad stuff that we can learn a lesson from?

To help us with this question, let's turn to Paul. In his Letter to the
Hebrews, he writes;

"...since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us approach
with a sincere heart and in absolute trust, with our hearts sprinkled
clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed in pure water. Let
us hold unwaveringly to our confession that gives us hope, for he who
made the promise is trustworthy" (Heb 10:19-23)

Paul's underlying point is this; that no matter what life may throw our
way, be it good or bad, that we may be spiritually prepared by trusting
in God and approaching Him with a clean heart.

I'm not saying to stop praying for our daily bread and for deliverance
from evil; I'm saying to balance our intentions by also asking, Have we
been honest with God about ourselves? Do we find ways to justify things
we do when we should really be asking for forgiveness? Do we treat God
like Santa Clause, asking for all kinds of things when we should really be
asking for help to be more loving, more giving, or more patient?

And finally, though life is filled with ups and downs, do we trust the words the Angels said to the disciples? "Men of Galilee, why do you stand there looking at the sky? Jesus who has been taken from you into heaven will return the same way as you have seen him going into heaven."

So let us pray that God may renew and strengthen our faith, that the drama of our lives--with all its joy and sorrow--unfolds within the arms of our loving Creator, who in the end will mend every wound, right every wrong, and wipe away every tear.

Quote from "HOME", by Marilynne Robinson

"For her, church was an airy white room with tall windows looking out on God's good world, with God's good sunlight pouring in through those windows and falling across the pulpit where her father stood, straight and strong, parsing the broken heart of humankind and praising the loving heart of Christ. That was church."

REFLECTIONS ON THE EUCHARIST

In the time of our parents and grandparents, Sunday was considered
special. It was that day of the week when people went to church to
connect with God. And for Catholics, the heart of this connection was
the Eucharist.

But today it's the opposite. The spirit of our age is one of
'adversarial mysticism', which challenges this traditional idea of
Sunday being special. It's like a great reversal has occurred. This
spirit is articulated whenever people say, "Who needs church... I get my
spiritual experience from yoga, or music, or hiking in nature..."

This mentality, under the pretence of expanding God, actually renders
God banal; if everything is sacred, nothing is sacred. And it ultimately
keeps people from seeing church as offering a uniquely sacred
experience.

I don't want to argue with the idea that we can't connect with God
outside of our four church walls. Obviously we can. But what I want to
say is that there's more. And that MORE is why I am a practicing
Catholic.

Let me explain by using the analogy of a marriage. Everyday of your
marriage should be special, and never be taken for granted. However,
your anniversary BETTER be that one day of the year that STANDS OUT.
It's that day when you deeply celebrate and articulate your mutual love
and thankfulness.

And this marriage metaphor is also an appropriate metaphor for faith. At
the heart of the Christian faith is a relationship with the Risen Jesus.
And how is any relationship sustained and strengthened? By spending time
together. Enjoying each other. Confiding our weaknesses. Celebrating our
love.

JP2s Encyclical on the Eucharist, "Ecclesia de Eucharistia", talks about
this intimacy and mutuality when he writes; "When the faithful approach
the sacred banquet, not only do they receive Christ, but they in turn
are received by him."

There is a relationship in the Eucharist then that is at the heart of
our faith. God may be with us throughout the week, but think of the
Eucharist as that 'one on one' time with our Risen Lord. God is not just
lurking somewhere in the background music of our lives, but in the
Eucharist we capture a real sense of 'quality time' with God, when
everything else just falls to the side.

And this refreshes our perspective of what really matters. It engenders
our gratitude and renews our commitment of faith.

When Pope Benedict was Cardinal Ratzinger he wrote a book called "A God Who Is Near" where he talked about this. He writes, "God gives himself to us so that we, in turn, can give ourselves. The initiative in the sacrifice of Jesus Christ comes from God. In the beginning, it was he himself who lowered himself."

God is reaching out to us in the sacrifice of the Eucharist. And if we
can fully grasp this mystery, we have no choice but to give our lives to
Him in gratitude. That is the 'thanksgiving' WE offer in the Eucharistic
relationship.

As nice as it is to notice God's handiwork in nature, or in our
favourite music, it is because of the gift of the Eucharist that the
ordinary becomes truly holy.

SERMON: BATTLE OF THE ATLANTIC

While researching the Battle of the Atlantic for the sermon at Mass, I stumbled upon an actual event from the Battle that makes a wonderful metaphor for understanding our faith.

So let me take you back to 1942, as the Nazi noose was slowly tightening
around Britain, strangling its naval supply routes through its Rudeltaktik, or 'wolf pack' strategy.

Traditionally submarines were used as lone ambushers, but Nazi Commodore Karl Donitz innovated a new strategy: while Allied warships engaged in a cat-and-mouse hunt with individual submarines, the rest of the submarines in the wolf pack would be neglected, and able to attack the merchant ships with impunity.

But what was key to Nazis being able to coordinate their attacks, was
their ability to communicate with German high command through unbreakable codes.

Enter the Enigma Machine. This was a small, portable encryption device
used by U-Boats that allowed them to receive coded messages on the
location of enemy ships. Thus prowling U-Boats were constantly on the
attack.

The genius of the Enigma Machine was in its coupling of letters: they
were constantly changed so the encrypted messages were never the same,
making the code, with its billions of possible combinations, nearly
impossible to break.

Hitler, and many of his commanders, believed Enigma was invincible. They
were wrong.

On October 30, 1942 the HMS Petard and three other British destroyers
were pursuing U-559 in the Mediterranean Sea, not far from the Egyptian
shore. U-559 was proving why U-Boats were so dangerous. She was elusive. The chase lasted 16 hours before U-559's Commander decided to scuttle his damaged ship about 70 miles north of the Nile Delta.

Demonstrating courage that to this day is hard to comprehend, three
young men swam from the HMS Petard and boarded the sinking sub. Lt. Tony Fasson,Able Seaman Colin Grazier, and Canteen Assistant Tommy Brown. These men swam out with a tiny skiff and descended into the sinking submarine in hopes of retrieving an Enigma Machine, not knowing what perils lay waiting for them; were they to be greeted by remaining Nazi crewmembers? Boobytraps perhaps?

Though they penetrated the sinking sub, they could not remove U-559's
Enigma Machine from its mount. But with Brown at the top of the ladder,
water streaming into the stricken vessel, Fasson and Grazier quickly
passed the short signal weather code and the short signal code book up
to Brown, who threw them into the skiff.

With death by drowning a near certainty if they didn't immediately leave
the ship, Fasson and Grazier continued to gather Enigma documents,
keypads and codes. Brown threw them all into the skiff. Barely a blink
of an eye after Brown had the priceless Nazi codes on the skiff, U-559
sank. Fasson and Grazier went down with her.

Tommy Brown, the Canteen Assistant, turned over one of the most
important finds of WWII. He was 16 years old. Wanting to fight for his
country, he had lied about his age. Fasson and Grazier received
Britain's second-highest honor for bravery, the George Cross. Brown
received the George Medal. Two years later Brown was also dead. He died
trying to rescue his two sisters from their burning slum tenement.

U-559's soaked Enigma documents turned out to be an even-more astounding recovery than anyone could have imagined. It contained the keys to the major German U-Boat codes Shark and Triton, which gave the allies a huge tactical advantage that without a doubt shortened the war.

Without their sacrifice, the German U-Boat codes would not have been
broken until much later, if at all. But because they were broken, the
Allies were able to establish naval supremacy in the Atlantic that much
sooner. Naval supremacy meant an earlier D-Day. An earlier Normandy
invasion meant the cost of human lives would be less terrible.

So how does all of this speak to the question of faith?

Don't we all, in prayer and in our spiritual life, descend into the
greatest Enigma Machine of all, the human heart?

Although it would be far easier to just keep sailing along, looking
forward to that next port call, our faith calls us to go beyond. It
calls us to descend into the depths of the heart and wrestle with its
mysteries. And bring them to the light.

And the heart is filled with its share of peril, with all of its pain,
resentments and selfishness. But when we confront its mystery, we do not
do so alone. Christ decodes God for us so that we may understand how to
harmonize our own heart with the intent of the Creator.

And when that happens, we discover what Christ promises, "a peace that
the world cannot give". But it is not a peace that promises serenity or
an easy life. It is a peace which allows us to hear that still small
voice that can sometimes call us to great sacrifice and courage.

When we are in tune with that voice, its fruits are literally
unfathomable. Just as this 16yr old canteen assistant couldn't have
imagined that his actions would help bring WW2 to a close, we will never
know how our commitment to Christ can impact others, and impact the
world.

Faith then, is what draws us into the story of Redemption. It is where
we play our small role on the stage of God's saving activity.
Allow me to conclude with an insight from theologian Reinhold Niebhur
that speaks to this. He writes:

"Nothing worth doing is completed in our lifetime,
Therefore, we are saved by hope.
Nothing true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate
context of history; Therefore, we are saved by faith.
Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone.
Therefore, we are saved by love.
And no virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our
friend or foe as from our own; Therefore, we are saved by the final form
of love, which is forgiveness."

Lenten Homily: Growing Up with The Prodigal Son

Just 3 months ago, I became a father for the first time. December 15
2009 little Jackson Alexander was born and it changed my life. I share
this because the experience of becoming a father has helped me
understand the readings today in a way I never could have before.

Today we heard probably the most famous and beloved of all Jesus'
parables: The Story of the Prodigal Son. Its beauty and its power is
that as we mature, the parable reveals new insights to us. The way I
hear the story today is not how I heard it as a teenager, nor is it the
way I will hear it in my twilight years.

On the surface, it is a simple story. A young man asks his father for
his inheritance before his father even dies-a huge insult: it's like
saying "you are dead to me"-only to squander it on wine, women and song.
He then returns years later, broke and broken, but contrite. He begs for
mercy, and for his father to take him back: not even as a son, but as a
lowly servant. But instead, his father is overjoyed by his return and
throws a huge celebration. This provokes the anger of the older brother,
who complains to his father about the injustice of it all, refusing to
celebrate. His father tells him to rejoice and be happy, for what was
lost is now found, what was dead has now returned to life.

When I read this as a teenager who was not very interested in going to
church, I began to identify with the son who had gone astray. For me at
the time, the heart of this story was about returning to God.

But over the years, the focus of the story began to shift. As we grow in
our faith we begin to wrestle with more complex questions. The big one
for me was forgiveness. I always wrestled with the dilemma between
forgiveness and justice, thinking: "Well if I just forgive the person
and let them off the hook, they will never learn or change..." So I
started to be stingy with it. I began to withhold it, attaching many
conditions. The fear was that if I forgave, somehow justice would not be
served.

It wasn't until later on in my faith journey that I discovered the
spiritual flaw in this. The problem was that I was being the Judge, when
I am simply called to be the Forgiver. Because really, who are we to be
the bouncer at the gates of the Kingdom of God? That's not our job. The
Kingdom belongs to God, He makes the rules. We are only bearers of God's
forgiveness; as Paul writes in his Letter to the Corinthians:

"God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ,
not counting their trespasses against them
and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation.
So we are ambassadors for Christ,
as if God were appealing through us." (2 Cor 5.18-19)

By playing Judge, I was actually impeding God's forgiveness. Then it
occurred to me that this was why Jesus tells us to "forgive 70 times 7",
because we need to enlarge our hearts if we're going to be channels of
God's love in the world.

I soon began to realize that I was acting like the Older Brother in The
Prodigal Son. Instead of loving and forgiving freely like the Father, I
was the one saying; "If you forgive him, he wont learn from his mistakes
and may even do it all over again!"

This helped me understand why it is we come before God on our knees;
because we must be humbled by our poverty. Our poverty to love, to
understand; and even the poverty of our forgiveness.

And we approach God on our knees because that is the posture of the
beggar. We must beg for the strength to rely so much on His power, and
to allow ourselves to be directed by His hidden and mysterious grace
when sometimes every impulse and every voice around us is telling us
something different.

Fr Henri Nouwen wrote an entire book on The Prodigal Son. In it he
writes that the spiritual journey calls us to stop acting like the sour
brother, and to start acting like the loving father.

Now I'm at a point in my life, having just become a father, where I can
appreciate this parable in a whole new light. When I look down upon
little Jack my eyes will sometimes fill with tears, overcome with love.
I cannot imagine a greater or more precious gift. And I think that
there's nothing he could ever do to make me close my heart to him. That
no matter what happens in his life, no matter what mistakes he may make,
that I'll always be able to rejoice in his presence.

And feeling this, I get a small taste of what God feels for each one of
us. How God rejoices in our presence; how God delights in our very
being.

The parable of the Prodigal Son is calling us to trust in God to move
past our wounds, our pettiness, and our resentments, to see the dignity
and glory in each other. To see and to love each other just as God loves
us.

SERMON: HAITI AND THEODICY

There are times when God speaks to us by name, summoning us to duty. As when Jesus summons the Apostles up the mountain that they may accompany him and that he may assign them their mission.

There are other times when we see God’s hand at work clear as day. Like when Saul is stalking David and his men, when Saul stops to relieve himself—of all places—in the very same cave David and his men just happen to be hiding.

But most of the time God’s will isn’t so clear. And to complicate things, events like the horrific earthquake in Haiti call many to suspect if God even exists.

As a chaplain, I have to do my theology from ‘ground zero' because during horrible moments like this others turn to us for meaning and support.

For instance, I was speaking recently to a friend who just came back from a tour in Afghanistan, and due to what she experienced she began to call into question the very nature of God. She could no longer believe that God was loving, as she had been taught her whole life. According to her, her eyes were now ‘open to reality’, opposed to her former sheltered life of comfort and security. For her, this fantasy of meaning and order in the universe was now shattered.

The question I immediately asked myself was: does such a traumatic experience really ‘open a person’s eyes’, or does the traumatic experience CAUSE THE DISTORTION of reality? Or another way of asking this question would be to ask if war and catastrophe are normative, or the aberration?

For most, this would be a ‘glass half empty/half full’ question that could probably go either way. But for Christians, we see creation as inherently good, and evil being like a parasite occasionally that worms its way in.

The Judeo-Christian answer to the problem of evil is most famously confronted by Job. Job calls God to account for the injustice he has suffered, and God offers an “argument by Majesty”, which is basically, “Little man, it’s not wise to question the Grand Architect whose wonder is beyond your wildest imaginings.” It’s a call to humility, and it’s a plea from God to weigh immediate tragedy against the scope of an infinitely rich and luminous creation.

The spirit of Job’s encounter with God resonates with something the great Rabbi Plaut once said when his beloved wife died. He was asked if this tragedy ever rattled his faith. His answer was “Did I ask WHY ME GOD, when I met the love of my life? Did I ask WHY ME GOD after every glorious year we spent together? Did I ask WHY ME GOD every time she gave birth to one of our beautiful children? No of course not. So why should I suddenly ask WHY ME God when it comes her turn to rest?”

But there is something in God’s answer to Job that leaves a lot of people cold, especially when confronted with epic tragedy or injustice, something on the magnitude of the earthquake in Haiti.

What wins me over personally is the New Testament. And when it comes to the big questions, it’s only fair to turn to the big guns. For me that’s The Beatitudes. Here Jesus doesn’t provide any easy answers that illuminate the mystery of evil. But instead, he makes perfectly clear the blessedness of those who suffer:

"When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying: ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.’" (Matt 5:1-12)

The contrast between Christians and Gnostics illuminate what I’m getting at. The Gnostics were a rival sect that competed with Christianity in the early centuries, and has made a revival with recovery of the Nag Hammadi library and more recently, with the so called Gospel of Judas. Gnostics believe that there is some kind of salvific knowledge that exists which is the ultimate goal of religious life; and that if we hunt it down we will pass through this veil of tears and find our promised land. But that’s not us. The difference with Christians is that we know that to be human is to live the tension, to bear the impossible weight of mystery, to walk the razors edge of faith. As Eric Voegelin once said, (and pardon the language, I’m quoting a philosopher):

“Ontologically, the substance of things hoped for is nowhere to be found but in faith itself; and epistemologically, there is no proof for things unseen but again this very faith. The bond is tenuous, indeed, and may snap easily. The life of the soul in openness towards God, the waiting, the periods of aridity and dryness, guilt and despondency, contrition and repentance, forsaken and hope against hope, the silent stirrings of love and grace, trembling on the verge of certainty which if gained is loss—the very lightness of this fabric may prove too heavy a burden for men who lust for the massively possessive experience.”

To simply BE in this unbearable tension between the immanent and the transcendent is to be living on holy ground. And we know how easy it is for people, including ourselves, to turn from this blessed state and satiate ourselves with that which is tangible; and this is not only the world of pleasure, but it is also the mindset of actualizing ourselves through our accomplishments, through our work. And as ministers in a largely secular world, how easy it is for us to become social workers, to put them in touch with support resources—rather than to hold them up in prayer… rather than to truly be spiritually present to them... rather than to really address what might be at the heart of the matter?

But although we are to live this tension between the immanent and the transcendent, the point of the Beatitudes is to tell us one thing: no matter how bad it gets—come hell or high water—that we’re not alone in any of this. God personally acknowledges our strife and is reaching out to us, in the Incarnation, through His Spirit, and in the diverse community known as His church. But most importantly, those who suffer have a special place in the heart of God. They are clearly and definitively marked by Jesus as ‘blessed.’

So the Christian answer to evil is not intellectual; it is relational. It is to know that we are always in the presence of an eternally loving God. That relationship tells even the forsaken, those decimated by natural disaster or strife, that God desires them. That God will always desire them. That no matter what, God holds them in the palm of his hand.

And so let us pray;

God of all compassion
We carry so many concerns
For ourselves, for others—especially those helping the relief effort in Haiti
And for our world—especially the people of Haiti
Help us release our burdens to you
Knowing you will receive them and carry them for us.
For You are our Father.

AMEN

SERMON: ON BAPTISM AND COMMUNITY

One of the most frustrating things about being a Padre in the CF is that we so often see people once or twice in their lives, and then no more. Can you guess what those times might be?

Marriage and baptism. People want a Padre for these or two ceremonies, and then seemingly never again.

It’s especially frustrating with baptism, because baptism is a sacrament that acts like doorway into the community. It’s not a one shot deal. My Cdr Baxter Park once said, “If baptism were like a one-shot ‘SPLASH’ – YOU’RE SAVED! our phones would be ringing off the hook.”

But they’re not. Because baptism is a promise that the community is going to be there to support the child and their families throughout the great journey ahead. It is an incorporation into the body of Christ, the family that we call the church.

I know many people these days who say, well, I don’t need church, I go hiking to connect with God or listen to music or this type of thing. I am not saying they don’t, but Christianity is impossible without community. Community is like a lifeline that connects us to Christ. I’m sure that there are some of us here today that have gone through hard times they wouldn’t have made it through without the care and support of those around them.

Having lived at L’arche Daybreak, a Christian community that serves adults with special needs, I want to say a few words about the meaning of community, and I want to speak about it with frankness.

Community is not a utopia. It is fraught with problems, as is any group of people journeying together, be it families, coworkers, or church groups. Jean Vanier, the founder of L’arche is blunt when he writes; “Community in a way is a terrible place. It’s where we discover our own limitations and egotism. When we live with others we are shocked by our own poverty and weakness, our inability to get along, our mental and emotional blocks, our insatiable desires, our frustrations and jealousies, our hatreds and even our wish to destroy.”

A quote like that makes us wonder why it wouldnt be better to just go through life alone...

So what value is there then in Christian community?

The way Ive come to see it is the 'fruitfulness of elasticity'. Its an image that helps me understand how this works. Think of us journeying together. We know from the start that there will be problems along the way. That's a given. Were human and we will at times fail. But even though we will be pulled apart and tested by the darkness, the light that binds us is much stronger. And every time we are pulled apart, and then strengthened again by forgiveness and love, our bonds are much stronger and more vital than they ever were before.

But this fruitfulness is only possible because the Word became flesh, so that we--in the midst of our brokenness and despair--would know were surrounded by and infused with the ecstatic gift of love that is God, the source of all love and light and unity in our universe.

So in this sense, all of life is baptism. We are always being submerged into the waters of chaos and darkness, the stuff that causes despair. Life itself, writes Vanier, is a series of crises and moments when we have to discover who we are and what we really want. But because of Christ's baptism, and because of our union in his Body, we are always being reborn.

And finaly, I pray that the holy bonds of forgiveness and love may continue to sustain us and strenghtnen our chapel community, our families and our friendships in this year ahead.