As you came to Mass this Sunday, you would have noticed that the Nativity scene outside has been taken down and put away. We have come to the end of our Christmas celebrations. At this time, allow me to express, on your behalf, a word of gratitude to the many who made it possible for us to celebrate the beauty and the mystery of the Incarnation.
To the Men’s Club members who set up and took down the Nativity scene that many have captured on their digital devices. May it be imprinted on our hearts…
To Mary Asnis, Gia DeCarlo, and their team of helpers who decorated the inside of the basilica, enhancing the beauty of our worship space…
To the ushers, sacristans, altar servers, lectors, eucharistic ministers, and volunteers for helping us celebrate the mysteries in a dignified and reverent manner…
To Dr. Ken Sotak, Paul Scavone, the instrumentalists, and the choir for giving us a taste of heavenly music…
To our maintenance staff, who put up the lights outside and made sure the basilica and its facilities were ready for the celebrations…
To all who, in one way or another, contributed their time and talent to enhance our experience of Christmas at the basilica: THANK YOU!
This weekend, we celebrate the feast of the Epiphany. The story of the Magi is strange in lots of ways. A strange story – of a band of men – searching, wanting, incomplete, unsatisfied, restless, needing to move.
Isn’t everyone? Except perhaps those few who despair, and perhaps even they may yearn more than most. What do advertisements touch on, if not our vulnerability, weakness, emptiness, and longings? They touch into longings that may even be good in themselves but are hardly the deepest. The philosophers and theologians say that our deepest longing is for happiness. But what does happiness consist of?
The Magi saw the Christ Child. They were filled with joy. Isn’t that what they wanted and why they took that interminable journey? Joy is not bad, yet they go back home. Were they still restless?
The Magi saw the infant Christ. Would another child have done? When we hold a powerless, innocent child and gaze into its eyes, we can touch mystery. Perhaps the child’s eyes hold up a mirror to us. Perhaps we see and experience ourselves as mystery – the possibility, the responsibility of unconditional love. But we can’t hold it forever. It satisfies profoundly and then stirs a deeper longing.
The chief priests and scribes in Jerusalem had all the answers. They knew their faith. They knew their Scriptures – but, unlike the Magi, they had no questions. As we start another year, as we begin once more to thread our way each Sunday through the Gospel of Mark, will it be the familiar “one more time” – nothing new, nothing stirring – like the Scriptures were for the chief priests and scribes? We’ve been that way before – sadly. Or does something stir a longing that longs to be noticed?
This year, might Christ help us in our quest? Perhaps the story of the Magi may not be a harmless story after all. It can invite us to follow our star, to connect with our deepest longing planted in our hearts by our God. Maybe this year, you make an effort to attend Mass every Sunday, take time to pray with the family a couple of times a week – reconnect with your faith, and satisfy the deep longings in your heart.