Sunday Reflection: Daniel P. Horan on the third Sunday in Advent

Advent Hands . . .

 

Author: Catherine Alder

I see the hands of Joseph.
Back and forth along bare wood they move.
There is worry in those working hands,
sorting out confusing thoughts with every stroke.
“How can this be, my beautiful Mary now with child?” 
Rough with deep splinters, these hands,
small, painful splinters like tiny crosses
embedded deeply in this choice to stay with her.
He could have closed his hands to her,
said, “No” and let her go to stoning.
But, dear Joseph opened both his heart and hands
to this mother and her child.
Preparing in these days before
with working hands
and wood pressed tight between them.
It is these rough hands that will open
and be the first to hold the Child.

I see the hands of John,
worn from desert raging storms
and plucking locusts from sand ripped rocks
beneath the remnant of a Bethlehem star.
A howling wind like some lost wolf
cries out beneath the moon,
or was that John?
This loneliness,
enough to make a grown man mad.
He’s waiting for this, God’s whisper.
“Go now. He is coming.
You have prepared your hands enough.
Go. He needs your servant hands,
your cupping hands to lift the water,
and place his feet upon the path to service and to death.
Go now, John, and open your hands to him.
It is time.”

I see a fist held tight and fingers blanched to white.
Prying is no easy task.
These fingers find a way of pulling back to old positions,
protecting all that was and is.
Blanched to white. No openness. All fright.
But then the Spirit comes.
A holy Christmas dance begins
and blows between the twisted paths.
This fist opens
slowly,
gently,
beautifully,
the twisted fingers letting go.
Their rock-solid place in line has eased.
And one by one the fingers lift
True color is returned
And through the deepest of mysteries,
The holiest of holies,
O longing of longings
Beyond all human imagining
this fist,
as if awakened from Lazarus’ cold stone dream
reaches out to hold the tiny newborn hand of God.

 

Joseph's Dream

https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=54282

A Wintering Prayer . . .

 

O God of all seasons and senses, grant us the sense of your timing                                                                  

to submit gracefully and rejoice quietly in the turn of the seasons.

In this season of short days and long nights,

of grey and white and cold,

teach us the lessons of endings;

children growing, friends leaving, loved ones dying,

grieving over,

grudges over,

blaming over,

excuses over.

O God, grant us a sense of your timing.

In this season of short days and long nights,

of grey and white and cold,

teach us the lessons of beginnings;

that such waitings and endings may be the starting place,

a planting of seeds which bring to birth what is ready to be born—

something right and just and different,

a new song, a deeper relationship, a fuller love—

in the fullness of your time.

O God, grant us the sense of your timing.

Taken from Guerrillas of Grace by Ted Loder

An Advent-ure of Love!

 

According to a story reportedly written by Leo Buscaglia, "On a cold day in December, some years ago: A little boy, about  10 years old, was standing before a shoe store on the roadway, barefooted, peering through the window, and shivering with cold.

"A lady approached the young boy and said, 'My, but you're in such deep thought staring in that window!'

"'I was asking God to give me a pair of shoes,' was the boy's reply.

"The lady took him by the hand, went into the store, and asked the clerk to get half a dozen pairs of socks for the boy. She then asked if he could give her a basin of water and a towel. He quickly brought them to her.

"She took the little fellow to the back part of the store and, removing her gloves, knelt down, washed his little feet, and dried them with the towel.

"By this time, the clerk had returned with the socks. Placing a pair upon the boy's feet, she then purchased a pair of shoes for him.

"She tied up the remaining pairs of socks and gave them to him. She patted him on the head and said, 'No doubt, you will be more comfortable now.'

"As she turned to go, the astonished child caught her by the hand, and looking up into her face, with tears in his eyes, asked, 'Are you God's wife?'"

 

 

No Room at the Inn . . .

       

Into this world, this demented inn
in which there is absolutely no room for him at all,
Christ comes uninvited.

But because he cannot be at home in it,
because he is out of place in it,
and yet he must be in it,
His place is with the others for whom
there is no room.

His place is with those who do not belong,
who are rejected by power, because
they are regarded as weak,
those who are discredited,
who are denied status of persons,
who are tortured, bombed and exterminated.

With those for whom there is no room,
Christ is present in this world.

~Thomas Merton

O Come, O Come, Emmanuel | Cinematic Christmas Cover – The Piano Guys

Cardinal Blase Cupich's Homily for December 7th, 2025

A Gentling Prayer . . .

 

An Unclenched Moment

Gentle me, Holy One,
into an unclenched moment,
a deep breath,
a letting go
of heavy expectancies,

of shriveling anxieties,
of dead certainties,
that softened by the silence,
surrounded by the light,

and open to the mystery,
I may be found by wholeness,
upheld by the unfathomable,

entranced by the simple,
and filled with the joy that is You.
~Ted Loder, Guerrillas of Grace

Welcome, Winter!

 

Photo by S.F.

The Agreement

As the Earth revolves around the Sun,
we travel in an endless circle of Endings and Beginnings:
end of Autumn–beginning of Winter;
end of the longest nights–beginning of longer days;
end of one cycle–beginning of the next.
Winter Solstice is a pivotal moment, a touch-point in time:
a betwixt and between.
‘Tis the final death knoll of the past growing season while holding the kernel of birth of the new. It heralds the return of the Light that tiptoes imperceptibly toward Spring.
It disregards the petty or profound differences of the Earth’s human inhabitants. Instead, it reminds us of our Connections:
That we are bound together by the same seasons,
The same Light,
The same feelings of grief and pain,
The same celebration of joy and peace,
The same yearning for Love in all its forms.
It is a place in Time of Agreement.

(Ulu Ola ~ Source unknown)

A little slow in our hurry . . .

 

Trust in God's holy slowness . . .

 

Above all, trust in the slow work of God. 

We are, quite naturally, impatient in everything to reach the

 end without delay.

We should like to skip the intermediate stages; 

we are impatient of being on the way to something                       unknown, something new. 

And yet, it is the law of all progress that it is made by                    passing through

some stages of instability . . . and that it may take           

a very long time.

 (~ Jesuit Pierre Teilhard de Chardin)

A Warm Blessing . . .

 

A Blessing Befriending Darkness . . .

 

A Blessing for Traveling in the Dark

Jan Richardson

 

Go slow

if you can.

Slower.

More slowly still.

Friendly dark

or fearsome,

This is no place

to break your neck

by rushing,

by running,

by crashing into

what you cannot see.

 

Then again,

it is true:

different darks

have different tasks,

and if you

have arrived here unawares,

if you have come

in peril

or in pain,

this might be no place

you should dawdle.

 

I do not know

what these shadows

ask of you,

what they might hold

that means you good

or ill.

It is not for me

to reckon

whether you should linger

or you should leave

 

But this is what

I can ask for you:

That in the darkness

there be a blessing.

That in the shadows

there be a welcome.

That in the night

you be encompassed

by the Love that knows

your name.

 http://www.janrichardson.com/index.htmlichardson.com 
©Jan Richardson. janrichardson.com

December 7, 2025: Carmen Ramos Preaches for the Second Sunday of Advent

Scripture Reflection: First Sunday of Advent . . .

Things Take the Time They Take -|Nov 25, 2025|Columns, Fr. Joe Juknialis, Scripture Readings

Scripture Reflection

FIRST SUNDAY OF ADVENT
Isaiah 2:1-5
Romans 13:11-14
Matthew 24:37-44

We wait for life to make its mark, and time then etches itself upon our lives. When I was 4 years old, I couldn’t wait for Christmas to come. Each year, too, it was for my birthday to come around that I waited, all so I could grow up to be like everyone else. Once school began, I could hardly wait for vacation time, and then I waited for graduation, and finally for the freedom to be on my own. Isn’t that how it was with you too? We wait for life to do what life always does at its own pace.

Over the years, I’ve spent a fair amount of time in such a way — waiting to be old enough to get a driver’s license, for the Packers to win a Super Bowl, for the wonderful taste of summer when winter seemed to lock us all into a deep freeze, for political winds to shift and bring in the fresh air of new hope for the future. In some years, it was waiting for a new car, and in other years for a new parish. Sometimes, it was waiting for a friend to come, and other times waiting in a doctor’s office while watching everyone else being called ahead of me. And sometimes it’s been waiting for God to show up, though mostly I’ll admit I wasn’t sure if I’d know what that could or would look like — only something different than how I was at that moment, I presumed.

If Advent is supposed to be a time of waiting, then I’d have to say that in so many ways my whole life has been an advent of one sort or another — not always waiting for God, but sometimes for that, too.

And so it’s been all those somethings that I’ve spent time waiting for that have in their own time come to pass — from a child’s dreams for Christmas to a grownup’s wondering about God and a scattering of much else in between.

The prophet and poet Isaiah says, “In days to come … they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks; one nation shall not raise the sword against another, nor shall they train for war again.” We wait for peace, too, though if we’re honest about it, we wonder if it’s ever really going to come.

Mary Oliver, another poet from another time, mused about all such waiting in a very brief poem that’s over almost before it begins. The poem is titled “Don’t Worry.”

“Things take the time they take. Don’t worry, How many roads did St. Augustine follow before he became St. Augustine?”

It’s true. Things take the time they take.

If you know anything about St. Augustine, you know he walked his share of roads. He tasted life — from the boyhood thrill of stealing pears out of someone’s orchard to the grownup thrill of falling in love and the daunting thrill of becoming a parent. His were many roads and paths and back alleyways — some forked, some with dead ends and most without knowing the ultimate destination, until, like all of us, he found himself arriving at one place or another, only to begin again. Things take the time they take for us to become who we are called to be.

As much as we wait for life to come to us, the truth is that life happens to us as we’re busy about our waiting. And if so with life, so also with God who happens as we’re busy doing other things, though mostly without our noticing. Some of us are captured by it all and some of us are left behind, as the Gospel this week suggests, but God does happen in our rummaging about, woven in amidst all the distractions that make demands upon our time.

For most of us, it is the silence that stirs us to notice. Sometimes it is the forced silence as when we are laid low by illness. At other times, it is the silence that comes masked as boredom tempting us to flee, and yet again it may be the silence of 3 a.m. as we lie awake unable to sleep.

Most often, the waiting for God to come does take on the cloak of silence. It will capture you whether you welcome it or not. So then sit with it, wait with it, make friends with it. It is holy, and because we become like those with whom we spend time, then it too will make you holy. Things take the time they take, and amidst it all God happens. Be at peace.

For Reflection:

• At this point in your life, what is it you are waiting for?
• How might God be there waiting for you?

About the Author: Fr. Joe Juknialis

Fr. Joe Juknialis has been writing Scripture columns for the Catholic Herald for maybe the past 25 years, as best as he can remember. He is currently a senior priest of the archdiocese, retired and living at Old St. Mary Parish in downtown Milwaukee, where he helps out weekends at the East Side parishes. He can be reached at jjjpax@gmail.com.

 

Amy Grant - Breath Of Heaven (Mary's Song) (Lyric Video)

A blessing for these Advent days.

 

PREPARE

A Blessing for Advent

Strange how one word

will so hollow you out.

But this word

has been in the wilderness

for months.

Years.

This word is what remained

after everything else

was worn away

by sand and stone.

It is what withstood

the glaring of sun by day,

the weeping loneliness of

the moon at night.

Now it comes to you

racing out of the wild,

eyes blazing

and waving its arms,

its voice ragged with desert

but piercing and loud

as it speaks itself

again and again:

Prepare, prepare.

It may feel like

the word is leveling you,

emptying you

as it asks you

to give up

what you have known.

It is impolite

and hardly tame,

but when it falls

upon your lips

you will wonder

at the sweetness,

like honey

that finds its way

into the hunger

you had not known

was there.

—Jan Richardson

from Circle of Grace: A Book of Blessings for the Seasons

 

https://www.janrichardson.com/

 

Advent Sit Meditation | Sunday, November 30 | Center for Action and Cont...

Remembering December 2, 1980 . . .

 

Remembering . . . never to forget!

The four women, all of whom were experienced mission workers, to show that in some ways they knew the danger facing them, but their faith and commitment drove them to stay in El Salvador anyway:

“If we abandon them when they are suffering the cross, how can we speak credibly about the resurrection?” -Maura Clarke, M.M.

“Most of us feel we would want to stay here.… We wouldn’t want to just run out on the people.” -Dorothy Kazel, O.S.U.

“Several times I have decided to leave El Salvador. I almost could, except for the children.” -Jean Donovan

“I truly believe that I should be here, and I can’t even tell you why.… All I can share with you is that God’s palpable presence has never been more real.” -Ita Ford, M.M.

• Lord, make me your witness. In this world of darkness, let my light shine.
• In this world of lies, let me speak the good news of truth.
• In this world of hate and fear, let me radiate your love.
• In this world of despair, let me spread hope.
• In this world of systemic injustice and institutionalized evil, let me promote justice and goodness.
• In this world of sadness and sorrow, let me bring joy.
• In this world of cruelty and condemnation, let me show your compassion.
• In this world of vengeance and retaliation, let me offer your mercy and reconciliation.
• In this world of war, let me serve your gift of peace.
• In this world of violence, make me a teacher and apostle of your nonviolence.
• In this world of death, let me proclaim the new life of resurrection.
• Help me to witness to the resurrection of Jesus by loving my enemies, showing compassion, feeding the hungry, sheltering the homeless, serving the poor, liberating the oppressed, resisting war, beating plowshares, and disarming my heart and the world.
• In the name of the risen, nonviolent Jesus, Amen

Taken from:
You Will be My Witnesses:
Saints, Prophets and Martyrs
By John Dear

An Advent Poem

There Was a Time

There was a time when there was no time,
When darkness reigned as king,
When a formless void was all that there was
in the nothingness of eternity,
When it was night.
But over the void and over the night Love watched.
There was a time when time began.
It began when Love spoke.

Time began for light and life, for splendor and grandeur.
Time began for seas and mountains, for flowers and birds.
Time began for the valleys to ring with the songs of life,
and for the wilderness to echo with the wailing of wind
and howling of animals.
And over the earth, Love watched.

There was a time when time began to be recorded.
A time when Love breathed and a new creature came to life.
A new creature so special that it was in the image and likeness of Love
Of Love who is God.
And so man was born and the dawn of a new day shone on the world.
And over man, Love watched.

But there came a time when the new day faded.
A time when man who was like God tried to be God.
A time when the creature challenged the creator.
A time when man preferred death to life and darkness to light.
And so the new day settled into twilight.
And over the darkness, Love watched.

 

There was a time of waiting in the darkness.
A time when man waited in the shadows,
And all creation groaned in sadness.

There was waiting for Love to speak again—  for Love to breathe again.

And kings and nations and empires rose and faded in the shadows.
And Love waited and watched.

Finally, there came a time when Love spoke again.
A Word from eternity--a Word
Spoken to a girl who belonged to a people not known by the world
Spoken to a girl who belonged to a family not known by her people
To a girl named Mary.
And all creation waited in hushed silence for the girl's answer.
And Mary spoke her yes.
And Love watched over Mary.

And so there came a time when Love breathed again
When Love breathed new life into Mary's yes.
And a new day dawned for the World
A day when light returned to darkness, when life returned to dispel death
And so a day came when Love became man--a mother bore a child.
And Love watched over Love--a Father watched His Son.

And, lastly, there came a time when you and I became a part of time.
Now is the time that you and I wait.
Now we wait to celebrate what the world waited for.
And as we wait to celebrate what was at one time, we become a part of that time
A time when a new dawn and a new dream and a new creation began for humankind.
And as a part of time, Love waits and Love watches over us.

Fr. Joseph Breighner ~The Catholic Review,                11-28-80

 

Waiting Time . . .

 Advent 

By Lucy Rose Johns

We are waiting for these aches and pains to be healed.      

We are waiting for the hunger within to be satisfied.                             

We are waiting for love to touch us.

We are waiting to be understood and really listened to.

We are waiting for decisions to be easy.

We are waiting to be inspired to love unlovable people.

We are waiting for financial cares to be resolved.

We are waiting for serenity to accept the things we cannot change.

We are waiting for courage to change the things we can.

We are waiting for wisdom to know the difference.

We are waiting to be appreciated.

We are waiting for justice.

We are waiting for the answers.

We are waiting for the dawn of a new day.

We are waiting for things to get easier.

We are waiting for a time of rest, peace, quiet.

We are waiting for patience.

We are waiting and waiting.

We are waiting

In joyful hope for the coming of the Lord!

Warning: Advent Virus . . .

 

Be on the alert for symptoms of inner Hope, Love, Joy and Peace.

The hearts of a great many have already been exposed to this virus and it is possible that people everywhere could come down with it in epidemic proportions. This could pose a serious threat to what has, up to now, been a fairly stable condition of conflict in the world.

Some signs and symptoms of The Advent Virus:

• A tendency to think and act spontaneously rather than on fears based on past experiences.
• An unmistakable ability to enjoy each moment.
• A loss of interest in judging other people.
• A loss of interest in interpreting the actions of others.
• A loss of interest in conflict.
• A loss of the ability to worry. (This is a very serious symptom.)
• Frequent, overwhelming episodes of appreciation.
• Contented feelings of connectedness with others and nature.
• Frequent attacks of smiling.
• An increasing tendency to let things happen rather than make them happen.
• An increased susceptibility to the love extended by others as well as the uncontrollable urge to extend it.

Please send this warning out to all your friends. This virus can and has affected many systems. Some systems have been completely cleaned out because of it.

(Anonymous 

First Sunday of Advent

 

Ellen Romer Niemiec, MDiv Readings: Isaiah 2:1-5 Psalm 122: 1-2, 3-4, 4-5, 6-7, 8-9 Romans 13:11-14 Matthew 24:37-44  As a parent of three, I am familiar with the practice and discipline of waiting. The initial waiting of 9 months for a child to slowly grow, trusting that it’s happening while never really getting to see what is going on within my own body, let alone my soul. The practice of waiting evolves into nights waiting for a fever to break, for the cries to wane or for their little selves to finally fall asleep. It is becoming a process of waiting to see what they will reveal of themselves, who it is that God has really created. And sometimes I am just waiting for them to get their shoes tied and into the car for school. But the practice of waiting and watching for what is to come has become a constant practice in my life. Entering into this season of Advent, the practice of watching has taken new turns. In Chicago, many communities have taken up the practice of watching for their neighbors, especially our migrant brothers and sisters and those who have been made even more vulnerable. I took my children whom I watch so closely to stand watch with our Church at Mass at the Broadview detention center a few weeks ago alongside many of our friends and colleagues. I stand watch on school corners, for anxious cars, wayward children and masked drivers. Watching now includes whistles and zines folded by the hands of communities gathered. We do not watch alone, but alongside one another.  Waiting has become, unfortunately, a more anxious practice than has been typical, but remains utterly sacred as we continue to watch for those who God created lovingly and purposefully. I am reminded by the Psalm today that while my waiting today feels anxious, we are invited to wait and move forward with joy. We do not just keep watch to keep one another safe but to also look for the joy and light amid the darkness. We do not wait about to pass the time, but to pass along witness to hope and solidarity. To notice those standing on street corners with whistles and carrying communion outside detention centers are beacons of light amid the darkness. That those who wait inside, afraid to go out, may see them as light and have real hope that God will always be our light in the darkness and that the darkness will always overcome the light. The waiting may feel heavy and dark at times these days, but we do wait in joyful hope. Ellen Romer Niemiec, MDiv (she/her/hers) Director of Enrollment Management https://learn.ctu.edu/

Will You Remember Me?

 

The Church year comes to an end today with Jesus calling all people to himself and welcoming them into his kingdom. David appears as the first king before whom all the tribes of Israel assemble, and he tells them that he will be their shepherd and will care for them. Jesus is the heir of King David who likewise models himself as a shepherd first. In the Gospel, we hear the story of the repentant thief who acknowledges his wrongdoing and proclaims the innocence of Jesus, and Jesus, as someone whose care is radical, includes him as one who is fit for the kingdom. I think so many of us call out to Jesus as that crucified man did: Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.

 

Let us remember one thing: at the Crucifixion, Jesus forgave all sins, and that means that his kingdom is built on mercy. What does this mean for us? Jesus forgave all sins – yours, the sins of your past, the person who sinned against you, the ones you will do today, the ones you will do in the future. He asks you to know and to live in his mercy. Fr. Michael Himes, a Boston College professor wrote: “We have the temptation to refuse to accept our own innate goodness and the goodness of others. We disbelieve the good news that we made in the image and likeness of God and that creation is good – very good.” What can we say to make you know and believe that you are good and whole and beautiful and redeemed? What do I have to say to convince you?

 

The name of God is mercy. It seems that our prayer ought to be to ask for a sincere gratitude of God’s mercy. If I fully accept that God loves me radically and sincerely, then my participation in the kingdom is to love one another the same way. A Christian’s vision sees no barriers to full, flourishing human relationships. It is a worldview that welcomes in those who are estranged and distant. It unites those who squabble and gossip, and it reconciles enemies. It builds bridges and recognizes that the kingdom of God is a big tent, and that God invites many different people into it. 

 

Regrettably, we’ve all met people who profess to be Christians who have hardened hearts. Their judgments are absolute and their righteous belief in their correctness cannot be penetrated. They speak as if they own the truth. They want a small, closed tent and they believe they are inside the tent and others should not be permitted. They allow no room for mercy. The person who holds onto ideologies and makes sweeping judgments about types of people needs one’s attitudes and convictions challenged. This type of person somehow needs one’s heart to be softened.

 

We are in the tent because we have received the mercy of God, who, in the Christ event, revealed that God knows human suffering. We are in the tent because we are welcoming, non-judging, and merciful to others. The kingdom is built on hearts softened and enlarged by mercy. We are in the tent because we know or want God to love us sincerely.

 

How can I tell you that you are lovable just as you are made. You cannot earn God’s love; you cannot lose it. There is nothing about you that can separate you from God. Nothing at all. No sin. No decision you made, nothing you said. No physical feature or mental or emotional make-up. Nothing. God only sees your goodness and cherishes you just as you are. What do I need to say to you to help you believe that? God wants you to love and see yourself the way that God loves and sees you – with honor, with pride, and great satisfaction. God’s love reaches deep into your most hidden crevices and finds you to be remarkable. This love works miracles and knows no limits, and it can make the impossible happen.

 

This is the kingdom we are in. Christ is the shepherd of our souls, and his kingdom is built on this reconciling love where you know you are redeemed, forgiven, welcomed. You belong now and forever. Nothing can separate you from this reality. This is the kingdom to which we must let others know they belong. Others are asking the question, “Jesus, will you remember me?” This is the king who will come down from the cross, to embrace you in his arms, and say, “You have always been part of it. Yes, I want you. Yes, you belong. Come. You will be with me to the end of the ages.”

 

https://predmore.blogspot.com/