It’s hard for me to believe that it was exactly 30 years ago today that
we rededicated this Cathedral after a major renovation that took several
years to accomplish. When Archbishop Hunthausen sent me here as pastor,
he told me that the Cathedral had to be renovated in order to reflect
the liturgical reforms of the Second Vatican Council – quite a challenge
because people liked the Cathedral just as it was! But with a lot of
prayer and planning and fundraising and more meetings than I could ever
count, we pulled it off. What at times seemed almost impossible actually
happened!
I
think that story fits rather nicely with today’s readings which remind
us that when it comes to God, nothing is impossible.
In the
reading from the Prophet Micah we were told that Bethlehem, little,
insignificant Bethlehem – no more than a wide spot in the road, a fly
speck on the map – would produce the One who would be ruler in Israel.
Bethlehem? Why not mighty Jerusalem, the glorious city on the
hill? Why Bethlehem? Well, the short answer is that God
likes to work wonders with very little; the short answer is that
“nothing is impossible for God.”
Luke’s
gospel tells a similar story. A nobody, an unknown young girl by the
name of Mary in a backwater town called Nazareth, is visited by an
angel, presented with an invitation from God, gives her consent, and
finds herself with child by the Holy Spirit. She then runs off into the
hill country to visit her cousin Elizabeth – old and thought to be
sterile – who is herself about to give birth to a son. Unlikely?
Absolutely. Impossible? No. Because “nothing is impossible for God.”
My
friends, this will be an easy homily because I’m going to ask you to
help complete it and you won’t have much trouble doing so since this
story about God accomplishing great things with the unlikely and even
the impossible is written into nearly all the pages of Scripture as well
as into the Church’s long history (think of the stammering Moses, the
childless Sarah, the lustful David, the impulsive Peter, the rag-tag
band of Twelve. And think of the poor man of Assisi, of Therese of
Lisieux with her “little way,” of Blessed Solanus Casey, and on and on
it goes. It’s a story repeated down through the ages, and it figures
into your story and mine, too.
So,
let’s turn the mirror on ourselves for a moment and ask a few questions:
What have I declared to be impossible in my life? Shaking an old habit?
Overcoming a crippling addiction? Breaking out of my
self-centeredness? Becoming more loving? Saving my marriage?
Loving a difficult family member? Being more ethical at work? Becoming a
saint?
Or
take a broader look and ask ourselves what else we’ve given up on? Our
idealism? Our hopes for the Church, for the world, for our country?
Awakening people to the dignity and value of each and every human
person? Overcoming the glaring inequalities that cause hunger and
homelessness? Bringing climate change under control? Achieving world
peace?
If we
find ourselves saying yes to these things and others like them, the
question then becomes: what will it take for us to believe again –
really believe - that we have a God who, with our cooperation, can turn
things around: who makes the crooked ways straight and the rough ways
smooth, a God who never runs out of surprises, a God who can do so much
with so little – with tiny Bethlehem, with insignificant Mary, with you,
with me.
In his
book, Confessions of a Guilty Bystander, Thomas Merton, whose
autobiography and spiritual writings were a sensation in the mid-20th
century, tells how he became a Trappist monk in order to escape the
wickedness of the world. But a few years of his life as a monk opened
his eyes to something else: the beauty and goodness of people. One day
when he was in town on an errand, he looked around at people and the
scales fell from his eyes.
These
are words from his diary:
“…it was as if I suddenly saw the secret beauty
of their hearts; the depths of their hearts where neither sin nor
desire…can reach. The core of their being, the person that each one is
in God’s eyes. If only they could see themselves as they really are. If
only we could see each other that way all the time. There would be no
more war, no more hatred, no more greed…”.
My
friends, it’s almost Christmas. What would it be like if we were to draw
close to the crib this Christmas – with all its smells and all its
squalor yet with all the glory of the Godhead wrapped in rags – what
would it be like if we were to see there, perhaps for the first time, a
whole new world of endless and exciting possibilities, thanks to the God
for whom nothing – absolutely nothing – is impossible!
Father Michael G. Ryan
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