I chose this for my Carmelite name: “of the Sacred Heart of Jesus.” It’s all there. Everything we need to know, all that draws us, is contained in that wounded Heart, poured out for us. It encompasses the Incarnation, Mercy, the Eucharist, the whole of salvation history. I won’t wax poetic, or I’ll destroy what good sentiments you might have (some things are so sublime, words only crush them).

I want to remind you that this day is also the World Day of Prayer for the Sanctification of Priests. That was John Paul II’s doing, and a profound doing it is.

Because St Therese is one of my patrons (have I already said how it seems I should be a lot smarter, having been named after the only three women to be designated Doctors of the Church?!), I will share her prayer for today:

‘O Holy Father, may the torrents of love flowing from the sacred wounds of Thy Divine Son bring forth priests like unto the beloved disciple John who stood at the foot of the Cross; priests: who as a pledge of Thine own most tender love will lovingly give Thy Divine Son to the souls of men.

May Thy priests be faithful guardians of Thy Church, as John was of Mary, whom he received into his house. Taught by this loving Mother who suffered so much on Calvary, may they display a mother’s care and thoughtfulness towards Thy children. May they teach souls to enter into close union with Thee through Mary who, as the Gate of Heaven, is specially the guardian of the treasures of Thy Divine Heart.

Give us priests who are on fire, and who are true children of Mary, priests who will give Jesus to souls with the same tenderness and care with which Mary carried the Little Child of Bethlehem.

Mother of sorrows and of love, out of compassion for Thy beloved Son, open in our hearts deep wells of love, so that we may console Him and give Him a generation of priests formed in thy school and having all the tender thoughtfulness of thine own spotless love.’

Amen, my sister in Carmel.

To the Magi.
To those seekers present at His Baptism in the Jordan.
To those with eyes to see at the wedding feast in Cana.

Epiphany:

\i-ˈpi-fə-nē\

Function:

noun

Etymology:

Middle English epiphanie, from Anglo-French, from Late Latin epiphania, from Late Greek, plural, probably alteration of Greek epiphaneia appearance, manifestation, from epiphainein to manifest, from epi- + phainein to show

On this great feast, we celebrate that God is with us – not just by His immanence, but by His entering space and time; His physical presence on this earth long ago in Jerusalem and perpetually in the tabernacle, and by His interaction with us through the Sacraments and through one another.

We celebrate God’s manifestation of Himself in Christ, His participation in our very nature, His great love for us. It is this great love that impelled God to leap down from Heaven, to set aside His garment of light to walk among us; and it is this great love that keeps Him with us always, ever coming to us, ever calling to us, ever drawing us nearer. It is only love that makes all this possible, only love that could contrive such means beyond all comprehension, only love that could elevate us to become God’s true children.

Only love could constrain God to take on our flesh so that He could die. Only love could so desire our neverending life.

God has become visible to us, has manifest Himself to us, has become one of us. Let’s pray that all become open to the awe and wonder that this should stir up within us, so that in gratitude we can follow this Child in the way of holy childhood.

“The meaning of stability: God is not elsewhere.God is nearer to me than I am to myself; He is just as near to wood and stone, but they do not know it.”

And during these weeks we sing praise to a God Who is so near and Who draws even nearer by becoming one of us, one like us in all things but sin. We contemplate the mystery of God made man so that man can become one with God.

Let us not hesitate to sit at the Virgin’s knee and look into the clear eyes of innocence in her sheltering arms: an infant, with the pure eyes of Wisdom, looking on us with unearthly love. And this innocence and purity never fades, even as the child grows to a man. Even as He grew to know hardship and opposition, those eyes remained as clear and innocent as a child’s, disarming any fear in all those who had become as little children before God.

There are amazing and active space nebula, dancing deep-sea anemone, graceful dolphins, sparkling waters, soaring birds, an entire earth bursting with color and fragrance and food for all its creatures. There is the deep and mysterious rhythm of the surf, the joyous music of birds, the flooding sweet of the mango or melon (”God makes the best dessert,” I tell my children, and they agree!). There are glorious mountains reaching into the heavens, inspiring us to look upward; the Badlands, the giant Sequoia, the Amazon rainforest; the eyes of a child. There’s Alaska.

But really, this doesn’t amaze God. He created it to be beautiful, He intended it to point to its Creator, and He declared it “good,” but it is only a faint reflection of Himself. The grandeur we see can’t compare with the glories of Heaven - the Alpine mountains are only, after all, a large pile of rock; the Mojave a sandbox; that breathtaking sunset that burned itself into your brain is only a spark of the one Light. The One, Eternal, Infinite, Light that is Love, sufficient unto Itself, but not content to remain that way, because Love must GIVE.

I did not choose to exist. Neither did you. And if we COULD have chosen the circumstances of our existence, we would perhaps have chosen different circumstances than those into which we were born. If we could choose, we’d probably choose something better; we’d choose to move UP.

But there is one Person who DID choose to exist, and He chose to step DOWN to a lower place. A very, very low place. The lowest place. God the Son chose to become man.

Having given only a moment’s thought to the infinite distance between the eternal dwelling places and our little existence here, we can see that this is something like Louis XIV choosing to become a worm. “A worm and no man…”

Christ set aside His garments of light and left His place of dominion and power and majesty to become a tiny group of multiplying cells under the heart of the purest creature – in a country in the grip of religious confusion and political upheaval, to the poorest of the poor, in a time that was blood-stained and barbaric. He was born in the cold, in the only place that would welcome Him – a stable of animals, unseen and unrecognized by those He came to save. From the moment of His birth, there were those who sought His death, and He began dodging them immediately. He lived most of His life laboring in obscurity, bringing glory to His Father by performing perfectly every task set before Him.

He chose to become man, knowing that He came to give His life for the salvation of all, and that this Sacrifice would be brutal and public and would cause confusion among those who had begun to listen to what He had to say. He became “a worm and no man” in order to lift us up with Him.

Advent allows us to enter into the waiting of this small nation, tossed and buffeted by the turbulent waves of history but unshakeable in hope. Israel never lost sight of the truth that it was destined to bring forth the Messiah, that salvation would come. Though “salvation” was – and IS – often misunderstood or distorted, still the hope of salvation defined them.

Advent also allows us to enter more deeply into the Mystery of Salvation, by re-examining our own lives and re-orienting our hearts to the Savior who is to come again. A time to “make ready.” A beautiful time of anticipation, lit with hope and warmed with the promise of peace.

The promise of peace.