Fr Kevin Kilgore

***

Gospel:

While some people were speaking about
how the temple was adorned with costly stones and votive offerings,
Jesus said, “All that you see here–
the days will come when there will not be left
a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down.”

Then they asked him,
“Teacher, when will this happen?
And what sign will there be when all these things are about to happen?” 
He answered,
“See that you not be deceived,
for many will come in my name, saying,
‘I am he,’ and ‘The time has come.’ 
Do not follow them! 
When you hear of wars and insurrections,
do not be terrified; for such things must happen first,
but it will not immediately be the end.” 
Then he said to them,
“Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. 
There will be powerful earthquakes, famines, and plagues
from place to place;
and awesome sights and mighty signs will come from the sky.”  

The Gospel of the Lord.

***

***

It seems everyone wants to know when the world will end, even the disciples in today’s Gospel. But Jesus only offers them an elusive answer, saying there will be wars, earthquakes, famines, and plagues.

But even that will not be the end. The easiest answer, then, is, “Nobody knows.” 

***

Perhaps it’s wisest to focus on two things that we do know are coming to an end.

The first is quite obvious – we’re approaching the end of the year. The leaves have fallen, the days are getting darker, colder, and the time for harvesting is over. 

Winter is at hand.

As we prepare to mark the end of this calendar year, we should take a few moments to reflect upon 2020. It was a year like none other. And while it’s easy to complain – to see all the things that went wrong – what can we say went right?

Did we draw closer to the Lord? Did we become more grateful for the people and blessings in our lives?

***

While we know neither the day nor the hour, we also know that our lives are coming to an end.

Think of the person who just received a terminal diagnosis…the officer who didn’t return home from work…or those who lost their lives in wildfires or hurricanes this year.

For them, the world – not just the year – came unexpectedly to an end.

It’s a sobering truth, but Jesus reminds us today to remember that all things are passing, even the world and we who call it home. 

So, how ready are we to see the Lord?

***

Advent is the time for us to reflect on these deeper, more uncomfortable, questions.

Whether or not the end is near, we who believe shall rejoice to see the Lord come.

***

***

Gospel:

When Jesus looked up he saw some wealthy people
putting their offerings into the treasury
and he noticed a poor widow putting in two small coins.
He said, “I tell you truly,
this poor widow put in more than all the rest;
for those others have all made offerings from their surplus wealth,
but she, from her poverty, has offered her whole livelihood.”

***

***

On the surface, I’m sure we’re all thankful we’re not poor like this widow.

Imagine her stomach growling with hunger, her bones aching with age, her clothes reeking of dust. As she drops her final two coins into the “weekly collection,” her savings slip to zero.

She is bitterly poor, truly on the fringe of society. It’s easy to think, “Thank God that isn’t me.”

***

But the truth is we’re all poor like this widow. Though our clothes may not reek of dust, there’s one thing we all wish we had a little more of.

***

Time.

***

Time is like sand. We cannot count the grains – the minutes – we have left. But it slips through our fingers, nonetheless. 

And we don’t know we’re out of it…until we’re out.

Over the next few weeks, in particular, we’ll be pressed for time as we prepare for the holidays – writing cards, shopping online, making phone calls, and so on, which is why we must be intentional about setting aside time for the Lord.

How much time do I already spend in prayer? And how much more can I give to the Lord this Advent season, beginning on Sunday?

***

“Truly, this poor widow put in more than all the rest…she, from her poverty, has offered her whole livelihood,” Jesus says.

Like this widow, may we give the Lord everything we have – not only our dollars and cents, but also our time, something that can never be replaced.

***

***

In 2013, the Canadian sculptor Timothy Schmalz unveiled his latest work of art: Homeless Jesus, a bronze life-size statue depicting Jesus as a homeless person sleeping on a park bench.

At first glance, you wouldn’t recognize the figure. 

Jesus is covered from his head to his ankles in a blanket. Only the crucifixion wounds in his feet reveal who he is.

***

***

A devout Catholic, Schmalz describes this sculpture as a visual translation of today’s Gospel in which Jesus identifies himself with the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, the sick, the prisoners, and even a homeless person sleeping on a park bench.

***

Since this statue was unveiled, replicas of it have been reproduced around the world.

Unsurprisingly, reactions to it have varied. 

Many simply don’t know how to respond. Seeing what appears to be a homeless person sleeping on a park bench can spark fear in us. We might wonder, “Who is this person? Am I safe here? Is this person a threat?”

It’s jarring. 

One woman even called the police, thinking the statue was real.

But if we take Christ’s words in today’s Gospel literally, then we should see Jesus – not a threat – sleeping on that bench. Instead of calling the police, we could take action in a different way.

***

One person who read this Gospel literally and took action was Saint Teresa of Calcutta, commonly known as “Mother Teresa.” 

She developed an entire spirituality out of Jesus’ words, starting a religious order known as the Missionaries of Charity. They continue to serve the poorest of the poor around the world, even here in New Jersey.

Mother Teresa taught people about the words of Jesus in today’s Gospel by having them raise one hand. On each of their five fingers, she would repeat one of the words:

“You. Did. It. To. Me.”

This inspired her to treat every person she touched, especially the sick, the hungry, and the homeless, as if she were touching Christ himself.

***

***

But is material poverty the deepest form of poverty? Or is there something worse than an empty stomach?

***

Mother Teresa once visited a nursing home here in the United States.

On the surface, it seemed to have nearly everything a person could want – healthy food, comfortable beds, air conditioning , television, and so on. 

But she noticed that not one of the residents was smiling.

Troubled, she turned to one of the nuns serving there and asked, “Why are these people who have every comfort not smiling? I’m so used to seeing people smile, even the poor who are dying in our homes in Calcutta.”

The nun responded, “This is the way it is nearly every day. They are expecting, they are hoping, that a son or daughter or grandchild will come to visit them. But they never do. They hurt because they are forgotten.”

***

They hurt because they are forgotten.

This is the greatest form of poverty, Mother Teresa said, feeling unwanted. Unloved. Forgotten. 

***

Hasn’t COVID reminded us of this? 

These last nine months of social distance and face masks have reminded us just how much we need one another. 

We’re relational beings. We need physical presence, face-to-face conversations, and human touch.

For example, how many children learning virtually long to see their friends again at school?

Or how many grandparents long to squeeze their grandchildren?

Or how many of us, myself included, long to see our families, but will miss them this holiday season?

***

If Mother Teresa is right – if the greatest form of poverty isn’t hunger or thirst but feeling forgotten – then we can find Jesus right in front of us. We can find him in one another.

Think of those you love whom you’ll miss this holiday season. Stay connected to them via FaceTime or write them a letter. Make sure they don’t feel forgotten.

And be grateful for those whom you will see. Perhaps we should put our phones down, talk to each other, crack a joke, stay at the dinner table just a little longer. See that Christ is dining with us!

Before breaking bread, then, hold up one hand, and on each finger repeat his sacred words:

“You. Did. It. To. Me.”

***

No matter who we are, whether we are parishioners of Saint Pius or homeless sleeping on a park bench, what we all hunger for more than anything is love.

***