Saint Stephen, the first Martyr
Acts 6:8-10,7:54-59 | Psalm 30(31):3-4,6,8,16-17 | Matthew 10:17-22

Today, we think of “martyrs” as people who gave up their lives to preserve their faith, but the original Greek word, martus, simply meant “witness”, a person who testifies to what he knows from personal observation.

The apostles saw and worked with Jesus in the flesh, so their belief came naturally.

St. Stephen may or may not have seen Jesus, but he did see “heaven thrown open, and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God” (Acts 7:56), so he was simply describing what he saw and knew.

All of us alive today have not seen, but as Jesus told St. Thomas, “Happy are those who have not seen and yet believe.” (John 20:29)

So are we martyrs? Of course!

But, the doubters cry, how can that be? We weren’t there when Christ ministered, worked miracles, and died for us all. In a mundane court of law, surely we’d be guilty of perjury!

Now, it is true that what we “know” largely comes from the deposit of faith left us by our forefathers, the apostles and their successors, in one unbroken chain of scripture and tradition. By itself, it’s not credible testimony to detractors; anyone can write anything they want, and the farther back we go, the less independent corroborating evidence there is to support our claims.

But we see the presence of God today. We don’t have to dig through the musty and worm-ridden archives of history, when we can point in this modern era to:

the Eucharistic miracles of Santarem and Lanciano,

the incorrupt bodies of several saints,

the many apparitions of Our Lady at Guadalupe, La Salette and other places,

the miraculous healings around the world that still happen to this day, and most importantly,

the continuous stream of people who are invited to inspect the Catholic faith closely, decide that there really is something here, and join the faithful in baptism each year.

So many of us have also experienced God’s work in our own lives, from healing of body and mind, to comfort in spiritual turmoil, to a uncharacteristic burning zeal to share the Truth.

Sharing our faith doesn’t require us to cook up fanciful stories of divine interventions and miraculous rescues. It’s just a matter of demonstrating to others how God has shaped our lives for the better.

We don’t have to die for our faith, but when the time comes for us to leave this earthly realm, would we have given others hope in Christ?

Lord, as we commemorate the courage and willingness of St. Stephen to give his all for You, grant us some small share in that courage to share our hope and faith in You with others, so as to give them hope in an eternity with You and our heavenly Father.

Amen.

Christmas Midnight
Isaiah 9:1-7 | Psalm 95:1-3,11-13 | Titus 2:11-14 | Luke 2:1-14

Tonight, the world stands still, basking in the light cast by a new-born babe, a Son who came to save our lives with His life.

Tonight, we come to worship He who comes from the Father, born a King in the depths of poverty, born to rule the nations with mercy and compassion.

Tonight, we sing the hymn of all the angels:

Gloria in excelsis Deo!

Amen.

24 December
2 Samuel 7:1-5,8-12,14,16 | Psalm 88(89):2-5,27,29 | Luke 1:67-79

Today’s Gospel recalls the inspirational Canticle of Zechariah. I remember singing a musical setting of this canticle in college, that went like this:

Blest be the God of Israel
who comes to set us free
and raises up new hope for us:
a Branch from David’s tree.
So have the prophets long declared
that with a mighty arm
God would turn back our enemies
and all who wish us harm.

With promised mercy will God still
the covenant recall:
the oath once sworn to Abraham,
from foes to save us all;
that we might worship without fear
and offer lives of praise,
in holiness and righteousness
before God all our days.

My child, as prophet of the Lord,
you will prepare the way,
to tell God’s people they are saved
from sin’s eternal sway.
Then shall God’s mercy from on high
shine forth and never cease
to drive away the gloom of death
and lead us into peace.

✞ ✞ ✞ ✞ ✞

But what, I wondered, would the Canticle of Adrian sound like?

Probably something like this, to the same tune but with less profound words:

Blest be the God of all the world
Let all mankind declare!
What boundless love HE has bestowed
On us to take and share.
The love made flesh in Mary’s womb
And born to poverty,
To touch cold hearts, cure blind and lame
And die to set us free.

O Jesus Christ, obedient Son,
You hear our hopes and pleas.
Your Mercy truly is Divine
O Lord, we trust in Thee.
And Holy Spirit, sent by God
To be our Advocate.
We glorify the Trinity,
Our voices ne’er abate!

Amen.

23 December
Malachi 3:1-4,23-24 | Psalm 24(25):4-5,8-9,10,14 | Luke 1:57-66

All those who heard of it treasured it in their hearts. ‘What will this child turn out to be?’ they wondered. And indeed the hand of the Lord was with him. (Luke 1:66)

Two days ago, a Muslim family boarded the train I was riding to my client’s office. One family member immediately caught my attention, and the eye of everyone else around: a vivacious little girl, more animated than Mickey Mouse, dressed conservatively but giddily hyperactive and LOUD! She spent the next 5 mins on the train alternately exercising her little frame in giggly glee, and clinging to her mother’s leg in love and need of reassurance. Beyond that, she didn’t seem to actively look at anyone else, just spending the time ensconced in her happy little world.

By the time the family alighted, there wasn’t a single dour face around me, and it was clear who the star of that little show was. As she left, I interrupted my daily rosary to say a special prayer for her, asking God to watch over her as she grew up, and inevitably wondering: “What will this child turn out to be?”

✞ ✞ ✞ ✞ ✞

In yesterday’s entry, I bared my uncertainty as to whether being a choir leader was really what God wanted of me. Because I was literally drafted with zero experience by a senior choir member who was unhappy with the abilities of the then-leader, and had to figure out everything about the task on-the-job and on my own, my long-standing weaknesses in dealing with people rapidly came to the fore, and still plague me to this day.

It must have been God’s intention to let me vent first and hint at an answer later, because that’s exactly what happened:

I was trapped at church by a rainstorm yesterday afternoon, so I was rummaging through the choir cupboard for some old unused scores to use as scratch paper. (It amuses me sometimes to doodle my thoughts on a project then, when I hit a mental roadblock, flip the yellowed paper over and hum the ancient hymn on the other side for a bit till the block clears.)

Suddenly, a thunderous sound echoed through the stairwell where I was. It took a few seconds to recognize it as the opening notes to Adeste Fideles, played on what distinctly sounded like a church organ at full volume, but with no visible source. (The main church on the other side of the locked stairwell door was its usual darkened self for the time of day.)

With the full-bodied notes bouncing around the enclosed space, I was…enraptured. There’s no other word for it: to feel the essence of the Most High all around me, by turns gloriously majestic (“GLORIA IN EXCELSIS DEO!”) and lovingly gentle (“venite adoremus”). It was as if God was speaking directly to me, saying “My child, I have always been with you, and I see into your troubled soul. Wait a while, and you will find the answers you seek. Until then, continue to sing glory to Me, for praise-in-song shall forever be your nature.”

It turned out that one of our resident organists was actually practising on the pipe organ in the dark, with only the organ’s built-in lights to illuminate his score. Still, discovering the mundane source of that heaven-sent music didn’t diminish its impact one bit.

✞ ✞ ✞ ✞ ✞

What will this child (for I am still one by nature) turn out to be?

From a religious standpoint, I have no idea, though it’ll probably involve music in one way or another. Until the next “checkpoint” in my life, I can only sing:

Que sera, sera
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s for God to see
Que sera, sera
What will be, will be

Amen.

And so we conclude the O Antiphons today with the inevitable:

O come, O come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel

22 December
1 Samuel 1:24-28 | 1 Samuel 2:1,4-8 | Luke 1:46-56

Hannah said, ‘Now I make him over to the Lord for the whole of his life. He is made over to the Lord.’ There at the temple of the Lord, she left Samuel, for the Lord. (1 Samuel 1:28)

Hannah asked the Lord for a child, and promised him in turn to the Lord. Samuel turned out to be a great prophet indeed.

Which is more than I can say for myself.

My wife reminded me after Christmas practice last night that I’d originally asked two ladies to cantor the Adeste Fideles for the night, but only had one of them sing during our rehearsal. Apparently, I was so busy trying to work out how to have fruitful under-half-strength rehearsals, that I forgot to write it down weeks ago, and naturally suffered a “senior moment” in the middle of yet another vocal rearrangement.

Evidently, I have no trouble playing a supporting role, coaching and encouraging others “in the trenches”, but when it comes time to lead, the cold logical half of my brain falls out and rolls into a dark corner, thus releasing the passionate side in a Charge of the Lone Ranger, to the consternation of everyone else.

They say that if you can’t do what you love, at least try to love what you do. I love to sing praises to God, there’s no doubt about that, but after more than twenty often-frustrating years at the helm, I wonder if I’ve been doggedly carrying the wrong cross all this time.

Sigh.

Lord, I’ve tried to answer Your call through all these years, but I’m still lost in the wilderness.
Guide me, Lord, that I may guide others.
Heal me, Lord, that I may bring healing to others.
And if it is Your will that I should now take up a different cross in Your Name, give me the wisdom and courage to leave this choir in good order, so that none of their love and fervor to sing your praises shall be lost.

Amen.

O come, of all the nations King
The world awaits Thy ransoming
Remove our hate and faithlessness
Unite us who Thy Name confess

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel