Marjorie Campbell, marjorie@marjoriecampbell.com
This is Father Bob, actually Monsignor. Pastor of St. Mary's of the Assumption parish in Park City, Utah, he is my explanation for Canon 767 of the 1983 Code of Canon Law which provides "Among the forms of preaching, the homily, which is part of the liturgy itself and is reserved to a priest or deacon, is preeminent . . ." Lots of people object to the reservation of the homily to ordained clergy, even skirting the restriction, but I don't. It's our law for good reason.
Father Bob's homily on the 4th Sunday of Advent exemplifies why Canon 767 makes sense. Even though the 4th week of Advent lasted a mere 24 hours for me this year, Father Bob's homily laid it solid into time and memory, like a rock foundation that makes a small building grand in stature. I excerpt Father Bob's homily here, but read the whole thing. I wish you a glorious New Year which the Lord enters with abandon, bestowing true freedom!
As priest during Advent, I hear a lot of confessions. And what are remarkable in the stories I hear is the confusion and anger and deep pain in the heart of the sinner. What I hear are stories of good people caught in the prisons of darkness, desperately hoping to escape. The prisons of darkness are real. They surround us.
But what I also hear is the refusal on the part of many to allow the Lord to enter. Their pain is so deep and their living with it so long, that they somehow can’t let it go. The anger is so palpable that it’s almost sweet to the taste and there is no desire to relinquish it. The bruised ego and battered heart allow us to play the victim, a role we do not easily forego. The sense of being wronged trumps the common sense action to make it right. What I find so disheartening as a confessor, is not that there are so many prisoners of darkness, but that there are so few willing to allow themselves release – release from the pain, the anger, the hurt that broken relationships and spent spirits cause. We readily confess our sins and admit our brokenness but we are slow to allow ourselves change in the way things are. "Block the change", "Allow the change". The choice is ours.
And that’s why, in these final Advent days, the church joins its voice to that of the psalmist: Let the Lord enter, let him in. He is the king of glory. He is the key. He can release us. Allow and change, and, like Joseph, we will know the light. It’s the end of Advent, tomorrow evening Christmas will come. We will announce the dawning of the Prince of Peace, the Light of the world. It’s the end of Advent, and we need to be reminded one last time that Jesus, only Jesus, is the key who can not only open the locks but set us, still prisoners of darkness, free.
