Anger

  

                                                Reviresco Sunrise by Fr. Matt

Pregnant nostrils. That's what the Old Testament Hebrew Jewish word for anger literally means, pregnant nostrils. Captures it pretty well, doesn't it? In Ephesians it says, "Be angry but do not sin. Don't make room for the devil." Anger can get us in a lot of trouble in a hurry, especially depending on how we express it. Now I know that anger is normal. "Be angry, but do not sin." And it assumes that we'll get angry. There's nothing wrong with anger by itself, anger is normal, and sometimes anger is justifiable.

I mean, most folks know the story of Jesus in the Gospel of John Chapter 2, where he walks into the temple and sees folks who are using the temple for their own personal gain and no interest in the things of God, just motive by pure greed. And Jesus got angry, aggressively so. He turns over the tables, drives out the profiteers, drives out the animals, means justifiable anger. Sometimes we call that righteous indignation. Anger over a senseless shooting. Anger at someone who harms children. But more often than not, our anger is not so pure, is it? There's usually a healthy dose of self-importance or selfishness at the core of our anger. It gets us in trouble, especially when we don't know how to express it well.

Will Rogers was right when he said, "People who fly into a rage seldom make a good landing." So let's look at a few indicators that anger may just be a killer in your life, because when anger is uncontrolled, unbridled, it can lead to more unholy moments than you could ever imagine. Maybe it's trifles. Do you get angry at things that seem small to other folks? Like folks who take a long time at red lights, or days when your chores aren't done just right, or unintended accidents like spilled coffee or flipped over soup, just flip your switch? Do they turn something over inside you that sets off a case of pregnant nostrils?

Or malignant grudges and resentment that are growing within you? Are you still keeping a list of all the people who've ever wronged you? Do you carry it with you everywhere you go? Do you remember every time you've ever felt wronged or anything that's unfair or unjust? That list gets awful long and awful heavy after a while. The funny thing about those grudges, they end up killing us far more than hurting the folks we're holding them against. Or maybe you've got a case of hostility. Are you always suspicious of other people's motives? Do you look for and expect the worst from other people? What happens when you hang on to belignant grudges and resentments long enough, pretty soon you don't trust or like anybody at all?

Or maybe you've got bitterness. That's what grudges and hostilities grow into when they're left unchecked long enough. But today I have good news. There is hope for anger. We don't have to live with resentment and grudges and hostility and bitterness. Hope comes in a single word, grace. The Lord is slow to anger. He's compassionate. Even when we anger Him, He treats us with mercy. He receives us with grace. He is loving toward all that He has made.

And hope comes in a second word, forgiveness. "You are forgiving and good, O Lord, abounding in love to all who call on you." Forgiveness and anger can't live together. I

Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends that in our moment of anger we say this prayer: Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love where there is injury, pardon, where there is doubt, faith, where there is despair, hope, where there is darkness, light, and where there is sadness, joy. O, Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console, to be understood, as to understand, to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive. It is in pardoning that we are pardoned. And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen. 

 

Salt & Light

 

                                  Reviresco, Rivendale Frozen Waterfalls by Fr. Matt

You know, there's something fascinating about today's Gospel. Jesus uses two of the most ordinary, everyday things imaginable - salt and light - to tell us who we are as his followers. Not exotic spices or dazzling fireworks, but simple salt and simple light.

And here's what strikes me: both salt and light have this interesting quality. They're meant to be noticed, yes, but not as the main attraction. Think about it - when was the last time you sat down to a meal and said, "Wow, this salt is amazing!" No, you say, "This chicken is delicious!" The salt did its job by making the chicken taste better, but nobody's really focused on the salt itself.

Same with light. We don't turn on a lamp and then just stare at the bulb. We turn it on so we can read a book, see a painting, find our way across a room. The light reveals something else - something more important than the light itself.

That's exactly what Jesus is getting at when he tells us, "You are the salt of the earth" and "You are the light of the world." He's saying: your purpose is to point beyond yourself. Your life is meant to reveal something - or rather, Someone - greater than you.

But here's the challenge Jesus presents: salt can lose its taste, and a lamp can be hidden under a basket. In other words, we can fail to be what we are. We can become Christians who don't actually make any difference in the world around us.

So what does it look like to really be salt and light? I think it's simpler than we sometimes make it. It means living in such a way that when people encounter us, they get a taste of God's goodness. When they see our lives, they catch a glimpse of God's love.

This past week, six household items needed repair. The light in Sue’s study has been flickering for months, the shelves need sanding from kitty urine, my bathroom faucet was leaking, the porch outlet was sparking, the washer was beeping randomly and worse the copier cartridge was jammed. On top of all this mess, it was minus 3 degrees this morning, minus 26 wind chill and I have plowed over 110 inches snow this year.

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Now I had a choice, I can be cranky and rattled, but instead I choose to contact friends who are blessed with amazing skills. First, I called Brad my builder who sent me Tucker, his carpenter and plumber. With a tweak here and a twist there, the light is working, the shelves are polyurethane, the faucet stem is not leaking and the electric outlet is replaced and safe. The appliance dealer sent me Jake and he replaced the washer computer board. But the copier, well Ben and Shasa spent 3 hours on the phone to upload a new operating system, but the copier still wouldn’t work. I contacted a Canon dealer, Adim a Lebanese Orthodox, kindly reviewed their steps and got the printer to work, but later it failed to print. On Saturday, I made my fourth call to AppleCare and Chris from Tennessee who has used Apple since the 90’s got the printing working again. This old religious guy needs to find a good IT expert. Any suggestions friends?

 

What does it really mean to be salt and light? It happens in the most ordinary ways. When you show patience with a difficult coworker, you're being salt - you're making that workplace environment a little more bearable, a little more human. When you take time to listen to a friend who's struggling, you're being light - you're helping this retired priest to make repairs in his home and get him through the darkness.

However, Jesus doesn't say, "Let your light shine so people will praise you." No - let your light shine so that people will glorify your Father in heaven. The attention goes to God, not to us.

This is where we can get it wrong sometimes. We can do good things but make it all about us - about how generous we are, how committed we are, how much better we are than those other people who aren't doing what we're doing. When that happens, we've become the main course instead of the seasoning. We've become the object to stare at instead of the light that reveals something else.

My friends who made these repairs helped restore my sanity. They were the salt and light in my life. I am grateful for Brad, Tucker, Jake, Ben, Shasa, Adim and Chris whose light shines brightly because they chose to share their God-given talents to heal the broken light, washer, faucet, outlet and printer.

This week I was asked to: help find a children’s book about grief, provide an online grief support group, find a home health aide for my senior neighbor, a trauma counselor for a senior victim of violence, resources for a caregiver with a family member with dementia, counsel a firefighter with suicidal thoughts, counsel a working mom with teenage daughters coping with divorce, help a dad locate services for his young adult autistic son, provide onsite critical incident services to employees whose coworker died, publish immigration guidelines for pastors to protect Hispanic parishioners from deportation, and pray for all my Sonshine Friends

For you, maybe it was a neighbor who helped you through a difficult time. Maybe it was someone who simply showed you kindness when you needed it most. What made them memorable? Probably not that they drew attention to themselves, but that through them, you experienced something of God's goodness. That's what we're called to be for others. Not impressive or spectacular, necessarily, but genuinely helpful. Not calling attention to ourselves, but pointing toward God's love.

Here's what I find both challenging and encouraging about this: Jesus doesn't say, "Try really hard to become salt and light." He says, "You ARE the salt of the earth. You ARE the light of the world." It's already who we are by virtue of our baptism. The question is whether we're going to live into that identity or hide it.

When we let our light shine - when we live generously, compassionately, honestly - we're not earning God's love or trying to impress anyone. We're simply being what we already are: Christ's presence in the world.

And here's the beautiful part: when we do this, when we really live as salt and light, it's not a burden. Salt doesn't strain to give flavor; it just does. Light doesn't work hard to illuminate; it naturally reveals what's around it. When we're living in union with Christ, being salt and light becomes natural too. It flows from who we are.

So as you go through this week, pay attention to the opportunities right in front of you. Someone needs encouragement - give it. Someone needs help - offer it. Someone needs to see kindness - show it. These simple acts of love are how you season the world with God's goodness. These everyday choices are how you let your light shine.

And don't worry about whether people notice you or thank you or even recognize what you've done. That's not the point. The point is that through your life - through your ordinary, daily choices to love and serve - people encounter something of God's presence in the world.

Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends to be what you are. You are salt - so give flavor. You are light - so let it shine. Not for your own glory, but so that others might taste and see that the Lord is good.

 

 

 

 

 

Our Country Could Use a Little Mercy Now

  

Trying to cover Beatitudes in one message is kind of like that old book the one minute manager because what makes the Beatitudes so special is how powerful, how unique each one is.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.  Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

Some people find the beatitudes offensive – “I don’t like them, they make us sound like a bunch of wimps.” Blessed are the meek. Some people are offended by them. That’s OK, lots of folks find the gospel offensive. Try to be persecuted or meek – “I rather just do what everyone says, woe is me.” However, Jesus is assuring us of vindication on the last day – giving hope. Suffer and work and act on behalf of God in this lifetime, God will vindicate you in end.

So ask yourself: which one of these Beatitudes do you think is most important? 

Poor in Spirit – we immediately imagine Mother Teresa, tirelessly touching, serving, loving in the streets of Calcutta, but I would add my friends at Volunteers4Animals welcoming abandoned newborn kittens or an older kitty surrendered at the shelter because its owner had died. We might think of mourners – people whose loved ones have died, caregivers of family member with dementia, or neighbors mourning a neighbor killed protesting for democracy. What about the meek? – folks behind the scenes, get no credit even though they work hard. I’m thinking about our volunteer firefighters and EMTs who were working during the recent snow storm. Or, 80 year olds freezing in the cold protesting to protect our constitution.

Could certainly be hunger and thirst for righteousness – tough thing to do – like Sister Julia feeding the hungry in Rochester. or the people in Minnesota and cities around the country protesting the murder of innocent citizens or protecting children in their schools. They could make a strong argument that this is most important.

Maybe it’s the Pure in heart – these folks know that what really makes a difference is the heart – where a decision to serve God is made. Jesus said clean up the inside of your cup and the outside will be clean. 

Speaking of putting lives on line, what about the persecuted?  The population of this country who are trying to save this democracy by peaceful protest, speech and political change. Members of the clergy in Minnesota arrested for their peaceful protest of the murders of  Renee Nicole Wood and Alex Pretti.

Then there’s the peacemakers too – not just keeping the peace but making it. People in all our states occupied by federal agents trying to bring peace to the streets of their cities. Peaceful, relentless protests. No, we are not going to let you build a prison camp for immigrants and their children in our city. Ask yourself, what are you doing to say no?

Which of these is most important?

Me? I say it’s the merciful – the more I look at Jesus’ life and at the Gospel of Matthew, I see a life immersed and saturated in mercy. A king forgives his servant who then won’t forgive another – delivered to jail – so also will the Father do – have some mercy. Some kids come and Jesus says these are God’s people – do not lead one astray or else – no one else wanted them around – tender hearted mercy. The workers in the vineyard – begrudge the owner’s generosity – my mercy. The lame and blind come to him in the temple and he heals them. Prostitutes and tax collectors get in before the unrepentant – mercy for all. Sheep and goats separated by who showed mercy to the naked and prisoner.

Jesus was a man saturated in mercy – in everything he did or said. My hunch is in the Beatitudes, he is calling us to be like Him. Not talking about being some kind of superhero, renowned scholar, celebrity, missionary to China. Simply talking about being a Christian – defending the powerless, the voiceless, the immigration crackdown, one Holy Moment at a time.

God has shown you great mercy – by all means, please share it. Because, Lord knows, our country could use a little mercy right now.

Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends who are exhausted by another snow storm or the storms in our country’s city and streets. Give us a heart like yours, and share a little mercy right now.

 

Have You Caught Anybody Lately?

 

You know, I have to admit something to you this morning. When I was about ten years old, my parents used to take me on vacation to Cape Vincent, a small cottage fishing village along the St. Lawrence River. My father knew a coworker who had built a home there and invited us to go fishing with him out on the river. The only problem was that Matty's tummy couldn't handle the ride. Once our guide found the spot where the fish were biting, we'd sit in the boat with our fishing lines in the water, waiting for a nibble. But the boat would be bobbling up and down in the water, and my insides would be bobbling up and down until I became seasick and they'd have to take me back to shore.

For me, fishing was always something old retired guys did off the pier. You know the type – bring a deck chair, drink a few beers, maybe fall asleep with your rod in the water. But fishing for a living? That's a whole different story. As I got older, I began to understand what real fishing meant in the ancient world. It was brutal, back-breaking work. The bleeding hands, the sheer danger of a life on the ocean, the long hours away from home – these fishermen weren't having a leisurely afternoon by the water. They were engaged in hard, uncertain labor just to put food on the table.

So when we hear in today's Gospel that Jesus walks by the Sea of Galilee and sees Peter and Andrew casting their nets, we need to understand what he's really asking of them. He says, "Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men." And immediately – Matthew tells us *immediately* – they left their nets and followed him.

Now, here's what strikes me about this. These men were leaving a life that was brutal, hard, and fairly uncertain. But what were they trading it for? A life that would be brutal, hard, completely uncertain, and would end in martyrdom for most of them! Notice how Matthew begins this whole section – he tells us that John the Baptist has been arrested. Jesus is starting his ministry with a warning sign flashing right in front of him: "This path leads to danger."

So why would they do it? Either they were really desperate to get out of the fishing business, or there was something about Jesus that compelled them to change their identities and embrace a completely new way of life.

Here's my question for all of us today: Have you caught anybody lately?

I know, I know – that sounds pushy. You might be thinking, "Father, I don't want to force my faith on anybody. I don't think religion should be something you wear on your sleeve." And I get that. We don't want to be obnoxious or intrusive. But if we're honest with ourselves, this might not be a sign of our great humility. Rather, we know it's a risk to intrude into anyone else's life and try to talk with them about important matters.

Or maybe you're thinking, "I'm just not that good at talking about my faith. I don't know the right words to use." I understand that too. But notice what Jesus actually says to these fishermen. He doesn't tell them, "Come follow me and I will teach you to have intelligent religious discussions." He doesn't say, "I'll make you great preachers" or "I'll turn you into theologians." Rather, his expectations are much more practical. He says, "I will make you fishers of men." He builds on something they already know how to do.

Think about that for a moment. Jesus takes their ordinary skills – their knowledge of nets and boats and patience and persistence – and transforms them into tools for the kingdom of God. He doesn't ask them to become something completely different. He asks them to bring who they already are into his service.

The same is true for us. We each have skills, experiences, relationships, and gifts that Jesus can use. Maybe you're good at listening. Maybe you're skilled at organizing. Maybe you have a gift for making people feel welcome. Maybe you've been through difficult times and can offer hope to others who are struggling. Jesus can take all of that and use it to draw people closer to him.

Sometimes I think being the Catholic Church today can feel like being an ancient fisherman. It can be brutal, hard, and uncertain. The fish don't always seem to be swimming our way. And the fish already in the net have so many reasons to try and tear themselves loose – there's pain, sickness, family issues, fear, disillusionment with the Church itself. We can feel like we're working hard and not catching much.

But here's what we can't forget: Jesus didn't promise his first disciples that fishing for people would be easy. He promised that he would be with them. "I will make you fishers of men" – *I* will do it. Not you alone, but *I* working through you.

Most of us got here to this church through fairly ordinary means. Our parents brought us when we were young. A friend invited us. Someone we worked with mentioned their faith community. These weren't dramatic, blinding-light conversions. They were simple invitations extended and accepted. And that's usually how it works.

So when's the last time you invited someone to come with you to Mass? When's the last time you mentioned to a coworker that your parish has a great program for their kids? When's the last time you offered to pray for someone who was going through a difficult time? These are simple things – casting the net, if you will.

You know what people say when they're asked why they're not active in a church? The number one reason is: no one ever asked me. Think about that. We're not talking about people who are hostile to faith. We're talking about people who are just waiting for an invitation.

Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends, help us to see the opportunities he's placing before us this week. Maybe there's someone at work who needs encouragement. Maybe there's a neighbor who's going through a hard time. Maybe there's a family member who's drifted away from the Church and just needs someone to reach out with love and without judgment. We're all fishers now. Jesus has called us by name, just as he called Peter and Andrew. The question is: will we leave our nets and follow him? Will we let him transform our ordinary gifts into tools for his kingdom?

"$9,000 in Debt"

Little Tonawanda Creek in Winter 

Photo by Fr. Matt

      

A young hard working single mom was told by her coworker to come see me. She heard that I might be helpful in locating some resources.

 

This mom has a 10 year old son and her older sister lives with her in the home and requires daily treatments for a medical condition. However, she owned $9,000 in back utility payments. There has been no heat in her home for the past three months. The electric was turned back on so that  her sister could continue her medical treatments. However, her furnace and oven were not working. When she called the utility company to recommend a payment plan they told her she would have to pay the full amount before the heat could be turned back on.

$9,000 in debt, no heat in the house so does that mean we need to start a “Go Fund Me” page. Instead, I called 211, the county referral resource center and the customer service agent suggested to contact HEAP (Home Energy Assistance Program). This mom did call HEAP and because she works two jobs, they told her that she was not eligible because she makes “too much money.” Really, single mom, works two jobs for non-profit agency, caregiver to her child and sister and still doesn’t qualify.

What’s the next option? 211 agent suggests to contact NYS Temporary Assistance Program. Once again, this mom had applied and she was told that she doesn’t quality.

So I checked the RGE customer service website and found a section entitled “Payment Arrangements.” Our distressed mom discovered that her heat had never been turned off despite the fact she owed $9,000. However, if she did not pay by January 22 her utilities would be shut off. Then the kind agent (guardian angel) said wait, while she consulted with her supervisor and came back to ask some questions. I thanked the agent for her patience and understanding and when she came back on the phone she asked mom questions about mom’s income and bills. After 10 minutes of getting background information about her incomes and monthly bills, the agent returned to the phone and told mom: “YOU QUALIFY.”

What this meant was that her utility account would be zeroed out to nothing and that $10 would be added to each bill moving forward. Her monthly bill would be about $130 which mom could pay. There would be no balance on her current account. Our “guardian angel” customer service lady told mom to contact the landlord to check that her pilot lights were working and if not call the utility company to come and turn them back on. Also, the agent recommended to mom to call her sister’s doctor and request the office to fax back verification of her sister’s medical condition that required utilities be turned on for the lack of energy would agitate her medical condition.

Needless to say, I expressed our gratitude to this customer service lady who “saved the day” and hopefully the heat would be back on tonight so that her child and sister would be warm and healthy.

Lords, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends whose “guardian angels”: are looking out for us during desperate times. We are grateful for all their extra time and going beyond the call of duty. They are a sign of your love and compassion for all your children in desperate times.

Exerpt from my Homily for the Ordination of Deacon John to the Priesthood

My dear brothers and sisters in Christ, what a glorious day this is! We gather today to witness something truly remarkable – the ordination of Deacon John to the sacred priesthood. And the Gospel we've just heard about Jesus' baptism in the Jordan couldn't be more fitting for this occasion.

You know, when I first read this Gospel passage in preparation for today, I found myself puzzling over the same question that has perplexed Christians for centuries: Why would Jesus, who was without sin, need to be baptized? John the Baptist himself was confused by this! He protested, saying, "I need to be baptized by you, and yet you are coming to me?" It seems almost backwards, doesn't it?

But as I reflected on this mystery, and as I thought about what we're celebrating today with Father John's ordination, I began to see the profound connections between Christ's baptism and what happens when a man is ordained to the priesthood.

Let me share with you what I believe are four crucial dimensions of Jesus' baptism that speak directly to us today – and especially to Father John as he begins his priestly ministry.

First, Jesus' baptism was a moment of decision. He knew that the time had come to begin his public ministry. He was stepping forward, making himself known, committing himself to the mission the Father had given him. In the same way, Father John's ordination is a moment of profound decision. He has discerned, prayed, prepared, and now he steps forward to say "yes" to God's call in a definitive way. This isn't a casual commitment – it's a total gift of self.

Second, it was a moment of identification. This is perhaps the most beautiful aspect of Christ's baptism. Although Jesus himself had no need to repent for sins, he wanted to identify himself completely with sinners – with us! He was willing to stand in the waters of the Jordan alongside tax collectors, prostitutes, and all manner of people seeking God's mercy. He was saying, in effect, "I am one with you. Your struggles are my struggles. Your humanity is my humanity." 

Christ became one like us to enter totally and completely into our humanity in every way but sin. He can understand our weaknesses, our failures, our temptations and our sorrows, as well as our joys, successes and accomplishments. He paid the full price for us, right up front when he died on the cross for us.

And isn't this exactly what a priest does? Father John, through your ordination, you are configured to Christ in a special way. You identify yourself with God's people – all of them. The sick and the healthy, the joyful and the sorrowful, the saint and the sinner. You will stand with them in their moments of greatest need, bringing Christ's presence to them.

Third, Jesus' baptism was a moment of approval. Listen again to those powerful words from heaven: "This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased." At the very beginning of his public ministry, the Father spoke his approval and affirmation. Father John, at your ordination yesterday, when Bishop John laid hands on you and invoked the Holy Spirit, God was speaking his approval over you as well. You are called, you are chosen, you are loved by God.

And fourth, it was a moment of empowerment. The Holy Spirit descended upon Jesus like a dove, anointing him for his mission. He would proclaim good news to the poor, liberty to captives, sight to the blind. He would confront the forces of power and injustice. He would bring God's kingdom to earth.

Father John, you too have been empowered by the Holy Spirit through your ordination. You didn't lay down on that floor yesterday because it was comfortable, or because you were tired! You didn't make those promises because you would gain anything in return. You did all that, first and foremost, because God asked you to. And now the Holy Spirit will enable you to be Christ's hands and voice in this world.

But here's what I want all of us to remember today: What happened at Jesus' baptism, and what happened at Father John's ordination, is connected to what happened at our own baptism. Through baptism, we all become children of God. We are identified as adopted sons and daughters, no longer children of darkness but children of light. We become known by the name "Christian" – that is, followers of Christ. God accepts us as his own and sends his Holy Spirit upon us.

 

Being a child of God made a difference in Father John's vocation, but what difference does it make in our lives? How do we live out our baptismal identity?

We witness to God's presence through our daily interactions with others. We bring Christ's compassion and mercy into our homes, our workplaces, our communities. We stand with those who suffer. We speak up for justice. We offer comfort to the grieving and hope to the despairing.

This world desperately needs the priesthood, yes. But it also desperately needs baptized Christians who take their identity seriously. The world needs witnesses who know how to love.  

 

Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends that like Father John who accepted your invitation to serve is an inspiration to all of us to speak up for justice, comfort to the grieving and hope to those who despair.

 

 

 

 

Our Search Wil Not Be in Vain

 

You know, when we think about the story of the Epiphany, our minds naturally gravitate toward those exotic travelers from the East – the Magi. And why wouldn't they? They're fascinating figures who've captured our imagination for two thousand years. But I want us to consider something this morning that might seem a bit counterintuitive. I want us to think about why the shepherds, that other group in our Christmas narrative, never quite captured our hearts in the same way.

Have you ever wondered about that? We have elaborate legends about the Magi – their names, their ages, their kingdoms. We've painted them, sculpted them, written songs about them. But the shepherds? They show up, they see the baby, and then they sort of fade into the background of our collective memory. Why is that?

I think Matthew gives us a clue in today's Gospel. Look at what the Magi experience. They see a star – just a star, nothing more. No angelic announcement. No heavenly choir. No detailed directions. Just a celestial light that suggests something significant has happened somewhere. And so they set out on this long, dangerous journey with nothing but that astronomical observation and their own faith to guide them.

Compare that to Luke's shepherds. Those shepherds are practically spoon-fed the entire experience. An angel appears to them – not a distant star, but a personal messenger – and this angel tells them everything: "Today in the city of David a savior has been born for you who is Christ and Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger." I mean, they get GPS coordinates! And when they arrive, there's angelic verification. And when they leave, there's a whole heavenly chorus singing them home.

No wonder we don't tell stories about the shepherds. They didn't really have to search. They didn't have to struggle with doubt or uncertainty. They didn't have to interpret signs or wonder if they were on the right path. Everything was handed to them on a silver platter, so to speak.

But that's not our experience, is it? That's not how faith works for most of us. We don't get detailed instructions from heaven. We don't get angels showing up at our bedsides telling us exactly what to do with our lives, our families, our vocations. We don't get heavenly choirs confirming that we've made the right decision.

No, our experience is much more like the Magi. We see signs – subtle, ambiguous signs – and we have to decide whether to follow them. We have questions about life's meaning, about suffering, about God's will. We face obstacles – our modern Herods who try to distract us or lead us astray with with empty promises, with the culture's competing values. We wonder about our children's futures, about illness, about loneliness, about death. And we'd love to have those shepherd-style assurances, but the fact is, most of us don't.

At this time of the year, of course, we are interested in a certain group of travelers in that desert, travelers conjured up by Matthew to provide all generations with an ancient insight to the Child who was about to be born, that this Child was indeed for all ages, for all peoples, for all places, for all times. From north to south, from east to west, God is Emmanuel, "with us."

But here's what I find most compelling about the Magi: they searched together. They didn't make this journey alone. They traveled as a community, supporting one another through the desert, encouraging one another when the way was unclear, pooling their wisdom to interpret the signs they encountered.

And that's the lesson for us, isn't it? We can't be shepherds – we can't expect everything to be revealed to us clearly and unambiguously. But we can be like the Magi. We can be searchers who journey together.

Think about it: when we gather in a church. we're not just a collection of individuals. We're a caravan. We're a pilgrim people. We listen to the Word together. We break bread together. We support one another through life's deserts. There's a strength in that communal searching that we simply cannot achieve on our own.

The Magi didn't have all the answers when they set out. They had a wicked king trying to manipulate them for evil purposes. They had a long, uncertain journey ahead of them. But what they did have was fellowship with one another and that light – however distant and mysterious – to guide them forward.

But here's the best part of the Magi story, the part that gives me hope: at the end of their long journey, they found what they were looking for. They encountered the Christ child. Their search was rewarded. Their faith was vindicated. Their long journey through the desert wasn't in vain.

And that's the promise for us too. We may not be shepherds with clear instructions and angelic messengers. We may be Magi, struggling through the desert with only a distant star and our faith community to guide us. But if we keep searching, if we keep journeying together, if we keep following that light – however dim it sometimes seems – we will find what we're looking for. We will encounter Christ. Our search will not be in vain.

Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends in this New Year of 2026, that we support one another on this journey. Let's keep our eyes on that star, trusting that it will lead us home. And let's remember that we're not alone – we have each other, we have the Church, and we have the promise that those who seek will find.