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Today as we celebrate the feast of the Holy Family, I have to confess that every time this feast comes around, I feel somehow inadequate to the task. I am, after all, a professional celibate. What do I have to say to you?

Jesus was born into our humanity, our flesh and blood, precisely to give himself to us, to empty himself out for us: to be broken for us, as a loaf of bread, to satisfy our hunger; to be poured out for us, as a cup of wine, to slake our thirst. He came to us in the dark of night, to be our light.

The scriptures give us today, brothers and sisters, two stories, and one image to prepare us for the coming of the Lord we will celebrate in only a few hours. Incidentally, I want to salute you, the faithful remnant, who have come to celebrate the Fourth Sunday of Advent on the very eve of Christmas.

What is it about Luke’s telling of Christmas that makes it so enduring, and endearing? Year after year, century after century, we’re drawn to this story, and moved by it again and again. It is, for so many of us, “the” Christmas story.

The first week of Advent, John’s message was “Stay awake!” Be alert. Change is in the air. Last week, the message was “Repent!” Make yourself ready. Prepare the way of the Lord.

Thank you, Father Paul, for the chance to reflect on the readings and share about Catholic Community Services and Catholic Housing Services during our annual appeal for the poor.

The readings on this first Sunday of Advent alert us to something that is about to begin. A guest will arrive when we least expect him. The language is emphatic. “Be watchful, be alert!” Jesus tells his followers not to be caught off guard. His final word in this gospel could not be more direct: “Watch!”

Father Magnano, I want to express the affection and appreciation of everyone here today for you and your ministry on the occasion of your 50th Anniversary of Priestly Ordination.

There it is. Plain and simple. All the gospel in one parable. If the rest of Matthew’s gospel, along with Mark and Luke and John were somehow lost, it would be enough. It tells us just about everything we need to know on this dark, cold morning. “Whatever you did for one of these least brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.”

You don’t have to be a scripture scholar to figure out the message here: use your gifts, whatever they are, no matter how large or small they might be, use your gifts and use them wisely.

“The kingdom of heaven will be like this,” Jesus said, and he told the parable of the Ten Bridesmaids. The core of the parable, the focus of the story, all has to do with the oil. The oil has been understood as good works, faith, spiritual practices, deeds of discipleship, acts of love and mercy. It’s all about oil. It could be about my family’s olive oil business.

If there’s any Sunday on which someone other than someone ordained should preach – it’s this Sunday.  In the readings today from Malachi and Matthew, priests and preachers are criticized and even cursed by the Lord.

If ever you wanted a simple compendium of what is required of us to be believers, today’s Gospel and first reading from the Book of Exodus lay it all out with utter, almost brutal simplicity. One of the Pharisees, a doctor of the law, tries to trip Jesus up.

Since Matthew’s gospel then had political overtones, perhaps he will have some reflection for us in these days of political interest. At first glance, today’s gospel says nothing even remotely touching the baptism of children.  Infants, of course, compel a homilist to say what he has to say… briefly.

As we approach the end of the liturgical year, the Sunday readings begin to touch on end-time themes. Though they are often closely associated, end-time is not the same as end-of-time, a concept popular with evangelical groups today. In the Bible, the end-time is the time of fulfillment of God’s promises. Ancient Israel thought of this time as the messianic age.

This gospel is always about God’s actions, God’s love, God’s challenge to us, and not to those people “out there.” The challenge of the parable is for us. The parable asks us: Are we a people producing the fruits of the kingdom? It is about our responsibility for God’s vineyard. It is about the harvest that is due to God.

The scripture from Ezekiel asks, “Whose way is fair?” Good question! And a contemporary question, too. What’s the fair and just response to questions about immigration? What’s the fair and just way to settle the present economic crisis? What’s the fair resolution of competing rights in the homeless debate?

Biblical texts often call Israel “God’s vineyard.”  Vineyards were especially evocative as they produced wine, to “gladden their hearts.”  As literary symbol, a vineyard at harvest bespeaks security, abundance and the expectation of joy.

Reacting to the chaos in the world around him and the chaos in the world of art in the early 20th century, the great French painter Henri Matisse once said that art should be like a comfortable overstuffed chair at the end of a long day.

Today’s gospel is about ordinary folks in the early church struggling to get along, especially with sisters and brothers who were less than perfect. It can be easy for us to look back on the stories found in the gospels and imagine that those women and men listening to Jesus were ideal disciples, living in perfect harmony with one another.