Heather King - Holy Days and Gospel Reflections

Preface

To write for MAGNIFICAT is an assignment I didnt expect and an honor I couldnt have imagined.

Re-reading these three years worth of reflections was an interesting exercise. Often the writing seemed entirely new, as if written by another. Often, though I remembered the passage well, I choked up at my own wordsnot because the writing was so wonderful, but because in their rough way, the words reflected Christ.

I saw where I could have done better, where the writing and thought were clumsy. Afterwards, I sat at my desk and wept. I thought, They are like a lumpy, misshapen cake made by a child!

Thats not why I wept, though. I wept because they are still a cake. They are a cake, and they are a cake that perhaps no-one else could have made. They are the fruit of having lost twenty years of my life to alcoholism, of having come to and finding myself with a law degree, of working as an attorney in Beverly Hills, of realizing I was not born for this. In spite of all my wrong turns, I had not lost my child-like heart. That is the surest sign of the Resurrection I know, and when I met the Christ of the Gospels and quit my job to begin writing, I staked my life to it.

MAGNIFICAT took a chance on me and I am profoundly, for ever, grateful. But who am I, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? Elizabeth asked Mary, and that is very much how I feel: about Christ, about Mary, about the Church that has embraced me. Who am I that you should allow me to appear in your pages? Who am I that I should be given this incredible opportunity to spread the Gospels to the end of the earth?

I have known for twenty-six years that my sobriety is an astonishing, miraculous gift. After seventeen years in the Church, it is just now beginning to dawn on me that everything is that miraculous, that astonishing, that unmerited. Everythingair, light, lifeis that much of a gift.

Heather King

Los Angeles, August 2013

O Holy Night: Advent

First Tuesday of Advent

You Have Hidden These Things from the Wise and the Learned

T here was no room at the inn for Mary. Just as would happen today, the innkeeper didnt announce, Folks, we have a woman among us who is about to have a child, lets a couple of families combine rooms so she can have a bed! Let us keep vigil! Let us fast, then feast! Just as would happen today, the other guests didnt rise up and say, O blessed night, O holy night that God has sent this woman among us. They gave her a cursory glance, saw she was poor, said, Ohtoo bad, and sent her to the barn. Just as today, the clerk at the chain motel would say, Sorry, fifty-nine dollars plus tax, and the rest of us would likely watch Mary trail back to her broken-down van as we go on snacking, texting, and scrolling through our Dish listings.

And yet in our better moments, we carry our little prayer around with us as Mary carried Christ. Like Mary, were in solidarity with all the poor, all those in exile, all who are powerless, frightened, weak. Like Jesus in todays Gospel, we rejoice that the kingdom is revealed to the childlike.

And just as back then, that prayer moves the world. Just as back then, that prayer is seen by the stars.

Reflection based on Luke 10:21-24

Heavenly Father, help us to remember the miracle that your Son took on human flesh and came into the world as a baby.

Help us to be willing, as children are, to live in wonder.

First Wednesday of Advent

The Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes

I dont know about you, but if Id been healing huge crowds for three days, and it occurred to me they might be hungry, Id assume they could go to McDonalds and fend for themselves.

Not Christ. In spite of what must have been his own hunger and fatigue, his heart was moved with pity. Perhaps it was that pity, that heart, that transformed the seven loaves and a few fish into enough food to serve a multitude.

Note that Christ doesnt make the food materialize out of thin air: as always, he invites our contribution, however tiny it might be. Note that he orders the crowd to sit down: things with Christ were never a free-for-all. Note that he first gives thanks: Christ does nothing without the Father. Note that he breaks the loaves: just as his body would be broken on the cross. Note that instead of playing the showman, he lets the disciples distribute the food and garner the accolades: Wow, thanks, we were starving! Note that there were left-overs. Note in particular that the miracle of the loaves and fishes follows on three days of healing, and a crowd that has glorified the God of Israel.

The inevitable manifestation of true healing and true thanks, in other words, is abundance: good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing (Lk 6:38).

Reflection based on Matthew 15:29-37

Heavenly Father, when theres enough for me, help me to remember that theres not enough for someone else.

Open my heart. Help me to share.

Second Monday of Advent

The Paralytic and His Friends

T he forgiveness of sins, the parable of the paralytic at Capernaum tells us, is deeply connected to physical healing. What most needs healing, the parable tells us, is the sense of guilt that drives our actions, choices, and relationships. But maybe what the parable really tells us is how to be a friend.

Christ always seems especially partial to those who are willing to risk ridicule in a crowd. Here, the inventive friends are so intent on the healing of their paralytic pal that they clamber up to the roof, perhaps against his protestationsCome on, fellas, people are gonna think were crazy!and lower him down. Its thus the friends, with their bold, confident trust in Christ, who are the real stars of the story. Its the friends to whom Christ says, As for you, your sins are forgiven. He goes on to heal the paralytic physically, but the deeper miracle has already occurred.

How often we assure a troubled friend, Ill pray for you, then go about our business. How often we are stopped from true prayer by the derisive crowd in our own mind. To love one another as Christ loved us is to grab hold of our friends stretcher, climb on the roof, and say, Jesus, here, over here! My friend has been stuck in pain for so long! Please help.

Reflection based on Luke 5:17-26

Blessed Father, keep me from being discouraged by the lingering paralyses of my friends. Let me come to you for help, so that I may take up my stretcher and go home, too.

Third Sunday of Advent, Year A

Rejoiceand Take No Offense

I once did a forty-day silent retreat. The first time I met with my spiritual director, he asked almost the same question Christ asked his disciples here: What did you come out to the desert to see? Did you come to wallow in your weaknesses: a reed swaying in the wind? Did you come to console yourself with your riches: someone dressed in fine clothing? Did you come to groom yourself for greatness because you secretly consider yourself a prophet?

In a way, we are all called to be prophets. Like John, we are called to prepare the way for Christ. Like John, in one way we are great and in another way we are the least. And like John, we can look for misunderstanding, persecution, and a deeply unspectacular martyrdom. Blessed is the one who takes no offense at me.

Sometimes we cant help asking: Why does Christ have to help the blind, the lame, the leprous, the deaf, the dead, the poor? Why doesnt he help usin the way we want to be helped? Why doesnt he make us wealthier, better-looking, more successful?