This is the law for which many times we can find excuses as to why it does not apply to my particular situation or relationship. Jesus leaves no room for “Yes, but…” Not even the smallest letter of the law of love can be abolished. Yet, if we look at the world around us, there seem to be more and more situations where there are exceptions to the law. One can begin to think that the law of love is an ideal, but that in the real world the exceptions take precedence. This trend is a dangerous path to follow, and it can lead to exceptions being made in many other areas.

Today’s readings pour out an abundance of love. In the middle of this season of obedience through austerity, sacrifice, fasting, and charity, today’s scriptures boldly remind us of the depth and the breadth of God’s love for us. In fact, John’s Gospel quenches all of our human longing for acceptance, belonging, respect, and love. John’s Gospel tells us that actions of our prompt devotion and hopefulness of our eager faith find fulfillment in our lifelong love affair with the Creator of the Universe. Fewer words in scripture frame the mind of God and the incarnation of Jesus with such clarity and magnanimity as we hear today:

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him.

We proclaim our belief in Christ crucified every time we gather for the Eucharist. These days of Lent are for us a time to reaffirm that belief in Christ crucified. On Ash Wednesday, ashes in the form of a cross were imposed on our foreheads as we heard the words: “Repent and believe in the Gospel.” We journey each week to Good Friday, our commemoration of the Crucifixion. Often during Lent we focus on renewing our lives as individuals. It is also a time for the church, our local communities and the church universal, to be renewed to be a sign of unity in this divided world and an instrument of God’s goodness and peace for all people.

Even now, God’s glory shines in the darkest places of our lives: in times of distress, as Abraham experienced; in times of sorrow, suffering, war, pain, insecurity, and so forth. The glory of the Holy Trinity endures, shines forth even in the most difficult times of our lives, if we hold them up to the light of faith. Even now, we are given intimations, brief encounters, transfigurations of a lesser kind, as we confront the mystery of suffering. The Holy Trinity is truly for us.

Are we curious enough to enter into this Lenten season with open hearts and open minds, to hear the call to “repent, and believe in the gospel”? We enter into these forty days as a time of testing, of tribulation and purification. Any first-century Jew who heard this reading would’ve remembered the forty days and forty nights of the flood during the time of Noah. They would have also remembered the forty years of Israel in the desert; indeed a time of testing, tribulation and purification!

In the gospel story, Jesus told the cured man to tell no one anything, but to show himself to the priest. Sure, we know that the man was made clean of his leprosy. But something else happened in his encounter with Jesus. The man was touched by God. Let me say that again: The man was touched by God. And the need to show himself to the priest is a reminder of this. What did God do to this man? We don’t know because instead of telling no one anything the man went away and publicized the whole matter. I hope he found out. He was cured, but some other kind of healing took place because of God’s love. Such love always changes us. He became more like God.

One of the ways Jesus works is through the Body of Christ, which is the Church – the Christian community. St. Paul tells us that the community of the Church is the body of Christ, and Christ’s love and grace flow through it from one member to the other just as blood flows through our veins from one part of our body to the other.

At Mass, Jesus works in our hearts to heal and make us whole through His Holy Word. Jesus gives us the wisdom of God, healing, and consolation; he gives us words of guidance, and he gives us power through His Holy Word. We need to listen to the Word of God with the expectation and the hope that through that Word, he can touch our hearts in a healing and transforming way.

Grace, which by definition is not earned or deserved but is a freely given gift, builds on nature, drawing us out of our default lifestyle characterized by self-centered individualism, encouraging us to grow in our relationships, entering more fully into communion with God, ourselves, others and nature. We are reminded that this is who we are called to be – the image and likeness of God – and that the journey is not undertaken alone but with God, in community, encouraging one another to remain steadfast, providing us the solidarity of other wounded healers to lend a hand and bolster our resolve.

As we reflect on this gift of conversion, we are also called to remember that this is not just a moment in the life of a person of faith, it is ongoing. Our life as people of faith is marked by this ongoing work of conversion, through the grace of God. Even as we move forward in our journey faith and we see and enjoy the fruit of God’s grace in our life, it is but a pause and we must continue on this journey of faith.

Actions are important, but our experience teaches us that words are, too. Every adult here today can think of words you would pay hard cash to buy back: Words hurled in anger, cruel gossip, a stupid joke, a schoolyard taunt that left a classmate in tears, a lie told to a trusting friend. And what of all those unspoken words you would bleed to have the chance to say? Words of apology to lost friends, words of gratitude to dead parents, words of forgiveness to a child, words of love to a spouse. Regret for what we failed to say often far outweighs grief over what we said.

Therein is the message of the Epiphany, their realization of what is of the utmost importance for humanity. It is not a matter of the details of high or low birth, one nationality or another, nor the skills or talents one possesses. No, only the fact of our humanity is relevant. The Magi recognized in a child of humble birth that God has graced us with his presence in human form so that we, the people he lovingly created – all of us, not just a chosen few – are offered salvation.

St. Paul challenges us towards this saying: “Let the peace of Christ control your hearts, the peace into which you were also called in one body.” This is peace as a task and not as a “leave me alone, leave me in peace” cry of frustration in our lives. Paul points out here, and many times in his letters which comprise so much of sacred Scripture, that peace is built, where we actively look to bringing down the walls of division and extend the hand of solidarity to raise up those that are on the margins of society. This is so needed in our present world, and it is possible where we allow Christ’s peace to “control our hearts,” rather than hand our hearts over to our fears and indifferences.

As a result, Christ is born in a barn: “there was no room for them in the inn.” These words comes to us as a simple statement of fact, but they are also prophetic words, and the crowded inn is a mighty symbol. How many of us here, like the inn of Bethlehem, have no room in our lives and in our hearts for the Lord of Life Himself? How many of us are keepers of an inn cluttered with ancient grudges and new hatreds? How man of us lead lives firmly settled on gluttony, lust, and sloth, and will abide no inconvenience to offer hospitality to the Christ?

So Mary is given a message about bearing a son who will become king. Maybe, now, she is calling to mind the current rule under which she lives, an empire that dominated the Mediterranean, and the Roman soldiers she would pass in the streets. She could see their threats and their violence and she knew the high taxes they demanded. She could have thought this and perhaps wondered, how could a king come from Nazareth? How could his kingdom be a match to Rome’s?

Having reflected for the past two weeks on the second coming of Jesus, next Monday we celebrate the first coming, of Jesus. We have many reasons to rejoice. We rejoice because even in our brokenness God loves us so much he sent his only son to free us from, and forgive our sins. We rejoice because as we celebrate Jesus’ birth (his first coming), as well as his life, death and resurrection, we realize that at his second coming we have the opportunity to see God face-to-face.

The season of Advent is supposed to be a time to renew our commitment to listening to the voice of the Lord, the only thing that gives meaning to our life in this desert. The desert voices remind us that nothing that we seek in this life to comfort ourselves will ever do so completely, for only our covenant relationship with God can do that.

It is good for us to hear again the stories of God who has journeyed with us from the beginning and who in the fullness of time took on flesh and came to walk in the world with us. We need to hear the story again, because often we forget. We forget what Jesus brought us and gave us. We get drowsy and overloaded with the anxieties of life. So in the Gospel Jesus tells us as he told his listeners: It is like a man traveling abroad...[who] places his servants in charge...and orders the gatekeeper to be on the watch.... May he not come suddenly and find you sleeping.

God will lay a road into every human heart. John the Baptist has come to start clearing the ground, to wield the axe and the sickle, to call men and women to repentance. John proclaims that God Himself is coming to deal with the marshes and deserts and mountains of the human heart.

What would the objective observer say about our lives? Are we loving or are we angry? The only way we will avoid a destruction that is similar to the one that awaited the people at the time of Jeremiah and the time of Jesus is to take advantage of the opportunities that await us in Advent. We must reassess our lives and redirect ourselves if we see that we are headed down the wrong road.

It is a vision imagined by the master builders of our medieval cathedrals, who carved in the tympanum above the front doors a triumphant Christ King surrounded by his angels, waiting to greet the faithful on their arrival. Augustine’s unquenched desire was to find rest in their company.