Welcome to the most awe-inspiring, insightful, and absolutely brilliant Catholic column on the planet! Let’s see what this Sunday’s readings are about…

The first reading says, “Seek the Lord, all you humble of the earth…” Hmm. I’ll skip ahead a few lines. “Seek humility; perhaps you may be sheltered on the day of the Lord’s anger.” A few references in there about humility. Okay. Good. A lot of other people need to be more humble.

I am so happy to be back. My spine still has a bit of healing to go, but I’m headed in the right direction. Thank you so much for your prayers and support.

And I am so happy to be back just in time for this weekend’s second reading from 1 Corinthians 1:10-13, 17! It could have been written yesterday. But isn’t that the beautiful nature of Sacred Scripture? Eternal relevance.

Comparisons are poison.

I’ll never forget the time I was completely content with my salary, until I accidentally stumbled across a co-worker’s salary. Suddenly, I felt disrespected and massively underpaid. It was nearly twenty years ago. What changed? Nothing – except I was comparing myself to someone else.

I can’t stop talking about goals in January. I think it is part of my American DNA.

I’ve rattled off several of them recently. Most of them are good and worthy of our efforts.

Our bodies are important (as we Catholics know our souls will be reunited with them one day) and taking care of them through diet or the elimination of abuse is a great pursuit.

Merry Christmas Season everyone! It’s the first Sunday of the New Year! It’s a time of resolutions. It’s a time to avoid the bathroom scale. And it’s often a time for change.

Toward the beginning of the second chapter of Matthew, Herod cuts a deal with the Magi. The are to search for the baby Jesus and report back to him. Nowhere in Scripture does it say they refused.

I think a lot of Catholics have this rosy picture of the Holy Family. The mother was without sin. The son happened to be THE SON OF GOD. And the third member, St. Joseph, wasn’t exactly a slacker. (see: SAINT Joseph)

What problems could a trio like that actually have? Let’s come back to this thought.

This is the time of the year when many of us find ourselves wondering why our families don’t look anything like those Hallmark Christmas movies. A husband who participated in the purchase of every card and gift. A mother who finds all her husband’s idiosyncrasies as charming as the day they met. Children thrilled to spend hours laughing with each other. Their spouses relaxed by the roaring fireplace. Grandchildren grateful for every gift and perfectly behaved. The turkey a glossy golden brown.

Advent should’ve been more.

More than a search for the perfect gift for a loved one. More than favoring everything with peppermint and pumpkin. More than Hallmark movies with predictable plots where everyone looks like they were created in a central casting laboratory.

Advent should’ve been more.

More than a time for family. More than a time to make a yearly pilgrimage to the confessional. Even more than getting ready for the arrival of the infant Jesus.

It should’ve been a time where we renew our commitment to be ready for when Jesus comes again. It might be the second coming. Or it might only be Jesus coming for us individually.

You have got to reread Mathew 11:2-11! John the Baptist is back!

He gets word of Jesus and sends his people to ask this question, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?” It’s almost like he is saying, “Check to see if he knows the secret handshake.”

When they arrive and ask Jesus, he chooses the Golden Rule for writers: show, don’t tell.

As members of my R.C.I.A. class know by now, Biblical typology refers to things (as Catholic author Scott Hahn likes to say) “concealed in the Old (Testament) and revealed in the New (Testament).” In this weekend’s Gospel, we have one such example.

John the Baptist is described as slightly unfashionable. He is wearing “a garment of camel’s hair, and a leather girdle around his waist.” He is dressed exactly like the prophet Elijah in 2 Kings 1:8!

A few months ago, I made all kinds of plans for late November and early December. A day trip to the pine trees. Thanksgiving plans bouncing between my mother’s house and my mother-in-law’s house. Selling my novels at the Our Lady’s Guild Christmas Bazaar next Friday and Saturday.

Oops. I ended up having invasive back surgery on Nov 15.

I had to scrap the pine trees. I had to let the grandparents know that I’ll be spending Thanksgiving recovering in bed. And I had to get other people to sell my books at the Bazaar if I haven’t recovered in time. (Please pick up a copy!) In fact – I wrote quite a few of these articles in advance of the surgery, so I hope I’m still around…

Being an adoptive parent is a strange and wonderful rollercoaster.

Few people know that in the state of Arizona, the birthmother is required by law to wait three days after giving birth to sign the paperwork. Let me tell you, those three days are incredibly emotional. Every time the phone rings, you fear that it will be someone notifying you the birthmother has changed her mind and wants the child back. Meanwhile, you are trying to protect your heart, but holding your new baby makes that an impossible task.

This Tuesday, I’m expected to be going under the knife. It will be my first surgery since my tonsils were removed in childhood. This time around, a neurosurgeon will be drilling a hole into my spinal column. In preparation, I had to watch a video that described the procedure in detail along with the odds of every possible thing that could go wrong.

It ended by saying something to the effect of – “…and while incredibly rare, death has occurred in less than 1% of patients during the procedure or resulting from the procedure.”

This weekend’s first reading is both one of the most heroic and one of the most tragic passages in all of the Old Testament. It tells the tale of seven brothers who were all willing to die, rather than forsake their faith.

They weren’t killed at the same time. No. It was worse than that. It happened one by one. Each seeing the torture of those proceeding them. Still, they refused.

For what would you willingly die? For your spouse? Your children? Parents? What about your Faith?