The Magnificat: Mary’s Song of Surrender

At Mass today, we heard the Magnificat—that ancient hymn of Mary found in Luke 1:46-55:

“My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord; my spirit rejoices in God my savior. For he has looked upon his lowly servant. From this day all generations shall call me blessed; the Almighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name.”

What strikes me most profoundly about these words is how Mary gives God all the glory with perfect clarity. She proclaims the greatness of the Lord and never elevates herself above her Son—nor should we. There exists a great misconception among Protestants regarding Mary. She is the Mother of God, and as servants of Christ, we are called to honor her just as Jesus did. God gave us the Ten Commandments, and the fourth commands us to honor our father and mother. When someone speaks against Mary, we should ask ourselves: How would I defend my own mother? Jesus comes to the defense of His Mother. We thank Mary for her courageous “yes” to bearing her Son Jesus, and we remain ever mindful of her irreplaceable role in this celebration of Christmas.

The True Meaning of Christmas Traditions

If your home is adorned with Christmas lights, a Christmas tree, and the exchange of gifts, you are celebrating the birth of Christ—whether you recognize it or not. Yes, it has become a cultural tradition, but its roots are unmistakably Christian. According to Pew Research, 81% of Christians in the United States celebrate Christmas, but remarkably, 87% of non-Christians do as well. What joy must resound through heaven to witness such a diverse gathering of people come together to honor our Savior’s blessed arrival. In this season, we celebrate not merely tradition, but the Incarnation itself.

Grace in Two Acts

A Christmas Adoption and a Day on Skid Row

Part One: The Perfectly Put-Together Family

What Happens When the Gift-Giver Isn’t Gift-Ready

St. Norbert Catholic Church in Orange, CA announced that parishioners could adopt a family for Christmas. As the Bible study group leader, the opportunity was taken to select a family of seven. The group split up the family among themselves and went shopping. After the ladies from Bible study dropped off their gifts, Helen and a loaded two large plastic bags and set out to deliver them.

Dressed in light-colored sweats — no pockets — a phone was tucked around the waistband. Carrying two oversized bags, the phone began a slow, inevitable journey down the pant leg. There are many steps leading to the front door of this particular house, and before the doorbell could even be rung, a beautifully put-together woman swung open the door — catching a guest in the act of digging for a phone somewhere near the ankle.

No makeup. Hair gathered in a ponytail with considerable lumps. Not yet showered, because a workout was still on the agenda. And then — a glance down at the sweatpants revealed a sizable grease stain.

“Come in,” said the perfectly composed human being at the door.

Oh no.

It was 11:00 AM. The entire family was seated in the living room — her husband, two handsome sons, what appeared to be her mother, her sister, and a well-groomed cat whose coat resembled a tuxedo. To make matters worse, the mouth opened and an explanation spilled out about cleaning up after a party. The orderly, holy family received their gifts, and a silent prayer was offered on the way out:

“Please, Lord — do not let these people attend the same service as me.”

Part Two: The World’s Smallest Christmas Present

Medals from Rome on Skid Row

December had been a full month. A week before the Tamale Party, the homeless ministry took the team to Skid Row. The plan had been to purchase blankets — at $5 each, at least fifty were needed to make it worthwhile — but the budget did not stretch that far. What was on hand, however, were medallions from Rome. Minuscule medals, barely visible to the naked eye. But that was what there was to give.

As lunches were handed out and prayers were offered, people were asked if they wanted the world’s smallest Christmas present. They laughed. But when they recognized the saint depicted on each tiny medal, something shifted. An older woman with a deeply lined face began to cry — her confirmation name, she said, was Bernadette. To each person, the medals meant something sacred. Reaching into the small plastic bag yielded Our Lady of Guadalupe, St. Francis of Assisi, St. Teresa of Ávila, or a Guardian Angel — and each one landed like a gift from Heaven. The ministry took considerably longer that evening because these small tokens genuinely ministered to the people of Skid Row.

A young man named David was so moved that he could not stop kissing the hand of the one who gave him his medal. The team was short-handed that night — only Robert and John — which added time to distributing the meals, but also added depth to every encounter.

Toward the end of the route, the team came across a group of high-school-age young men accompanied by two older chaperones. Something was off: they were wandering around, almost gawking — not interacting with anyone, not offering anything. One of the chaperones explained that they were a hockey team from San Jose, and he had brought the boys to experience Skid Row firsthand.

This must be said plainly, and with charity: Skid Row is not a field trip destination. It is not a sideshow. The men and women who live there are human beings made in the image and likeness of God — not an exhibit. If a group has nothing to offer — no food, no prayer, no presence of service — then showing up only to observe is a disruption to those already living in deplorable conditions. It is, at its core, a failure of dignity. Anyone wishing to bring young people face-to-face with poverty should come prepared to serve, or not come at all.

From Skid Row to the Tamale Party

A Tale of Two Cities, One Tear, and a Trophy

Part One: The Toilets of Paris and Los Angeles

Cleanliness, Dignity, and the Streets of the City of Angels

Did you know that Paris, France and Skid Row have something in common? The same style of public restrooms found in Paris are now used in Los Angeles. Having used the ones in Paris firsthand, the impression was immediate — modern, self-cleaning, genuinely beautiful public facilities. It was equally remarkable when they first appeared on Skid Row a few years ago. In the City of Angels, it costs fifty cents to use these facilities. Sadly, some have since been removed due to misuse — drug activity and other illicit behaviors that made them unsafe and unsustainable.

Part Two: Watch Your Step

The Weight of What Is Left Behind

With the number of dog owners living on Skid Row, one must watch every step carefully — the streets are not forgiving. The homeless population is often unable — or in some cases unwilling — to manage waste of any kind, and it finds its way into the streets. That is why, on nearly every block, volunteers can be found cleaning up the debris left behind.

Part Three: A Tear from Heaven

When a Drop Is Enough

The heart is heavy every time the streets of Los Angeles are left behind — because so much more needs to be done. The ministry is just a tiny drop in an endless sea of need. But this time, that drop felt like something more. It felt like a tear from Heaven — a sign that God sees, that God weeps, and that God is not finished with these streets or these people.

Praying we could always do more.

Part Four: The Tamale Party

Six-Time Champion and a Trophy Moment Gone Wrong

The Tamale Party was a tremendous success — and once again, best friend Helen took home the trophy for the sixth time. It was pointed out, by daughter Sonja, that the manner of presenting the trophy was perhaps a bit abrupt. And to make matters worse, the camera never came out for the crowning moment — no photo of Helen holding her hard-earned trophy.

To all the Tamale Party guests: sincere apologies. To Helen: congratulations — but consider this fair warning. Next year, you are going down.

Did you know that Paris, France and Skid Row have something in common? The same public toilets in Paris are used in Los Angeles. I used the ones in Paris and they are modern self cleaning beautiful public restrooms. I was amazed when they were first introduced to Skid Row a few years back. It cost fifty cents to use these facilities in the city of Angeles. We have noticed that some have been removed due to abuse of the homeless population, using drugs and other illicit behaviors.

With all the dog owners on Skid Row you really need to watch your step or you could be stepping into a pile of dog excrement. The homeless are careless with any type of waste and it usually ends up in the streets, that is way on almost every street there are volunteers cleaning up the debris.

My heart is sad when we leave the streets of L.A. because much more needs to be done to improve these conditions. We are just a tiny drop in in this endless sea of dissension but this time I felt the drop was a tear from heaven… praying we could do more.

The Tamale Party was a huge success with my best friend Helen winning for the 6th time. I was told by my daughter Sonja that my manner of presenting the trophy was abrupt. I forgot to take a picture of the climax of the party with Helen holding the trophy. To all the Tamale Party guest my apologies and to Helen congratulations but watch out next year you are going down!

May the God of us all bestow on you and your families a Blessed Christmas and may your New Year be filled with His Love!