Jan. 19, 2025
Dear Parishioners,
“Life is a banquet in which the wine always runs out.” Just in case you think that the
phrase “Life is a banquet” is made up by some party animal, I want to assure you that it comes from the Bible. In the Scriptures, the relationship between God and his people is described in the image of a bridegroom and his bride. And in describing the joy God finds among his people, the joy of the kingdom of God, the Bible uses the image of a wedding feast. It’s no wonder that Jesus started his public ministry at a wedding feast.
It doesn’t matter which path of life one is in: marriage, religious vocation, or singlehood.
Neither does it matter what profession one pursues. Sooner or later, the initial excitement, the bursting joy, once thought of as unlimited, starts running out. All that remains is the “water” of routine, dullness, and even disillusionment. Not just for the ordinary folks like you and me, but also for the rich and famous.
Earnest Hemmingway, winner of many prestigious awards, including the Pulitzer and
Nobel Prize, always lived his life to the fullest. A newspaper reporter, ambulance driver during WWII, involved in the Spanish Civil War, friend to bullfighters as well as authors – he did it all. But there came a day when his wine ran out. He took his shotgun, pressed the barrels to his forehead, and pulled the trigger.
It happens in everyone’s life. The wine runs out. The crucial question is, “What should I
do?” Many married couples are tempted to run out with the wine, “There is nothing in it for me anymore.” Sounds familar, doesn’t it? Well, that attitude reveals a terrible selfishness. For such people, marriage is only a passing alliance between two selfish human beings. So, when they have taken all they can from each other, they look elsewhere for more fruit that can be picked and eaten without pain or effort, an illusion that is bound to repeat.
The old wine must run out for the new wine to come in. First love, however romantically
beautiful, cannot last. It is bound to wear out. Really not a bad thing. In fact, it has to wear out if a new and deeper love is to be born. The new love consists in putting the other person before oneself. One has to forget oneself and find joy in loving rather than being loved, in giving rather than in receiving. When both are giving, both are also receiving. The new wine has formed, much better than the old wine.
The key element in making the new wine is to invite the Winemaker, Jesus Christ, into
our banquet, our home, our life, our heart. Some time ago a woman wrote a fascinating article about redecorating her family’s home. Things went well until her husband overruled the interior decorator and hung a 16- by 20-inch picture of Jesus in the most prominent place in the home. The woman tried to get her husband to reconsider, but he absolutely refused. Then, during a discussion with him, she recalled these words of Jesus: “If anyone declares publicly that he belongs to me, I will do the same for him before my Father in heaven.” (Mt 10:32)
That settled it. Her husband won. Now she says she’s glad her husband won, because she
thinks that picture of Jesus has had a remarkable effect on her family – and on visitors. For
example, one day a stranger kept glancing at the picture. Finally, he turned to the woman and said, “You know, that Jesus doesn’t look at you; he looks right through you.’’ And one night a friend sitting across from the picture said, “I always feel so peaceful in your home.’’
The picture’s most striking impact, however, is on conversations, says the woman. It
inevitably draws them to a higher level. The woman ends her article by saying she knows people will smile at her remarks and even ridicule them, but she doesn’t care. “This much I know,’’ she says. “When you invite Jesus into your home, you’re never the same again.’’
Life is a banquet in which the wine always runs out. But with Jesus as our guest, we will
enjoy a new wine, thousand times more uplifting and exciting. What are we waiting for?
In the Most Holy Trinity and in solidarity with you all,
Fr. Duc