The last year of the second millennium was the worst year of my life. In January 1999, after a long period of almost unimaginable suffering, my grandfather, John J. Garvey, Jr., passed away at age 87. Anyone who knows me well has heard me talk about my grandfather. Pop survived an orphanage, a world war, childhood poverty, and discrimination from those who refused to employ the son of an immigrant. But Pop lived a good life. He was honest and kind. He enjoyed simple pleasures. He meant the world to me. At the age of 86, while walking home from the market, Pop was hit by a car. Although he recovered quickly from the physical injuries, he never recovered from the emotional trauma of the accident. He soon suffered a series of strokes that caused blindness, paralysis, and eventually dementia. I said goodbye to my grandfather for the last time on Christmas Day. He died a few weeks later. I still miss him every single day.

At the time, I was working as a consultant for a large law firm in Portland, Maine. After my grandfather’s funeral, I returned to work and was soon buried beneath a mountain of client demands and deadlines. And in walked Peter Feeney. Peter was one of our contractors. He had no time for grief or sadness. He had ambitions, ideas, and plans for the future. Peter was the youngest person ever elected a county commissioner in Maine; and he was already planning a run for the state legislature, and he envisioned a future campaign for governor. Peter’s energy and sense of humor were infectious. Along with another close friend, Peter did not allow me to brood over my grandfather’s death. Ballgames and concerts needed to be attended. Menus at new restaurants needed to be sampled. Work needed to be done. Between clients and work and friends like Peter, the fog of grief that had clouded the new year lifted. Life goes on. Or so I believed.

On the final work day before Christmas 1999, Peter joined me and a gathering of friends at a local pub in Portland’s Old Port Exchange. We ate and drank and laughed and wished each other a Merry Christmas. We toasted the coming new year, the new century, and the new millennium. But on December 26th, Peter died of a heart attack. Laughing and full of life one moment, he was gone the next. Peter was just 26 years old. His death was an unspeakable shock to his family, friends, and colleagues. It seemed impossible then. It seems impossible now. I could not process Peter’s death. I could not fathom how God could allow it to happen. Indeed, from my humble point of view, God had a lot of explaining to do. And then there was the timing. December 26th. I still cannot imagine how Peter’s family copes with their grief. But for me, Christmas has never been the same. Falling leaves and cold winds lead to shorter days and longer nights. The world grows dark and the darkness reminds me again and again of that awful year that began with the death of my grandfather and ended with the death of my friend.

This year promised to be no different. Summer ended and autumn passed. Advent began. Christmas was just around the corner. The memories returned, along with the anger, grief, and sadness. Darkness loomed. But then, a moment of grace, a flicker of light. After an almost sleepless night, I realized that the sun rises. After a long winter, the spring blossoms. From despair comes hope. From death comes resurrection. From darkness comes light. From Advent comes Christmas. And from within a manger comes the brightest light of all. A Savior will be born to us! Suddenly, I now see my grandfather not as he was during that last Christmas goodbye, blind and paralyzed, but as a soul born into and out of the light. And I see my friend, not as the spirit of a life cut so short, but as a soul born into and out of that same light.

Christ is the light of the world! He is our sight in blindness, our light in the darkness. He dispels every shadow, enlightens every mind, and illumines every soul. He binds every wound, consoles every broken heart, and brings strength to the weak. He brings riches to the poor, welcomes the stranger, and lifts high all who are bowed low. He brings glad tidings to all who look to him with faith, hope, and love. And at Christmas, Christ will be born among us. He will live with us, walk with us, grieve with us, suffer with us, die with us, and rise with us.

As we begin the Third Week of Advent with Gaudete Sunday, we are called to rejoice in the coming of the true light of the world. We are called to rejoice in the coming birth of a savior who will love us without conditions or limits, who will keep faith with us come what may, who will abide with us from birth through death and beyond. Let us answer this call by praying for those who are lost in the darkness of addiction, grief, loneliness, pain, or poverty. Let us reach out to them in prayer, fellowship, and service. And let us pray that all people everywhere might experience that moment of grace that leads them from darkness into the glorious light of Christmas. Joy! Joy! Joy!

May the Lord give you peace and joy!
Cliff

Cliff Garvey
Associate Minister
Catholic Community of Gloucester & Rockport
Contact: cgarvey@ccgronline.com

CCGR Weekly Newsletter (12-11-16)
Bringing Home the Word (12-11-16)

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Pastor’s Note
Special Message of Thanks