December 22, 2013

Gospel Commentary from the Irish Dominicans

Like a planet in conjunction Isaiah looms very large in the Advent Liturgy. Many of his expressions could almost be from the New Testament. John the Baptist comes even closer. But in Mary the contact is made; the Presence has become a reality.

“She will bear a son” (Matthew 1:21), or “You will bear a son” (Luke 1:31). Matthew’s gospel tells the story from Joseph’s point of view, Luke’s tells it from Mary’s. But the story is the same: the Child will soon be born of her.

Christmas festivals incorporate pagan customs, such as the use of holly, mistletoe, Yule logs, etc. (see Dec. 18). The use of a Christmas tree began in the early 1600s, in Strasbourg, France, spreading from there through Germany and then into northern Europe. In 1841 Prince Albert, husband of Queen Victoria, introduced the Christmas tree custom to Britain, from where it spread to America.

Meanwhile, Dutch settlers in America had brought with them the custom of celebrating St Nicholas' Day on December 6, and especially St Nicholas' Eve, when gifts were given to children, of whom the saint was patron. British settlers there took over the tradition as part of their own Christmas Eve celebration. The English name of the legendary jolly, red-garbed man who delivers presents to good children at Christmas, Santa Claus, is derived from the name 'St Nicholas' (say it fast and you will see why).

If any of that information disappoints you, let me assure you that our faith doesn’t rest on dates or customs or folklore, but on the simple accounts of the life and death of Jesus that the gospels give us. It is true that St Luke takes great care to show that the events he is recounting are precisely located in history: “In the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar - when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, Herod tetrarch of Galilee, his brother Philip tetrarch of Iturea and Traconitis, and Lysanias tetrarch of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas…” (3:1). But it is enough to know that the Word became flesh in human history; we don’t need to put exact numbers on it.

Celebrating the birth of Jesus at the winter solstice has immense symbolic meaning, however, and that is why the date was chosen in the first place. When the days are shortest and it looks as if the sun is abandoning the world to darkness… suddenly the sun begins to return, and the days lengthen! The Sun is returning to us! It is the surprise of Newgrange, experienced since 3,200 B.C. But for Christians, symbolically it is the surprise of the Incarnation: the Light has come into a dark world…. “The Word was made flesh, he lived among us, and we saw his glory, the glory that is his as the only Son of the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). -- Today’s Good News, the website of the Dominicans of Ireland

I HEARD THE BELLS ON CHRISTMAS DAY By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I heard the bells on Christmas Day

Their old, familiar carols play,

And wild and sweet

The words repeat

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,

The belfries of all Christendom

Had rolled along

The unbroken song

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till, ringing, singing on its way,

The world revolved from night to day,

A voice, a chime,

A chant sublime

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth

The cannon thundered in the South,

And with the sound

The carols drowned

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent

The hearth-stones of a continent,

And made forlorn

The households born

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;

"There is no peace on earth," I said:

"For hate is strong,

And mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:

"God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!

The Wrong shall fail,

The Right prevail,

With peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Longfellow’s oldest son, Charles Appleton Longfellow enlisted as a soldier for the Union cause. In a letter dated March 14, 1863, he wrote his father: “I have tried hard to resist the temptation of going without your leave but I cannot any longer. I feel it to be my first duty to do what I can for my country and I would willingly lay down my life for it if it would be of any good.” Charles was severely wounded that November in Virginia. Longfellow was still recovering from the tragic loss of his beloved wife, Frances, who died from injuries received in a fire; Longfellow himself was so badly scarred trying to save her that he wore a beard for the rest of his life. In the face of all this loss and worry, Longfellow wrote “Christmas Bells” on Christmas Day in 1863. It was first published in February 1865, and you will hear a musical setting of it at the annual Sacred Heart Christmas Concert this Sunday, December 22, at 7 p.m.

In a flash, at a trumpet crash,

I am all at once what Christ is,

Since he was what I am.

-- Gerard Manley Hopkins

When we were children, we were grateful to those who filled our stockings at Christmas time. Why are we not grateful to God for filling our stockings with legs? - G.K. Chesterton

The Final Sunday of Advent: Throughout the final week of Advent, the days are shortest. This week was once called the Halcyon Days, a time of peace and perfection: Supposedly all creatures stood still in sympathy with the sun, almost holding their breath to see whether the sun would turn in its course and the days would grow longer again. The church, too, holds its breath in anticipation. … If Advent is like the night, now are the last moments before dawn; if Advent is like a courtship, now is the betrothal; if Advent is like a pregnancy, now the child is kicking in the womb. …. During these final days, the church begins to tell perhaps its favorite gospel stories about the coming f the reign of God. The characters are familiar and beloved – Elizabeth and Zechariah, Mary and Joseph – and there are angels as well, who more than anyone come bursting into Advent’s darkness and silence to announce: “Fear not.” … As amazing as it sounds, when Christmas arrives, the winter is past. These are Gabriel’s own words: “For nothing is impossible with God.” – Peter Mazar, from To Crown the Year

Reflection for December 22, 2013: Fourth Sunday of Advent

“This is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about,” Matthew begins today’s Gospel reading, speaking as matter-of-factly as if he’s giving the weather report. Well, it’s an old story, after all, the Christmas Story – one we’ve been told so often we hardly even hear it any more. We already know what happens, you see, or at least we think we do. It’s like a rerun of a movie we’ve seen a thousand times before. Even if it’s a brilliant movie, our eyes tend to flicker away from the screen while our brains skim lightly over the plot. Instead, we talk and eat and drink and doze on the couch, while the drama plays out in front of us, unseen and almost forgotten. (It’s a Wonderful Life, anybody? A Christmas Carol?)

But of course it wasn’t always that way.

Once upon a time, this story was all brand-new.

Once upon a time, it hadn’t even happened yet.

Once upon a time, in fact, it might have turned out differently.

I’m not a theologian or a scholar or any kind of a professional religious person – in fact I’m not a very good amateur religious person – but it seems to me that one of the basics of Christianity is that mysterious complex thing we call Free Will. And that means that Mary might have said No, before push came to shove – as it literally does, sooner or later, when a woman gives birth. She might have listened politely to the angel when he appeared, and then consulted her calendar and said, “Thanks, er, Gabriel or whoever you are, but December 24^th --- is that the day you mentioned? – well, gosh, I’ve already got dinner plans that evening. Or I have to work late, or something. Anyway, I just checked my Google calendar and I really don’t have the time. Maybe next year?” And even if she had said yes, Joseph might have just stared at her in absolute gobsmacked, instead of God-smacked, horror when she told him the story, and said, “You’ve got to be kidding, girl!”– slamming the door behind him on his way out. I know the angel later came to him in a dream and explained everything – but how many of us pay attention to our dreams, even the God-sent ones? Joseph could have easily talked himself out of the whole experience by the time he got up next morning, or simply rolled over and gone right back to sleep. Gee, that was one crazy dream I just had! Maybe I need to start taking Ambien or something.

And then of course there’s Jesus. Well, who knows about Jesus? In scriptures and sermons there’s a lot of talk about how the prophecies were fulfilled in him, but sometimes it’s made to sound as if he had no choice in the matter – as if he was drafted to be our Savior, marched right out of the door of Heaven with his traveling orders in hand. Sometimes we forget that God chose to come down and live with us – that he decided to pitch his tent among human beings and the myriad other creatures that share this planet with us. We are so overwhelmed by the divinity of the savior that we overlook the humanity of the person: We forget that, while he lived on this earth, he was genuinely human as well as divine, with human doubts and fears and joys and hungers and a body that could get tired and experience pleasure and suffer pain -- excruciating pain, in fact, courtesy of the species he came to save. Unless you think he was just kidding when he prayed to be spared that night in Gethsemane. Me, I’ve never had that impression.

Mary and Joseph—and Jesus— had to make some astonishingly hard choices. That’s why it’s important for us to take them out of their ancient Christmas card frames, dust off the distracting glitter, and try to imagine who they really were in their lifetimes – try to comprehend what they did and why they decided to do it. Because every human being has to make hard choices, sooner or later. Life is a challenging business, after all. We always need somebody to show us how to do it right.

That long-ago night in Bethlehem, Mary and Joseph had no idea of what the future might hold. Mary didn’t give birth in a stable because she was trying to create a picturesque effect for future Christmas cards. She gave birth in that stable because there was nowhere else for her to give birth in. That stable in Bethlehem didn’t become a special place, until Mary and Joseph – and Jesus – were there to make it a special place.

Sometimes we forget about the reality of the Nativity – how cold and scared and desperate that young homeless couple must have been, about how much those deep birth pangs must have hurt, because it always hurts when a woman gives birth, about the pain and the blood and fear of it all. Mary and Joseph didn’t realize, at first, that there was a Star blazing above them; they were too busy paying attention to what was happening on the ground, in front of them. And they had no idea that hosts of angels were hovering close at hand, ready to burst into glorious echoing song. I suspect that’s partly because the angels didn’t show up until after Mary and Joseph had been there awhile, that they raced in at the last minute on their heavenly silver wings because they simply couldn’t stay away from what was going on. As holy and perfect as angels are, the kind of love and courage they saw in that stable was utterly beyond them. And as for the Star – well, I think maybe Joseph and Mary kindled it all by themselves, simply by being there that night – kindled it simply by saying YES – set it afire with their own bright and brave and holy love. Let us thank God that they did – that Mary, and Joseph, and Jesus said YES – and passed that glorious affirmation down the centuries to us. Amen, and alleluia! – Diane Sylvain

What you gonna name that pretty little baby?

Oh, Mary, what you gonna name

that pretty little baby?

Glory, glory to the newborn King!

“Some will call Him one thing,

but I think I’ll call him Jesus!”

Glory, Glory, Glory, Glory, to the newborn king!

– American Spiritual