We Are

The parable of the Good Samaritan is one we've all heard plenty of times, and I think we get it: being a good person is not dependent on one's physical attributes.  We can dress it up any way we want, we can retell the story in different forms, but the underlying philosophy doesn't change.  However, there's a larger story surrounding the parable that's generally forgotten in the recitations, and while the message it bears is similar, it does force us to confront the other side of the coin.

The confrontation between Jesus and the scholar is almost as important as the parable that follows.  The Gospel, as formatted for the Catholic church, even starts with the introduction of the scholar, not by establishing where Jesus was or what He'd been teaching.  The focus is on this guy who clearly thinks he's pretty clever.

Note the wording of the Gospel:

There was a scholar of the law who stood up to test Jesus...

He's testing Christ.  What does that mean?  One need look no further than our entertainment or political landscape to know what "testing" someone really means.  Whenever a political figure or celebrity sits down for an interview, they are being "tested."  They're being asked very specific questions with very specific syntaxes in very specific patterns.  Meanwhile, the interviewees are taught to answer in very specific ways to avoid their words being misrepresented later.  The last thing they want is to have their name in tomorrow's headlines because they misspoke or because someone took their words out of context.

So when the Gospel says this scholar is "testing" Jesus, it means he's trying to trip Him up.  It's not that there's a right or wrong answer.  The questions are deliberately vague because they want Jesus to give them specific answers, and then ridicule Him for those answers.

So this dude steps up and asks, "What must I do to inherit eternal life?"

As the audience, we may think this is the tricky part, but it's not.  For a scholar of the law, he probably already knows the answer.  This is more a test of Jesus' devotion to Judaism than a snare to trap Him.  Jesus does what any good public figure would do and answers that question with another question.  He puts the scholar on the spot and makes him answer.

You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your being, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.

Think back to when you were in grade school and there was that one kid in the class that knew all the answers.  That's what's happening here.  Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes is reciting the answer the way a smart little brat at the front of the class would routinely answer a complicated math problem.

Jesus even gives this guy a verbal pat on the back, and we think we're done here when Teacher's Pet decides to go for the kill and asks,

And who is my neighbor?

For those of you just joining us, this is the real test.  You can almost hear him snickering to his pack of equally obnoxious friends as they wait for Jesus to answer.  Meanwhile, all the elders are looking at each other like, "Oh, snap!"

See, in the tradition of the Jewish faith, God's favor fell to the Jews and the Jews alone.  They were God's "Chosen People," and anyone outside of their tribal circles wasn't just unlucky, but unclean.  They were to be avoided and spurned.  They were damned by virtue of their race.

Then here comes that Jesus we've heard so much about: making trouble dining with sinners, healing the sick, raising the dead, and (gasp!) even forgiving the sins of such evildoers as tax collectors and prostitutes!  What is this world coming to?

So when 10 o'clock Scholar asks Jesus who his neighbor is, what he's really waiting for is Jesus to tell him who his neighbor isn't so they have something to spin against him.  In some ways, Jesus is in a corner with no clear way out: if He says "the faithful are your neighbor," He's discriminating against the sinners He Himself has saved.  If He says, "the sinners are your neighbor," He could appear to be directly opposing the faith He professes to uphold.

Jesus rather brilliantly gets around this with a parable detailing how people of faith (the priest and the Levite) see a man suffering and do nothing, but the Samaritan (a race detested by the Jews) helps the man at his own expense and inconvenience.

Of the parable itself, two things should be noted.

Obviously the first is that Jesus specifically names groups of people when He is talking about those who encounter the victim.  They are priests, Levites, and Samaritans.  That's important because He's trying to establish that the peace offered through Him is for all people.  That's the obvious take away.

The not-so-obvious part is that Jesus does not detail for His audience who the victim is, or who the assailants were.  He states only that "a man fell victim to robbers."  You could argue that the man was traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho and therefore may have been deemed at the time a "righteous man," but Jesus doesn't state explicitly what kind of man the traveler was.  He doesn't say, "A Jew was beaten by a group of Samaritan robbers," or vice versa.  He simply states what we might call, "the facts of the case."

It's also important to note that when Jesus asks the scholar which of the three passersby was a true neighbor, the scholar answers, "The one who treated him with mercy."

The scholar doesn't say, "The Samaritan."  He says, "The one who treated him with mercy."  This is probably more deliberate on the narrator's part (Luke) to further distance the traditional concept of "chosen people" from the concepts of righteousness and unrighteousness.

It also allows for a beautifully simple and powerful answer from Christ: "Go and do likewise."  It's a direct answer that leaves no room for refute or debate.

This is incredibly timely for us here in America and around the world where tragedies seem to draw lines between groups and races across the country and the world.  All you have to do is look at Facebook, Twitter, or watch the news to see that everyone has an opinion on the issues that plague our society.  Most of them are no more than canned catchphrases that people can put on bumper stickers or on banners to catch others' attention.  They tend to lean entirely one way or entirely the other.

The words of this Gospel passage are a reminder to stop looking at ourselves as belonging to one camp or the other.  We are not different races.  We are the human race.  We are not children of the light or dark.  We are children of God.  And while that may sound just as shallow as some of the views we scroll past every day, if we really take the time to let those ideas sink in, we can start the process of divorcing ourselves from the labels we've placed on each other and start seeing Christ within one another.

It's also important not to undermine the tragic loss of life.  A man who falls victim to robbers loses his money and possessions.  But money can be earned or given.  Possessions can be bought or bestowed.  Life is not refundable.  Life is precious and fleeting, and the wasting of it is not only a disgrace to the gift that God bestows on us, but a crime against everything that was possible for the life that was taken.

Think of someone you know or someone you've met.  Perhaps it's someone you've harbored a prejudice against, even if you don't know why.  Maybe it's because you labeled them--whether consciously or subconsciously--as something that triggers a negative connotation in your mind.

Now replace that label with "Christ":

The person is not "one of them."  They are Christ.

A popular song by Joan Osborne once asked, "What if God was one of us?"

Maybe we should stop asking that and instead remind ourselves that God is all of us.

The story of the Good Samaritan teaches us that every one of us has the capacity for good; the capacity for mercy.

The story of Jesus and the scholar teaches us that the mercy we are capable of is for everyone, not just those we've labeled as "worthy."

One For All

READINGS: Isaiah 60:1-6  Ephesians 3:2-3a, 5-6  Matthew 2:1-12

In the season of Christmas, we celebrate the promise that Christ represents: the promise of redemption and rebirth.  This collection of readings reminds us that the promise is a sacred covenant between us and God, and that the promise is for everyone.

Isaiah's reading was intended for an Israelite nation that had just returned from exile.  As the people continued to experience hardship after hardship long after their enslavement in Babylon, Isaiah reminds them that they are still God's chosen people, and that He would work still greater miracles for them.  "The glory of the Lord shines upon you."  Even as "darkness covers the earth, and thick clouds cover the peoples...upon you the Lord shines."

Rather than seeing the Israelites carried off into slavery, Isaiah proclaims that the people would now flock to Israel to pay homage to the Lord.  The vindication of Israel was a symbol to non-believers of the Lord's might and favor to Israel, making them an example to those who did not fear Him.  At the end of the passage, we have references to gold and frankincense: two of the gifts that would be presented to Jesus at His birth.

For Christmas purposes, this reading is seen as foretelling the coming of Christ.  Jesus is the new Israel that the pagans would flock to.  It's important that the nations named as making a pilgrimage to the Lord in this reading are considered foreign and very "non-Jewish."  This stands both in harmony and in contrast to what we will see later in the Gospel.

For ourselves, this reading is a reminder to take courage in our faith.  I'm not saying that we shouldn't have doubts.  We all have doubts, and I am one who believes that even Jesus had doubts when He walked as one of us.  By having courage, we banish fear.  Don't second-guess yourself.  Don't worry about the "what ifs".  The Lord is watching over you.  The Lord shines upon you.

Some would say that if we walk by God's light, no evil can befall us.  I don't believe that.  Evil is everywhere.  All you need to do is look to the news to remind us that Christians and people of many other faiths are persecuted all over the world.  Are we to believe they are suffering because their faith isn't strong enough?  Faith is not a shield from evil that lets us turn and run.  Faith is armor that lets us face the evil head-on and know that whatever happens, God is by our side.

In Isaiah's time, the Jews were the only people who were promised the blessings of God.  But Paul's letter to the Ephesians abolishes that idea with a new concept.  Drawing on the symbols Christ instituted in the Last Supper, Paul anoints the Church as "the Body of Christ."  This is a very abstract concept, particularly for the time, and is even more difficult to grasp for a people that were used to being singled out and especially beloved and exalted.  Instead, Paul insists that the Word of God was a new covenant for all people, not just the Jews.

Similarly, think about the silent prejudices we hold.  If we consider ourselves embodiments of Christ, and if we are called to be Christ to others, are we truly embracing everyone we meet as another light of Christ?  Whether it's someone's appearance, demeanor, sexual identity, political view, or religious belief, we can find a million reasons to dismiss another human being.  That person may never know you, and there's a chance that if you try to open yourself to them they will reject you, but if we walk by faith as Isaiah encourages us, we shouldn't be stopping to ask "what if."  Instead we should be asking, "why not?"

Finally, we have the last of the Nativity Gospels for this cycle, and the coming of the Magi before the Baby Jesus.  Incidentally, the Gospel refers to the Magi as just that, "Magi."  They are not called "kings," and it is not said how many there are (sorry, to those who enjoy the images presented in "We Three Kings.")  Traditionally we associate the number three with them because of the number of gifts mentioned.

There's a lot of symbolism going on here, and I don't claim to know all of it, but let's break things down a bit.

The first image we have is Herod.  We know for a fact this guy was paranoid about losing his throne because he killed members of his own family to protect it, including a wife and three sons.  This particular passage, taken out of context from the rest of the Gospel, doesn't mention that.  For all we know, Herod really does want to pay his respects to the newborn Jesus.  It's not until the last line of the Gospel that we realize his intentions are evil.  It adds a very ominous, bitter tone to an otherwise peaceful ending, and alludes to the death of Christ at the Crucifixion.

Second we have the Magi.  Again, these aren't necessarily kings.  They're not named or counted, and there's not a whole lot to describe them.  But there are a few things we know.

Magi were astrologers.  This is important for a couple of reasons.  The most obvious is that they are able to navigate their way to Jerusalem by the light of the stars, and specifically the star that they mention to Herod.  Secondly, being astrologers makes it clearer as to how they of all people would've noticed that "star at its rising."

The Gospel also mentions that the Magi were form the east.  If we follow the theme of the readings, this is an important fact: it's through the Magi that the birth of Christ and the salvation that follows is brought to the non-Jewish peoples.  The Magi are foreigners.  They are not "blessed" by God, but they are the ones specifically chosen to bring news of Jesus' birth to all the nations.  This is possibly why they are often used interchangeably with the shepherds of Luke's account: because they bring "good news of great joy that will be for all the people."  Some suggest that the Magi may even be from Babylon, which would be especially symbolic considering Israel's sojourn there.

Finally, there's the star.  Now, astrologists and historians have since suggested that the "star" spoken of in the Gospel is actually the elision ("joining") of Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn: giving the illusion of a single, giant, radiant star.

It's clear that the star drew the Magi west, but it's not exactly clear why they came specifically to Bethlehem until Matthew quotes the passage from Micah.  It's easy to assume that Jewish scholars used this and possibly other passages from Isaiah to determine that Bethlehem was where the child would be found.  Remember: Matthew is doing his best throughout his account to paint Jesus as the fulfillment of the Old Testament prophecies.  He starts that with the genealogy on Christmas and continues that theme here.

Okay.  So the Magi are foreigners, so we can kind of forgive them for blurting out to this lunatic Herod that a new "king" has been born.  Herod is, reportedly, "greatly troubled, and all Jerusalem with him."  Why would all the people be troubled?  It's possible they had a vested political interest in this (I mean, when one leader dies, everyone wonders who will take his place), but it's more likely that they were afraid this paranoid psychopath would go around slaughtering babies and even whole families to protect his crown.

So Herod asks for the particulars and the Magi (again, these guys are foreigners) spill the beans.  Herod plays it cool and sends them on their way with the simple request that when they come back (presumably on the same roads that they travel out on), they stop by and throw some more juicy details on the table so he can go and "worship" the newborn King.  The Gospel also says that in addition to what we can assume is a very public audience, Herod also takes the Magi aside privately to question them.  Speculate what you will, I'm taking this to mean he intimidated them into giving up the goods.

The Magi find their Messiah in a "house" (not a stable as mentioned in other areas, though this could be a matter of semantics), but still manage to reverence him as though he were in a royal bedchamber.  They fall down in worship, the same as you would a worldly king.  Remember, we may think of Jesus as a spiritual savior, but to these people He is very much a worldly king at this point.  These Magi are looking for a political revolutionary, not a religious foundation.

And in typical fashion, they open up their gifts.  Again, there's three, so we assume there are three kings.  It's possible there are more.  It's possible there are less.  A lot of emphasis has been placed on these gifts and what they represent, but these are gifts that would've been brought to most any king upon birth or coronation at that time.  Besides that, it's more likely these gifts were chosen for their value and their easiness to carry on a long journey.

Still, it's worth noting that the gifts are gold, frankincense, and myrrh.  The first two harken back to Isaiah's reading earlier.  Those are the gifts Isaiah foretold would be presented to the new Israel.  It's very possible these Magi were privy to that and brought them accordingly.  If we take it to a more abstract layer, we can say that gold represents a king's riches.  Frankincense is a much more appropriate gift as it was often used in worship services, so it has a much more divine flavor.  And finally, the myrrh is an ointment used in preparing a body for burial, which of course is an omen for the Crucifixion and days spent in the tomb.

Finally, we have another divine intervention that really has little explanation unless we take it at face value.  Maybe, like Joseph, an angel really did visit one or all of the Magi in their sleep.  Maybe the threats of Herod finally hit home, or maybe someone else present at the Epiphany who was familiar with Herod's atrocities warned the Magi not to go back the way they'd come.  So when they leave, the make sure to take the long way home.

Again, we are challenged to bring Christ to others, even in the face of great adversity.  Again, we are encouraged and strengthened by faith, represented here by the star that guides the Magi.  And again we are reminded that salvation is for all people.  The ancient world made a pilgrimage to Israel where a chosen people held themselves us as "blessed" and "espoused" by God.  Here, a pilgrimage is made to a baby in a stable, and we are reminded that our faith in God is not a license to boast, but an invitation people in all walks of life to embrace the Word as something to be shared with everyone, because God doesn't play favorites.

Family Ties

READINGS

1 Samuel 1:20-22, 24-28  1 John 3:1-2, 21-24  Luke 2:41-52

During the Christmas season, we are encouraged to grow closer together as family.  When we shop for Christmas gifts, it's often with a list of those we are shopping for: brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, fathers, mothers, etc.  This week we are asked not only to remember our own personal families, but to recall that we are also part of a greater family: the Christian family of the church.

The readings remind us that family is a sacred and holy gift from God, and we should be ever thankful for it.  Each family has its trials, it's complications, and even its rifts, but as children of God, we are called to patience, reconciliation, and compassion when dealing with our family.  And we are encouraged to give thanks to God for the family he has blessed us with.

When God blesses Hannah with a  child, she names him Samuel: a name which mean

s, "God listens."  He is a constant symbol of God's attention to His faithful ones, and it is only after Hannah's prayer and petition to the Lord that her request is granted.  There are plenty of other stories like this, not the least of which is Sara giving birth to Isaac.  Yet in both cases, the child is then called to be given back to God.  There is a subtle difference, however.

In the case of Abraham, God demanded that Isaac be sacrificed upon His altar.  It's only after Abraham shows a readiness to do this that God rewards his faith by relinquishing the child back to him.  Hannah, on the other hand, readily returns Samuel to the temple where she leaves him under Eli's tutelage.  It almost seems callous to end the passage with the words, "Hannah left Samuel there," because the immediate feeling we get is one of abandon.  But taken in context, we realize that God would raise Samuel up as the last Judge of Israel (a figure with executive, priestly, and judicial power), and it is through Samuel that David also would be raised to favor in God's eyes.  Finally, it is through David's bloodline that Jesus would be born.

The message here isn't only that each family should be dedicated to God in its own way, but that God rewards that dedication with His grace.

Again, in the first letter from Saint John, we are reminded of the sanctity of the family.  The letter stresses that the institution of family is a blessing from the Lord, and that in addition to being members of the human family, we are also members of the holy family of the church when call ourselves children of God.  In that way, we are reminded that we are more than just human beings: we are as beloved by God as Jesus Himself was when he was in our human form.  Once more we are assured that living according to God's law will reap great reward (much like Hannah) for us, and that we have the Holy Spirit to guide our hearts in this endeavor.

The story of Jesus in the temple is well known.  It's easy to imagine His parents' distress at finding he

was not with them, particularly in a time where children have become innocent targets.  The language of this reading is often confused, as it is sometimes said that they found Jesus "teaching" the men in the temple.  In the latest translation it merely says that Jesus listened and was "asking them questions, and all who heard him were astounded by his understanding and his answers."  In this way, the Gospel paints the picture of a Jesus who is exceptionally attentive and attuned, rather than a prodigy.

Mary's reaction is probably my favorite part of the entire passage simply because it's a moment where we see these people whom we hold in such high and holy esteem as simply human.  It's worth noting that Jesus' reply marks the first time he acknowledges God as His Father (at least that we have recorded.)

It's also interesting that Joseph and Mary search for Jesus for three days: the same amount of time Jesus will spend in the tomb.  In this way, it's an early sign to Mary that her son's life will spin on the axis of God's will, and prepare her for the sacrifices to come.  This is also the only story we have of Jesus as a child after his infancy but before the beginning of his ministry.  It is likely included to show that He knew, even from a young age, that He was called to serve His heavenly Father.

For us, the story is a reminder that God is at the center of our lives, and that we should recognize His presence both within the human family, and the family of the church.  By continuing to recognize God's work in each other, we strengthen the bond between ourselves and our ability to reach out to others.  It is the foundation on which God's kingdom here on earth is raised.

Christmas Reflections

If there's one challenge to writing down my reflections of the weekly readings, it's trying to keep up with a celebration like Christmas.  You probably went to church for Christmas, but how many people out there know that there are no fewer than four different sets of readings for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day?  I won't be writing a detailed reflection on all of them, but I will be giving a "cliff notes" reflection on each below.

CHRISTMAS EVE - VIGIL MASS

READINGS: Isaiah 62:1-5  Acts 13:16-17, 22-25  Matthew 1:1-25

Isaiah is a prophet that comes in a few different flavors.  What that means is that there are three major sections to this book, and only one was actually written by Isaiah.  The first part of the book speaks of the coming of a new king to save Israel.  The second part talks about how God will send an Anointed One to save His people.  The third part admonishes the Israelites upon their return from exile so that they will again find favor with God.  In this particular reading, Isaiah speaks of his own desire to see Israel restored to its former glory.  It's a warning to the enemies of God's people, and a rekindling of the promise God has made to that holy nation.  Note Isaiah's use of matrimonial metaphors here: a reinforcement of the idea that Israel is a holy nation that God has consecrated as His own.

The reading from the Acts of the Apostles presents the beginning of a speech Paul gives in a synagogue to potential Jewish converts.  This discourse is known as the "kerygma", which derives from the Greek word meaning "to preach" or "proclaim."  Because he is speaking to Jews after the death of Christ, it's his job to show that Jesus is the fulfillment of God's promise to His people.  Paul very deliberately traces Jesus' bloodlines back to Saul and David.  This is as much to validate Jesus' legitimacy as the Messiah as it is a warning to his listeners: Saul and David were both beloved and blessed by God, but both fell out of His favor through sin.

Matthew's Gospel follows the same train of thought as Luke's Acts of the Apostles before him.  Many Catholics in particular find the genealogy here monotonous and boring, but the if we look beyond the hard-to-pronounce names, there's a ton of symbolism to everything Matthew writes here.

Firstly, it's important to trace Jesus' bloodlines back to Abraham--and specifically David-- because it proves once again that Jesus is the living promise of God's covenant to Israel.  Secondly, we can note that a few women's names are sprinkled in here.  Not only is it odd for a genealogy of the time to mention women at all, but each of the women mentioned has a questionable past.  Tamar posed as a prostitute.  Rehab is referred to as a "harlot" in the Old Testament.  Ruth was a foreigner.  Solomon's mother, Bathsheba, committed adultery.  Finally, there is Mary who--though sinless--conceived outside the bonds of marriage.  This is most likely to show that God works through all people, not just those considered "holy" in the eyes of the leaders of the faith.  Finally, there is the emphasis on the number of generations between Abraham and David, David and the Babylonian exile, and the exile to Jesus.  In each case, Matthew maintains that there are fourteen generations separating each milestone.  Fourteen, of course, is the symbolic number of the name of David.  It's actually a little white lie, since Matthew deliberately skips a few generations to make this happen, but there's a method to his madness.  There were no superlatives to explain this, so much in the same way that we say, "Holy, holy, holy," to describe something that is the "holiest," Matthew is using three sets of the sacred number to show that Jesus is the "holiest" of Abraham's descendants and the living promise of God.

Finally, there is the account of Jesus' birth, which is so well known it would be redundant to simply recite here.  But a few things stand out.  The story mentions that Joseph was a "righteous man."  To the Jewish people, this would be contradictory, since a righteous man would have Mary killed upon finding out she was pregnant and unwed.  Instead, Matthew establishes a new form of "righteousness" by showing Joseph's compassion; something Jesus would expand upon during His ministry.  Continuing his efforts to draw parallels between the Old and New Testament, Joseph receives his vision from the Angel in a dream much as his namesake in the Old Testament received visions in dreams.  Finally, Matthew quotes the Old Testament again to reaffirm that Jesus is the promised Savior proclaimed by the prophets.

CHRISTMAS EVE - MASS DURING THE NIGHT

READINGS: Isaiah 9:1-6  Titus 2:11-14  Luke 2:1-14

Isaiah's book shows a gradual change in understanding of how God would redeem his people.  At the start, Isaiah is looking for a very literal ruler to replace the unfaithful rulers of Israel.  Each ruler was believed to be holy and anointed by God, but their infidelity was a mark against their people.  Eventually, Isaiah realized that it was not a literal ruler God would provide, but an Anointed One who would renew His covenant with Israel.  Isaiah reminds his readers of the great things God has done for them, and promises them more blessings from the One to come.

This letter claims to have been written by Paul, but was most likely written by a disciple of his to Titus: a pagan convert who became the leader of the church in Crete.  Most of the book serves as instructions for Christian leaders as well as how followers should conduct themselves in the community and family.  This particular reading encourages us to remove everything that separates us from God as we celebrate Jesus' birth and look forward to His second coming.

Again, Luke's Gospel is a familiar one.  He begins by naming the rulers of the time.  This does a few things.  Firstly, it establishes the time in which the story takes place.  Second, it provides historical accuracy, so we know this is not fiction.  Third, it demonstrates that it was the law that ruled when Jesus was born, not God (unlike much of the Old Testament).  And finally, it shows that this baby, who would be born in a tiny village on the fringes of the Roman Empire, would change the world.

Everything written here emphasizes the poverty of the Holy Family.  The trek to Bethlehem, the birth in a stable, the lying in a manger: it all points to the idea that God chose to come into this world in "the form of a slave," as Paul would later put it, not as a king or someone of stately reputation.  Finally, there are the shepherds.  The importance here is to remember that shepherds of this time were considered untrustworthy and unclean.  And yet, they are the first to hear of the birth of this Messiah, and the first to make their way to Him.  Again, this shows that in this new age, even those considered to be the least among the people would be loved by God.  It also speaks something of what Jesus was to become: the Good Shepherd to gather God's people back into the fold.

CHRISTMAS DAY - MASS AT DAWN

READINGS: Isaiah 62:11-12  Titus 3:4-7  Luke 2:15-20

We've been following Isaiah for a while, now, so it's easy to rope this in with the rest of his writings.  But there is one big difference here: the tense.  Specifically, Isaiah is no longer talking about some promise for the future, but a promise that is actively being fulfilled now.  Granted, this is taken out of context for the purpose of our Christmas celebration, but it's important to realize that long-awaited Messiah is not something we should be speaking about at a distance, but someone we should recognize as alive and active in our hearts and in the hearts of those we encounter every day.

Paul takes this a little deeper, noting that Jesus came into this world through God's own mercy, and not because we necessarily earned it.  It's only by God's love for us that He sends us His Son for our own benefit, that we might turn away from sin and live in a new Light.  It's not that we are being awarded for our good behavior.  Quite the contrary.  Jesus was God's last-ditch effort to get through to us after we'd strayed so far from Him.

Luke's Gospel continues the story of the shepherds as they seek out and pay homage to the baby Jesus.  Again, remember that these are not people you'd be accustomed to seeing at the feet of "royalty", but they are the first to greet this new King.  Moreover, they tell Mary what the Angels proclaimed to them in the fields.  Everyone likes to fall in love with this line about Mary "reflecting on [these things] in her heart," but imagine for a moment what it must have felt like to be in her shoes.  She receives a child through the Holy Spirit, and is probably judged by the community for getting pregnant outside of wedlock.  An angel tells her that this child will be the very incarnation of God among the people.  Okay, assuming that wasn't enough to freak you out, now you have these vagabonds running in out of nowhere to gape at your freshly born babe and telling you that he will be the Savior of the world.

Call me cynical, but I don't think Mary's "reflections" were as peaceful as we'd like to believe they were.  There was probably much fear and trepidation in them for herself, her husband, and her son.  No kingdom is one without sacrifice.

CHRISTMAS DAY - MASS DURING THE DAY

READINGS: Isaiah 52:7-10  Hebrews 1:1-6  John 1:1-18

The last readings for Christmas start with a poem of joy and thanksgiving from Isaiah for the great things God has done, and will do, for His people.  It's important to note that Isaiah's not talking about God sending another prophet to help Israel, but that He Himself will save, as discussed in previous reflections.  This carries new meaning since we now know that God comes to us in the form of Jesus, who is the literal fulfillment of this promise.

There are three parts to the second reading.  The first points to Israel's rejection of the Old Testament prophets, which would result in God sending us Jesus as a purported better means of communication. Whereas the prophets may not have found the right way to get through to their people, Jesus would be the living embodiment of God to give us a model to follow.  Second, it points to Jesus as God incarnate, not as God speaking through another anointed prophet.  Both of these first sections establish the humanity of Jesus, which apparently led to some debating whether he could truly be the divine Son of God.  Which leads to the third part, where the writer (again, most likely not Paul) insists that Jesus, despite being human, is seated at God's right hand in heaven.  Since angels are spiritual beings, it was often wondered how a human could be held in higher esteem than something ethereal.  This is accomplished by remind the reader that God Himself confirmed Jesus as His own Son, and that this places him far above any angel or other spiritual being.  In this way, we know that Jesus is both human and divine.

Finally, to cap off our Christmas Day celebrations, we have the opening to the Gospel of John, which is possibly the most poetic and most confusing of any of the opening Gospel passages.  In its simplest form, the Gospel points to Jesus as the pre-existing Word of God.  Unlike the other Gospels, which tell of Christ's birth from a human standpoint, this Gospel establishes Christ's divinity before He is even born.  Note that John uses the same words at the beginning of his book that are used in Genesis: "In the beginning."  In this way, John is both acknowledging the history of the Jewish faith and establishing something new.  After naming Christ as the "Word," John speaks of the world rejecting "him".  It's easy to think that he is alluding the Crucifixion, but that's not necessarily the case.  John names Jesus as "the Word," and in this case, the Word is wisdom.  If we follow that assumption, we can see that John is referring again to the rejection of the prophets of the Old Testament, which would prompt God to come to us Himself in the form of Jesus.

The other thing John does is sanctify humanity in his Gospel.  Whereas the prophets constantly condemn humanity, John assures us that "the light of the human race" is holy, "and the darkness cannot overcome it."  In Genesis, we are told that man was created in God's image, but here that creation comes full circle as now God comes to us in our image.  The recounting of John the Baptist is brief, and differs slightly from the earlier Gospels of this season.  Rather than call to repentance, John the Baptist is instead exclusively proclaiming the coming Messiah.  Finally, John again confirms Jesus' humanity and Old Testament roots by naming Him the Son of God.  In the Old Testament, a "Son of God" might have been a hero, a prophet, or a king chosen by God.  In this reading, however, it is used to quite literally describe Jesus as the Christ: the only begotten Son of God.

WHAT THAT MEANS FOR US: The readings from the prophets are clear: God will never abandon us.  He makes His promise to us every day that we are never alone.  Even when we try to keep God at a distance, He is here among us in the faces of those who love us and the people we encounter.  When we receive gifts from others this season, be they physical or immaterial, we are receiving a blessing from God in our lives.  In that way, we are the living descendants of the people of Israel.  We are offered the same warnings, but we are also offered to reap the same spiritual reward for our faithfulness to Him.

The epistles emphasize that Jesus' message is for everyone.  From Jewish Synagogues, to Titus, to people of foreign nations and pagan beliefs, we are encouraged to bring Christ to others by the love we show to those we meet.

Finally, the Gospels remind us that Jesus is alive and His love works through us every day.  The Jews were asked to recognize Christ as the promised Messiah, and we are called to recognize Christ in everyone we encounter, and to remember that others should see Christ in us.  We are all the sons and daughters of God.  We carry the light of Christ in us.  We were chosen in Baptism and Confirmed in HIs love.  Now we are invited to lead others to that same Nativity so that they may see in us the same pure love that first shone in the eyes of a baby on that silent, holy night.

At the Threshold

READINGS: Micah 5:1-4a  Hebrews 10:5-10  Luke 1:39-45

Have you ever looked at someone in a completely different way?  Maybe it's a friend or loved one you're close to: someone you know better than anyone else.  Or maybe it's someone that you have known at a distance, like a co-worker or a student at school, and have some preconceived notions about.  Have you ever looked at them and felt like you were seeing them for the first time?  Have you ever had your preconceptions about a person wrenched away when you see a side of them you'd never seen before?

Micah, like Zephaniah, is considered a minor prophet, but his book stands as an outcry to the poor and oppressed.  It's easy to read his words and think that he is foretelling the birth of Jesus, but he is writing almost 800 years before Christ would arrive.  What he's really doing is calling out a corrupt Jerusalem and the established powers there, and promising the people that a new order would be established that would conform more to God's will.

The pointing to Bethlehem isn't just to fit in with the story of the Nativity: it's where the descendants of David resided, and it was believed that any supreme authority would come from his bloodline (Matthew would confirm this in the opening to his Gospel).  He is looking for a reformation for the people of Israel: a rallying cry under a new banner.

Today, we can interpret this as yet another call to change ourselves, or renew ourselves in Christ.  It's important that Micah isn't looking to some force outside of Israel to change it, but that the change must come from Bethlehem: a town "too small to be among the clans of Judah."  The power of reform comes from within, as much in that holy city as within ourselves.

We can also think about why a great power would come from so small a city.  Bloodlines aside, it speaks to the power of the human spirit: that great things can come from even the least among us, and so we should never discount the people we meet, but embrace them as images of Christ among us.

I'm reminded, of course, of The Lord of the Rings, and the idea that the destruction of evil was achieved through Frodo Baggins: the small hobbit with a strong will and heart pure enough to resist the One Ring's lust for power.  He quite literally carries the burden of the Ring across the vast landscape of Middle-Earth to destroy it in volcanic Mount Doom.  In the first film, The Fellowship of the Ring, the beautiful elven queen Galadriel reminds Frodo that "even the smallest person can change the course of the future."

This theme exists in countless forms of storytelling, whether it's farmboy Luke Skywalker blowing up the Death Star in Star Wars, young Harry Potter defeating the evil Lord Voldemort, or David slaying Goliath, we are reminded time and again that greatness lies within us.  In Christian terms, we are reminded that Christ is alive in each of us, and it is through Him that we are graced with the power to withstand the temptations and tribulations of this world.

In most of these cases above, some manner of power is destroyed, and a new power rises.  Destroying the Ring allows Aragorn, a lonely vagabond with a regal birthright, to take his rightful place as the king of the race of men in Middle-Earth.  Blowing up the Death Star sets in motion events that would see the fall of the corrupt Empire in a galaxy far, far away, and the rise of the New Republic.

Similarly, we have the Letter to the Hebrews, which reiterates that Christ came into the world to destroy the old way, and establish the new.  It's likely that this letter was not written by Paul, or that it was even intended for the Hebrews.  Rather, it was apparently speaking to a Jewish-Christian people who were struggling to keep the old ways (Old Testament) while also embracing the new.

The author reminds the people--in the voice of Jesus--that it was the old way of "sacrifices and offerings" that the people rejected.  Christ then came along and gave us a new model to follow.  It was no longer about paying homage to God in what we offered to Him, but instead following His will so that we may offer something more to each other.  "He takes away the first to establish the second," just as Micah was looking for the coming of a new power in Israel.

In both cases, it's clear that these two things--the old and the new--cannot coexist.  We must turn away from our old habits: our selfishness, our judgmental nature, our impulses.  Only then can we embrace the new way of living with a different sight so that we can recognize God's hand in the world instead of only seeing what we want to see.

Finally, we have the story of the Visitation.  This is a little confusing if you're following the readings week by week.  Just last week we were talking about John the Baptist and his message of repentance. This week, John isn't even born yet.

Obviously, the main thrust of the passage is the leaping of the infant and the joy of Elizabeth at seeing Mary.  Immediately, her infant recognizes that Christ is present, and Elizabeth hails her own sister as the very "mother of my Lord."  We are given the foundation of what would become the Hail Mary, which now paints Mary as something other than simply "the handmaid."  She is now a holy vessel through which God would establish his new covenant.

Imagine you are Elizabeth.  You've known Mary your whole life.  You're sisters.  You've grown up together.  You know her better than anyone in the world.  And suddenly, she is not just your sister.  She carries Christ within her.  It might have been both a joy and a shock for Elizabeth to see that in her sister.

So too, we are asked to recognize Christ in each other.  At a time of year when we will be inviting people into our homes and visiting others, our duty is two-fold.

We have a chance here to be on both sides of the threshold: sometimes we are Elizabeth, sometimes we are Mary.  As hosts to our guests, we are called to recognize the light of Christ in those we encounter both within and outside our homes.  As Mary, we are called to remember that when we are in others' presence, we are Christ to that person, and should conduct ourselves as though we were carrying Christ's light within us.

Rejoice in Love

READINGS: Zephaniah 3:14-18a  Philippians 4:4-7  Luke 3:1-6

For the first two weeks of Advent, we've been asked to examine ourselves from the inside out and recommit ourselves to Jesus, to God, and to each other.

This week, we are assured that our efforts are not in vain: that Jesus is real and present, and the grace we receive through Him can transform our lives so that we may transform the lives of others.

Zephaniah is one of the "minor prophets," and his structure follows much the same as Jeremiah and Baruch.  The first part of his book is again filled with condemnation and warning against both the people of Israel, and those outside Israel.  The second part features the promise of forgiveness, redemption, and a return to favor in God's eyes.

This is the week that says, "Enough doom and gloom."  No more visions of the apocalypse, no more scolding and admonishing.  If you have turned yourself to seek God, then this week welcomes you into the joy of His presence.

It's also important to see here that Zephaniah isn't just speaking of our own personal joy, but the joy of God Himself.  As a prophet, it's kind of his job to tell people, "God isn't too thrilled with you, right now."  It was mainly through this fear (and the consequences of it) that drove the people to repentance.  But now Zephaniah speaks of a different aspect of God: the God that takes great joy in us turning back to Him.

Think about the people closest to you, or even perhaps a past relationship or friendship.  Think about the ones you would do anything for.  Have they ever hurt or disappointed you, even if it wasn't their intention?  The pain caused by those closest to us cuts deeper than anything else.  In this way, we can imagine that for a God who loves us unconditionally, it hurts greatly when we stray from Him.

In the same way, think of the last time someone apologized to you, or perhaps you to another person. Remember the power of forgiveness and the weight that is lifted off your shoulders through the simple act of reconciliation.  Similarly, imagine God's joy when we put aside our pride and make an effort to re-pledge ourselves to Him.  Faith is very much a two-way street, and when we find joy in Christ, He rejoices in us.

Paul also invites us to rejoice (twice!)  We are told to "have no anxiety at all," because God will provide for what we really need.  The standout here is the way in which Paul implores us to ask for what we need: "prayer and petition, with thanksgiving."

Of course, we do this every Sunday at mass during the Prayer of the Faithful.  But I think that second part is often lost on us: thanksgiving.  Before we ask for what we need, we should first give thanks for what we have.

I'm often amazed at Thanksgiving when we gather with our friends and loved ones on a day that literally means "to give thanks" for each other and for what we have.  It's ironic that mere hours later, we are gathering in the pre-dawn darkness outside our favorite "big box" stores to get the best deals on things we didn't need until that very moment.

Most of us will receive some gift or other (probably more than one) this Christmas, but as we get older, we often realize that we enjoy the giving a lot more than the receiving.  That's because our focus has shifted.  A child asks for toys.  A teenager might ask for clothes.  But an adult who is self-sufficient can buy both those things for themselves.  So what do we ask for Christmas?

We ask for the joy of each other's company, for the silent acknowledgement of love, and we give thanks for the light of Christ that is recognized in each other.  Time is one thing no one can control, so it's important that we appreciate our time with each other when we have it.

Finally, in the Gospel of Luke, we have the continued prophesying of John the Baptist, only in a much more direct message.

John is giving very direct instructions to the many people looking to repent from their sins in light of the coming messiah.  This is really the start of the reformed teaching that Jesus would exemplify.  Rather than laying out another "book of the law" (i.e. Numbers, Deuteronomy), John starts simplifying this into less grand gestures, and Jesus would elaborate on much of it later.

Clothe the naked, feed the hungry, etc.  These are all very familiar to us, but while it should probably have been obvious to the people of John's time, it was common for people to think that if you prayed a certain way, tithed, and did all the things that were laid out in the Old Testament, you were good to go as far as getting God's spiritual stamp of approval.

John never mentions praying, never mentions sacrifices, never mentions anything of a remotely spiritual nature.  Rather, he talks about simple acts of kindness toward our neighbors.  It's a radical change from what the people of the time considered the norm.

My favorite interactions here are those of the tax collector and the soldiers.  Obviously, these are two occupations where it was common to see an abuse of power.  What's great about this is that you almost expect John to tell these two to find another profession.  He didn't do that -- probably as much to protect himself from political backlash as anything else.  But I think its important for us to realize that John doesn't ask us to change who we are, but rather, how we conduct ourselves.

To the tax collector, he says, "stop collecting more than what is prescribed" (and presumably pocketing the excess.)  To the soldiers, he basically exhorts them to be examples of the law they profess to uphold.

So, too, we are called to be examples of the Christ we profess to follow, not simply in our hearts, but in the way we live our lives.  We are invited to rejoice in love: our love of God, His love for us, and -- most importantly -- our love for each other.

Preparation and Peace

READINGS: Baruch 5:1-9; Philippians 1:4-6, 8-11; Luke 3:1-6

If you haven’t heard of the prophet Baruch before, don’t worry: he doesn’t appear in the Protestant Bible at all.  Last week we started with Jeremiah, and this week we start with Baruch: Jeremiah’s “secretary” during the Babylonian exile.  Nobody’s really sure that Baruch even wrote this book, but the message it contains is no less relevant to our Advent season.

Jeremiah may have nudged the Israelites back to God, but this reading is a rallying cry.

Remember, these are people in exile.  They’ve been taken from their home, and stripped of their identity.  In Old Testament times (and even in the time of Jesus), it was commonly believed that bad things happened to bad people.  If these people were in slavery, it was because they put themselves there.  Imagine carrying the weight of that guilt, and the dismal realization that there is no going back home: no hope that your God will ever smile on you again.

And Baruch basically says, “Stop wallowing in your own self-pity.  There is hope!  Your freedom is coming!”  He tells the Israelites that they will be reunited with their scattered brethren.  And to top it all off, he makes it clear that it is God who is going to do this: God has not forsaken them!

It’s by God’s will that “every lofty mountain be made low,” so that Israel can be made a great nation once more.  He even tells them to don the “mitre that displays the glory of the eternal name.”  For those who may not know, a mitre is a headdress traditionally worn by bishops.  It’s a symbol of holy rank.  With this, Baruch is almost re-christening the Israelites: anointing them once more as a holy nation.

Baruch tells us two things: that God wants peace for our hearts, and that he has prepared a way for us to return to Him.

Think about the guilt we carry with us every day.  It weighs us down.  Sometimes it’s the guilt of sin.  Every week we ask forgiveness for our shortcomings “in what I have done, and in what I have failed to do.”  Sometimes it is the guilt of hurting another person, or perhaps driving them away from us or from God.  We ask ourselves how we could ever be forgiven by anyone, let alone God, who must have much higher standards than any human heart.

But God’s heart is not human.  God’s heart is eternal.  And in that we find a never-ending wellspring of forgiveness for ourselves.  And through grace, God moves both our hearts, and the hearts of others, toward forgiveness.  God invites us to overcome the weight of our guilt and sin: to repent, to forgive, and to walk with each other again as images of Christ renewed.  By rejoining ourselves to each other, we rejoin ourselves to God.

Paul’s Letter to the Philippians echoes these sentiments.  This letter was written from prison, shortly after Paul had faced almost certain death.  There’s an intimacy in this letter that’s not felt in his other epistles, and many attribute that to the fact that he had almost died.  For Paul, that kind of put things in perspective (I imagine it would for anyone).  It helped him see that all-too cliche “big picture.”  It helps Paul realize what’s really important: continuing his mission to bring Christ’s salvation to all people…and seeing that mission fulfilled in those he writes to.

Paul prays that the Philippians will also see the “big picture”.  Maybe it’s the close brush with death that infuses this letter with the theme of the end times and “the day of Christ.”  Whatever the reason, he prays that when that day comes, their hearts may be virtuous and pure, free of sin, so that they can stand “blameless” before Jesus when the time of judgment arrives.

I can’t help but think of Breaking Bad’s Walter White: a mild-mannered school teacher whose world is turned upside down when he finds out he has cancer and an estimated 18 months to live.  Suddenly the only thing that matters to Walt is the financial security of his family after he’s gone.  Obviously, brewing and selling illegal drugs isn’t the smartest solution, but it goes to show that once we know what’s really important to us, there is nothing that can keep us from attaining it…no matter how unorthodox the method.

How far are we willing to go to prepare for the salvation that is waiting for us?

It’s the same message, just through a different filter.  The Israelites were called to conversion to reunite their people.  The Philippians are called to stand fast in their faith.  Both readings promise a salvation: one is on a personal level, the other on a national level.  Israel is called to a pilgrimage: a journey back to God.  Paul is asking how we will feel about ourselves when we find Him.

And finally, we have the well-known story of John the Baptist.  There’s some debate as to why Luke starts this by establishing the rulers of the time.  Some say it’s because—in a time when Christians were still under a great deal of scrutiny by Roman officials—the naming of those in power was to show that Christians weren’t completely ignorant of the earthly law and order…that they were good citizens.  Others argue that Luke might be contrasting the earthly power with the heavenly power that was to come.

John the Baptist is a modern-day prophet.  What’s interesting here is that, unlike the Old Testament prophetic books, Luke is not speaking as a prophet himself, but rather of a prophet.  It sets a very different tone for the narrative: we’re not talking about something that may or may not happen.  We’re looking at something that is happening.  He even puts a prophet’s words in John’s mouth with a quote from Isaiah.  This sounds a lot like God’s promise to the Israelite’s from Baruch, and that’s deliberate.  The promise that was made generations before is about to be fulfilled.  John, of course, is calling us to make straight the paths of our hearts.

All three readings sing the same song of turning away from the things that separate us from each other and from God.  

They also remind us that we stand before God every hour of every day, not just on Sundays.  It must have been incredibly difficult for the prophets to make the Israelites feel as though God’s promise was real when they had spent so many years in slavery.  It must have been difficult for early followers of Christ to keep the flame of faith alive when the world persecuted them for it.  It must have been a lot of work for John to infuse each heart he encountered with the promise of a baby that hadn’t been born yet.

God is not only present for us, but for all, even if they don’t know it.  It’s only after we throw off the burden of our own guilt and sin that we can find the peace he offers us in Jesus—and then bring that peace others.

DISCLAIMER: I am not an ordained member of the Catholic church.  All opinions here are my own and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Catholic church.  This is just one layman's opinion.  Relax!