Saturday of the Third Week of Advent

Lectionary: 197

Mary set out in those days and traveled to the hill country in haste to a town of Judah, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth.

 G ood news wants to be shared! Shouted! If she was entrusted with a mystery that could hardly be described or named, it had to be shared, and so Mary set out in haste for Jerusalem and her kinswoman Elizabeth. She had to tell someone and who better than the one whom Gabriel had also mentioned during their brief conversation? 

Seeing the old woman appearing more than fully pregnant -- in her sixth month! -- would confirm the Angel's promise. It was surely not the illusion of a pious, excitable teenage girl; but it wouldn't hurt to have the truth confirmed by one's own eyes. And Elizabeth's wonder must also be celebrated. If Jerusalem knew of the old woman's pregnancy, Galilee should also know. Given the secrets the Angel had revealed, nothing could keep Mary off the road.

And they were secrets. The appearance of an angel and his message are not to be shared with one's young, hysterical peers. As Isaiah said, "Who would believe what we have heard?" Society is eager for stories of out-of-wedlock pregnancy, and they'll fill in all the blanks with salacious details. The moment called for discretion and prudence as well as excitement and rejoicing. 

Because we are profoundly aware of all that is wrong with the world, and equally sure of our own helplessness before the cosmic tragedy, Christians are prone to gloominess. It might be called that dark night when nothing we say or do or attempt seems to make any difference. One of the most talented and accomplished priests I've ever known, toward the end of his life, wondered if he had done anything worth doing! I named some of his achievements but they meant nothing to him. 

But Gabriel's message was "good news of great joy for all the people!" And so "Mary set out in those days and traveled to the hill country in haste to a town of Judah, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth." 

"And Elizabeth, filled with the Holy Spirit," greeted her with the same joy. The visit confirmed everything the Angel had said to Mary and to Zechariah. If his appearance or his message had ever been doubted, Mary's appearance in Elizabeth's house confirmed everything. This was real; this was true; this was certain. As certain as pregnancy, and there's never any doubt about that! 

Despite the calendar's proclamation of December with its wintry chill, Christians hear another message: 

For see, the winter is past,

the rains are over and gone.

The flowers appear on the earth,

the time of pruning the vines has come,

and the song of the dove is heard in our land.

The fig tree puts forth its figs,

and the vines, in bloom, give forth fragrance.

Arise, my beloved, my beautiful one,

and come! (Song of Songs 8:10-13)

Friday of the Third Week of Advent

 Lectionary: 196

Ask for a sign from the LORD, your God; let it be deep as the nether world, or high as the sky!

 T he Prophet Isaiah insistently urged King Ahaz to trust in the Lord rather than Jerusalem's Egyptian allies against the Assyrian invaders. The African empire served only itself whereas the Lord was ready to serve His people. 

The King piously -- hypocritically -- refused and so Isaiah promised a sign deeper than the nether world and far higher than the sky. He promised that a virgin would conceive and bear a child. "When you see this," he might have said, "you will believe in God." 

But the King would not ask; nor would he believe the sign, its meaning, or its importance. His anxiety, pusillanimity, and religious indifference did not permit him to see any further than his fears. He also gives us a perfect example of how not to manage our lives. As it turned out, Ahaz's son Hezekiah pleaded with God who sent a devastating plague against the invaders and the Assyrians failed to capture Jerusalem.

But the Lord used his cowardice to open the way to God's promise and the wonderful sign of the Virgin Mother of God. Although it seems to involve only one woman and one child, our faith sees this pregnancy as more wonderful than an army's retreat from a defenseless city, or all the horses and soldiers of Pharaoh's army drowned in the Red Sea. If all the world's industries simultaneously turned off their poisonous smoke stacks and all the world's vehicles converted to non-polluting fuels, they would not be more wonderful, hopeful, or inspiring signs. 

Daily and many times a day we thank Mary for her eager, gracious response to the Angel. Although she wondered how this could happen, she did not hesitate. If she was startled, she was not afraid; if she could not foresee the future, she had no doubt that God would sustain her. She knew the Lord and would not fear for herself. 

As the United States transitions to a new administration and the hegemony of one party's control of the White House, with a majority in the Senate and House of Representatives, many Americans are fearful while others are optimistic. But optimism is not hope, and fear is never a reliable counselor. As we face the future, we remember the Lord still leads those ready to follow. He can neither deceive nor be deceived. And, like Mary, we are not afraid. 

Thursday of the Third Week of Advent

 Lectionary: 195

But now you will be speechless and unable to talk
until the day these things take place,
because you did not believe my words,
which will be fulfilled at their proper time."

 W e could interpret Gabriel's reply to  Zechariah as a rebuke, and he probably heard it as that. But it's not like the old Jewish priest was unfamiliar with rebukes, or afraid of them. He had lived with the Lord a long time, and he knew the history of his people. He would not hesitate to echo Isaiah's astonished gasp upon seeing a vision of God, 

“Woe is me, I am doomed! For I am a man of unclean lips, living among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!” 

He knew the good man sins seven times a day, but he knew, 

The LORD’s acts of mercy are not exhausted,

his compassion is not spent;

They are renewed each morning—

great is your faithfulness! (Lamentation 3:23)

So an archangel's rebuke was not especially terrifying.  If he was mute 'until he day these things take place," it was a small price to pay for the good news he would share with his wife Elizabeth. 

As we celebrate Advent and prepare like Zechariah and Elizabeth for something wonderful to happen, we can confess our sins and receive the gentle rebuke of an appropriate penance. That setback will be no worse than the agony of childbirth which is rewarded with the joy of the Messiah's birth. 

Wednesday of the Third Week of Advent

Lectionary: 194

Behold, the days are coming, says the LORD,
when I will raise up a righteous shoot to David....

 T he prophecy in today's first reading from Jeremiah finds it fulfillment in the first line of today's reading from the Gospel of Matthew. The long-awaited day begins as Mary is found with child through the Holy Spirit. Although Mary is expecting because the long expected day has come, it comes as quite a shock to Joseph. 

But his devout love of God and his practice of Justice has prepared him for this; and the same Spirit finds him willing to listen to his dreams. His intuition about her is right; although pregnant she cannot be guilty of infidelity to him or to their God. 

If we learn anything from our faith, it must be to expect the unexpected. When a situation seems hopeless to every reasonable person, we still have hope. We must often wait in the darkness of not knowing -- the mystics call it "A Cloud of Unknowing." We believe the Lord is with us in, and is guiding us through, the darkness. There is nothing wrong with being uncertain so long as our faith in God is certain. 

Joseph heard the word of God and kept it. That is, "he did as the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took his wife into his home." Saint Theresa of Calcutta reminded the world that we are not called to be successful, but to be faithful. 

The military has an interesting expression for that, "need to know." I suppose there are many instances when a soldier or sailor must act on a command without his knowing its precise purpose. Perhaps it has no precise explanation; perhaps the commanding officer is operating on his own experience and intuition and knows this is precisely the right moment for this right action. And there is no time for a carefully thought-out explanation, much less discussion, doubts, or disagreement. This is the moment and the command is Now. 

Joseph could explain neither his dilemma nor his dream to a skeptic, but he knew he was acting rightly. He sets the example for every Christian who must hear the Word of God and act on it. 

Tuesday of the Third Week of Advent

Lectionary: 193

Thus the total number of generations
from Abraham to David
is fourteen generations;
from David to the Babylonian exile, fourteen generations;
from the Babylonian exile to the Christ,
fourteen generations.

 W  e live in and through our history; to lose one's history is to lose one's mind. Every word we use has a history; every thought has its precedents. Unlike God, we create nothing out of nothing; and nothing we create is entirely original. If we are always moving into unfamiliar territory, it may be because we've forgotten where we came from and don't know where we are. 

As the disciples of Jesus announced the Good News they were continually reminded that everything he said and did had its precedents in Jewish history, literature, customs, sayings, songs, and rituals. The Lord's only truly original action was to rise from the dead. The words of scripture had suggested such an event although the Hebrew prophets could not imagine it; and they opened the future to that possibility. 

And so we begin the novena of Advent -- its last nine days -- with a quick summary of Jesus's personal lineage. The Living Word did not float down from the sky; it was not found under a rock. The Word made Flesh was born of Mary, in the house of David. He could not be born of any other family or nation because the God of Abraham, Moses, and David had given His Word that the Messiah King would be born of David's line. He would be called a Son of David. 

He could not be born at any other time; it must be born in the fullness of time of an elected people because the personal salvation of every individual entails the healing, cleansing, and re-defining of human history. Despite Stephen Dedalus' sad remark -- "History is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake." -- history must be consecrated in the same manner as the torn, mangled body of Jesus was transformed, consecrated, and divinized by his Resurrection. 

If that is beyond our imagination that only confirms the wonder of God, the limit of our understanding, and the promise of our hope. 

History begins with the hard facts of reality, and often with sordid memories. There are embarrassing rogues in every family tree. If the present is where God works, the past is a memory of his mercy, justice, and penetrating presence. He has neither forgotten nor abandoned us; he has brought us through enormous, impossible difficulties. Unlike the deist's divine watchmaker, our God has attended every ticktock and hiccup. If the past shows little promise, only God's presence in the present can surprise us with hope for the future. 

But there are promises in Jesus' genealogy. his word to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; plus his promise to David, Bathsheba, and Solomon. They must be fulfilled. The beautiful story of Ruth may seem to end with four chapters but it is not complete until Jesus is born in the fullness of time. 

Saint Matthew's genealogy of Jesus demonstrates the wisdom of God with his list of 42 generations. That is, three periods of fourteen generations from Abraham to David, David to the Babylonian Exile, and the Exile to Joseph. Six times seven weeks of years because each week is consecrated by its first day, the Sabbath. Nothing happens by happenstance in God's world; there is no god called Luck.  

The more we understand of history the more we appreciate the time the Lord gives us to turn away from sin and live by the gospel. If time is running out, it's not over yet. Let everything within you watch and wait, for the Lord our God draws near. 

 

Monday of the Third Week of Advent

Lectionary: 187

Jesus said to them in reply,
“I shall ask you one question, and if you answer it for me,
then I shall tell you by what authority I do these things. 
Where was John’s baptism from?
Was it of heavenly or of human origin?” 

 T he chief priests and the elders of the people confront Jesus with the most difficult of all dilemmas in today's gospel. They cannot tell the truth. Pathological lying confronts simple honesty. Jesus is quite willing to testify to the truth when they ask by what authority he does these things, but they are incapable of recognizing, honoring, hearing, or speaking it. 

We're all presented with difficult situations like that, as when we're asked yes/no questions about a thorny issues which offer no simple answers. I learned a simple question like that in high school, "Do you still beat your wife?" If a married man says yes, he's an awful person; if he says no, he admits he has beaten her occasionally. But if he has never beat her, or even wanted to, he has no option except to challenge the premise of the question. 

In today's gospel, the Lord's opponents do not even discuss among themselves the option of replying with the truth. Perhaps some of them consider John the Baptist a prophet; and others do not. Perhaps, as a group, they've not arrived at a consensus and are not prepared to answer the Lord's question, but they do not discuss which of those three positions they might take. 

They have never seriously wondered if the martyred Baptist was from God. Their only consideration is political and political parties have never been concerned about the truth. This was the American dilemma last month as we considered voting for abortion or racism, transgenderism or guns, libertarian economics or mass migrations. There was no right answer and Pope Francis could only suggest, "Vote for the lesser evil." 

In this part of Saint Matthew's gospel, as we approach the trial, passion, and death of Jesus, the Evangelist describes a series of challenges from the Lord's opponents, including the payment of taxes and questions about marriage. The Lord answers each fraught question with astonishing dexterity until finally, "No one was able to answer him a word, nor from that day on did anyone dare to ask him any more questions."

But that didn't mean they quit opposing him. It simply meant they would try to suppress the truth by other means. 

As we approach the crisis of Christmas and challenging questions about our worship of an infant, we should prepare to answer every reasonable question from every honest person whose faith is weak. But we should also expect irrational opposition and prepare to respond as the Lord directs us, with silence or with testimony.

Third Sunday of Advent

Lectionary: 9

On that day, it shall be said to Jerusalem:
Fear not, O Zion, be not discouraged!
The LORD, your God, is in your midst, a mighty savior;
he will rejoice over you with gladness,
and renew you in his love, he will sing joyfully because of you, as one sings at festivals. 

 W e don't seem to think of God rejoicing over us with gladness, nor of his singing joyfully because of us. We have heard him say of Jesus, "This is my beloved son, with whom I am well pleased!" Perhaps we supposed that he was only satisfied.

But I think pleased is more than satisfied. Pleased seems to entail a degree of surprise as if Jesus had surpassed the standards which had to be merely satisfied. We can say the dinner satisfied us, so that we could survive until breakfast; but to say we were pleased with it suggests we'll remember it in the morning, and for some time afterward. 

Pleased implies pleasure, happiness, and joy; and it's how we hope our God feels -- if we can say that the supreme Lord who created the Universe and all its possible multiverses -- has a sensation similar to our experience of pleasure. But we have read in the Book of Genesis, "God looked at everything he had made, and found it very good." 

If an artist or craftsman creates something and finds it very good, I think we can say they're pleased and happy with it. I've created a few thing -- pictures, poems, and so forth -- and taken pleasure in them months or years later. 

And if this artisan is God, he might even be ecstatic with it. Ecstasy means coming out of oneself. (Ex means out of, and stasis has to do with standing. God was outstanding; he was standing out of himself with the experience of creating. In fact he was so far carried out of himself that he begot the Son and spirated the Holy Spirit even before he created the universe. 

If we look at the sky through a telescope -- or better, a Hubble or James Webb telescope -- we're likely to say, "The Lord got carried away with his creativity. He just about went beyond himself!" if that makes sense when we speak of God. But in fact, the saints and martyrs insist, that does make sense. One of the surest things we can say about God is that all human expectations of limit and containment are blown away by the superabundant generosity, energy, authority, and joy of our God. Everything about God is infinite; an infinity of infinities!  

And when the Lord would share that endless happiness, that brilliance with us, we're so astonished that we think it's darkness. As in a light shining in darkness which the dark cannot comprehend. As in a solitary star shining over Bethlehem which signals the Birth of the Son of God. As in a poor baby in a manger, or a man crucified. It's so brilliant we can see it only with our eyes shut and ears silent and our mind very still, with no more feeling than astonishment or ecstasy. 

Only afterward can we say, through inexplicable tears and sobs, how joyful it is. How wonderful is God's pleasure in the goodness and purity of this son of Mary, son of David, son of God.

Christians find in this joy the true meaning of Christmas, but it's something I learned from watching my parents at Christmas time. I was a teenager at the time and not given to ecstatic joy. Without gifts to give, without interest in getting stuff I didn't need or want, I watched my mother and father get excited over the excitement of my young sisters and brothers. Like their smallest children, they believed in Santa Claus, that he lived at the North Pole, had an enormous toy-making company of elves, and flew about the world on Christmas Eve in a flying, reindeer-driven sleigh! 

On another occasion I watched Dad watching us on the merry-go-round. I said, “Dad, you're not having any fun at all.” 
He said. “Son, I'm having more fun than all of you put together.” 

Christmas is about giving joy and it begins when we give God the pleasure of Jesus’s infinite and perfect love of God. We cannot comprehend such purity; we cannot understand his giving himself as a sacrificial lamb to God. Their joy and ecstatic pleasure are beyond all understanding and yet we give that perfect joy to God as we come to the altar to receive his body and his blood. This is the Sacrifice of the Mass, which he makes for us, and we make with him. 

On this Gaudete Sunday, we celebrate the anticipated Joy of giving until it doesn’t hurt anymore. Saint John (16:21) described our joy like this: 

When a woman is in labor, she is in anguish because her hour has arrived; but when she has given birth to a child, she no longer remembers the pain because of her joy that a child has been born into the world.

On Christmas, we cannot think of ourselves, neither our sorrow nor our sacrifices. We think nothing of our gifts. We can think only of the mercy which allows us to suffer the anguish of labor until Christ is born.