Urban Hermit at 3156 Doyle Street, Toledo, OH 43608-2006 US - Holy Family, Solemnity of Mary, Epiphany, Baptism of the Lord
| Holy Family, Solemnity of Mary, Epiphany, Baptism of the Lord |
The Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph (A)—Call to Radical Pacificism Sirach 3:2-6, 12-14—Kindness to a father will not be forgotten. Colossians 3:12-21—Put on compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving one another. Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23—Flee to Egypt, go to Israel, Joseph is told. Then, afraid of Judea, he settled in Galilee, in the town of Nazareth. Our Gospel pericope today gives us a picture of a refugee family. First from Judea to Bethlehem, then from Bethlehem to Egypt, Mary and Joseph travel to escape the threatened destruction. Then, when the immediate danger had passed, out of Egypt but not back home: instead the family settles in a small village in a different region, out of fear of further danger. Jesus of Nazareth, the child of refugees. We know that he lived the rest of his life in a country dominated by a foreign power. We know that he spoke out, again and again, against the oppression suffered by the poor. We know that he died for holding on to his beliefs in the face of the society, the government, and the religious leaders. As we look these days toward the Middle East, we ought to remind ourselves of this refugee family. We hold them up now as models for our own lives. Our scripture urges us to “put on compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving one another.” How can we ignore the instruction to extend the hand of friendship and hearts full of love to our brothers and sisters in Iraq and Iran and Afghanistan and Pakistan and Saudi Arabia and Israel—in all the troubled spots made even more troubled by our refusal to walk the way of peace with Jesus? If we take to heart the message of peace and good will that we heard on Christmas Day, we must embrace the whole world. Our faith must lead us to an all-encompassing pacifism, the radical pacifism that Jesus practiced. The Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph (B)—The Promise Genesis 15:1-6, 21:1-3—The Lord took note of Sarah as he had said he would; he did for her as he had promised. Hebrews 11:8, 11-12, 17-19—By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance; he went out, not knowing where he was to go. Sarah conceived though she was sterile. The one who had made the promise was trustworthy. Luke 2:22-40—The favor of God was upon him. Abraham worries about having offspring from his own loins. His concern centers on lack of a biological heir, someone to whom he might leave the fruits of his life and labor when he dies. Sarah worries about barrenness. She sees herself as worth less—indeed, worthless—because she cannot bear the child that will alleviate her husband's concerns for immortality. The culture of their time dictated that worth—and God's favor—depended upon biological productivity. Starting with Genesis' edict to be fruitful and multiply, the conviction of the absolute value of heirs has determined the worldview of both societies and individuals. Still, many individuals do not procreate. Some are biologically incapable. Others choose not to do so. In Japan, where decades of killing female babies have brought a shortage of women to marry, many young men are blocked from procreation by the impossible competition. Some are homosexual and choose same-sex partners. Some promise or vow a life of celibacy for the kingdom of God, precluding biological heirs. How does this feast of the Holy Family and its readings centering on biological offspring have meaning for those who do not have, for whatever reason, biological offspring? The cultural pressures for biological heirs have, perhaps, made us blind to the deeper meanings here. It is easy to homilize on family and children when today's feast makes its annual appearance. At my home parish the married deacon always gets the homily rotation, and he always talks about how his family, marriage, and children are the fulfillment of God's promise. That's good for him—but for those of us who are childless or who have adopted children, his message sounds like a condemnation. For us, thanks be to God, the scriptures do have a significance, albeit one rarely noted in our churches. At the root of it, both Abraham and Sarah are beset by human worries and concerns, and God meets them, and greets them, and makes all well with them. Whether the problem is procreation or service to the people of God, whether the concern is biological offspring or passing on the faith to new generations, the one who makes the promise is trustworthy. Thus I must ask myself what I am worried about. What is the concern in my life that God promises to take care of? For many who take a path to fulfillment through something other than offspring, the life concern is for meaningful service. Examples abound, beginning with the greatest example of all, Jesus—biologically childless but giving birth to all that we are. Among contemporaries, U.S. Representative Marcy Kaptur comes to mind as one whom God has called to produce abundantly for the kingdom of God in the arena of her public office. Sr. Angelita Abair comes to mind as one whose constant work in parishes and schools bears fruit in meaningful faith-based lives for the thousands of people touched by her teaching and administration. Phil Adams, master musician and teacher extraordinaire, pours out his soul in music both for students and for parish worship, giving birth to song in the hearts of the people of God. The favor of God indeed rests upon these people, and others like them Like Abraham, called to an unknown place, they obey. They respond to the call of spending their lives in service to others just as much as parents respond to the call of spending their lives raising children. As Catholics, we are a both/and people, not an either/or one, so we must insist on the value inherent in every form of self-giving in answer to God's call. As we go about this week, let's not only give thanks to the parents who gave us biological life, let's also pray in gratitude for those spiritual progenitors—ancestors and contemporaries—whose faith in immortality is so great that they eschew mortal offspring, those who give birth to goodness in the world, those whose service creates the kingdom of God here on earth. The Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph (C)—Children of God 1 Samuel 1:20-22, 24-28—This child shall be dedicated to the Lord! Psalm 84:2-3, 5-6, 9-10—Blessed are those who dwell in the house of the Lord. 1 John 3:1-2, 21-24—We are God’s children now. Luke 2:41-52—Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house? Today’s readings give us different models of family. In the first reading, Hannah dedicates Samuel to God. Those sad last words, “Hannah left Samuel there,” reveal the strength of her conviction about her son’s vocation. A just-weaned three-year-old, Samuel is left in the temple to learn the ways of service to God. His formation is guaranteed. Then, in today’s Gospel passage we see Jesus in the temple, questioning the teachers. His parents are anxious about him, but he tells them he must follow his vocation. They did not understand. Both of these scenarios are true to life. On the one hand, some people are completely and firmly planted in their life’s work from the cradle, and it is only with great difficulty that they make their own decision as adults. The tradition of the oldest son taking over the family business is one example of this. Another example is the subtle and persistent guiding of female children toward motherhood. Think back to your high school classmates and how many of them were given plans for their lives by their parents. For example, in my high school years I was acquainted with a young man whose father expected him to take over the raising of crops on the family farm, as had his grandfather and great-grandfather before. In the same way, my best friend’s mother spent a good deal of time and energy teaching her daughter to cook and keep house, advising her constantly on the best ways to “catch a man” and keep him happy. Both of those classmates followed their parents’ wishes and are leading happy, fulfilling lives. On the other hand, some people catch their own vision of their lives early, and they hold on to their dreams regardless of parental pressure to do something else. My nephew started working in a grocery store as a bag boy when he was in high school, and he loved the work. He learned everything he could about the grocery business, earning promotions to more and more responsibility even before graduation. His parents expected him to go to college, but he did not want to go. He wanted to work in the grocery business. To satisfy his parents, he attended briefly, but he soon dropped out to follow his dream. His parents did not understand. Over the years he has learned in depth every aspect of the profession, from the bottom up. He is a valuable employee—and he is a happy man, working in and managing the business he loved at first sight in his early teens. What we do with our lives is in some measure determined by the early dreams we have. It is also in some measure determined by our families’ expectations. The overall message of today’s readings is that we are children of God, destined to find blessing when we dwell in the house of the Lord. We are destined to be about God’s business, whether that business locates us on the family farm or in an unexpected dream of our own choosing. As John writes, “We are God’s children now; what we shall be has not yet been revealed. We do know that when it is revealed we shall be like him.” In the final analysis, our vocation—our holy calling—is to be children of God. No matter what lifestyle, no matter what business or profession we engage in to support ourselves and our families, no matter whether we are rich or poor, no matter if we go to college or not…. no matter what, we are called to be children of God. God will reveal to us how we are to go about that business. Our task is to “believe in the name of his Son, Jesus Christ, and love one another just as he commanded us.” Solemnity of the Blessed Virgin Mary (A, B, C): Peace! Numbers 6:22-27—The Lord look upon you kindly and give you peace! Psalm 67:2-3—So may your way be known on earth, among all nations your salvation. Galatians 4:4-7—No longer a slave but an heir. Luke 2:16-21—He was named Jesus, the name given him by the angel before he was conceived in the womb. For some years the Solemnity of the Virgin Mary has been celebrated in my home parish as a day to focus on peace. We stand on the cusp of the civil new year, once again surrounded on all sides by sounds of war, once again asked to make known the message that has been told to us, called to pronounce peace to this world, called to proclaim the good news of divinity made flesh in the lowly child in the manger. Before Vatican II we celebrated this holyday as the feast of the circumcision of Jesus, and the today's gospel still relates that event. In the context of the call to peace, it is telling that the child is submitted to the law and named according to the word of the angel who foretold his coming. So we are reminded to submit to God's law—we are not slaves but heirs of the kingdom, as St. Paul tells us in the second reading from Galatians. Some would assert that we are thus called to submit to the institutional laws of our church and government, but God's law is bigger than those laws. We are called to the rule of peace, a law above and beyond yet totally fulfilling the best intentions of all temporal laws. Wherever the law of peace contradicts the laws of church or government, our way is clear. So how shall we proclaim this peace to the world in the Year of Our Lord 2006? It's a time for New Year's resolutions, so our highest resolve should center on the ways in which we personally and as a Christian community might speak the Word of the Prince of Peace to our families and neighborhoods and world. Perhaps it's time to seek reconciliation with the estranged members of our families. Perhaps it's time to accept the divorced and remarried, the straying doubters, the wayward children, the homeless refugee back into our homes and hearts and parishes. Let's pray the blessing of today's first reading over them: "The Lord bless you and keep you! The Lord let his face shine upon you and be gracious to you! The Lord look upon you kindly and give you peace!" Having prayed thus over those whom we have ostracized, we then can do nothing other than welcome them and love them. That will indeed bring peace to our world.
Isaiah 60:1-6—Raise your eyes and look about; they all gather and come to you.
Psalm 72: Lord, every nation on earth will adore you.
Ephesians 3:2-3a, 5-6—The Gentiles are coheirs, members of the same body, and copartners in the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel.
Matthew 2:1-12—“Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star at its rising and have come to do him homage.”
King Herod, the Jewish religious leaders, the early Christian Church, our own religious leaders—all have something in common. The message of God through Christ is the message of inclusiveness, yet the people in charge are reluctant to hear it. Some of them are even blind and deaf to the message.
For Herod, it was fear of a challenge to his earthly kingdom. For the leaders of Jesus’ Jewish religion, it was fear of losing power to a rural preacher. For the early Christian Church, it was fear of losing ascendancy to the aliens who were attracted to Christianity. And for today’s leaders, it is fear of falling from favor with the prevailing political structure.
And so we hear our Bishops vacillating on the question of the morality of United States war against Iraq. We hear our Bishops vacillating on the question of inclusive language in the liturgy. We hear our Bishops vacillating on the question of women’s participation in the Church. They sound exactly like their scheming, hedging predecessors in power, Herod perhaps first among them.
From time to time we’ve seen profiles in courage, however. The early Church, urged by Paul, finally edged in the direction of including the Gentile converts without having them become Jewish first. Would that our Church might take steps away from the “just war” ideology and in the direction of a peace theology! Would that our Church might take steps away from power and control and in the direction of generous inclusiveness!
I spent some time a few years ago in our parish soup kitchen kibitzing and drinking coffee with the homeless and hungry, where I heard a story of power wielded for the sake of power. Certain workers had tightly controlled the list of those allowed to receive Christmas food baskets, telling callers that they were not taking any more names. They spent considerable time checking the names on the list, making sure that no one was “double-dipping,” that is, signing up for more than one basket or signing up at two different churches. They turned away anyone whose name was not on their list. They ended up channeling the donated Christmas feasts to about 100 families. Unfortunately, food for 80 more families was left at the church. The workers then stockpiled that food to give to certain people after Christmas. How sad: my own parish was in dire need of a sense of generosity and inclusivity!
As we go about this week, let’s take a look at our own fears of the loss of power, whatever form it may take in our lives, and let’s resolve to transform ourselves into generous people, reflecting the generosity of our God who freely gives grace to all.
Over and over God manifests Godself to us, in every way imaginable and many ways hitherto unimaginable. Trained from our mother's knee to see God in church, we are surprised when God shows up in the snowfall or the arm of a friend comforting us in loss. Having had the privilege this past week of pre-viewing the dissertation of one of my colleagues, Rev. Sherry Parker, I am even more conscious of the places and people God chooses to show up in. So, thanks to Sherry, here's some of my list for the week:
God showed up at a restaurant Saturday night in the person of two great friends sharing conversation and a meal.
God showed up in the smile of a neighbor who promised to keep a watch on my house when I'm not home.
God showed up in the snowfall Christmas Eve, blanketing the city in pure white and stillness.
God showed up in the spur-of-the-moment invitation to brunch with a friend after Mass on Christmas morning, a quiet respite from duty and responsibility, with time to share memories, hopes, and dreams.
God showed up at Mass Saturday evening to take care of my continual worry about having enough wine at Communion time. The guest presider, with plenty of new and strange customs to keep track of, consecrated the entire flagon of wine. His "mistake" was noted by all eighteen members of the assembly, who for once did not have to worry about leaving a sip for the next person. All had a liberal share of the cup, with only a couple of teaspoons full left to be consumed after Mass.
God showed up in the man who motioned me ahead of him out of the coffee shop parking lot.
God showed up when I noticed a nail strategically placed in the stairwell by the previous owner of my new home, just where my father would have put it for me had he not died on New Year's Eve over twenty years ago.
God showed up in the fat squirrel watching me trek from house to garage, curious and unafraid in its early winter plushness.
God showed up in the daughter whose comments on her recent bereavement reminded me of my own loss of my mother and how her presence comes back to me, again and again, when I need it most.
And, as always, God showed up in the scriptures describing the original epiphany, which we celebrate this weekend. As we go about this week, let's pray that our eyes may be open to seeing all the signs that point to God in our world.
The people of Israel expected a king.
Isaiah prophesied the coming of splendor for Jerusalem: “the riches of the sea shall be emptied out before you, the wealth of nations shall be brought to you.” The psalmist prays that the king God sends might govern with justice and judgment, foreseeing gifts, tribute and homage brought by the other kings of the world. In short, the people expected a king above all kings.
And so the Magi—kings, astrologers, seekers—come to Jerusalem looking for the king who has been born, according to the stars.
Paul, in his letter to the Ephesians, cites the revelation of the Spirit that all are coheirs, members of the same body, partners in the promise.
The people of Israel expected a king. And Jesus came. He came as an outsider, an alien in Bethlehem, an ordinary baby boy born to ordinary Hebrew parents. Hardly an auspicious beginning for a great king!
The people of Israel expected a king, one who would rescue the poor when they cry out and the afflicted when they have no one to help them. They expected a king who would have pity for the lowly and the poor.
Their expectations were met: the king came. But, as we know, they did not recognize him. A baby born in a stable, a prophet calling for repentance, a voice for justice in an unjust world.
The people of Israel expected a king. We expect 2005 to be a better year for us. We expect to find ourselves healthier, wealthier, and wiser by the time December 31 rolls around again.
The slimmer, trimmer, richer, calmer, holier person we expect to be a year from now is an image in our minds at this point. Like the image of the king that the people of Israel expected, our image of our future selves may come to life in the next year—or it may take a shape that we would never have imagined.
We expect to lose weight, but the “weight” we lose may be some baggage we’ve carried with us from childhood that keeps us from traveling freely on our journey with the Lord. We expect to have healthier bodies because we follow through with an exercise program and eat the right foods, but the “healing” that comes to us may happen because we’ve chosen to spend Saturdays working on a Habitat for Humanity house instead of sleeping late, watching football on television, and puttering around. We expect to be wealthier, but the “riches” we gain may be in family, friendships, and memories. We expect to be holier, but the spiritual “strength” we gain may come from learning to live the option for the poor instead of spending extra time on our knees.
Whatever the year brings us, we can be confident that God-is-with-us. We need only to be open to the mystery set before us, freely and generously offer our gifts, and give praise and thanks to God.
Baptism of the Lord (A)—The Spirit of God Descends
Isaiah 42:1-4, 6-7—I have called you for the victory of justice. I formed you as a covenant of the people, a light for the nations, to open the eyes of the blind, to bring out prisoners from confinement, and from the dungeon, those who live in darkness.
Psalm 29: The Lord will bless his people with peace.
Acts 10:34-38—God shows no partiality. In every nation whoever fears God and acts uprightly is acceptable.
Matthew 3:13-17—The spirit of God descended like a dove and came upon him, and a voice came from the heavens saying, "This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased."
Week after week our lectionary readings speak to the issues of our day. Written centuries ago, the Word is still fresh, still alive, still focused on the needs of living people on journey with God. Today's message is clear: as we struggle in the midst of global terror, much of it these days caused by the U.S. military urged on by a national frenzy of hatred, vitriol, and violence against middle Easterners, we are told again that God considers the people we are killing as children equal to us.
For some that is a hard lesson, and perhaps that is why the readings keep pounding away at it during these weeks of the Christmas season. God shows no partiality, we are told in today's second reading. Whoever fears God and acts uprightly is acceptable. Can we in the United States say that we act uprightly?
Isaiah speaks to us as well, telling us that God has called us for the "victory of justice." Formed as a light for the nations, our military aggression plunges whole nations into darkness. We are called to open the eyes of the blind, yet our own eyes are closed to the pain and suffering we cause. We are called to bring prisoners from confinement, yet we close off escape for whole populations of refugees fleeing our bombs. We have broken covenant.
In contrast to our position, we see in today's Gospel the Baptism of Jesus, his inauguration into service of the people of God. He responds to the call for justice. He becomes light to the nations. He brings insight to those blinded by their own righteousness. He frees those who have bound themselves to hatred. He shows no partiality, welcoming all who fear God and act uprightly.
We must ask ourselves whether we have done anything to merit God's being well pleased with our direction, not only as individuals but also as a nation.
Baptism of the Lord (B)—Choices
Isaiah 42:1-4, 6-7—Here is my servant whom I uphold, my chosen one. I have called you for the victory of justice, I have grasped you by the hand; I formed you, and set you as a covenant of the people, a light for the nations, to open the eyes of the blind, to bring out prisoners from confinement, and from the dungeon, those who live in darkness.
Psalm 29: The Lord will bless his people with peace.
Acts 10:34-38—God shows no partiality. In every nation whoever fears God and acts uprightly is acceptable to God. God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and with power. He went about doing good and healing all those oppressed by the devil, for God was with him.
Mark 1:7-11—You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.
We who are cradle Catholics do not remember our own Baptisms except through the stories told at the family table and the photos that remain in our family album. We grew up taking our Baptism for granted, not giving it much thought. When we stumble up against this annual celebration of the Baptism of the Lord, we have a tendency to intellectualize it. We did not enter the waters of Baptism as the result of a choice we made; we endured a dousing at the hands of a stranger because of a choice made by our parents. Then, as we grew up, we were taught the faith as if it was a school lesson; our Catholicism was part of the air we breathed, like a cultural security blanket.
At some point, however, each of us arrived at what the existentialists of the 1960s coffeehouses used to a "choice point." As adult Catholic Christians, we came to the point where we had to make a choice for or against our Catholic Christianity. Whether it came for us in a single moment in time or a string of small choices, we chose to embrace the faith into which we had been baptized, or we chose to retain the culture of Catholicism and jettison the faith, or we chose a path with neither the cultural wrappings nor the faith. And for some of us it was not that simple; we caromed around among those options, choosing again and again some partial glimmer of what seemed truth to us at the time.
Eventually, though, we settle on a single choice. We come to the point where we are baptized, like Jesus, with the Holy Spirit and power. It is not the choice to adhere to the routines of our childhood faith. It is not the end of struggles or temptations. It is the choice to accept, completely and fully, the meaning of our Baptism. It is the choice to live, once and for all, the life of faith.
We recognize it. We are new. We have new life. We may have gone on for years "practicing" our faith, jumping through the hoops of ritual, but now we see. All the metaphors of commitment that our tradition offers suddenly make sense to us! God has met us on the way, and we have returned the greeting.
After that choice, it seems that our original Baptism with water retroactively takes on the meaning it was intended to have. It's as if the water was poured on us when we were infants, "in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit," and we have finally shouted, "Amen!"
As we go about this week, let's reflect on the marvelous ways that the Spirit of God has come upon us through our Baptism. We're heading into Ordinary Time tomorrow, the first segment of that long stretch of green time that makes up our Church's liturgical year. It's fitting that we walk this journey in full consciousness of the choice we have made to embrace our Baptism, to go about doing good, to be the one to hear God's voice telling us, "With you I am well pleased."
Baptism of the Lord (C)—Freedom
Isaiah 40:1-5, 9-11—Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and proclaim that her service is at an end.
Psalm 29: The Lord will bless his people with peace.
Titus 2:11-14, 3:4-7—When the kindness and generous love of God our savior appeared, he saved us through the bath of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit, whom he richly poured out on us through Jesus Christ our savior, so that we might be justified by his grace and become heirs in hope of eternal life.
Luke 3:15-16, 21-22—He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire.
The Word today announces our freedom. We are heirs in hope of eternal life, as St. Paul tells us in the letter to Titus. Reborn and renewed by the Spirit, we are justified by the grace of God and catapulted into freedom. Isaiah's prophecy has come true: Our service is ended. All the sins and failures of the past fall away, and we stand fresh and new in God's sight.
That is the baptism we have received. Even more astonishing is the fact that its grace pours out on us again and again, each time we fail and repent and start again!
As I was growing up, I thought the sacraments were one-time actions, complete and finished ceremonies that operated like a coat of paint on a house. Only over the experience of my life have I come to understand that they are—all of them—initiations into the way of Christ. Baptism is perhaps the easiest example, since I was baptized as an infant. Indeed I was marked with the sign of the cross and welcomed into the Catholic Christian community, but that initial baptism with water had to be (and still has to be) repeated with "the Holy Spirit and with fire" each time I encountered another obstacle or reached out for another challenge. Over and over I have had to decide to "be baptized" into Christ, and each new "baptism" marked a deeper immersion in the life of Christ. Ironically, each re-commitment has brought greater and greater freedom to me in the divine relationship.
In the same way we find the grace of rebirth and renewal in each of the seven sacraments and in the other manifold signs of God's presence. Because of God's grace, we are therefore free to walk the way of Christ, heirs in hope of eternal life. As we go about this week, let's focus on the freedoms we have been given because of our baptism in the Lord.
