3rd Sunday in Ordinary Time, January 23, 2022

What is Jesus’ mission statement? What is yours?

Luke 1:4; 4:14–21

Since many have undertaken to compile a narrative of the events that have been fulfilled among us, just as those who were eyewitnesses from the beginning and ministers of the word have handed them down to us, I too have decided, after investigating everything accurately anew, to write it down in an orderly sequence for you, most excellent Theophilus, so that you may realize the certainty of the teachings you have received.

Jesus returned to Galilee in the power of the Spirit, and news of him spread throughout the whole region. He taught in their synagogues and was praised by all. He came to Nazareth, where he had grown up, and went according to his custom into the synagogue on the sabbath day. He stood up to read and was handed a scroll of the prophet Isaiah. He unrolled the scroll and found the passage where it was written:

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord.”

Rolling up the scroll, he handed it back to the attendant and sat down, and the eyes of all in the synagogue looked intently at him.

He said to them, “Today this scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.”

Music Meditations

• “Blest Are They” --Marty Haugen
• “The Lord Hears the Cry of the Poor” --John Michael Talbot
• “Canticle of the Turning” --Rory Cooney
• “Shepherd Me O God” --Marty Haugen
• “THE DEER’S CRY” -- Lisa Kelly ( St Patrick)

Companions for the Journey

This is a short writing from one of the Christian or non-Christian witnesses of our tradition--a person who embodies the theme of the gospel we are studying today:

I want to talk with you today about politics. When I say politics I’m including not only elected officials and the governmental process, I’m also including you and me, the opinions we hold, the decisions we make, and the ways we relate to one another. Let me give you some context and examples of what I am thinking about.

I’m thinking about racism, prejudice, and the Black Lives Matter movement. I’m thinking about Syrian refugees, immigration, and radical Islam. I’m thinking about economic systems that create and promote income inequality. I’m thinking about strength and peace that are sought through superior fire power. I’m thinking about the tragedy of gun violence in America. I’m thinking about those who go to bed hungry and wake up wondering if and what they will eat that day. I’m thinking about violence and discrimination against women. I’m thinking about our presidential election. I’m thinking about the conflicts in our own church. I’m thinking about the struggles and challenges of living together in this parish, in our marriages and families, in our friendships and relationships.

While politics may not be an appropriate topic for polite conversation, I don’t think it can be avoided in a faithful conversation. Here’s why. Regardless of what politics might mean today and regardless of how it’s practiced today, it’s most basic concern is about the ordering of relationships. It’s about the way we live together and how we get along. It’s about people. Those concerns are central to the practice of Christianity. We believe that God has something to say about how we live and the way we relate to one another. We open ourselves to God’s ordering of our lives and relationships. In that regard the incarnation, the embodiment of God in humanity, is a deeply profound political statement. The life of Christ is a political statement, one that reorders our relationships with God and each other. It teaches and shows a way of being.

So let me be clear about where I’m headed. I don’t want to talk about your politics or my politics. I’m not interested in Democratic, Republican, or American politics. I want us to hear and focus on Jesus’ politics. I want us to be open to letting the politics of Jesus challenge, critique, and even change our personal politics. Jesus’ politics has implications for our lives and all those examples I gave at the beginning of this reflect ion. The politics of Jesus is different from the kind of politics most of us see, experience, and probably even practice. His politics is driven, led, anointed, and filled by the Spirit, the life of God.

In today’s gospel (Luke 14:14-21) Jesus comes to Nazareth, the town where he grew up, to the synagogue where he worshipped, and to people who know him. He reads from the Prophet Isaiah, and those words describe the politics of Jesus. Good news to the poor, release to the captive, sight to the blind, letting the oppressed go free, and declaring God’s favor are the building blocks of Jesus’ politics, his political platform. They are not campaign promises but a present reality, a reality made present in Jesus. “Today,” Jesus says, “this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” Those words from Isaiah and Jesus’ comment on them are the first recorded words of Jesus’ public ministry. The words Jesus read from Isaiah are not an exact quotation of Isaiah. John ( the author of today’s gospel about Jesus’ life and message) has intentionally and purposefully chosen and arranged particular portions of Isiah’s text to create a specific message. This message is often described as his inaugural address. Jesus is outlining his politics. He is describing the character of his ministry. He is establishing his priorities and the direction of his work. He is casting his vision for the reordering of relationships – good news to the poor, release to the captive, sight to the blind, letting the oppressed go free, declaring God’s favor. From here on out everything Jesus does will be grounded in a politics of good news, release, sight, freedom, and divine favor. His politics is revealed in healing the sick, casting out demons, forgiving sins, feeding the hungry, raising the dead. His politics stands at the center of and is the content of his crucifixion and resurrection. At the heart of Jesus’ politics is an unspoken and yet ever present question: Where does it hurt? That’s the question that drives and directs Jesus’ life and ministry. As Jesus will later say, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick” (Luke 5:31). Where does it hurt?

Look at the world, read the news, reflect on your life and it’s not hard to see how much we need a new politics, a Jesus kind of politics... Jesus’ politics is large and all encompassing. No one gets left out. Jesus does not put conditions or qualifiers on his politics. The divine favor knows no boundaries and has no favorites. That’s what will upset and anger the hometown crowd in next week’s gospel (Luke 4:21-30). Jesus’ political agenda is not determined or influenced by who is good or bad, or an insider or outsider. It doesn’t seem to matter to Jesus who you are, what you have done or left undone, or what your life is like. It’s really pretty simple. Are you poor? Good news to you. Are you a captive? Release for you. Are you blind? Sight to you. Are you oppressed? Go in freedom. Divine favor is not given to the poor, the captive, the blind, or the oppressed because they are good or righteous but because God is good and righteous.

So let me ask you this. How does the politics of Jesus compare with your own? Good news to the poor, release to the captive, sight to the blind, letting the oppressed go free, declaring God’s favor. If that’s the politics of Jesus and we claim to be disciples, followers, lovers of Jesus, doesn’t it need to be our politics?

What if we adopted Jesus’ political platform as our own? What if we began our political thinking and conversations by asking, “Where does it hurt?” What if we entered those difficult and divisive situations with that question? What if we let that question establish our priorities and guide our decisions? Presence with and compassion for another human being would replace resolving issues, fixing problems, and winning votes. We would listen more than we speak. Power would look like cooperation and collaboration. We would have to have the courage and will to stand with another in his or her pain, and the vulnerability to risk letting another stand with us in our pain. We would open rather than close places, people, and ourselves to the divine favor. We would know the fulfillment of “this scripture” here, today, right now. That’s the kind of politics I want to support and be a part of. How about you?

“Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

Let’s not let “this scripture” go in one ear and out the other.

—Adapted from Rev. Michael K. Marsh

Weekly Memorization

Taken from the gospel for today’s session…

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me

Living the Good News

What action can you take in the next week as a response to today’s reading and discussion?

Keep a private journal of your prayer/actions responses this week. Feel free to use the personal reflection questions or the meditations which follow:

Reflection Questions

• What boundaries limit your thinking about how God wants the world to work? How inclusive is God, do you think? How inclusive are you? What do you think is God's dream for the world? How are we doing? What is your place in God's dream? (from a blog by a First Lutheran Church)
• Do we see our Church fulfilling Jesus' mission?
• Where have I brought good news to the poor? What is the "good news" we are supposed to bring to the poor? Is it money?
• Who are the truly captive in our world? Who are the blind? Who are the oppressed?
• The evangelist John has Christ in this passage quoting fragments from Isaiah, which the evangelist Luke had Mary do when she visited Elizabeth. (You might want to read the Magnificat--Luke 1:46-55) What do you think Jesus might have learned from his mother about his mission?
• Did what Christ read in the temple border on political commentary? What do politicians usually promise? Where do politics and religion meet, if at all?
• How hard would it be to extend compassion to someone who has hurt you?
• How many of us have the same mission as Christ? How many of us have at least a part of that mission in our lives? Have you ever been in situation where you extended compassion to another? Have you ever needed compassion from another? Was that person present to you? Did you call on God and was God present to you?
• Where is the spirit of the Lord in my life, in my actions, in my loves? (From Father Michael K Marsh, a priest of St. Philip's Episcopal Church in west Texas)
• Kurt Vonnegut said: “I tell you, we are here on Earth to fart around, and don't let anybody tell you different.” If someone were to ask you why you were put on earth, what would be your answer?
• Who are the brokenhearted in my life? What can I do for them, or with them?
• What do I need to be liberated from?
• IN 10 words, describe what you think is the mission of all Christians
• “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” Has it been fulfilled?

Meditations

A Meditation in the Dominican Style/Asking Questions:

Jesus comes home. He goes to his home worshipping community, as he must have done countless times as a young one. He’s handed the scroll. He opens the scroll to just the right place. He reads. He hands it back to the attendant. He sits down.

Everyone stares at him waiting for what is to come next.

There’s an intensity here, even beyond the words from Isaiah.

Jesus is on a mission, but the people of his hometown are also expecting something.

Who knows what they were expecting? He hadn’t done a whole lot yet—we’re still only in the fourth chapter of Luke. He’s been baptized, he’s gone into the wilderness, and he’s just begun his ministry. We’re told in the paragraph just prior to this story that “report about him spread through all the surrounding country,” but we aren’t told what that report consisted of.

My guess is that the people were expecting something, but they had no idea what that something was.

In this sense, is the congregation in Nazareth all that different from our own congregations? Don’t we all go to church expecting something? But, do any of us really take the time to articulate what that something is? Some, I suppose, expect to hear a good sermon. Not too long, not too short. Some expect to sing a nice (I.e. familiar) hymn or song. Some expect to be welcomed, and to see people we know. We expect when it’s all over that we’ll have a cup of coffee.

But, how many of us go to church really expecting the Spirit of God to actually show up? Do we expect news so good that it might shatter the despair of the poor? Do we expect release, recovery, and the ending of oppression?

And, do we really want all of that to begin with—and would we rather just receive a little comfort, a little encouragement, and nothing that will rock the boat?

In any case, the people of Nazareth weren’t ready for the anointing presence of the Holy Spirit to come in with their small-town-boy-made-good when they got up that morning for synagogue. After he makes his little declaration that the prophesy of Isaiah had come to fulfillment in their presence—think about that!—they got angry and sent him packing.

It does make you wonder about the phenomenon of expectation, and what it means in the life of faith. Do we go to church looking to fulfill our own (oftentimes paltry, self-centered) expectations?

Or, do we come ready and open to see God’s expectations manifest themselves before our very eyes?

—Copyright © 2019 Rick Morley. Follower of Jesus, father of two, husband of one, Episcopal priest, with one book down, one blog up...surrounded by empty jars of Nutella...

A Meditation in the Augustinian Style/Relationship:

Read Psalm 103:

Praise for the Lord’s Mercies.

Bless the Lord, O my soul, And all that is within me, bless His holy name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, And forget none of His benefits; Who pardons all your iniquities, Who heals all your diseases; Who redeems your life from the pit, Who crowns you with lovingkindness and compassion; Who satisfies your years with good things, So that your youth is renewed like the eagle. The Lord performs righteous deeds And judgments for all who are oppressed. He made known His ways to Moses, His acts to the sons of Israel. The Lord is compassionate and gracious, Slow to anger and abounding in lovingkindness. He will not always strive with us, Nor will He keep His anger forever. He has not dealt with us according to our sins, Nor rewarded us according to our iniquities.For as high as the heavens are above the earth, So great is His lovingkindness toward those who fear Him. As far as the east is from the west, So far has He removed our transgressions from us. Just as a father has compassion on his children, So the Lord has compassion on those who fear Him. For He Himself knows our frame; He is mindful that we are but dust. As for man, his days are like grass; As a flower of the field, so he flourishes. When the wind has passed over it, it is no more, And its place acknowledges it no longer. But the lovingkindness of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear Him,  And His righteousness to children’s children, To those who keep His covenant And remember His precepts to do them. The Lord has established His throne in the heavens, And His sovereignty rules over all. Bless the Lord, you His angels, Mighty in strength, who perform His word, Obeying the voice of His word! Bless the Lord, all you His hosts, You who serve Him, doing His will. Bless the Lord, all you works of His, In all places of His dominion;  Bless the Lord, O my soul!

Pick out the phrases that resonate most with you and write a letter to God affirming what you believe God to be like, transposing the words of the psalm into the first and second person… (for example: Just as a father has compassion on his children, so, Lord, you have compassion an all who fear you)

Then write your own personal psalm relating the times you have called upon God and the times God has been there for you, to comfort you, to strengthen you, or just to love you…

A Meditation in the Franciscan Style/Action:

This meditation was published in this week’s issue of “First Impressions” a service of the Southern Dominican Province, and was furnished to them by Salt and Light Ministries:

NEWSPAPER PRAYER

Look through a print or online newspaper to find a news article about an  issue that affects your community or the world. Cut out (or print out)  the article and bring it with you to a quiet place where you can pray.  Think about how human dignity is affected by the issue or situation.  Pray for God’s healing and transformation for all people impacted,  lawmakers, and others. Ask God how he is asking you to respond to this  issue.

Poetic Reflection:

How does this poem (from To Keep From Singing) by Ed Ingebretsen, S.J. illustrate that Jesus’ mission was also His Father’s mission?

“From Narrow Places”

From narrow places
the strength of our voice
rises:

our every breath
is prayer,
the great poem of need,
a constant scattering
of praise.

Early
we reach to God
in the claim of our hearts,
while he,
our father,
mothers us
in his

Poetic Reflection:

This prose-poem has a bleak take on how we have listened to Jesus in this gospel:

“We Are Saviors”

We have saved the world from political systems or economic systems or social systems of which we do not approve. We call it “our national honor”.

We have saved the world From oppression by people we do not like by giving our young people guns and allowing them to commit unspeakable atrocities on ordinary, everyday people in the name of liberation. We call it “collateral damage”.

We have saved the world From evil regimes in country after country, from Flanders fields to Vietnam, from Ancient Palestine to Iraq, and left each place worse than when we found it. We call it “the price of freedom”.

We have saved the world from sin and error from age to age, from the Spain of the Inquisition to the ovens of Auschwitz, and purified the world by taking people out of it. We call it “doing God’s work”.

At the end, we have saved nobody not this current generation not the children of the future not even ourselves, who have become what we have hated in others. We never learn.

2nd Sunday in Ordinary Time, January 16, 2022

Responding to the needs we don't anticipate

John 2:1–11

On the third day there was a wedding in Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there.

Jesus and his disciples were also invited to the wedding.

When the wine ran short, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” [And] Jesus said to her, “Woman, how does your concern affect me? My hour has not yet come.”

His mother said to the servers, “Do whatever he tells you.”

Now there were six stone water jars there for Jewish ceremonial washings, each holding twenty to thirty gallons. Jesus told them, “Fill the jars with water.” So they filled them to the brim.

Then he told them, “Draw some out now and take it to the headwaiter.” So they took it.

And when the headwaiter tasted the water that had become wine, without knowing where it came from (although the servers who had drawn the water knew), the headwaiter called the bridegroom and said to him, “Everyone serves good wine first, and then when people have drunk freely, an inferior one; but you have kept the good wine until now.”

Jesus did this as the beginning of his signs in Cana in Galilee and so revealed his glory, and his disciples began to believe in him.

Music Meditations

• For Zion’s Sake (first reading) –John Michael Talbot
• Come to the Feast--Dan Schutte
• All Things Bright and Beautiful--Rutter
• The Ground-- Ola Gjeilo and GWU Chamber Choir

Opening Prayer

A psalm in a time of Transition

Choir 1: Our time is in your hands, O God, the time of our liberation

Choir 2: We are filled to the brim with pain as we await your transforming word

Choir 1: Let the wine flow freely at the festival of our spirits.

Choir 2: Tell us that woman's plea on behalf of women has been heard.

Choir 1: Your time is in our hands, O God, we beg you, delay no longer.

Choir 2: Let the future overlap our braking with the past.

Choir 1: Let our time be Yours for making miracles among us

Choir 2: And may it really be, You saved the best wine until last.

from Marian Therese Winter, WomanWord, p.35

Companions for the Journey

From “First Impressions”, a service of the Southern Dominican Province:

Strange to begin the “ordinary Sundays” with today’s Gospel passage. It is out of sequence. On the Sundays through this liturgical year, we will be hearing from Luke, yet today we begin the season with John. However, this Gospel does set up the subsequent Sundays. God has come, as Isaiah promises in the first reading, to espouse a people. Jesus is the sign that this espousal is taking place. Maybe the wedding feast of Cana is the best story to begin with, since it speaks so richly of God’s desire to be one with us. A weary people have a Lover-God who lightens their loads and renews their spirits. All Jesus’ words and actions in forthcoming Sundays will show God’s reaching out as a lover to the beloved. Not just to an individual beloved either; for a wedding is a community affair. The whole community will celebrate this new bond with God. We had run out of wine, did not have the means to celebrate, so God enters the scene and gives us reason to rejoice: a new wine in a new age. The old patterns don’t have to be repeated. The days just don’t have to slip away with unkept resolutions and promises. A new wine warms our spirits, new life takes the place of the old.

The story is about more than turning water into wine. It is a “sign” and each “sign” is an epiphany (as the passage says, “revealed his glory”), a manifestation of who Jesus is, so that people would accept him and the nearness of God that he brings. For here are people wanting to celebrate, but not having the means to do that. Jesus makes possible our celebration of God’s nearness. (Isaiah voices it today, “As a young man marries a young woman, so shall your builder marry you, and as the bridegroom rejoices over the bride, so shall your God rejoice over you.”) In Jesus, God has come close, and given us the reason and the means to celebrate. God has saved the good wine till last. (One commentator suggests that scriptural reflection groups might view the movie “Babette’s Feast” as a way of feeling the significance of this Gospel tale of wine and celebration.)

Considering the enormous needs people had in Jesus’ time (in our times as well), this miracle seems rather insignificant: a small town, an anonymous couple and a wedding running out of wine. Embarrassing perhaps; but not a major tragedy. It wasn’t as if someone were dying of a fatal illness, or had a serious physical problem like blindness. Yet, John makes a big deal of this story and we suspect he intends more than we initially perceive. There are only seven miracles, “signs,” in this gospel, a small number compared to those in the Synoptics. In addition, this the first miracle John presents in his account of Jesus’ ministry; one suspects there is more here than first meets the eye.

Jesus doesn’t only meet a momentary need. Nor does he provide just enough wine to deal with an awkward family situation. He is not a minimalist. His sign is of abundant wine and wine so good that it earns the praise of the headwaiter. The headwaiter’s words are the ones we are left with as the story soon comes to a close. We leave the story with his words in our ears, “...you have kept the good wine until now.” We hear these words with the ears of faith. God is doing what God promised in Isaiah, wedding us with an abundant and unending love. God is not a fickle partner in this relationship. God will be there to give us reason to celebrate, even in the most difficult moments.

This God of ours is not stingy; does not run out on us; does not let our lives diminish in meaning and vision. In our culture, youth is deified; while aging is seen as a decline. But with God and the good wine Jesus is, our lives continue to grow. As we age our faith gives us a taste of life in new ways, we drink a wine that keeps getting better and better, filling us with a longing for that best wine we will drink at God’s banquet table. Meanwhile, the wine of our eucharist today is the promise that God will be more than enough for us and that in Jesus we will have reason to celebrate throughout our journey. The God revealed in the Cana “sign” is very present tense; quite capable of making this moment of our journey something to celebrate. Even as we suffer sickness, the death of loved ones and other significant losses, our Cana God stays with us. Indeed, in surprising ways, God enables us to say what we wouldn’t think possible, “Here at this moment of my life I celebrate God. This is good wine indeed!” Later Jesus will spell out what we already sense at Cana, “I have come that you may have life, and have it more abundantly” (10:10).

Weekly Memorization

Taken from the gospel for today’s session…

Woman, how does your concern affect me?

Living the Good News

What action can you take in the next week as a response to today’s reading and discussion?

Keep a private journal of your prayer/actions responses this week. Feel free to use the personal reflection questions or the meditations which follow:

Reflection Questions

• Have you ever asked God for something, some “miracle” which did not happen, and later realized that it would not have been a good thing for you to receive at that time? How important is timing? Why do you think Jesus says: “My time is not yet come”?
• Are there any special “blessings” or favors you have received from God?
• Has there ever been an “ordinary” event that wound up having extraordinary meaning for you?
• List some ways in which you could experience the joy of God’s presence in your life.
• Are there any gifts or talents you have that can be used to benefit those around you in some way? Are you using them?
• Do we realize that we can ask Jesus for anything, even more wine?
• Are we taught that Jesus cares about every aspect of our lives, or only the dire ones?
• Jesus’ first miracle was at a celebration. What does that tells up about what God feels about celebrations and rejoicing? How comfortable are we with the idea that Jesus loves a party?
• The Irish Jesuits, in “Living Space”, see one clear message in this gospel that the genuine Christian knows how to enjoy life. Do I feel that my relationship to Christ and to other Christians is an encouragement to do so?
  Do I see God as the Great Enforcer or as the Life of the Party?
  Do I ever “feel bad about feeling good”?
• Does it upset my image of Mary to see her enjoying herself at a party, and maybe even having a little wine?
• In this gospel, it is Mary’s awareness of the predicament of the bridegroom, and her willingness to speak up to, to go beyond her boundaries to ask Jesus to help. How hard is it to have the perception to see when someone else is struggling?
  Have I ever been alerted to another’s predicament by someone else, when I failed to notice it?
  Did I ever go beyond my own or another’s boundaries to ask someone to help someone else when they had the power to do so?
  How hard was it?
• Have you ever been asked to do something when the timing was inconvenient?
  How did you respond?
  Did it depend on who was doing the asking or on what was being asked?
• Have there ever been times when some member of your family has asked a special favor of you and you were reluctant to comply? What was your reason?
  How did you respond?
• Mary issued Jesus a sort of oblique invitation to help some friends who were needing it. Have I ever invited Jesus to help me with my needs?
• Notice that Mary did not wait to get a verbal agreement from Jesus; she trusted that once alerted to a need that he could meet, he would do so. That trust, some say, is a definition of faith. Do I trust that God will meet my needs?
• Notice the ABUNDANCE with which Jesus’ first miracle takes place. He created more wine than they could drink, and better wine than they had drunk. This is a message that Jesus does not just give the minimum. Do I believe that?
  Is my own generosity that abundant, or is it a teeny bit stingy?
• Jesus was hesitant to respond to Mary’s request, because he did not think he was ready. Mary did not push; she left him to decide for himself what to do. Have I ever been thrust into a situation or a responsibility for which I was not ready?
  How did it feel?
  Have I ever had to encourage someone to get on with his or her mission in life or with his or her relationship issues?
  Was it hard to do so?
• Have I ever been asked to do a favor for someone who needed it badly, but did so with scant grace and a grudging affect?
  Did I ever remind people of what I had done for them?
  How did that advance the relationship?
• The end of this gospel pericope (segment) has the disciples coming to believe in Jesus because of this “sign” of his power and others that came after. How impressed by power am I?
• The evangelist John spends a lot of his gospel focusing on Jesus’ power and divinity. This is awesome for some, but not really relatable for others. What is your favorite gospel and why?
• Did I ever hesitate to ask for help because I was embarrassed to do so—because it hurt my pride or sense of self-worth?
• Have I ever been embarrassed because I did not have enough?
• Metaphorically speaking, has my wine ever run out?
  Did I seek help?
  Did anyone notice and pitch in?
• In what instances has God filled my “wine jars” with abundance?
  Do I remember to be grateful, or do I focus on what I am missing?
• Wine is a synonym for Grace in this gospel. Where do I experience grace (or for that matter, patience, courage, joy, hope)?
• In Church we are all stewards at the feast. We take the wine we are offered and carry it to the others in our community and welcome them to the party that is the Eucharist. Does that image speak to you?

Meditations

A Meditation in the Augustinian Style/Relationship:

Read Psalm 96. Twice. Then rewrite it in your journal as a letter that you address to God.

Start with the salutation (“Dear — ”) and give God whatever name/title you want. I knew a priest (Andrew Greeley, I think…) who said that he always addressed God as “Beloved” (Dear Beloved). You should address God as it is comfortable for you. Then transpose the lines of the psalm into the second person (I sing to you a new song, Lord, etc.) At the end, be sure to sign whatever name you want God to recognize you by.

A Meditation in the Ignatian Style/Imagination:

This reflection comes from the Creighton Website. Think about Mary’s role in all of this:

It was such a wonderful wedding feast! The music, the dancing, the food and wine. There was a burst of joy just then and Mary looked over at a table where Jesus and his companions had gathered. Jesus had finished his story and the whole table had dissolved in laughter. Mary shook her head with a smile. He captivated people with his stories.

She leaned against the tall, empty water jars as she watched. Her heart filled with such love as she looked at him. She remembered how thirty years ago, she and Joseph had carried the newborn into the temple in Jerusalem. An old man named Simeon had come up to them and asked to hold their child. With tears in his eyes, he held the baby aloft, thanking God. “I have seen your salvation!” he prayed. Anna, one of the temple ancients, had heard Simeon and joined them. She, too, prayed aloud in thanks, and then began waving bystanders over to see the child. Mary and Joseph exchanged glances and wondered again at this child. But the other words Simeon had spoken that day were words she prayed with each morning. That long ago day in the temple, in that small crowd around Anna and Joseph, Simeon had turned to Mary and said quietly, “This child will be the cause of the fall and rise of many in Israel.” Then he touched her shoulder gently. “And you, dear mother, will have your heart pierced in pain.” She and Joseph had talked about this after they left the temple and in the years after. They knew that Jesus was sent by God. She remembered the words of Gabriel. But he was also just … Jesus. He was their little boy who had played in the sawdust of the workshop, run through the streets of their tiny town with the other boys and learned his scriptures.

Since that long ago day in the temple, Joseph had died, and Jesus had been her support and companion. They knew each other’s hearts so well. She watched as he often left the house, wandering out into the desert to pray. She, too, asked the Lord each day to open her own heart. “I know you have called him for a special reason,” she would pray each morning. “Let me be willing to let him go. Let me recognize when it is his time.” She had not pushed him into marriage, even though most of his friends were long since married. She would love grandchildren. Jesus would be such a good father, as Joseph had been. But as she prayed for freedom in her heart, she knew she could only follow the choices Jesus made. And so a few months ago, Jesus had left home, saying he needed to teach. She had blessed her son and sent him out with a prayer. Since he left home, she had heard from some of her kin the story of Jesus’ baptism at the River Jordan and the clouds parting and the voice saying, “This is my beloved son. With you I am well pleased.” They were astonished at it, but when Mary heard the story, the truth of it rested quietly in her heart. Of course.

She was suddenly brought back from her memories to this wedding feast by the whispers next to her as the groom looked wildly around. “Out of wine? How could that be?!” he asked. He knew that it would be a dishonor on his bride and her family to run out of wine at their wedding feast. He looked frantic and lost. Mary saw Jesus stroll outside into the courtyard and she walked out to join him, stopping him with a little hug. “Joshua,” she said tenderly, using his childhood nickname. He wrapped his arms around her and put his cheek to hers. “Imma,” he said warmly, using the most familiar form of Mother. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked. She nodded at him and searched his face and the warm, dark eyes she knew and loved so well. Today she sensed something different in him and in herself. She felt divided. She wanted to keep him close, to protect him, to be with him. She didn’t want to let him go. It was her old struggle with fear. Was she protecting him – or herself too? The words would come back to her: Your heart will be pierced… But as she did over and over each day, she turned her spirit to the Lord. “Open my heart. Give me the freedom to let him go. Let me not be afraid.”

Then suddenly, she knew. Standing there in the courtyard embracing her son, she understood. It was his time.

She looked up at him. “Joshua … they have run out of wine.” It was all she said. He looked past her into the house at the family and saw from their discomfort that it was true. Their host was having whispered conversations with headwaiters, servants and uncles all at once. “Imma,” he said then paused with an imperceptible shake of his head. “I’m not… It’s not…” He stopped and looked into the dark eyes that matched his own. “Not yet,” he hesitated.

Her struggle was over. She smiled at him in peace and left him in the courtyard to pray to his abba, as he always did. Mary was not sure what this all meant; only that she had to say to him, “They are out of wine.” She walked back into the house and said softly to the servants, “I know you need some help. Just do whatever Jesus asks you to do.” They looked bewildered but nodded their heads.

After a while, Mary saw Jesus return to the house with a deep serenity in his eyes. He walked up to two servants and gestured to the water jars lining the walls. “Fill these with water.” They were confused – the ceremonial washings were already over. Who needed more water in these jars? But they did as he asked. “Now, draw out a cup” he said gently, “and take it to the headwaiter.” He walked back to his table. It made no sense but they remembered Mary’s words and so carried a brimming cup to the headwaiter. He took a sip, glanced over at their full jars and smiled for the first time today. “Where did you get this?” The two servants looked at each other open-mouthed but the steward didn’t wait for an answer. Mary watched as the headwaiter called the groom over and chuckled in relief. “You have this magnificent wine – and you saved it? When I serve a wedding, I usually use the best wine at the beginning but this is a perfect taste – and you saved it for so late in the feast!” She watched the bridegroom’s puzzled face but the steward had already turned away, giving orders to the servants to serve the wine. The music began again and the bridegroom shrugged and rejoined the festivities.

Mary felt joy and peace. As she moved to rejoin the women’s table, she glanced over at the servants. They were whispering to other servants and pointing to Jesus. It had begun. His life would never be the same. Neither would hers.

She sat on the end of the bench and paused for just a second, quietly opening her hands on her lap, whispering, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord.” Then she turned back to the women at the table.

Poetic Reflection:

Read the following poem (from Entries) by Wendell Berry. How does it say we as humans generally respond to the gifts God has bestowed?

“Two Questions”

If you provided a marriage feast and the thankless guests crowded at the table, gobbling the food without tasting it, and shoving one another away, so that some ate too much and some ate nothing, would you not be offended?

If, seated at your bountiful table your guests picked and finicked over the food, eating only a little, refusing the wine and the dessert, claiming that to fill their bellies and rejoice would impair their souls, would you not be offended?

Poetic Reflection:

One of these is a bit darker than the other. Which do you prefer?

Indifferent to miracles the crowd never stopping to notice harried servers schlepping replenished jars Over here we need wine over here this thirsty crowd’s getting louder — here’s another toast — all upheld cups get topped off the meaty cook in his apron a cloth for handling hot platters thrown over his right shoulder stands by the head table describing to the wedding party and rabbi the feast about to be served the young boy rolling an empty barrel back to the cellar dogs, children, townsfolk, the couple in the balcony arguing, the crone reeking of body odor they say her breath will sour milk As for the guests in the far corner those standing about that slim young man with hands clasped in front they notice the aura of light

—by John Norton

“Christ at Cana”

At the table basted with food he is lost, sees only the Baptist’s head torn away,

the empty eyes as rank as milk in a dish.

Long after the wind has come and the young happy marrieds are twisting on the bed,

he stays at the table, fingers the empty cup, thinks of the water.

—by John Foulcher

(John Foulcher is one of Australia’s foremost contemporary poets—he’s Canberra based, just recently retired as Deputy Principal of Burgmann Anglican school.)

Closing Prayer

Thank you Lord, for all the mothers in my life that brought me here, in this time, with this life. I pray for all the mothers who are struggling to help their children, no matter their age, with life decisions, with failed relationships, with broken hearts, even with the effects of too much success. [Take a moment to think of a particular person or particular people whom you especially commend to the Lord’s loving care.]

The Baptism of the Lord, January 9, 2022

What is my mission? Do I feel blessed by God?

Jesus, at his baptism, received his mission and his Father’s blessing

Luke 3:15–16, 21–22

Now the people were filled with expectation, and all were asking in their hearts whether John might be the Messiah.

John answered them all, saying: “I am baptizing you with water, but one mightier than I is coming. I am not worthy to loosen the thongs of his sandals. He will baptize you with the holy Spirit and fire.”

After all the people had been baptized and Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, heaven was opened and the holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.”

Music Meditations

• “Veni, Sancte Spiritus” (Taizé) [YouTube]

Opening Prayer

My Lod God, you are great indeed, you are clothed with majesty and glory and you share that glory and majesty with your son, and with us, your beloved. Help us to see with new eyes those who do not feel beloved, or needed, or healthy and happy members of a family or larger community. Help us to let others know that they are truly beloved. [Think of and name a particular person, or particular people, for whom you especially wish to pray this intention.]

Companions for the Journey

From “First Impressions” a service of the Southern Dominican Province 2019 (by Jude Siciliano, O.P):

Christians have struggled with Jesus’ baptism from the beginning. John was preaching repentance and the forgiveness of sin. What reason then would Jesus have to be baptized? Baptism was a ritual requirement just for Gentile converts to Judaism. So, John’s baptism was different; it removed privilege and exclusivity on the path to God. All are equal; all need forgiveness; all are God’s children; all are embraced in God’s merciful arms; all now have access to God. Jesus’ baptism identified him as God’s “beloved Son”–he is for all, not just for one class, nation, or religion.

What then would Jesus say about our own zealous nationalism that sets us apart from other nations and their concerns? What would Jesus say about the religious intolerance that is more and more vocal and strident, so easily dismissing other religious traditions? Or, about the huge and still growing gap separating rich nations from poor; rich individuals from their poorer neighbors? What would Jesus say about our current political world where two major parties seem more intent on their internecine squabbles than on improving the conditions of the neediest in our society? Faced with our individual and communal sinfulness, Jesus went down into the waters to be with us. He emerged to receive the Spirit’s affirmation as the chosen one, and to set out to bring to us the work of healing divisions. His Spirit, given to those who accept him, would indeed start the fire John promised. True, it wouldn’t look like what the Baptist was anticipating. But it would be hot and it would purify. The Spirit is hot enough to burn away the walls we construct to separate us from “others.” It could burn away the chill that lingers after we have been hurt and can warm us to forgiveness. The fire Jesus did come to ignite would put an intensity in believer’s hears strong enough to maintain life-long commitments to struggle against war, poverty, hunger, homelessness, racism and all the chill evil causes to make our hearts and world so cold.

There is a shift in the intensity of today’s gospel. In the first part, we have the “expectation” of the people. The prophet John got them excited—was John the messiah they had been hoping would deliver them? John himself is promising one who would, “baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.” Fire is a rich biblical image, one meaning it has is, purification. In verses left out of today’s reading, John uses fire to describe how chaff is separated from wheat and burned—leaving the desirable wheat behind. What is evil will be destroyed and the fire John speaks of, would purge, not just individuals, but the community itself, to make it ready and worthy of God’s promises. It sounds intense and I can imagine the crowd’s excitement—maybe even its fear. When John speaks you can hear the crackling of the purging fires in the background. When things are bad, when unbelief is rampant and it is hard to find support for our faith from the outside world, who wouldn’t want to call on an intense fire to destroy evil? But we also know from religious zealots, that fire in the wrong hands can burn and cause widespread pain. Maybe what we need is a fire to intensify, turn up the heat, on our own tepid faith. Bring on the fire! Help us, we pray, not be so wishy-washy in our prayer and faith practices.

Fire does come, but not in the way John anticipated. What a strange shift takes place in Luke’s story. Jesus appears, almost as an afterthought. He comes to be baptized, Luke tells us, after all the people have been baptized, “...and Jesus also had been baptized....” Instead of bursting on the scene with trumpet, drum roll and flashing strobe lights, Jesus enters the water quietly. He is, it seems, just one of the people. He comes after they all declare their sinfulness and are baptized. Jesus seems much more like the simple, prayerful believers we have already met in this gospel: the elderly priestly couple Zechariah and Elizabeth; the aged Anna and Simeon, constantly at prayer in the Temple and Jesus’ own mother, who received God’s Word and pondered it in the quiet of her heart. These are quiet people with great spirits long schooled by the Spirit in waiting, acting and hoping.

Various reasons have been given for Jesus’ submitting to the ritual washing. Some think Jesus was manifesting a strong consciousness of sin and its effects on humans. Others, that Jesus was showing God’s approval of John’s ministry to the people. Or, Jesus may have undergone the ritual as a sign of unity with those outside the Law; his future death would free people from sin. (Later, Jesus will refer to his passion and death as a “baptism” he will undergo.) There are those who believe Jesus was a disciple of John and in accepting baptism Jesus was taking the first step towards establishing his own ministry. He may have been taking the first steps away from John and on his own.

I think about Jesus’ being in the same water the crowd had just left. He gets wet with water that touched them and what they left there with John’s baptism. Think of what they brought down into the Jordan, what was clinging to them. Not just the sins; but the pain of their lives; the struggles against the big evils that surrounded them--- terrorism, crushing taxation by a foreign power and daily fears of unpredictable violence. What burdened their hearts when they went into the water? Did they wonder what God was doing to help them out of the mess of their lives— their dyings, the crippled children, the feeble elderly, the deaths from painful sickness? What about their feelings of inadequacy for not being able to provide enough food for their families or to protect them from the vagaries of daily life? Did they feel they hadn’t done enough for God or taken God seriously enough? If this eucharistic congregation went down into the same water, what would we bring with us? Wouldn’t we want Jesus to join us in the places we feel most frail, pained, inadequate and sinful? We bring a lot to this eucharist today. Jesus does not remain aloof from us, judging us from on high. He comes right to where we are gathered with all our burdens and takes them up into himself, as we wait for the Holy Spirit and fire.

The Holy Spirit plays an important role in Luke-Acts. We have already seen the activity of the Spirit in this gospel: the announcement of John the Baptist’s birth (1:15); the overshadowing of Mary (1:35); in Elizabeth’s praise of Mary in the visitation scene (1: 41-42) and in the promptings that brought Simeon to the Temple when the holy family arrives (2:27). At Jesus’ baptism the Spirit descends on him and in the next verse (v.23) Luke tells us that Jesus “began his work.” Now the Spirit swings into full-time labors for us in Jesus. The role of the Spirit in Luke-Acts is varied and hard to systematize into categories. What we do know is that God is active and moving on our behalf. What we also know, having heard Mary’s “Magnificat,” is that with Jesus’ coming and the Spirit’s work, the accustomed order of the world, its ways of thinking, its values and criteria, will be undermined. Powers, Mary says, will be overthrown, and what the world considers secure and certain, will be shaken. The world’s powers will hear and see this message in Jesus and, in attempt to stop the Spirit’s work, will put him to death, as it did with the other prophets. John the Baptist will be the first to feel the retaliation by the world’s powers to what God has set about to do. The mid-section of today’s passage (3:19-20–omitted in today’s reading) tells of John’s arrest by Herod. The powers have begun to descend. They will do their best to stop this work God is doing. They will even seem to succeed–for a while. But God’s Spirit will not be squelched.

How and where will that Spirit’s works be evident? Jesus’ own quiet entrance on the scene gives us a clue. God certainly has worked in spectacular ways; but if we look for spectacle we most often will be frustrated. Jesus makes an anonymous entrance that the crowd missed, even though they had been “filled with expectation.” Even the voice from heaven is not a public broadcast, but a voice directed to Jesus. It will take the Spirit’s gift of fire to burn away the veil over our eyes and our false expectations to purify us so that we notice Jesus’ daily entrance —there among the ordinary, especially the downcast, people.

Weekly Memorization

Taken from the gospel for today’s session…

“You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.”

Living the Good News

What action can you take in the next week as a response to today’s reading and discussion?

Keep a private journal of your prayer/actions responses this week. Feel free to use the personal reflection questions or the meditations which follow:

Reflection Questions

• Why do you think the baptism story is included in all four gospels? Is this story important to you?
• John was a very strange figure, and yet very compelling. He had an very large following. What are the advantages and dangers of such charisma and popularity?
  Do we have any religious or political figures with the magnetism of John the Baptist?
  How has it worked out for good or for evil in our own contemporary history?
• In the gospel story, John points the attention away from himself and toward Jesus. Am I willing to check my ego at the door in service of the Kingdom?
• Do I see my role in life right now as another John, bringing a message of hope, love and shalom to others?
• For Jesus, this was moment of great decision and radical change. Have I ever had an experience of being called in some way to change where and how I lived, where and how I worked, where and how I loved?
• For those in the early church, baptism was a life-changing scary, thoughtful, courageous step. It required people to live lives radically different from those around them. Does my baptism make me “different”? In what way?
• Do I ever reflect on my baptismal gift as a child of God?
  What does that mean to me?
  Do I consider my baptism an introduction to a set of theological principles, or as an invitation to become God’s beloved?
• Through baptism, Jesus made me his follower. Does it show?
• Has anyone ever said that you are beloved and that he or she is pleased with you? Have you ever said it to anyone yourself?
• Do I hear God saying: “You are my beloved”?
  Do I believe it?

Meditations

A Meditation in the Ignatian style--Imagination:

A Meditation on Jesus’ Baptism call and my own:

As I reflect on my own Baptism, I recall the beginning of Jesus’ ministry when John the Baptist baptized him. I imagine myself there with Jesus:

I see a small, wiry man, dressed in rags and tatters. His clothes are dirty and hang off his too-thin frame. They say he eats little--locusts and honey gathered from the parched land he and the other Essene inhabit in the hills. Stranger and stranger. His name is John, and there is something about the man that forces me to stay and listen to what he has to say. His voice, his eyes, speak eloquently of the passion which drives him…..The conviction that time is short and the kingdom of Heaven is near rings out over the crowd. He makes us feel that we and the world we inhabit are at a crossroads. Something momentous is upon us. His name is Jesus. When Jesus, who is in the crowd listening to John, is baptized, I think of what the experience means to him. He is a 30 year old man, more than middle aged, by the standards of the day. He has spent most of his life in the dusty village of Nazareth, working his late father’s trade of carpentry, unmarried, and caring for his widowed mother. A rather unremarkable life so far. What makes him realize that he wants, or is called, to do something quite different? What makes him choose to be baptized by this man John? As he enters the water, it is cold; cold against the skin warmed that desert sun. It shocks him into realizing the enormity of what he is about to do. He is going to die to a lot of his old ways, to his old life. As the waters close over his head, he is suspended between life and death, between the old world and the new, between the old Jesus and the new Jesus. He stays under as long he is able, pulled into the past and a little afraid of the future. What will this new life bring? As he feels the spirit of God invade his very being, touching his heart with love and strength, he emerges from the depths, gasping for breath, heart pounding, eyes wide open in wonder. John says those holy words which confirm the presence of the Lord in his heart, and in his very being, in his soul. And then he hears the words which give him the reassurance and the courage to take up this new challenge, this new and uncertain path: You are my beloved son; with you I am well pleased.”

He looks around and sees the world with new eyes. The brown, parched earth seems somehow touched with gold. The breeze, soft and mild, caresses his cheek. He looks heavenward at a sky suddenly made bluer. He looks at the faces of those around him,, rendered indistinct by eyes filled with tears. He sees their love and concern, their curiosity, and from some, their scorn.

None of it matters.

He is one with God.

He is God’s beloved.

How would I respond to John the Baptist if I were sitting by the River Jordan listening to him

Would my heart be touched by the Spirit and would I experience the deep conviction that I must, MUST realign my will to God’s a live my life accordingly?

Do I realize the hardships this might entail?--pleasures I might have to forgo or defenses I might have to abandon in order to be open to God’s call, to God’s living presence?

I agree to be immersed in that holy river and start anew. I step toward the Baptist, my eyes fixed on his as he summons, COMPELS me with his presence and his conviction to take the risk, to let go of the past and embrace a radically different future, knowing I, too, am God’s beloved.

A Meditation in the Dominican Style/Asking Questions:

This passage from Isaiah (40: 9-11) is meant to be paired with today’s gospel. It is a message of hope for those Jews in exile, because it shows not only the power of God, but the love of God for the Jews. It is also a message of hope for us, because God is also speaking to you and me. Have you, as you imagined God, thought more of the power of God or of the love of God? Where in this psalm do you see references to each? Where in this psalm do you get hints of the one whom God will send to care for them, and who will gather everyone into the love of God? Is this how you see Jesus? Speak to Jesus about the gift of His presence in your life.

Go up onto a high mountain, Zion, herald of good news! Cry out at the top of your voice, Jerusalem, herald of good news! Cry out, do not fear! Say to the cities of Judah: Here is your God! Here comes with power the Lord GOD, who rules by his strong arm; Here is his reward with him, his recompense before him. Like a shepherd he feeds his flock; in his arms he gathers the lambs, Carrying them in his bosom, leading the ewes with care.

A Meditation in the Augustinian style-Relationship:

I read Galatians 3:26-29:

So in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.

Reflect on what it means to you to clothe yourself in Christ. Write a letter to Jesus in your journal. Speak to Jesus about your closeness to, and identity with, Him. Thank Him for the graces you have received and His care and friendship. Talk to him about ways you can more closely resemble the One you love.

A Meditation in the Dominican style--Asking Questions:

Read Romans: 6: 8-11:

How can we who died to sin yet live in it?

Or are you unaware that we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?

We were indeed buried with him through baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live in newness of life.

For if we have grown into union with him through a death like his, we shall also be united with him in the resurrection.

If, then, we have died with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with him. We know that Christ, raised from the dead, dies no more; death no longer has power over him.

As to his death, he died to sin once and for all; as to his life, he lives for God.

Consequently, you too must think of yourselves as (being) dead to sin and living for God in Christ Jesus.

Reflect on the ways you must live for God in Christ Jesus. Ask yourself how you have lived for God thus far, and talk to Jesus about your desire to be one with Him….

Literary Reflection:

The very short poem from St Francis of Assisi is another way of explaining the last line of this gospel:

GOD’S ADMIRATION

God’s admiration for us is infinitely greater than anything we can conjure up for Him.

Literary Reflection:

Here are two short poems from Meister Eckhardt, a Dominican monk and mystic (1260-1328). Do they capture for you the sense that God is love, and we are God’s beloved?

BUT HE WANTED ME

I could not bear to touch God with my own hand when He came within my reach but He wanted me to hold Him.

How God solved my blessed agony, who can understand? He turned my body into His.

AN IMAGE THAT MAKES THEM SAD

How long will grown men and women in this world keep drawing in their coloring books an image of God that makes them sad?

Closing Prayer

From Sacred Space, a service of the Irish Jesuits:

Lord, I know you are well pleased with me, not for anything I have done, but because I, too, am your child. Help me to love like Jesus, with a sense of your calling.

Epiphany, January 2, 2022

What are the Epiphanies in our lives, and how do we respond to them?

Matthew 2:1–12

When Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, in the days of King Herod, behold, magi from the east arrived in Jerusalem, saying, “Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star at its rising and have come to do him homage.”

When King Herod heard this, he was greatly troubled, and all Jerusalem with him.

Assembling all the chief priests and the scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born.

They said to him, “In Bethlehem of Judea, for thus it has been written through the prophet:

‘And you, Bethlehem, land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; since from you shall come a ruler, who is to shepherd my people Israel.’”

Then Herod called the magi secretly and ascertained from them the time of the star’s appearance.

He sent them to Bethlehem and said, “Go and search diligently for the child. When you have found him, bring me word, that I too may go and do him homage.”

After their audience with the king they set out. And behold, the star that they had seen at its rising preceded them, until it came and stopped over the place where the child was.

They were overjoyed at seeing the star, and on entering the house they saw the child with Mary his mother. They prostrated themselves and did him homage. Then they opened their treasures and offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed for their country by another way.

Music Meditations

• We Three Kings--King's College Cambridge
• How Great Thou Art
• Holy, Holy, Holy

Opening Prayer

Help me to discern what star to follow in my life; help me to discern what I want for myself, my family, my friends, for the world. May I see the message hidden and sometimes illuminated by the events of my life, so that I can better follow the path to your kingdom

Companions for the Journey

The following is the slightly edited text of a homily given at Mission Santa Clara on Sunday, January 6, 2019, by the late Father Paul Crowley, S.J. (Paul had been, in his career, the Chair of the Department of Theology at Santa Clara University, the Editor of Theological Studies, a former visiting professor in the Religious Studies Department at Stanford, and the director of the two CC@S classes taught at Stanford through the department of Religious Studies, and a good friend to CC@S. Paul died in August 2020).

The Epiphany, or manifestation of God to all peoples, is symbolized by the well-known story of the visit of the Magi to the stable.  The Magi are represented as coming from a far-off land, the ultimate exotic outsiders. See the reflection on the Infancy Narratives for a short introduction to these stories.

Before we close out the Christmas season, we return to the manger. Charming as the story of the Magi may be, it is in fact an odd, even comical, scene. We are back at that same stable, a rustic and dirt poor refuge where the Savior has been born. The shepherds are there, but they were not styled then as the gentle pastoral types we see in manger scenes; they were considered in their own time to be socially marginal yahoos. One commentator compared them to members of a motorcycle gang—threatening and to be avoided. And they were presumably not regular synagogue attendees. Onto this scene, in the boondocks of Bethlehem, arrive these three astrologers, sumptuously clothed, laden with precious gifts. Together with the oxen, donkeys, and the rest, we have a menagerie to entertain the newborn king.

It was “outsiders” not of the Jewish people who first recognized that a “king”—more specific to the Jewish imagination, a Messiah—had been born. These outsiders were in possession of an insight that it would take some time for even Jesus’ own disciples to see and accept. And the people of Jerusalem would persist in perceiving Jesus simply as a country rustic, an irritating rabbi imposter. Yet it was non-Jews who would recognize that in this helpless baby, born in a stable, God had come not to save not some, or even many, but all, without distinction. As Paul reminds us: “the Gentiles”—outsiders—“are co-heirs, members of the same body, and co-partners in the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel” (Eph 3:5–6).

It is the outsider, and the outsider in us, the Gentile in us, that God summons to the stable, to come inside, to enter into the ambit of God’s love. There is no judgment here, but only inclusion of and co-partnership with the outsider. This serves as a model of what the Church must become. As Pope Francis recently wrote to the US bishops:

The Church…bears in her heart and soul the sacred mission of being a place of encounter and welcome not only for her members but for all humanity. It is part of her identity and mission to work tirelessly for all [and to] contribute to unity between individuals and peoples…without distinction. For “there does not exist among you Jew or Greek, slave or freeman, male or female. All are on in Christ Jesus” (Gal 3:28).

What a radical view of reality, for any time, but especially for a time like ours, when rather than imagining ourselves as one in our humanity, we have divided ourselves into tribes, parties, and generations: Boomers vs. Millennials, progressives vs. reactionaries, liberal vs. conservative Catholics, straight and gay, citizens or aliens—marking ourselves off from others and building walls between us. This is the age of identity, a preoccupation that arises when the world seems difficult to map and people feel fearful, fragile, or at flung at sea. We turn then, perhaps naturally enough, to what we think we know most intimately—ourselves, our group, and fortify ourselves in an identity essentialism that easily functions as an ideology.

Yet we can delude ourselves by delimiting ourselves within one or even multiple identities. We can paper over the multi-layered complexity of human experience, of our own hidden and interior selves—a complexity that resists sharp demarcation or boundary. And, worse, when we claim identities in a group or tribal way, we can be drawn into impasse, demonization of the other, and dismissal of certain people (the way shepherds were dismissed as ruffians) or writing off whole generations as either too old or too young. The worst outcomes of identity absolutism are truly dreadful, as we have seen on the worldwide political stage and in the tragedies of war and genocide.

There is of course validity to acknowledging our distinctiveness. We may come from a home infused with a culture—be it Italian, Irish, Mexican, Filipino or Vietnamese—where language, food, religion, customs, and family systems are distinctive. This is a good thing. Yet there are some identities, or locales of human experience, such as those of women, of LGBTQ people, and, still, of African-American people, that need to be vigorously asserted within the life of a church that is still exclusionary and inscribes some forms of exclusion in doctrine (namely, the exclusion of women from ordination, and the deficient language about gay sexuality in the Catechism that has led to exclusionary practices). But in seeking an ideal church, we need to keep in mind that in Jesus’ view of the world, there are to be no identities at war with one another, and this must be pressed. Those whom I or we or some might consider to be outsiders are not only to be included, but they are to become co-heirs, co-partners. We are to learn from them and from one another

This is very difficult for us to grasp and accept, because it threatens the boundaries set by any claim to self-certain identity. It is a little bit scary. Yet it lies at the core of God’s revelation in Jesus. To be a Christian is to live in a fundamental openness to the other, even the radically different, for God may be at work there, and that other may indeed see God in a way that we do not, as did the Magi. This possibility that God is present in the “alien” other is the foundation of Pope Francis’s urging that Catholics not build walls, but welcome refugees, for they are among the outsiders, the “Gentiles” of our time. It is also the foundation for an openness to and embrace of those, like the shepherds, whose very presence might unsettle the comfortable.

Jesus’ deepest identity lay not in his Jewishness, gender or politics. It lay in his intimacy with the mystery of God, whom he called Father. This intimacy anchored him and captured his imagination like a star in the vast heavens. It freed him to transcend boundaries and to welcome the outsider. This began at his birth. The great star that hovered over the stable in Bethlehem was awaiting his gaze. That star remains a reminder today that God’s love is offered to all people, inviting all, without exception, into God’s family, and that our deepest “identity” lies in intimacy with God—an intimacy that frees us and finally dissolves the need for any identity. This is the intimacy that the Magi sought, and which they found, alongside the shepherds, in the poverty of the manger. May it be so for us.

Weekly Memorization

Taken from the gospel for today’s session…

For out of you will come a leader who will shepherd my people Israel

Living the Good News

What action can you take in the next week as a response to today’s reading and discussion?

Keep a private journal of your prayer/actions responses this week. Feel free to use the personal reflection questions or the meditations which follow:

Reflection Questions

• The word “Epiphany” means a new awareness or a new insight. In the ordinary sense, we experience epiphanies whenever we gain a new understanding of a person or of an event that radically changes our attitude or our actions. In the religious sense, it may be a new understanding of who Jesus was and is, or a new understanding of God’s action in my life. It can also be a first step in the process of metanoia (a re-orientation of my heart and will to align with God’s will).
  Have I had any epiphanies in my life?
  How did I feel about the experience?
  Did they effect any changes in me?
• In what specific ways can I make Jesus manifest in my world?
• Have I ever embarked on a sort of “journey”, not knowing exactly where I was going, but trusting in my own instincts, my “star”?
  Am I on such a journey now?
  Have I asked God for guidance?
• The Magi were foreigners—outsiders. They demonstrate that no one is excluded from the Kingdom of God.
  How am I a foreigner in the society I inhabit?
  How are strangers welcomed in my town, my neighborhood, my church, my family?
  What do I do to welcome and include “outsiders”?
• What gifts of personal time, talent, or treasure have I proffered this year to those who are poor, outcast, with no place to sleep?
• The following are some reflection questions from “First Impressions” (various years’ reflections on the Epiphany):
  • Where are we looking for Jesus today? Even if we had no other gospel story than this one, we should know where to look: among the newcomers and displaced; among the newborn poor and their families; among those who have no roots and are searching; among those pushed around by an uncaring system of laws and decrees.
  • Would I describe myself as one of the modern-day magi, a searcher for God?
    How do I go about that search each day?
  • Foreigners were led to the Christ child’s home do him homage. National boundaries and differences dissolve when we respond to God’s invitation to come to Christ. We are always welcome into God’s presence and in gratitude our commitment is to Christian hospitality throughout this year—to welcome visitors as we would welcome Christ
    How do I practice hospitality?
    Have I ever been treated as an outsider?
    Do I treat any people or groups as outsiders?
  • Pope Francis challenges us to follow the star that leads us where Christ lives – among outsiders, those born in stables, living on the streets, fleeing civil strife and pushed around by harsh governments.
    Do we see the poor and outcast by the light of Christ?

Meditations

A Meditation in the Dominican Style/Asking Questions:

Like the Magi, am I a seeker of answers about my relationship with God, or do I have the answers already? The Magi were gift-givers; what do I give of myself to the wider community--my church, my neighbor? The Magi set out because they had a vision, a mission, a star to follow. What is my mission or goal in this life? Do I constantly keep it before me? Some similarities between the journey of the Magi and mine: 1. Life is a journey. Where am I in mine? 2. All journeys have obstacles, including self-made ones. What are some of the obstacles I am encountering or have encountered? How many of those are self-made? 3. All journeys have helpers or circumstances that have aided them. Who or what has helped me along life's journey? 4. All journeys have an end. For the Magi, it was to look in the face of Christ. What do I hope for at the end of my journey?

A Meditation in AugustinianStyle/Relationship:

(taken from Birth: a Guide to Prayer, by Jacqueline Syrup Bergen and Marie Schwan, CSJ)

I place myself among the Magi as they travel from the rich, green valleys of the east, through the desert, and down through Palestine into Jerusalem. I am aware of the mysterious star that leads us. In Jerusalem, I too make inquiries about where to find the newborn King. We follow the star. I am aware of my feelings as we approach the house in Bethlehem. I gaze on the mother and child she holds. I realize this is the one I have been seeking. Quietly, I adore him. I offer him my greatest treasures. I stay with Mary and offer joy, thanks, wonder, and praise. I beg for the grace to know and draw close to Jesus. I pray the Our Father I record in my journal my responses and offerings and speak to God of the graces I have received.

A Meditation in the Ignatian Style/Imagination:

This meditation written by Rev. Bob Wickizer, uses the story of the three Magi and puts it into our own time. Can you see yourself in any of these events?

An Epiphany

I had been doing some calculations in the sand when like a thunderbolt two of my old friends walked up the road to meet me. They said they heard stories of people beyond the river where wondrous signs foretold big changes - changes that would make the world different forever. So we stood there in the road a long time, three old friends now living in faraway places only to find ourselves called together by events and stories and signs we did not understand. We argued first about what we knew, then we argued about what we didn’t know. What do these things mean we wondered? What should we do? What can we do? Next we began to plan our journey with the same excitement we had when we first encountered each other on a pilgrimage three decades earlier. We knew once again that we had to travel where the heavens directed us. Wandering planets, stars and great comets pointed the way.  What will we find and how will we know when we find it? Surely these signs we have all observed for months must herald a royal occasion. Will it be a wedding, a coronation, a death or a birth, we wondered. Who are the people in this faraway land whose royalty is marked by signs in the heavens? Whatever the occasion we would honor it with gifts suitable for a royal event. We packed and set off in the cold darkness guided only by our reckonings of the path the heavens gave us.  The long journey fueled many doubts and more arguments over campfires. This desert is not safe with wild animals and robbers. Why are we doing this anyway? What brought us all the way out here? Yet each time doubt and fear rose in our bellies like indigestion, one of us would point out that you do not take a journey because you know all the answers. Someone else would note how our path seemed to be set out before us like a long carpet. We all knew just where we had to go. We just weren’t sure why.

Poetic Reflection:

This is a very creative way to look on the journey of the Magi and compare it the journeys of those migrants who must leave what they have always known and must venture, though hardship and pain, to a destination they cannot imagine. Do they wish to return home?

“The Journey Of The Magi”

A cold coming we had of it, Just the worst time of the year For a journey, and such a long journey: The ways deep and the weather sharp, The very dead of winter.' And the camels galled, sorefooted, refractory, Lying down in the melting snow. There were times we regretted The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces, And the silken girls bringing sherbet. Then the camel men cursing and grumbling and running away, and wanting their liquor and women, And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters, And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly And the villages dirty and charging high prices: A hard time we had of it. At the end we preferred to travel all night, Sleeping in snatches, With the voices singing in our ears, saying That this was all folly. Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley, Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation; With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness, And three trees on the low sky, And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow. Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel, Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver, And feet kicking the empty wine-skins. But there was no information, and so we continued And arriving at evening, not a moment too soon Finding the place; it was (you might say) satisfactory. All this was a long time ago, I remember, And I would do it again, but set down This set down This: were we led all that way for Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death, But had thought they were different; this Birth was Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death. We returned to our places, these Kingdoms, But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation, With an alien people clutching their gods. I should be glad of another death.

—T.S. Eliot

Poetic Reflection:

The role of the imagination as an aid for contemplation cannot be overstated. This poem from William Everson, also known as Brother Antoninus, O.P. is a wonderful reflection on a wondrous event, not only in the lives of the Magi, but in our lives as we experience epiphanies of one sort or another:

“The Wise”

Miles across the turbulent kingdoms They came for it, but that was nothing, That was the least.  Drunk with vision, Rain stringing in the ragged beards, When a beast lamed, they caught up another And goaded west. For the time was on them. Once, as it may, in the life of a man, Once, as it was, in the life of mankind, All is corrected.  And their years of pursuit, Raw-eyed reading the wrong texts, Charting the doubtful calculations, Those nights knotted with thought, When dawn held off, and the rooster Rattled the leaves with his blind assertion--- All that, they regarded, under the Sign, No longer as search but as preparation. For when the mark was made, they saw it. Nor stopped to reckon the fallible years, But rejoiced and followed, And are called "wise", who learned that Truth, When sought and at last seen, Is never found.  It is given. And they brought their camels Breakneck into that village, And flung themselves down in the dung and dirt of that place, Then kissed that ground, and the tears Ran on their faces, where the rain had.

Closing Prayer

Be with those, Lord, who are outsiders, strangers, foreigners. Teach me to notice and include those who are marginalized. Help me to see them as someone like myself, needing love, shelter, kindness—all things I take for granted, and have only because of the luck of being born in a certain time and place. I pray for all those who feel isolated because they are ill, those who are sequestered because of Covid, those who feel lost because they cannot speak the language or read very well and have no one to help. Be with them, Lord, and help me to be with them also.

Christmas Season: Infancy Narratives

What Does Your Christmas Creche Look Like?

The gospels are NOT history; they are a theological reflection on the events of Jesus‘ life that happened years before the gospels were written. None of his actual words were ever recorded at the time of his teaching and preaching, so later disciples wrote down snatches of what they remembered and those were circulated among the various groups of early Christians. There was a remarkable similarity we can sense in those memories. Those memories might have eventually been compiled onto a document called the “Sayings of Jesus”, which could have been a major source of info that the gospel writers relied on when crafting their own narratives, which they crafted and shaped for the specific group of Christians for whom they were intending their own gospel to be used.

We do not know the names of any of the gospel writers, but tradition has assigned names and identities to each gospel writer. Twentieth century biblical scholarship has “debunked” some of those traditional beliefs, based on historical and textual evidence from the gospels themselves. For example, the gospels were arranged in the New Testament according to what people believed was the order in which each was written. The gospel of Matthew was believed to be the first gospel written, but later scholarship has determined that Mark was the earliest gospel.

The gospel according to Mark, the earliest on this literary form, and the shortest, was attributed as the source of the information contained in this narrative, but again, there are only guesses as to his actual identity. Tradition holds that “Mark” might have been one of the followers of Paul , but it is highly unlikely that “Paul’s Mark” actually compiled and edited the writing which was probably completed around 70CE, some forty years after the death of Jesus.

Given the average life span in that time, it is not likely that the author of Matthew was actually one of the twelve. Tradition holds that the source of information (not necessarily the author) for the gospel of Matthew was a tax collector whom Jesus recruited, whose story shows up in the gospel of Matthew.

The gospel according to Luke, the longest gospel of the four, was written about 85CE. The author seems to have been an Greek speaker, who knew the Jewish scriptures in Greek, but may have been a convert to Judaism and then to Christianity. It is thought that he did not know Jesus and was not a Palestinian.

All three have taken the materials handed down through word of mouth or some collected sayings of Jesus and crafted them into three similar stories with very different emphases.

The gospel according to John was put together somewhere between 80 and 110CE, and there may have been a later redaction (edition) as late as 135CE. This is a very different, almost mystical document, and attests to the ”Cosmic” Christ, and it is the gospel coming closest to declaring the divinity of Jesus: (In the beginning was the Word (Jesus), and the Word was with God, and the Word was God).

Sometimes we tend to conflate the message of each individual gospel into one amalgamated teaching about Jesus, but that does a disservice to the integrity of each individual gospel message. For example, there are only two gospels out of the four that tell the stories of the birth of Jesus (which are called Infancy Narratives), Matthew and Luke. Each narrative seems to have been written by the gospel writer as a prologue to his version of Jesus’ ministry, and each narrative prologue contains the major elements or themes that each gospel writer would go on to develop more fully in the gospel itself.

Luke’s gospel story, the second chapter of which is usually read at Midnight Mass on Christmas Day, very deliberately incorporates elements into the narrative which carry Luke’s most important points. For example, Luke points out the importance of women in Salvation History. The angel went directly to Mary, and it was her decisive “yes” that made Jesus’ birth possible. Mary’s trip to her cousin Elizabeth and Elizabeth’s recognition of the child in Mary’s womb shows the initiative women have taken in believing in Jesus. In Luke’s gospel, Jesus was born in a poor stable; his parents were migrants from another part of the kingdom with no place to stay. Luke’s gospel spells out in so many ways that Jesus came for the poor, the marginalized, the outcast and the stranger. His birth was attended by some of the most reviled members of the culture—shepherds. They were filthy, and not trustworthy, unspeakable, really, yet it was to them that the Angel announced this momentous birth and it was those same deplorable souls who believed. They heard the angelic chorus because the angels were singing to them when no one else ever did. This prologue, and indeed the whole of Luke’s gospel is about how the kingdom of God is radically different, that compassion, inclusion, generosity and welcome must replace judgmentalism, exclusion and greed. Those messages are clear in this narrative as constructed by Luke.

Matthew’s gospel was written to show that Jesus was a true Jew, and that He was fulfilling the prophesies about a promised anointed one. Even nature cooperated with a wondrous star. Matthew saw Jesus as more than a prophet; Jesus was a “new Moses” bringing further refinements on and explanations to the commandments God gave Moses on the mountain. As the new Moses, Jesus was the fulfillment of God’s promise to the Jews. In this gospel, we start with the impressive lineage of Jesus, going back through King David to Abraham. This cements Jesus’ place in Jewish culture and history. We proceed to the Annunciation, but with a twist; the angel comes to Joseph to explain God’s plan and gets his approval and cooperation in this enterprise. Joseph, thought his lineage, was part of certain type of Jewish royalty, possible linked to the famous Joseph of the Jewish scriptures. (Joseph’s dreams about Jesus and Herod and his flight to Egypt are very reminiscent of the Joseph of the many-colored coat who was a hero of ages past. It was to Joseph that the angel revealed the name of Jesus (literally, Yahweh is salvation). Joseph took Mary to his home in Bethlehem, which is just outside of Jerusalem, and there she gave birth to a son. The other main players in this narrative are the heroes of today’s feast, the Epiphany. Three wise men (symbolizing all nations) journeyed from the East to Jerusalem, seeking the person to whom a mysterious star had directed them. This is how Herod got into the act, being very paranoid about his precarious position as King of the Jews, and half-mad to boot. When the scribes and pharisees recited for Herod the prophesy that out of Bethlehem would come a leader of the Jews (2 Samuel 5:2), he tried to get the wise men to tell him info on this baby they were looking for, and let him know when they had found him. The wise men found the source of the star and paid homage to Jesus as a great king and source of truth, with precious gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh (It is odd that those gifts never seemed to have advanced this family’s position in life; I wonder what ever became of them…) Again, God intervened and warned the wise men not to return to Herod or tell him anything, and they returned home by avoiding Jerusalem. After the departure of the wise men, Joseph was warned, again in a dream, to flee to Egypt with his new family, to avoid the slaughter of innocent Jewish babies which followed. They stayed there, according to the story, until Herod died, shortly thereafter. So the major theme of this very “Jewish” gospel shows God acting in very decisive ways, through the males in the story to send a Messiah (God’s anointed messenger) to the Jewish people, and everything that happens in this prologue, this infancy narrative, and later in the main body of the gospel show Jesus as the fulfillment of God’s prophecies to the Jews, and show Jesus as a good Jew with respect for Israel’s traditions and lineage. who was a hero of ages past. The appearance of the three wise men, or three “Kings”, emphasizes the importance of this event in the history of Judaism. Th escape of the Holy Family in this chapter is the triumph of good over evil.

So, what’s in your creche? Mine is a mash-up of both stories, with sheep, wise men and the holy family, all decked out in pristine costume… with angels suspended over the entire scene and randomly scattered about the entire room—the better to hear the singing, I guess. Using my imagination, I have added a few folks who were never written into the scene by the gospel writers, such as a hunter/woodcutter, a woman selling bread, and a donkey. The angel holding aloft a shiny star, and perched atop a tall lamp, could resemble somebody from a Broadway musical, and Jesus cleverly switches from the manger to his mother’s arms whenever somebody small wants to play with the figures. No matter how we depict it, celebrate it or remember it from those childhood hymns, we all seem to love this story, with or without its theological implications. Enjoy your creche!