REFLECTIONS ON CHRISTMAS 2009

This is my first Christmas in Halifax, and I am privileged to spend it in St. Patrick's parish which has welcomed my priestly ministry. The midnight mass will be in the usual grand style, but tomorrow will be a special treat for me, because we have an enthusiastic and gifted African choir to lead us in songs in various African languages, in French, and in English. This reminds me of the blessed time I spent in Nairobi in 1992. Jesus is indeed a universal saviour!

Here is my midnight mass homily, if you are interested:

A SERMON FOR CHRISTMAS 2009

During the four weeks of the advent season we have been reminded that we are part of a human race that too often finds itself in a land of deep darkness. In the words of Isaiah, we have longed for a great light, a saviour from God to break the rod of the oppressor and bring us peace. But in what form does this saviour come to us? I can already hear the answer on your lips: as a vulnerable and helpless infant: that is the familiar story of Christmas retold to us in the words of Luke’s gospel which we have just heard.

We will return to that story in a moment, but note the saviour in Isaiah also comes as a child: “For a child has been born for us, a son given to us, who is named Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace”. The one who is born a helpless infant will mature as a human being, and his mission will be to usher in endless peace. These words can be applied to Jesus.

Thus Isaiah’s words naturally lead us into the story told by Luke. That story covers the whole range of human experience, from poverty, marginalization and fragility, to glory, peace and joy. Joseph and Mary lived in a land of oppression, and they had to submit to the harsh Roman edict which forced them to undertake a perilous journey they would have avoided, especially because the birth of Mary’s child was imminent. Excluded from the inn, they ended up in a shelter for domestic animals, and their child, once born, was laid in a feeding trough which they had cleaned out, lined with fresh straw, so that it might serve as a crib.

But this birth was bathed in an extraordinary atmosphere of serenity, joy, love, and trust in the marvelous workings of God. These virtues are at the heart of the human quest for liberation and world peace. The emperor Caesar Augustus, mentioned at the beginning of this gospel reading, ushered in a period of peace through warlike means, but this period of peace was soon shattered by renewed conflict and violence in the Roman Empire, which eventually broke down. The peace we seek and which Jesus provides for us is a lasting peace, which is possible only because he has turned our hearts towards God.

As we reflect on Luke’s story, let us pay special attention today to the shepherds living in the fields and keeping watch over their flocks by night.

First, together with Mary and Zechariah, they were the recipients of an angelic visitation. In the first two cases, the visitor was the Angel Gabriel. In this case the Angel is without name. These angels are bearers of good news, of an event which, in the case of Mary and Zechariah, will take place, of an event which, in the case of the shepherds, is now taking place. In all three visitations the Angel offered a sign to prove that their message is true. The sign for the shepherds was the unexpected event of finding a child wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.

This sign is most appropriate. If we go by what most Jews of Jesus’ time longed for and imagined, the Saviour should have appeared as a powerful warrior heading an invincible army that would rout the Romans, or as a noble person of wisdom acclaimed for his clever pronouncements by the intellectuals of the day. But what did the shepherds find? A tiny child born in utter destitution, kept warm by the breath of the domestic animals huddled in the shelter, fragile, vulnerable, but yet tenderly loved by his mother and foster father. A tiny child laid in a manger, a feeding trough, which reminds us that his flesh would become food for the life of the world.

The choice of shepherds to be the first recipients of the good news that the Saviour is born this day is most appropriate as well. We easily romanticize the shepherds of first century Judaea. They are quite unlike the shepherds which are part of the decor of our Christmas cribs. These sculpted shepherds are dressed in their Sunday best, and one imagines that they took a bath before appearing before the Christ Child, and made sure that the sheep they brought along with them were properly groomed, like dogs entered in a dog show. But in reality their clothing was ragged and dirty, their odor a combination of ripe body sweat and the pungent smell of the sheep they cared for. Like Jesus, Mary, and Joseph in the animal shelter, they were deprived of a comfortable place to stay, spending day and night in the fields. Who would have a similar experience in our own time? We can imagine farmers eking out a living in parts of Africa often devastated by drought, or refugees living in primitive camps with inadequate food, shelter, or sanitation, waiting for their chance to find a new home, maybe after many years, maybe never. These are the shepherds who today would be chosen to receive the message of Jesus’ birth and to be present as he began his infant life.

When the time comes for God to make known the presence of the Saviour, the first to know is not King Herod, or the scribes and pharisees, religious leaders well versed in religious doctrine, but these shepherds. Salvation comes to those who experience poverty, who are not burdened with riches which take up all the space in their hearts and leave no room for Jesus to be born for them.

Before going to the manger to discover their newly born Saviour, the shepherds witnessed yet another manifestation of God’s loving power. Together with the Angel, a multitude of the heavenly host sang out “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those whom he favours.” Not the empty glory of tanks, jet fighters, military bravado, not the empty glory of the false abundance which clutters up our Christmas celebration, with so many deprived of basic essentials, not the empty glory of those media stars whose message to us is superficial and even misleading, but the glory which arises when love is fully manifest. It is not a glory which we bestow upon ourselves, as some political leaders try to do upon themselves. It is the glory of God’s favour and the peace which God brings through his Son, who is indeed the Prince of Peace.

The song of the angels is a privileged moment which reveals God’s glory. So often in our lives, marked by frustration and struggle, this glory is hidden from us, but when we celebrate Eucharist and together sing “Glory to God in the highest”, we know that glory is secretly at work in our hearts, our lives, our communities, that it will burst forth in fulness when Jesus returns to bring us to the house of our Heavenly Father.

ADVENT: THE THREE COMINGS OF CHRIST

(This is a continuation of the last blog on Advent.)

Two of the three comings are very easily detected in the liturgical texts of advent. One of them is uppermost in the minds and hearts of all of us, and it is reflected in the hymns, images and symbols that surround us at this time. It is the first coming of Jesus, his coming in poverty some two thousand years ago to be our Saviour. The cribs we put up in our churches and our homes is its evocative symbol. We will begin there.

Many of the texts of the Advent liturgy invite us to reenact the long journey of the chosen people as they waited for the coming of the one who would save them. How often we have savoured the beautiful prophecies the Church proposes for us as readings during Advent, especially those from Isaiah. We get a taste of them in the Sunday liturgies, but there are as well so many beautiful texts of this kind in the weekday liturgies. They point to the Saviour's coming and to God's decisive intervention to set things right, and for us Christians they set the stage for the humble entry of God incarnate in our world, which was the beginning of God's decisive intervention on our behalf. As we move further into the season of Advent more emphasis is given to this first coming, to the stories of immediate preparation for the birth of Jesus, especially those found in Luke's gospel, and also to stories about John the Baptist, who earliest years are also featured in Luke's gospel, but who later prepared the way for Jesus' public ministry as Messiah. The tone is warm, intimate, familial. And as Christians we believe that when we contemplate any scene of Christ's earthly life, what happens is not simply an empty memorial. Jesus is really there to meet us and to grace us in our prayer. So the birth of Christ in Bethlehem is not a hazy event of the past which we try to clothe with vividness in our imagination: in a mystical but real way the event happens all over again for us, we relive it, and share in its graces.

But if one looks at many of the texts proposed by the Church for Advent, they have two meanings. There are two comings. What the chosen people expected was the end of the world, the beginnings of the new heaven and the new earth, the coming of the Messiah, and that is the way they read the prophetic texts from the Hebrew Scriptures the Church features in Advent. We have the same expectation and understand these texts the same way, but there is a key difference: for us there are two comings of Christ, the first one which has already occurred, in poverty and humility, which our Jewish brothers and sisters do not acknowledge, the second one in majesty and power, where the reign of God inaugurated in the first coming is definitively established and we are ushered into the new heaven and the new earth. This second coming is highlighted in the first weeks of Advent, which continue the end of the world emphasis of the last weeks of ordinary time.

We are not really expecting the first coming any more. It has already taken place in history. But we are delighted to re-enact it each year, and to receive the beautiful graces which the Lord has in store for us as we relive it. We are, however, expecting the second coming, in which all the hidden graces of the first coming, the love and the vulnerability shown by Jesus from his birth to his death on the cross, are shown to be what they really are: a glorious manifestation of God's real power, a power which does not oppress and dominate us, but sets us free and enables us to be our real selves.

The texts of Advent take us in two directions simultaneously, but these two directions are profoundly linked. The first and the second coming go together. The first coming is a preparation for the second coming. The essential grace is already found in the first coming: Emmanuel, God present to us. But God's power is mostly hidden to us, functioning under the guise of vulnerability and compassion. The second coming is the fulfillment of the first coming. What was hidden becomes fully known under the guise of majesty and glory and power. That is when the seeds of new life deeply planted in us when Christ is born in our hearts will fully transform our fragile and weak selves and our topsy turvy world. In other words our life is shaped by the already now of the first coming and the not yet of the second coming. We live in hope, and that is the key virtue pointed out to us during this holy season of Advent.

Let us summarize what we have been saying in the words of the first preface of Advent:

When he humbled himself to come among us as a human being, he fulfilled the plan you formed long ago and opened for us the way to salvation.

Now we watch for the day, hoping that the salvation promised us will be ours when Christ our Lord will come again in his glory.

This preface says it simply and profoundly, and there is no need for us to further delve into first and the second coming.

However in the title of this talk we refer to the three comings of Christ. What have we missed? Let us paraphrase St. Bernard, a great monk and theologian of the 12th century. His text, in the office of readings during the first week of Advent, gives a clear explanation of yet another coming:

We know that there are three comings of the Lord. The third lies between the other two. It is invisible, while the other two are visible. In the first coming he was seen on earth, dwelling among human beings; he himself testifies that they saw him and many hated him. In the final coming all flesh will see the salvation of our God, and they will look on him whom they pierced. The intermediate coming is a hidden one; in it only those on the path to God see the Lord within their own selves, and they experience salvation. In his first coming our Lord came in our flesh and in our weakness; in this middle coming he comes in spirit and in power; in the final coming he will be seen in glory and majesty.

So from this text we see that this coming, not referred to as clearly in the Advent liturgy as the first two, is found between the first and the second. It is invisible. Indeed it is a series of comings within our inmost hearts in the course of our earthly lives. Jesus comes to us with his challenges and his empowerment, his invitations and his consolation. His comings are subtle, and we can easily miss them. We need to be ever alert, because we do not know the time nor the hour of our visitation. Let us continue with Bernard:

In case someone should think that what we say about this middle coming is sheer invention, listen to what our Lord himself says: If anyone loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him... Where is God's word to be kept? Obviously in the heart, as the prophet says: I have hidden your words in my heart, so that I may not sin against you.

Keep God's word in this way. Let it enter into your very being, let it take possession of your desires and your whole way of life...Your soul will delight in its richness. Fill your soul with richness and strength.

Because this coming lies between the other two, it is like a road on which we travel from the first coming to the last. In the first, Christ was our redemption; in the last, he will appear as our life; in this middle coming, he is our rest and consolation.

If you keep the word of God in this way, it will also keep you. The Son with the Father will come to you. The great Prophet who will build the new Jerusalem will come, the one who makes all things new. This coming will fulfill what is written: As we have borne the likeness of the earthly man, we shall also bear the likeness of the heavenly man. Just as Adam's sin spread through all humankind and took hold of all, so Christ, who created and redeemed all, will glorify all, once he takes possession of all.

This intermediate coming is really a series of many comings in the course of our daily lives. They prepare us for the final coming of Christ who will take possession of all and glorify all. We are like the virgins who wait for the Master's coming with their lamps trimmed, not knowing the hour. If we learn to detect the signs of his coming in our daily lives, we will be all the more ready to discern his presence in the end-time events.

So Advent is not just a way for us to remember and to reenact the Lord's first coming in the weakness of human flesh and to remind ourselves that He will come again in the glory of risen flesh. It is also a way for us learn how to focus our minds, to sharpen our attention, so that we might discern the numerous and often subtle reminders of his presence on our path here below, foretastes of what is to come. Indeed our lives are strewn with reminders of his presence, nudges and invitations to ready ourselves for when he returns in glory. The first coming is in the past; the second in the future; between them He continually comes to us in our lives, pointing us in the direction of his final coming.

Here are two questions which may stimulate our further prayer and reflection: What role does the second coming play in our Advent observance, and how well do we detect the continual signs of the comings of the Lord in our daily life? What would be signs of his presence?

ADVENT: WHO IS BORROWING FROM WHOM?

(This blog is part of a reflection on Advent which I gave at St. Agnes' Parish in Halifax NS. I offer it for those who may be interested.

J-M Laporte S.J.

ADVENT: WHO IS BORROWING FROM WHOM?

By taking part in this Saturday event we are a source of strength and hope for one another, because we are witnesses to one another of our Christian commitment. We are not isolated individuals, together we form a community of believers. Let us begin by acknowledging that fact and rejoicing in it.

The Church to which we belong always lives in a surrounding culture, with which it has no choice but to interact. The Church is essentially the same down through the centuries and in all parts of the world, but often its practices and observances take on different hues and feelings because the culture of the people is different. This applies to Advent and Christmas. Christmas feels different in Vietnam, Argentina, Canada, Slovakia, Italy, and so on. The Church in different areas constantly borrows from the ambient culture, taking from it values, festivals, patterns of behaviour, transforming them to make its own liturgies and religious observances more attractive and accessible to the people. But the Church is also counter-cultural: it can take strong stands against certain aspects of the surrounding culture. An example of the this is the strong stance of the Church against the general atmosphere of permissiveness regarding right to life in our own culture. But that is not our theme today.

The process of borrowing works in the other direction as well. The culture sometimes takes religious festivals and observances of the Church and uses them for its own ends. So parallel to our preparation for the religious feast of Christmas we are more and more caught up in the advertising-driven hullabaloo of preparing for another festival, whose point is not to acclaim the saviour of the world but to get people to open up their purses and worship the golden calf of commercialism. The festival of Christmas fills us with a sense of wonder and hope. The coinciding commercial festival, without the safeguard of genuine religious observance, will in the long run leave us with a sense of emptiness.

An example of the first kind of borrowing, the Church borrowing from the culture, relates to the liturgical cycle we are about to begin, that of Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany.

The Gospels do not tell us when Jesus was born. They give us an idea of the year, which may be either 4 or 6 BC. But they tell us nothing that will help us determine the date. The birth of Jesus is a momentous event in the history of the world that Christians want to remember and celebrate yearly. But on what date? The early Church grew in the Roman Empire, and there were many religious traditions floating around in that complex world. One of them was the celebration each year of the Unconquered Sun (Sol Invictus). As you know December 21 is the shortest day of the year. But from that day onwards, the sun begins to increase its hours of presence each day. The Sun appeared to be on the way to its demise, but it begins to increase in strength and presence. So it made a lot of sense for the Church to choose December 25th, a high point of this pagan celebration, for its own celebration of the birth of Christ, who is the unconquered light of the world. Christians would feel comfortable with this choice of date, and over the centuries it has worked beautifully in all areas of the world. At the same time many other pagan traditions, coming mainly from the barbarian tribes who took over the Western Roman Empire, were also transformed by Christianity, and we enjoy wreaths, candles, and Christmas trees and other such symbols. They are less universal than the date of Christmas, but nonetheless have been widely adopted.

We have mentioned the other kind of borrowing, in which the culture borrows from the Church. Christmas began as a religious feast, and it was considered so important that a period of preparation for it, known as Advent, emerged in the practice of the Church. There is also evidence of gift-giving as a practice of this pre-Christian period of celebration. Indeed gift-giving is part of the Christmas story: for instance we all know the beautiful story of the three wise men who came to Jesus with their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

As I researched the origins of Christmas gift-giving on the web, the first site that Google gave me was a site set up to promote Hershey and Ghirardelli chocolate. That says it all. I have nothing against Hershey bars and chocolate from the Ghirardelli company in San Francisco. To be honest chocolate is for me an easy entry into my own version of gluttony. But the point I wish to make is that our culture, which is highly commercialized, has commandeered our religious festival and made of it an occasion for people to spend money which often they do not have. To give simple gifts as a token of our love and our family bonds is wonderful. But it is not wonderful to be constantly battered by advertising which creates artificial needs, makes us feel guilty when we spend less, lays before us an illusory world of beautiful and wonderful things we can buy on credit. It is a travesty. The material gift becomes the focus rather than the spiritual relationship which it expresses and nurtures.

Santa Claus, based on the stories around Saint Nicholas, a third century bishop who lived in what is present-day Turkey, has become the focal point of this commercial celebration, with parades which over the decades have taken place earlier and earlier because the season of sales can be prolonged and revenues increased. Gift-giving is great, but when does gift-giving cease to be the expression of one’s heart-felt commitment to those we love and become an empty gesture which often we cannot afford?

I am sure that you know many traditional Christmas carols. If you study their words, you will find in them profound and poetic expressions of the mystery we celebrate. It is worth taking them as themes for our prayer. They lead us into the religious significance of the feast we prepare for during Advent and celebrate at Christmas and Epiphany. They warm our hearts and make us responsive to God’s grace. But commercial Christmas is a secular feast, and a different set of Christmas songs has developed, the jingle of which encourages the jingle of cash in our pockets available for purchases.

So you can see that borrowing can take place in two different directions, from Church to culture, and from culture to Church, and we have to be discerning as Christians in properly preparing for and celebrating Christmas. We cannot avoid entering to some extent into the practices of commercial Christmas, but let us not get sucked into them. Part of our preparation will be shopping lists, the search for sales, the wrapping of presents, strings of sparkling lights, mistletoe, mulled wine, and so on. And within proper limits, that is good. But at heart our preparation ought to be a religious one.