And WINTER Has Come Again…

Happy WINTER!❄️⛅️ It’s COLD in the Shenandoah Valley.🥶🥶🥶🥶 🌲🌲🌲🌲🫣 Burrrrrr!

One thing that I’ve noticed about getting older is that I’m less tolerant of the cold weather each winter. And the humidity in the summer. Maybe this is why some people move to ARIZONA. I never understood the appeal of Arizona (which is, after all, a freaking desert!!!🏜️☀️🔥🫨🫠) until the past few years. Now I know why some folks might wanna live there. 

But I’d rather be cold, close to family, and see the Blue Ridge Mountains year after year.🙂

“O Antiphons” of December 17-19

Joseph Might Not Have Thought What We Think He Thought

 

Because this post never gets "old," I like to run it again from time to time, especially when we read the one text in the New Testament that gives us some idea of the perspective of St Joseph when he first found himself caught up in the events we are preparing to celebrate in the coming days. Thus once again I present, for your reading (or rereading) consideration, this bloggy "digest" of some of my old undergraduate lecture material, entitled "Joseph Might Not Have Thought What We Think He Thought."

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Everyone is familiar with the Gospel reading from today's liturgy. It was all about Jesus being conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary... from the perspective of St. Joseph. We think we know what is going on in this passage, but perhaps we assume too much:

"When his mother Mary was betrothed to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found with child through the Holy Spirit. Joseph her husband, since he was a righteous man, yet unwilling to expose her to shame, decided to divorce her quietly. Such was his intention when, behold, the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, 'Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary your wife into your home. For it is through the Holy Spirit that this child has been conceived in her. She will bear a son and you are to name him Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins'" (Matthew 1:18-21).

Ah yes, that "touchy" little situation.

Thus we are introduced to St. Joseph, and the testimony of Divine Revelation to this greatest of saints after Mary herself is largely contained in these first two chapters of Matthew (along with some references in Luke 1-2). Indeed, this is one of his most important moments; it is the moment upon which his vocation is founded. What do we learn about him in this passage?

Perhaps it is something a little different from what we initially think. For a person like me, this story might enter into my mind and get mixed around and end up sounding something like this (note well -- the actual words of the Scripture are in bold type; the rest is JJ's imagination coloring in the details):

Joseph her husband, when he realized that Mary must of been... well... unfaithful to their betrothal (which really surprised him since Mary had been so completely, astonishingly, immaculately good up until then) since he was a righteous man, yet [YET?] unwilling to expose her to shame, (in other words he was "righteous" but he wasn't like "crazy righteous" -- the Law said an adulterous wife should be stoned to death [see Deuteronomy 22], but he decided to ignore the Law and let it slide because he was a nice guy,) decided to divorce her quietly. (Mary had this story about an angel and a miracle and the Holy Spirit, but as Joseph himself said in Zeffirelli's movie Jesus of Nazareth [and he must have said it, because we saw it], "That's too much for any man to believe!" But still, he was a nice guy so he was willing to break it off quietly.)Such was his intention when, behold, the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, "Joseph, son of David [why did he call him that?], do not be afraid to take Mary your wife into your home. [PERIOD! That means the angel finishes his sentence here. Then he takes a deep breath and continues with the next sentence...] For (in other words, after have taken his deep breath, the angel proceeds to explain to Joseph what really happened, setting the record straight that Mary was telling the truth after all) it is through the Holy Spirit that this child has been conceived in her. She will bear a son and you are to name him Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins." At which point Joseph goes <FACEPALM> "If I had known, O angel, that Mary was really bearing the Messiah, the Son of God, in her womb by the power of the Holy Spirit, I would never have 'divorced her quietly'! Oh no, I would have taken her into my home and taken upon myself the earthly responsibilities of fatherhood for... you know... God Incarnate...."

Okay, JJ... enough snarkiness. What's the point? Well, the point here is that if I step back and examine what seems to be the common sense interpretation of this text, it starts to raise all sorts of problems. There's not a whole lot of bold type in that long paragraph. I have to make a lot of assumptions, which is not unreasonable since these assumptions are generally made even by theologians (generally, but not universally, and -- as we shall see -- there is good reason for a different reading).

The interpretation fills in details that are precisely not mentioned in the text, but that seem necessary to make sense of it. The thinking is that Joseph is divorcing Mary for infidelity, and he is assuming that her pregnancy is a result of that infidelity (maybe she tried to explain it and he didn't believe her, or maybe she said nothing because of humility, in which case he still must have been somewhat flustered). He is a "just man," so he's not interested in getting revenge against the perpetrator, nor does he want to "press charges" according to the Law, but he also has no intention of covering the whole matter up by taking her in as his wife and presenting himself as the child's father. Then the angel appears to him and tells him not to be afraid to marry Mary because she is innocent and the child has been conceived by a miracle. The child, in fact, is the Savior. Problem solved. The marriage is back on.

Problem solved? On closer inspection, maybe not. Actually we have several problems here. The underlying problem is that we interpret this whole event based on a presupposition that is not in the text. In fact, a closer look at the text reveals that our presupposition (that Joseph is divorcing Mary because he thinks she's pregnant by human agency) is not supported; indeed, the implications lead in another direction entirely.

What I'm presenting here is theological and exegetical opinion, which has been much more precisely expressed by theologians and biblical exegetes (such as, for example, John McHugh, in his fascinating book The Mother of Jesus in the New Testament [1975] and Giorgio Buccellati, longtime professor of Ancient Near Eastern studies at UCLA [see e.g. "The Prophetic Dimension of Joseph," Communio, Spring 2006] -- just so you know that my ramblings here are backed by scholarly heavyweights). Scott Hahn refers to the two opinions on this text as the Suspicion Theory (Joseph thinks Mary committed adultery until the angel reveals otherwise) and the Reverence Theory (which is... well, let's see). Scott himself doesn't "take sides" here, but (to my reading) he also leans in the direction of the latter theory (see The Gospel of Matthew, Ignatius Catholic Study Bible, p. 18).

That will have to suffice for scholarly "apparatus" in what is a decidedly non-scholarly blog post. JJ just wants to outline why he now sees this event in a different light, not only because it makes more sense, but also because St. Joseph is his homeboy. (Really, I don't know where I'd be without him.)

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Let's take a closer look at this text. Mary "was found with child through the Holy Spirit." What does this mean? Exactly what it says (also in the Greek). Before Joseph took Mary into his home, she was found with child through the Holy Spirit. Once again, note well that does not say that she was "found with child and claimed that the child was conceived by the Holy Spirit." We might assume that the point here is that Mary was "found with child" and that Matthew just adds the Holy Spirit parenthetically. Is this assumption warranted? Let's examine further and see if we really need these invisible parentheses.

Clearly, Mary is with child and Joseph wants to end the relationship. He has no choice but to divorce Mary, since the betrothal is already a binding legal commitment. But he doesn't want to "bring shame" upon her (stoning to death and all that), so he decides to do it "quietly." And all of these assumptions hinge on Joseph being a "just" or "righteous" man, which means that he is a man devoted to the Law (hence divorce) who is simultaneously a man willing to set the Law aside (hence "quietly").

Hmmmm.

The quiet divorce is something of a head-scratcher. Our lectionary translation gives us something that is appropriately bumbling: "Joseph her husband, since he was a righteous man, yet unwilling to expose her to shame, decided to divorce her quietly." Since? Yet? He was righteous, but...? And while we're at it, let's look at this term that Matthew decides to toss in here: dikaios. This is Greek for the Hebrew saddiq. Such a title is not awarded lightly in the Scriptures. This is a profound and full sense of righteousness, such as is attributed to Noah and Abraham. This is the kind of "justice" out of which radical foundations can be made. Here is Joseph the Righteous.

And Matthew has introduced this term to explain to us (while also confusing us further) the reason why Joseph decided to be kind and merciful to his adulterous wife? Assuming that there's some wiggle room in the Law for this kind of arrangement (and we all assume this, of course), it would seem that a decent man could take this road without much heroic virtue. It hardly requires the righteousness of Noah or Abraham to walk away from an unfaithful spouse, without obligations and with a spotless reputation. The betrothed woman is allowed to live. We assume (again) that the "quiet" will succeed in smoothing over the situation for everybody, whereas in fact it refers only to refraining from filing a public charge. In such circumstances, the woman is still socially disgraced and even cast out of home and family, shamed for the rest of her life. It's not like she can go abroad for a year, have the baby, and then come back with nobody knowing anything about it. This is not the Hamptons. This is a Palestinian village. In 4 b.c. Everybody knows everything. As for Joseph? Not his problem anymore.

But, Matthew tells us, Joseph is not the average man who wants to cut his losses and get out of town. He is saddiq. He is just. He is righteous. The angel in the dream does not rebuke him nor cause some great moral conversion. Joseph is already the quintessential steadfast man. Still, given what we assume to be his understanding, he's not doing anything "wrong." (Or is he being shifty with the Law? Isn't there a better way? Oh gosh what a mixup!)

What's wrong with this picture?

Perhaps we can keep all these human assumptions (as many, but not all, church fathers and many, but not all, interpreters have) and still squeeze it all together and make it fit. It's all a big misunderstanding that the angel clears up, to our great relief, by telling Joseph the truth.

If only Joseph had known from the start that Mary had conceived by the Holy Spirit, then it would have been.... ? What "would it have been"? What if?

Consider this possibility: What if Mary told Joseph about the Annunciation, and Joseph did believe her? What if Joseph, the righteous man, totally, totally believed her?

Here also, we are assuming (or hypothesizing) something that the text doesn't come right out and state. But why do we assume that it didn't happen this way? There is nothing implausible about this communication between these particularly extraordinary betrothed spouses. I would think that Joseph would be the first person she would tell. What we do know of Mary from the Gospels indicates that she was humble and obedient, yes, but not timid. She was also practical.

This was something Joseph needed to know. I see no reason why Mary would not have told him the whole thing, right away.

And how far have we really departed from the text in "assuming" this? Matthew 1:18 says "she was found with child through the Holy Spirit." Matthew is giving us Joseph's perspective here (is any other person mentioned?). So who "found" out that she was "with child"? Joseph. And how did he find out? Mary told him. Is it possible that what Joseph "found" was that Mary was "with child through the Holy Spirit"?

"But, but..." we might say, "if he had known, there wouldn't have been any thought of divorce, right?"

On the contrary. In these circumstances we have precisely what we need to make sense of the "quiet 'divorce' of the 'just man'" -- this is where lots of pieces fall into place in a way that I find compelling. It is precisely at this point that Matthew tells us that Joseph is saddiq, that he is righteous with that sense of awe and wonder at the mystery of God; in fact he is one in a million, the man to whom the Lord had already entrusted His most magnificent creation: the Immaculate Virgin Mary. But what has Mary just told him? She has been "overshadowed" by the Most High and has now become, in a new way, the dwelling place of the Holy One. (When Mary asked the angel, "How?" in Luke 1, she got a very clear answer.) Both Mary and Joseph recognized in these terms the references to the Shekinah, the Glory of God who descended upon the Ark of the Covenant, who dwelt in the Holy of Holies in the temple.

Only those called specifically by God to the Levitical priesthood were allowed to pass beyond the veil and enter the Holy of Holies. But what was this that had happened to Mary? The Glory dwells in her. It is precisely because Joseph is "Just" according to God's own heart that he would never presume that a human betrothal gave him the right to take the New Ark of the Covenant by his own authority into his home. (I know, I'm coordinating Matthew and Luke here, but I'm one of these people who actually believes that whatever literary genres are being employed in these narratives, their purpose is to convey to us stuff that really happened.)

Joseph learns that Mary is "with child through the Holy Spirit" and that she has received a new, divine vocation. But he has had no revelation from God, no new vocation that corresponds with Mary's. What can he do? He is a "righteous man" and is able to understand that Mary has become a bearer of God's Glory. Surely, the Lord will make His will known for Mary and this extraordinary child. The Lord will assure that Mary is protected, no doubt by someone worthier than Joseph himself. The only role Joseph sees for himself here is to release Mary from the obligations of the betrothal (yes, the word for "divorce" can be understood in this way) to make room for whomever God chooses. Of course, Joseph will do it "quietly," secretly, because it would be manifestly more than unjust to expose Mary to shame. It would be wicked. "Joseph, since he was a righteous man" (1:19) would never do such a thing. He will release her right away, and keep her secret to himself.

For his own part, Joseph is filled with awe and humility. He is full of that eminently righteous gift which is the fear of the Lord. No doubt he wonders about many things, and is probably confused and "afraid" in the emotional sense. But above all, he is surrendering Mary to the mystery and the freedom of God's plan.

This is his intention when the angel appears. And here more things start to make sense. The angel says to him, "Do not be afraid to take Mary your wife into your home." The "fear" indicated here is the kind that the human person has before the mystery of God. The "Suspicion Theory" has no way to explain this fear. If Joseph thinks Mary's pregnancy is ordinary, it's hard to see what he would be "afraid" of even in a purely human sense. He would be opposed to taking an adulteress into his house, not for any reasons of fear, much less the fear of the presence of God. He would be concerned for her dismal future. He would have no fear about himself; he has done the right thing.

But the angel invokes that fear in the presence of God and relates it directly to Joseph taking Mary into his home. That would make perfect sense if Mary in fact has the presence of God within her in a wholly new and unimaginable way.

But how do we account for the angel giving Joseph the news of Mary's miraculous conception in a way that seems "fresh" if he already knows about it? Isn't there a divinely inspired PERIOD that divides 1:20? "Do not be afraid to take Mary your wife into your home. For it is through the Holy Spirit that this child has been conceived in her." These two sentences do sound like the angel is relieving Joseph's "fear" by informing him that Mary's child is in fact of the Holy Spirit. But we've seen that this fact is the only meaningful reason for Joseph's fear in the first place.

Here's where we must realize the limitations of translation. The New Testament was written in the common Greek of the first century, with no word spacing or punctuation. Many terms that have various possible renderings get standardized by translators for a variety of reasons. Frankly I'm not a New Testament scholar or a Greek scholar. But here I'm relying on John McHugh (see above) who is both. McHugh says that it is legitimate to read this verse in a different way, pulling out the punctuation that isn't there in the first place and using some unwieldy clauses which don't sound great in English but render the sense more accurately.

The result is that the angel's words to Joseph actually emphasize that Joseph's knowledge of the miracle is the cause of his fear. What we should read here goes something like this: Do not be afraid to take Mary your wife into your home on account of the fact that it is through the Holy Spirit that this child has been conceived in her. Now that makes sense.

And there is a hint here too of what the angel's real purpose is in this vision: "Joseph, son of David..." he says. It's interesting that this narrative begins at verse 18. Yesterday we read the first 17 verses, which are a genealogy from Abraham through David (the King to whom the promise of God is given) to Jesus. When I hear the genealogies being read, I am tempted to zone out. I am even tempted to open Matthew's gospel and just start at verse 18. But this genealogy does catch my attention (and might cause consternation) because after all these carefully recorded names we arrive at "Jacob the father of Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom Jesus was born" (1:16).

Wait! If Joseph is not Jesus's biological father, then what good is the genealogy? In fact, it's a lot of good, and it sets the stage and indicates the focus of the narrative that follows. Kingly inheritance passes from father to son in the Hebrew tradition. Mary's lineage has no legal significance and it is the legal claim to be a descendant of David that is necessary for Jesus to inherit the Davidic kingship and fulfill the promise. But there was no human father! The inheritance can only be handed on if a descendant of David steps in and acts as father to Jesus (we say that Joseph "adopts" Him, but I'm not sure that we have an entirely adequate term to describe the sui generis role that Joseph is called to play).

"She will bear a son and you are to name him Jesus" (1:21). Now we know what this angelic visit is all about. The angel is giving Joseph his specific vocation; he is conveying God's authorization (indeed His command) that Joseph enter into a unique service to this new Shekinah, this new presence of God in the world: that he take his wife into his home without fear, because he, Joseph, is the one called by God to take on this responsibility. And he is called to this because he is a "son of David" and he therefore passes on the earthly line of the Messianic king to Mary's son, to whom he gives the name of Jesus.

Personally, I'm convinced. This has gotta be it. Remember that Scott Hahn called this the Reverence Theory, and I think we understand why. It's simple. It makes everything fit together. It's consistent with the details Matthew gives us and fits better into the context. It explains Matthew's statement that from the beginning Mary was "found to be with child through the Holy Spirit." It accounts eminently and in every respect for Joseph's title of saddiq, right in the place where Matthew introduces it (without resorting to casuistry about the Law, or a murky sense of what Joseph was up to or what human problem he was afraid of, or having to posit this odd, tense, and mistrustful beginning of the Holy Family).

The "Reverence Theory" corresponds to the singular sanctity of the man, St. Joseph -- always obedient, always steadfast, always following God's will and trusting in His wisdom. That is the St. Joseph I know, and I have no reason to believe he was ever otherwise.

The Latest News From Papa-land

"Papa-land" is a silly term to use as a reference to my experience of being a grandfather (i.e. "Papa," a name that follows a family tradition on the Janaro side). 

"Papa-land" is actually funny because I use it with "the girls" (our little granddaughters) and the 3+ year old Maria - who is a born wit - has grasped the humor (such as it is) and has taken it up herself. The girls usually play together when they come to our house on Sundays and Mondays, but sometimes Maria is doing a project at the table while Anna is on Eileen's lap having a book read to her (or some other arrangement) and I'll say, "What's happening in Maria-land?" Without missing a beat, Maria responds, "I'm painting!" Then she'll look at her sister and say, "What's happening in Anna-land?"

She "gets" my humor, and already has her own quips, observations, and ways of teasing Papa. We banter about things. I enjoy reading to her and "explaining" some of the background of the stories, which she usually finds engaging. Meanwhile Anna is already clearly her own person. She's mellow and sweet (at least when she's with us), and always ready to smile and give hugs. She doesn't say much (yet), but when she sees something that catches her interest, she focuses on it and moves toward it to check it out. Like most one-year-old toddlers, she has a surprising quickness in moving and grabbing things. One can't take one's eyes off her for a minute when she's crawling (and now just beginning to walk) in a room. We surround her with lots of toys, but she'll grab my water bottle if I do much as blink.

Of course, Big Sister is never too far away, and she takes care of Anna. Maria talks to her and explains things to her; she has already embraced her mentorship role.

Their parents are doing very well raising them. To me, their Papa, they are an astonishing gift. I hope that I can "share their dreams" for a future that will probably span the rest of this century. How will their lives unfold and develop? I don't know, but I’m amazed and grateful that they’re here now:

I tried to make a little video with Anna. This is already a few weeks old (right after her first birthday on November 28). She starts talking to the camera near the end of this video, and shows us a little of what "Anna-land" is all about:

Rejoice, Rejoice!

 Gaudete Sunday. “O Antiphons” coming up! Then... Christmas!⭐

Saint Lucy Signals the Approach of Winter

According to old "Julian calendar," Saint Lucy's Day was the shortest day of the year. 

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Byzantine iconography has the 4th century Sicilian martyr holding a cross and a lamp, as "Lucia" means "light." This ancient liturgical prayer shows her to be a young woman who loved Christ above all, as the bride loves the bridegroom: "O Jesus, your Lamb Lucia cries out to You with great love: 'O my Bridegroom, I long for You in great pain. I am crucified with You, and in baptism I am buried with You. I suffer for Your sake in order to reign with You, I die for You in order to live in You. Accept me as an immaculate victim, since I am immolated for Your love.' Through her intercession, O Merciful One, save our souls!" (Troparion for the Feast of St. Lucia, Byzantine Liturgy.)

Guadalupe: Our Merciful Mother is “Here” For Us

The miraculous icon of the Virgin of Guadalupe appeared on Juan Diego's tilma nearly five hundred years ago. I could speak of scientific studies that have only deepened the sense of amazement evoked by this singular image that is kept in the great basilica on the hill of Tepeyac in Mexico City.

Instead I will be very brief. I will say simply this: Go!

Go to Guadalupe! You will have to go to an enormous, chaotic city, to a large and often crowded basilica where you will be directed to a moving walkway beneath the image. You will see something like this (above) when you look up.

In less than a minute, you will pass it. The natural flow of traffic from here appears to lead to the gift shop. But don't just go to the gift shop and then leave for another tourist spot. This is your time. Mary is here for you.

She won't force you to stay, or to notice her. But if you spend time with this mysterious image of the Mother of Jesus, if you recognize that you have been invited by her to a personal encounter, you will meet her and something new will be born in your life.

Spend time. Give her your attention. Find somewhere in this enormous church where you can sit for a while, and give some space for silence in your heart. Let the Lord enter into the silence that His Mother has specially prepared for you in her "house."

The miracle of Guadalupe is a gift, not just for Juan Diego or Mexico or "the Americas." It's a gift for you, personally. She is your mother, and you are more dear to her heart than you can possibly imagine. How could it be otherwise? Jesus is your brother.

He speaks to her from the Cross about you: "Woman, behold your son" (John 19:26). He also speaks to you: "Behold, your mother!" (John 19:27).

So go to Guadalupe. If you have been there already, go again! She will bring the tenderness of God's love close to you in all your sorrows and fears. She will begin to untie the knots. She will draw you closer to Jesus.

“I Will Give You Rest”

Jesus said to the crowds: “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light” (Matthew 11:28-30).

Christina Grimmie Still “Shines Her Light” at Christmas Time

Christina Grimmie never made a “Christmas Album” but she did stream two (originally “live”) Christmas concerts on a platform called Stageit. Both are preserved in recorded form on YouTube. There is also her astonishing rendition of “O Holy Night” from December 2011.

In 2015, Christina recorded an a-cappella rendition of the traditional Advent hymn “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” which is also still on YouTube. I just stumbled on a selection of it on an Instagram Reel, and it gave me a fresh reminder of how much Christina Grimmie’s image and voice have marked these holy seasons for me and for so many other people, even today—8 years and 6 months since she was gunned down by a deranged concertgoer at an open meet-and-greet after a show in Orlando, Florida on June 10, 2016.

Christina loved Christmas, and never hesitated to share the reason why: her deep faith and love for Jesus Christ. Her faith still bears fruit today and her love still touches people’s lives through videos, which—even when she sang secular pop songs (which was most of the time)—were crafted with her great desire to give of herself and use her phenomenal vocal and musical talent to reach out and make the Internet a more human place, a place of encouragement and friendship. 

This LINK will take you to that Instagram Reel I shared. The full song (nearly three beautiful minutes long) is available on YouTube at this LINK2. For a post I wrote in 2017 about “A Christina Grimmie Christmas,” open this LINK3.

As we prepare for the coming of Christ in days to come, many people (including me) will find encouragement once again in the joyful soul of Christina Victoria Grimmie (March 12, 1994 — June 10, 2016).

Immaculate Conception and the “Guadalupe Days” are Here

In the U.S.A., the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary was moved to TODAY (because yesterday was the Second Sunday of Advent); today would ordinarily be the memorial of Saint Juan Diego, who first saw “La Virgencita” on Tepeyac hill outside of Mexico City on this day in 1531. In fact, the Immaculate Conception used to be celebrated on December 9 in some places in the Roman Church (and the Eastern churches celebrate “the Conception of Saint Anne” every year on December 9, incorporating ancient traditions about Mary’s parents). Juan Diego was actually traveling to Mass for this feast day when the Mother of God first appeared to him and commissioned him to be her “messenger” to the bishop.

Thus, the “Guadalupe Days” have begun once again, to culminate on December 12, when we commemorate the gift of Mary's image to the world, and in a particular way to the lands and peoples of the continents we call "America."

Note that the 500th Anniversary of Guadalupe is in 2031 (a mere seven years away). 

Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe can heal the wounds of our hemisphere and bring reconciliation and solidarity to our peoples. If we ask her, she will do it ... but she will make us her collaborators and we will have to work hard and be patient. Just ask Juan Diego about that!

The Gentleness of Saint Ambrose

“The Lord sought [the increase of the Church] at the price of His own Blood, imitating the lovingkindness of heaven, and aiming at the redemption of all. [He] seeks this end with a gentleness which the ears of men can endure, in presence of which their hearts do not sink, nor their spirits quail.”

Therefore, the minister of the Church “who endeavors to amend the faults of human weakness ought to bear this very weakness on his own shoulders, let it weigh upon himself, not cast it off. For we read that the Shepherd in the Gospel carried the weary sheep, and did not cast it off… For how shall he offer himself to you for healing whom you despise, who thinks that he will be an object of contempt, not of compassion, to his physician? 

“Therefore the Lord Jesus had compassion upon us in order to call us to Himself, not frighten us away. He came in meekness, He came in humility, and so He said: ‘Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you.’ So, then, the Lord Jesus refreshes, and does not shut out nor cast off, and fitly chose such disciples as should be interpreters of the Lord’s will, as should gather together and not drive away the people of God. 

“Whence it is clear that they are not to be counted amongst the [faithful] disciples of Christ, who think that harsh and proud opinions should be followed rather than such as are gentle and meek; persons who, while they themselves seek God’s mercy, deny it to others…[for] no one can repent to good purpose unless he hopes for mercy.”

~Saint Ambrose, Concerning Repentance I:1

"He Will Destroy Death Forever"

"On this mountain [the Lord] will destroy the veil that veils all peoples, the web that is woven over all nations; he will destroy death forever. The Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces; the reproach of his people he will remove from the whole earth; for the Lord has spoken.

"On that day it will be said: 'Behold our God, to whom we looked to save us! This is the Lord for whom we looked; let us rejoice and be glad that he has saved us!' For the hand of the Lord will rest on this mountain."

~Isaiah 25:7-10

We Must BE VIGILANT to See the Fullness of Human Dignity

The Gospel for the First Sunday of Advent sets a crucially important tone for our Advent expectation, reminding us that we belong to Christ, that Christ is our hope. We are called to lift up our hearts to Him, to recognize our true identity and destiny in Him. Advent is a time to “stand up straight and raise our heads” in expectation of Christ’s coming, and the fullness of our redemption which will reveal the truth of every moment of our lives—the total meaning of our history and the joys and sorrows, the gifts and creative engagements, the suffering and endurance of our lives. This particularly intense Gospel passage deserves our meditation and reflection:

Jesus said to his disciples: “There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on earth nations will be in dismay, perplexed by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will die of fright in anticipation of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. And then they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. But when these signs begin to happen, stand erect and raise your heads because your redemption is at hand. 

“Beware that your hearts do not become drowsy from carousing and drunkenness and the anxieties of daily life, and that day catch you by surprise like a trap. For that day will assault everyone who lives on the face of the earth. Be vigilant at all times and pray that you have the strength to escape the tribulations that are imminent and to stand before the Son of Man” (Luke 21:25-28, 34-36).

This season invites us to “run forward to meet” Jesus Christ who was born into this world, who lived and died for us, who conquered sin and death and is risen in His glorified humanity to draw all things to Himself. We are exhorted to “run forward to meet” Christ who comes to each of us in this moment, now, to empower us to see that the promise and the measure of this moment—of every moment—is His dwelling-with-us as the wondrous, unforeseen, incalculable gift of the Father’s infinite mercy and love.

We are also reminded to be vigilant and awake with welcoming hearts, with the hope and love that the Holy Spirit stirs up and sustains in us, and to guard against losing our focus on the face of Jesus. Advent reminds us that we must not allow our minds to be “weighed down” by distraction, discouragement, or forgetfulness of our supernatural destiny as co-heirs with Christ in the Kingdom of His Father.

The vigilant expectation of Jesus Christ “coming to us” and “dwelling among us” must be concrete and pervasive, transforming our minds and shaping the scope and criteria by which we judge every aspect of our lives. This does not mean reducing Christianity to an ideology that has pre-formulated answers to every concrete problem we face. Our faith certainly emphasizes and deepens our humanity, sheds light on the fundamental features of human dignity, and transforms our perspective and motivation for “loving our neighbor as ourselves.” It is natural for us to perceive that the human person in front of us is worthy of love. All people of good will—people who, although limited and fragile and often confused, seek the truth as something greater than themselves—are moved to express love and reverence for the dignity of every human person. Even if they are mistaken about the scope and demands of human dignity—even if their myopic and mistaken intentions lead to violent and tragic consequences that they do not yet recognize—people still know in the depths of their consciences that other human persons are their brothers and sisters who deserve respect, justice, equity, and a merciful love that opens up to the personhood and freedom of the “other.”

This basic loving recognition of human dignity (along with many mistaken judgments, confusion and sometimes violent failures to recognize human persons in specific circumstances) is common to Christians and people of other religions or other perspectives and “places” in their journey toward the truth—the mystery that gives ultimate meaning and purpose to human life. Our adherence to Jesus Christ, however, transforms the way we perceive and value human dignity. We have encountered the Mystery who has united human nature with Himself in a gratuitous outpouring of His love. By becoming fully human—like us in all things but sin—He has “consecrated” everything pertaining to human dignity. He has made our nature His own, as the gratuitous expression of His mercy and love that redeems and transfigures humanity. He has “in a certain sense united Himself with every human being” (see Gaudium et Spes 22). We know that every human person is made for Christ, and has the vocation to belong to Christ so as to share forever in the glory of the God who has revealed Himself as Absolute Love. The Holy Spirit wants to shape our experience so that we recognize ever more concretely that whatever we do to the least of our human brothers and sisters, we do to Christ. This is the truth about reality as it actually is, right now. It opens up, elevates, and transforms our perspective on “loving our neighbor” and “loving ourselves” out of the awareness that He loves us, that He is present, He is “with us” and that He “is coming” to transform us and ultimately fulfill us in Himself. 

His presence clarifies many of our responsibilities toward one another, but He doesn’t give us “all the answers” to every human difficulty we face in this life. He doesn’t give us an “absolute ideology” but rather draws us to a greater love. We do not yet see the whole of His plan for us, but we are given “new eyes”—the eyes of faith to recognize His presence among us and to welcome His “coming among us” in new ways. For this—the unfolding of our vocation, our journey toward His fullness—we must be vigilant with a ready expectation. However daunting and difficult the circumstances of His coming may be, we must trust the Holy Spirit to renew in us the vitality of faith, hope, and love (caritas) that empower us to recognize Him and respond to Him. For Christ comes among us especially in the poor and afflicted, and through them He begs for our recognition and love.

In light of this universally inclusive (i.e. Catholic) perspective on human dignity, I want to give special consideration this Advent to the global social crisis that involves hundreds of millions of migrants, refugees, and displaced persons. The unimaginable poverty of these human persons challenges my own worldly complacency and self-satisfaction. I don’t know how to “solve the problem” or relieve the countless miseries, but I don’t want to be careless, asleep, and disconnected from my brothers and sisters who suffer; I want to wake up and listen to the voice of Christ who begs for my love through them. I pray that His begging voice will awaken me, my fellow Catholic Christians, all other Christians, and the whole wider community of people of good will, to have a “preferential option” for these poor persons whose afflictions and needs are so evident, and to inspire in us vigilance, confidence, and creativity that overcome our fears and enable us to do whatever we can to respond to their cries (which are the cries of the Heart of Jesus). 

This call to attention and response—responsibility for the recognition of human dignity—addresses itself in a particular way to my nation and, in various ways, all the wealthy nations of the world. There are many Christians among us—good, generous Christians—who place their hope in Christ and seek to follow Him and show forth His glory in today’s world. We are especially called to vigilance in the present moment regarding many things, but it is illustrative to look at this one specific circumstance which we might be tempted to ignore or assess with reductive criteria that subtly set aside the ardor of the merciful love of the Heart of Jesus. 

I say this to myself as much as to anyone else: We must be vigilant. We must not become “drunk” on the illusions of worldly success, or on the fantasies of political and social leaders who promise to “make us great” according to the measure of this world—fragile and imperiled promises of “tribal self-affirmation” that inevitably require us to turn our backs on Christ present in our brothers and sisters in desperate need. They are the “Lazaruses” who long for scraps from our overfilled banquet tables: victims of violence and intractable circumstances of human misery, crying out to us who have been blessed with immense material wealth—with material comforts, technological riches, and power never before seen in the history of the human race. 

Advent reminds us that Jesus comes to us in the midst of these migrants and refugees who are our neighbors, and that Jesus in the poor makes a claim on us—He calls us to act responsibly with the wealth He has given to us who live in the rich nations of the world. This “claim,” as such, doesn’t require advocacy for any particular partisan political plan, much less agitation for “revolution” (which the bitter experience of the twentieth century has proven to be fruitless; it is another kind of “drunkenness” that forgets Christ and unleashes more violence). What is primary and fundamental is the need to recognize Christ in these suffering people so as to see and judge the problem as it really is, and to follow Him in being protagonists of creative responsibility that embodies the works of mercy, that seeks to generate spaces where people can make homes, reunite families, and find dignified work.

There is no denying that this is an enormous crisis that seems overwhelming in its implications. “Nations [are] in dismay, perplexed by the roaring of the sea and the waves,” but in this case the roaring waves are millions of human persons, uprooted from their homes by war, indigence, persecution, and/or civil chaos that threatens the most basic requirements of human living. They are joined by immigrants who often come from very poor countries with the hope of a better way of life for themselves and their families even at the bottom rung of the economic ladder in rich neighboring countries. The disparity of lifestyle is enormous—some in Latin America have said about their North American neighbors that “your dogs live better than we do.” Having seen the poverty with my own eyes in several intensive visits to Latin America, I can only confirm that—at least for some people (too many people)—this statement is literally true. Certainly there are many organizations that work to help these people. Unfortunately, there are others who prey on their vulnerability.

This is an incredibly complex crisis that cannot be resolved quickly or easily. This is why we must be vigilant, we must “keep watch” for ways to open roads and spaces for Christian and human dignity. We must watch and pray, sacrifice and “co-suffer” with these people who are our brothers and sisters, seeing in them Christ who is “coming” to us. This does not mean we should join the most extreme ideological partisan movements, or surrender our rational capacity for prudential judgment and be taken in by facile or naive solutions that promise to “fix everything”; rather we must begin by remembering that we are searching for ways to welcome Christ in the stranger and give Christ in the homeless a place to live with dignity. He is the Lord of history even in these tumultuous times, and He will show us how to follow Him and accompany one another, enfolding us all in His Most Compassionate Heart, opening our eyes to His way of seeing and judging adequately all the problems we face in life. We must not be paralyzed by fear. “Do not be afraid. Open wide the doors to Christ” (Saint John Paul II)—Open wide the doors of our lives, our societies, our cultures, and every aspect of this wild, fascinating, perilous, unpredictable moment in history that He has entrusted to us. Open wide the doors to Christ! He “is the center of the cosmos and history” (John Paul II, Redemptor Hominis 1).

But in the disorganized and unmanageable movements of vast numbers of people, how can we not be afraid? In their anxiety, the rich nations fear being overrun, and they fear the lawless and violent elements that inevitably emerge or attach themselves to the desperation of the neglected poor. This points to a reasonable concern that cannot be ignored, but if it becomes the main criterion for judging the response of wealthy peoples to this huge and increasing human crisis of our times, then Jesus has been forgotten. A proper and reasonable concern for the common good in the regional spheres of this unprecedentedly interconnected world (with all its expansive possibilities and monstrous dangers) requires attention to restraining the criminal and violent elements, and international collaboration in seeking ways to reduce them or reform the problems that engender them and foster their growth. But anxiety will not help us; it will only make us obtuse in front of the full meaning of what is really happening. We must bring these cares, these deeply human concerns about our world to Him, trust in Him, and ask Him to enlighten our minds and enlarge our hearts.

We must be vigilant here, to see the face of Jesus and the dignity of the human person in need, and (in whatever way we can) to serve Him in them. This is a mentality that cannot (and must not) be reduced to any of the misperceptions and more-or-less dehumanizing strategies of any party on the current political spectrum. Be vigilant. Don’t become “drowsy” with the drunkenness of false enthusiasm for the “greatness” of our own “tribe,” or discouraged by the dark paralysis of anxiety in the face of an impossible danger. Christ is coming, and He knows what He is asking of us. Let us turn to Him and allow Him to renew our perspective on all things, with confidence that all things belong to Him and are expressions of His merciful love.

This pertains to everything in our lives and in death itself. We have joys, sorrows, and tribulations, but we grow in all things by adhering to Jesus, by staying with and walking with the One who has loved us and who is coming to save us.

Advent 2024

Advent 2024 begins. “Show us, Lord, your love; and grant us your salvation.”

Saint Andrew the “First-Called”

The Gospels give us various accounts of the details and circumstances in which Jesus began his public ministry and called his disciples. They include extraordinary events and memorable gestures. But there is one story that is remarkable precisely because it seems so “ordinary.” We might easily miss its significance.

John’s Gospel makes a brief, mysterious reference to the day when he and Andrew met Jesus for the first time (John 1:35-41). The context of this event is important: it takes place a day after John the Baptist’s testimony regarding “the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world” (John 1:29). The story involves two disciples of John the Baptist, one identified as Andrew. The other disciple is not named, but the familiar nature of the account has generally favored the assumption that it was the author of the Gospel himself, Saint John the Apostle and Evangelist. Scripture scholars have various theories about his identity, and about how to integrate the multiple “vocational narratives” (in different Gospels) regarding the famous fisherman and family business partners Peter and Andrew, John and James. We cannot address these theories here. It suffices to note that the relatively humble status of running a fishing business based in Galilee would not have prevented these men from joining the large “popular movement” that John the Baptist engendered. It was precisely the “ordinary people” who followed the Baptist, passed through the waters of the Jordan, and took his preaching to heart. This is a story about two such people:

“The next day John [the Baptist] was there again with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he said, ‘Behold, the Lamb of God.’ The two disciples heard what he said and followed Jesus. Jesus turned and saw them following him and said to them, ‘What are you looking for?’ They said to him, ‘Rabbi’ (which translated means Teacher), ‘where are you staying?’ He said to them, ‘Come, and you will see.’ So they went and saw where he was staying, and they stayed with him that day. It was about four in the afternoon.  Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter, was one of the two who heard John and followed Jesus. He first found his own brother Simon and told him, ‘We have found the Messiah’” (John 1:35-41).

What happened here? Two men follow Jesus. A brief conversation. They stay with Jesus. It was four in the afternoon. But then Andrew seeks out his brother and says, “We have found the Messiah!”

Why was his heart so moved, so engaged, so convinced about this man he had just met? Jesus had no disciples yet. No miracle is recounted here (the fish-catching episode would come later). Andrew hardly knows what “Messiah” means (and it will take a long time for him and the others to learn) but he knows something after this first encounter with Jesus. It’s enough to change his life, and lead him to share what he and ‘the other disciple’ have found.

What happened, on that day, at four o’clock in the afternoon?

It was a human encounter in which Andrew and John met the Person through whom and for whom they had been created, the Word made flesh.

It was the beginning of the story of conversion, the story of meeting Jesus, following Jesus and sharing him with others.

The Conversion of Dorothy Day

This brief account of the Servant of God Dorothy Day’s conversion to Christ in the Catholic Church was published in my monthly column in Magnificat way back in October 2017. After many decades of prayer and service to the poor, Dorothy Day died on November 29, 1980.

Dorothy Day tells her own conversion story in the first part of her beautiful, soul-searching memoir, The Long Loneliness. She was born in 1897 in Brooklyn, and she grew up in different cities in the United States as the family followed the fortunes of her father who was a newspaper reporter. Though there was no religion at home, Dorothy was exposed to Christianity at a very early age by her neighbors. She was an avid reader who studied the Bible and was baptized Episcopalian, and she believed in Christianity as a youth. She also read the literature of her time, often dealing with the plight of the poor, whom she saw all around her in the urban environment of those days. The twofold attraction to Jesus and to the poor was present in her life almost from the beginning.

In college, however, Dorothy became disillusioned with Christianity because so many Christians seemed to ignore the poor. She joined socialist and anarchist circles, becoming a reporter for their journals in New York. While Dorothy writes with admiration of the sacrifices and generosity of her non-believing friends, she admits that she herself lived a self-centered life and indulged her own desires. She had several love affairs, and in 1918 became pregnant and had an illegal abortion. Dorothy wanted to be a radical, but she wondered whether for her it was anything more than a justification for dissolute living. Meanwhile she was still drawn by God, and sometimes visited Catholic churches in New York where she found a sense of peace and also – at every Mass or devotion or anytime during the day – the poor on their knees before God, the poor she wanted to love (so many of whom, at that time, were immigrants from southern and eastern Europe).

Writing brought Dorothy some modest financial success. She bought a beach house in Staten Island and entered into a stable though irregular union with an anarchist named Forster Batterham. For several years she lived a quiet life surrounded by natural beauty, but she found that the measure of human happiness she experienced did not take away her desire to know God. Instead it heightened her desire to show gratitude to the Creator of all good things. When she became pregnant in 1925, she knew that she had to raise her child as a Christian. She turned to the place where she had always seen Christianity in a concrete form, shaping the lives of poor people every day, the Catholic Church.

Dorothy met a gruff but kind retired Sister of Charity (Sister Aloysia) who taught her the Catechism (and eventually became her godmother). She had her baby daughter baptized, but hesitated herself for another year because of Forster’s objections to organized religion. She realized they would have to be separated if she became Catholic, but she eventually chose to follow God and entered the Church. She was also following God’s poor, even though many Catholics—like other Christians—did not seem to care much about them. Dorothy, however, had seen them in the churches and known them in the slums. She knew that it was the will of Christ to serve Him in the poor and defend their dignity. This became the source of her immensely fruitful vocation to found the Catholic Worker movement.

Transfigured By the Presence of God

“In our world immersed in the sadness of wars and multiple crises, let us announce the joy of the Gospel through our lives transfigured by the presence of God” (Pope Francis).

This quotation is very profound and significant. It challenges not only nations and political leaders, but every one of us. 

The crucial necessity in “announc[ing] the joy of the Gospel” is our own ongoing experience of a life-changing encounter with Jesus. People will be drawn to Christ by our living in a new way. The grace of the Holy Spirit who has been given to us is also working mysteriously in the heart of every person we meet. 

Everyone searches for “meaning.” The meaning, significance, and purpose that every human being seeks has become a man, Jesus Christ. We are best able to communicate this “good news”—this wondrous event of the Word coming to dwell with human beings and remaining with us—by asking God to empower us to live the Gospel in every encounter with the human person. 

The Lord—Pope Francis reminds us—wants to make us sharers in His eternal life, which we already begin to live by grace here and now in the present age. We are being transformed in Christ even as we journey with Him on the roads of this world. Jesus calls us to bear witness to His Gospel by the way we live our lives, by the freedom and joy we find in doing His loving and merciful will; we must evangelize “through our lives transfigured by the presence of God.”

Here are some creative illuminations of the Pope’s words:

Late Autumn Maples Leaves in Dappled Sunlight

Our Autumn season might not be as brilliant and vivid as in the Northeastern United States, but it makes up for it by being long in duration. Our deciduous trees and plants have different seasonal rhythms. Many of them turn colors and their leaves begin to fall and carpet the ground in late October/early November. Still, they are not “in a hurry,” and mostly-bare trees still wear some of their remaining leaves throughout the month of November. Meanwhile, other species (like the large maple tree in my front yard) wait until the first round of Fall colors wain, and then their leaves finally begin to let go of a summer’s worth of stubborn green. The large Maple trees flame out in bright yellow and orange leaves that remain impressive through the early days of December. 

This was a lovely, mild day. As the nearly setting sun reached through the hills to adorn our Maple tree branches with dappled brightness, I took this picture with my phone camera. I decided that there was no need for my [digital] art to work further on this image. Nature is the artist in these circumstances, and one wishes as much as possible that the fine details of Nature’s own work might be seen with minimal human interference.

This blog has watched many Autumn seasons come and go over the years, and will continue to do so—God willing—for many years into the future.

Cultivating attention to this kind of beauty requires focus and patience. It whispers the inexhaustible goodness that surrounds us everywhere.