DECEMBER 31, 2006: HOLY FAMILY

Readings:
I Samuel 1:20-22, 24-28
I John 3:1-2, 21-24
Luke 2:41-52

One of the most important discoveries in the last century and a half of biblical studies is that many of our sacred authors employed "sources."

Those familiar with St. Peter's basilica in Rome will remember the four mosaics of the evangelists above the main altar. Each writer is depicted with the Holy Spirit whispering in his ear, a papyrus scroll and stylus at the ready to record every dictated, inspired word. Modern Scripture scholars now realize such portrayals of biblical writers omit an essential element of biblical authorship. There should be more than one papyrus scroll in the picture. Besides the one on which the author's writing, there are others from which he's copying. Those who composed our sacred Scriptures often used such sources to create their writings. Some are better than others in blending their sources into a unified narrative.

Even as a child, without knowing anything of sources, I realized today's gospel pericope from Luke didn't mesh with the rest of his Infancy Narrative. How, I wondered, could Mary have asked the newly-found boy Jesus in the temple, "Son, why have you done this to us? Your father and I have been looking for you with great anxiety." Because of the annunciation in chapter 1, she knew her son was the Son of God. Why would she be anxious about "losing God?" She and Joseph are the one set of parents in history who never had to worry about misplacing their child.

Years later Raymond Brown answered my youthful dilemma. Luke employed at least two different sources for his narrative: one which describes an annunciation to Mary, another which seems to know nothing of such a privileged communication. Fr. Brown was convinced Luke used this latter source in today's pericope.

Not knowing about their son's divinity, Mary and Joseph are logically anxious about losing him. They really didn't ". . . understand what he said to them." No wonder Mary ". . . kept all these things in her heart." Only after Jesus' resurrection would these confusing pieces fit together.

It's important on this feast of the Holy Family to appreciate that some early Christian communities believed Mary and Joseph's relationship with Jesus was quite "natural." Like all parents, they had to discover and appreciate their child's personality and gifts. Their life together wasn't just a matter of taking one predicted step after another. If I knew only this source, I'd presume that at night the two frequently shared and discussed what each of them had found out during that day about their son. If Jesus had "to advance in wisdom and age," I reckon his parents also had to go through the same process in their appreciation of him.

This certainly seems to have been the case with Elkanah and Hannah in our first reading. Though the latter had incessantly begged Yahweh for a son, when Samuel finally arrives, she has no idea what this boy will eventually become. That appears why they dedicate him completely to Yahweh. Since he was a gift from God, only God would know how he should be raised.

The second verse of our I John passage fits perfectly into this discovery pattern. "Beloved," the author writes, "we are God's children now; what we shall be has not yet been revealed." Not only are we obligated to discover what's "in" those around us, we're also expected to stand in wonder about what's happening in us. Just who are we? What are we to become?

Perhaps the closeness which exists between us and our family members has eliminated the amazement that should be an essential part of all human relations. At no one point of our lives can we completely "psyche out" those who are part of our lives. We can be certain of that because at no point of our lives can we completely psyche out ourselves.

If we think we can, maybe we'd better employ a few other "sources" to help us look at those relations from a different perspective

DECEMBER 24, 2006: FOURTH SUNDAY OF ADVENT

Readings:
Micah 5:1-4a
Hebrews 10:5-10
Luke 1:39-45

If Luke were writing this commentary, he'd certainly draw attention to the last line of his gospel pericope: "Blessed are you who believed that what was spoken to you by the Lord would be fulfilled." It's the theme of his double-volume work. For Luke, the perfect disciple of Jesus is one who hears God's word and carries it out. In his first volume, Mary exemplifies that commitment. She's the person who consistently surfaces God's word in her life and courageously acts on it.

Notice how Elizabeth reflects on this characteristic of her kinswoman. Amazed at what one humble woman is able to accomplish, she proclaims, "Most blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And how does this happen that the mother of my Lord should come to me?"

Luke frequently reminds his community that they must do more than just listen to God's word. Without knowing modern psychology, he's convinced lots of good-intentioned people think they're doing what God wants them to do by simply becoming experts on what would eventually become part of the Christian Scriptures. They hear the "Jesus stories," faithfully pass them on to others, but rarely change their behavior patterns because of them.

I participated in a workshop years ago in which we were asked to list five priorities in our life. When we finished, the presenter then told us to write next to the five the most recent date we had actually done that particular thing. Almost everyone was embarrassed. Though we thought these things were important, most of us hadn't done any of them for a long time - in some instances, we'd never done them at all! We thought it was enough simply to have them as priorities. Actually carrying them out would have been something we did for "extra credit."

Some early Christians had the same problem when it came to carrying out Jesus' words.

This seems to be why the author of Hebrews revolves today's second reading around the statement, "Behold, I come to do your will, O God!" Knowing how easy it is to get bogged down in the externals of religion, the writer quotes Psalm 40: "Sacrifice and offering you did not desire, but a body you prepared for me; holocausts and sin offering you took no delight in." No matter what, the only thing which counts in faith is carrying out God's word in our lives.

Christians who use our Micah quote as a proof-text for Jesus being the Messiah will miss the point the prophet's actually making. Addressing the glorious, mighty 8th century BCE Jerusalem kings, Micah reminds them of their beginnings. "You, O Bethlehem Ephrathah, who are little among the clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me he who is to be ruler in Israel, whose origin is of old, from ancient days . . . . He will step forth and as a shepherd shall feed his flock in the strength of Yahweh . . . ."

Jewish royal leadership didn't start the way it was being exercised during Micah's ministry. Its origins go back to Samuel's 11th century surprise anointing of Jesse's shepherd son in Bethlehem - the boy no one thought "kingly." Those ancient, humble origins of power demonstrate that Yahweh's power can only work when the person through who Yahweh works is someone through whom no one thinks Yahweh can work.

David, like Mary, is regarded unlikely to carry out God's will.

Perhaps, during this glorious season of Christmas, God's asking us to cut through all the nonsense and look carefully at those around us who are actually listening to and carrying out God's word. It's a surefire way to force us to reflect on what God's word is telling us to do in our own lives - and how often we actually do it.

DECEMBER 17, 2006: THIRD SUNDAY OF ADVENT

Readings:
Zephaniah 3:14-18a
Philippians 4:4-7
Luke 3:10-18

In a recent talk, Sister Diane Bergant chided those who use Advent to prepare for the birth of the baby Jesus. "That baby's already been born," she reminded her audience. "He grew up, was killed and rose from the dead. Our Advent readings proclaim the freeing of a helpless people, the people Jesus of Nazareth came to set free."

The theme of freedom runs throughout our sacred writings. In the Hebrew Scriptures it begins with the people's emancipating Exodus from Egypt; in the Christian Scriptures, it revolves around Jesus' liberating resurrection.

Though Zephaniah is six centuries removed from the Exodus, his oracles reproduce the joy and amazement which filled the Israelites as they marched "dry-shod" through the sea. But now Egypt is no longer the enemy. Babylon is Jerusalem's present foe. Yet no matter the situation, Yahweh's still "in your midst, a mighty savior." God alone "has removed the judgment against you, has turned away your enemies." With no concept of an after-life as we know it, our ancestors in the faith only knew salvation by experiencing freedom.

As a good Jew, Paul shares that belief. His voice must have raised a few tones as he dictated the words which comprise our Philippians pericope. "Rejoice in the Lord always! I say it again, Rejoice . . . The Lord himself is near. Dismiss all anxiety from your minds."

Jesus has brought Paul the freedom he and his people has sought for the 12 centuries since the Exodus. Finally a reason to rejoice. Yet this liberation didn't happen without the participation of those who were liberated. In the above Pauline quote, I omitted seven words which are essential to Christian freedom. Sr. Diane stressed in her lecture that people are only free when they form communities. Her classic definition of community is "a group of people who take responsibility for one another."

Paul's seven essential words are, "Your kindness should be known to all." The New American translation footnote states that kindness, in this context, can also be translated, "considerateness, forbearance, fairness." The original New American translators rendered the sentence, "Everyone should see how unselfish you are." But no matter what English word we use, Paul's reminding the Philippians church of its community responsibilities.

Technically, I'm not responsible for the people in front or behind me in a store check-out lane. But those who become church are deeply responsible for one another. Together, the Apostle frequently teaches, we form the Body of Christ. Nothing could more bind us together as one.

Notice how John the Baptizer answers the query, "What then should we do?"

"Whoever has two cloaks should share with the person who has none. Whoever has food should do likewise." Tax collectors and soldiers receive a specific response. "Stop collecting more than what is prescribed . . . Do not practice extortion, do not falsely accuse anyone, and be satisfied with your wages."

John says nothing about believing in specific dogmas or engaging in meaningful liturgies. His answer to anyone who asks is basically the same: "Relate to people as someone who is responsible for them."

That's why his comment about Jesus is so important. ". . . 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." In other words, "The one I'm preceding will be even more emphatic than I am on how you're to relate to one another. There's no other way he can lead you to freedom."

Fortunately, we're hearing these biblical words in the context of the Lord's Supper, the action which most makes us one. Look around as these words are being proclaimed, glance at those with whom you share responsible ties, those who guarantee us the freedom Jesus has won for us.

DECEMBER 10, 2006: SECOND SUNDAY OF ADVENT

Readings:
Baruch 5:1-9
Philippians 1:4-6, 8-11
Luke 3:1-6

Reflecting on John the Baptizer’s historical ministry in his classic work, The Cultural World of Jesus, John Pilch states, "The heart of (his) message is the need for repentance . . . a change of mind . . . a broadening of horizons, transformation of experience, reform of life. We commonly use the word conversion." The well-known author then mentions, "Turning to God will obtain forgiveness of sins." Anyone who makes such a drastic about-face ends up becoming a new person, no longer responsible for the debts contracted by the old person.

That's why Luke makes certain we don't miss the meaning of John's baptism. "John went about the entire region of the Jordan proclaiming a baptism of repentance which led to the forgiveness of sins . . . ."

Accustomed to receiving God's forgiveness by participating in the sacrament of reconciliation, it's difficult for some of us to return to the earliest days of our faith when that ritual wasn't the normal way Jesus' followers obtained forgiveness, the days people sought a transformation of personality instead of sacramental absolution.

We especially see this quest for transformation in today's Philippians pericope. "My prayer," Paul writes, "is that your love may increase ever more and more in knowledge and every kind of perception, to discover what is of value, so that you may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ."

For the Apostle, following Jesus is a continual process of repentance, an ongoing discovery of "what is of value" in our lives. Only such a conversion achieves the forgiveness of our sins, making us "pure and blameless."

This process of becoming new persons didn't begin with Christianity. Four or five centuries before Jesus' birth, those who collected the prophetic oracles which we today call the Book of the Prophet Baruch demanded the same characteristic be part of the personality of those who follow Yahweh.

Listen carefully to the "transformation of experience" which the prophet expects in the Chosen People after the Babylonian Exile. "Jerusalem, take off your robe of mourning and misery; put on the splendor of glory from God forever . . . for God will show all the earth your splendor: you will be named by God forever the peace of justice, the glory of God's worship."

Not only does this "broadening of horizons" transform us into new people, it also helps convince others a new life could be just around the corner for them. "Up, Jerusalem!" the prophet commands, "stand upon the heights; look to the east and see your children gathered from the east and west at the word of the Holy One, rejoicing that they are remembered by God."

Because most of us were introduced to the sacrament of reconciliation as children, it's hard for some of us to appreciate biblical repentance. When told that we had to repent as part of our confessional process, we presumed it simply meant we'd have to agree never again to commit the sins we'd just confessed. Little was said, or could be understood, about becoming a new person, forming a new relationship with God and those around us.

Though we matured in other areas, many of us still look at the forgiveness of our sins through the eyes of children. We recite a list of sins, say we're sorry and go away relieved of our burden - until the next time.

Back in the mid-70s, when the Vatican promulgated a new ritual for sacramental reconciliation, there was hope we might again begin to approach the sacrament as repentant adults. But few confessors or penitents ever employed the new format. Except for the opportunity of face to face confessions, the reformed ritual has almost disappeared. Maybe we're too insecure in the transformation dimension of our faith to actually repent.

DECEMBER 3, 2006: FIRST SUNDAY OF ADVENT

Readings:
Jeremiah 33:14-16
I Thessalonians 3:12-4:2
Luke 21:25-28, 34-36

One of the things which makes the study of Scripture an exciting endeavor is the discovery that what biblical people are anticipating is often replaced by something better. This is what takes place in today's three readings.

The liturgical celebration of Advent is problematic for Scripture scholars. Unlike Lent, it's an artificial creation, put together to help us prepare for an event early Christians rarely commemorated: Jesus' birth. When, during the fourth century, the bishop of Rome designated December 25th as Christmas, the church had to choose Scripture to help the faithful prepare for the new feast. At that time they knew nothing of the problem Fr. Raymond Brown related during one of our mid-70s diocesan clergy conferences. "There are no predictions of Jesus, as we know him," the Sulpician scholar stated, "anywhere in the Hebrew Scriptures."

That means we must be careful how we hear and preach our first readings for the next month. Their authors didn't compose them to be used in the context in which we've placed them. They were never intended to help us recognize that Jesus of Nazareth is either the Messiah or God.

In the case of today's Jeremiah pericope, for instance, the author seems to have added these verses to the prophet's original oracles sometime after the Babylonian Exile, perhaps more than 100 years after the prophet's death. He's motivated by a desire to have David's descendants restored to the Jewish throne - something which never happened. "In those days," Yahweh proclaims, "I will raise up for David a just shoot; he shall do what is right and just in the land."

For our purposes, it might be good to reflect on the new name given to Jerusalem: "Yahweh our justice." In this context justice refers to the relationship Yahweh has formed with the Israelites, and they with Yahweh. Their God isn't someone they just pray to, worship or placate. Yahweh wants "relational," not subservient followers.

This concept of relationships is one way we can make our last two readings apply to our everyday lives. One of early Christianity's three fundamental changes came from Jesus' delayed Parousia. He didn't return as quickly as his followers anticipated. What began as a short term religious experience in the 30s developed into a long term endeavor by the early 80s.

Since I Thessalonians is the oldest Christian writing we possess, we expect to hear Paul encourage his readers to "hang in there" a little longer. "May God strengthen your hearts," he writes, "to be blameless in holiness before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his holy ones."

By the time Luke writes his gospel 40 years later, many Christians were convinced they'd live their natural lives, die, and Jesus still would not have returned. The concept of a Parousia was becoming more and more distant. Luke warns that one day "the powers of heaven will be shaken and . . . they shall see the Son of Man coming . . . ," but he then zeroes in on what they should be doing in the meantime. Because of the delay, they're "not to become drowsy from carousing and drunkenness and the anxieties of daily life."

The key to understanding both Paul and Luke's flexibility in the midst of a delayed Parousia is that, even before mentioning Jesus' second coming, they taught their people justice. They instructed them to develop a relationship with the risen Jesus - a relationship which helped them shift from short term to long term faith when they had to.

No wonder Paul often uses marriage imagery when he speaks about Jesus and the community. Two people take vows for a reason. They're committing themselves to continue building their relationship even if the future doesn't turn out exactly as they had planned. Sound familiar?