Monthly Archives: December 2025

The Birth of the Baptist

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The gospel for the 4th Tuesday of Advent is from Luke 1:57 and following, describing the birth of John the Baptist. With the birth of John, God continues to fulfill what he promised in Luke 1:5-25. John’s father, mute till now, regains his power of speech as soon as the name designated by the angel is confirmed. The people are filled with fear — not terror, but awesome reverence in the face of God’s wonderful deeds. They are not simply shocked but show their awareness of deeper meaning in the events.

The birth and circumcision of John emphasize John’s incorporation into the people of Israel by the sign of the covenant (Genesis 17:1-12). The narrative of John’s circumcision also prepares the way for the subsequent description of the circumcision of Jesus in Luke 2:21. At the beginning of his two-volume work Luke shows those who play crucial roles in the inauguration of Christianity to be wholly a part of the people of Israel. At the end of the Acts of the Apostles (Acts 21:20; 22:3; 23:6-9; 24:14-16; 26:2-8, 22-23) he will argue that Christianity is the direct descendant of Pharisaic Judaism.

Though children were often named at birth in the Old Testament (Gen 25:25-26; 29:32-35), it appears that sometimes such naming was associated with circumcision. The presence of the parents at circumcision shows them as pious, law-abiding Jews (Gen 21:4; Lev 12:3).  However grounded in custom, many features of the naming of John are surprising. 

The crowd fully expects custom to be followed. They wish the child to be named Zechariah. Children were often named after fathers or grandfathers (1 Maccabees 1:1-2; Josephus Life 15; Antiquities 14.1.3 10; 20.9.1 197; Jubilees 11:15). Elizabeth rejects the crowd’s desire and goes her own way. The name she chooses is the one the angel gave Zechariah in v.13. The text is silent on how she knew this name, but that detail is unimportant. The choice of the surprising name indicates that God’s will has been fulfilled through human obedience. 

The protest of the crowd shows that they are unaware of what God is doing. Surely the father of the house will not sanction this breaking of custom. So they motion to Zechariah to find out what the name of the child should be. By repeating the name his wife gave, Zechariah echoes the instructions of the angel, not the crowd and custom. In typical Lucan fashion, the responses of the people are (1) amazement (thaumazo, v. 63) and fear (phobos, v. 65). Both of these words occur more often in Luke than in the other gospels. They are not words of faith. In addition, there is a possible contrast between Zechariah’s reaction and his neighbors. “He was speaking (laleo –something he couldn’t do in 1:20, 22). What was he speaking? Praises to God (v. 64b). The neighbors talk about or discuss [dialaleo] these things with one another (v. 65). The only other time this second word is used in Luke, it is the Pharisees who are filled with anger and discuss what they might do to Jesus (6:11).

The praises to God are captured in Zechariah’s song, traditionally called the Benedictus from its first word in Latin. It is the NT canticle sung at Morning Prayers. Culpepper (“Luke,” New Interpreter’s Bible, p.59) writes:

The progression of thought in the Benedictus shows, however, that the true end of God’s redemption is not merely deliverance from political domination — as important as that is — but the creation of conditions in which God’s people can worship and serve God without fear…The ultimate purpose of God’s salvation presupposes deliverance from the enemy but is in fact undisturbed worship. Deliverance makes worship in peace — unhindered worship — possible. [p. 59]

Johnson (Luke, Sacra Pagina, 48) says much the same thing:

The canticle gives the reader the first sure sense of what “liberation” means for Luke. It is defined in specifically “religious” rather than political terms. Negatively defined, freedom means release from the power of enemies. But its positive content is worship and holiness of life. Thus John’s role in preparing the people for “restoration” involves the forgiveness of sins rather than the rallying of troops. Likewise the Messiah’s role is not one of violent revolt but rather of leading the people “in the path of peace.”

Previously, Johnson had noted how Zechariah fulfilled this canticle: “Luke has thereby made the experience of Zechariah a miniature enactment of his canticle: God’s mercy liberates the people to worship fearlessly; Zechariah’s release from muteness is expressed in praise” (p.57).

Zechariah’s canticle, like that of Mary, weaves traditional Hebrew quotations and themes into a hymn of praise. His hymn can be described as a “prophecy” under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. Prophecy in this fundamental biblical sense does not mean primarily a foretelling of the future, as in modern parlance, but a divinely enlightened proclamation of the meaning of events. Zechariah sees in the birth of his son God’s remembrance of his covenant promises to David (2 Sam 7:8–16) and the definitive salvation for all the people. In the first part of the canticle, the salvation hoped for sounds roughly like the overthrow of national enemies (a concept of Messiah that would plague Jesus during his ministry), but in later verses salvation is understood more profoundly as freedom for worship.

The birth event of John the Baptist displays three unique features: (1) the old have given birth, (2) the child has an unexpected name, and (3) Zechariah’s handicap is taken away, whereupon he launches into praise about what God is doing. Such remarkable events cause the crowd to fear and reflect. Something different and surprising is happening, things worth remembering and considering. So they wonder, “What, then, will this child be?” Luke wants his readers to consider the same question. The story’s close indicates that “surely the hand of the Lord was with him.” Luke continues his purpose of giving the reader assurance of God’s faithfulness.

Luke’s way of ending this story of John’s birth is a good indication of his technique in keeping the reader’s attention on one episode at a time, even though several events are interlocked. Verse 80 has John growing up from infancy to manhood and taking his place in the desert even before Jesus’ birth is described. He is stationed there for his next appearance in the story thirty years later (3:1–3).

Image credit: Birth of St. John the Baptist, Artemisia Gentileschi, Prado Museum Madrid, Public Domain

The Ancestors of Jesus

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There are four different Masses that rightly celebrate the Nativity of the Lord. They are the Vigil Mass (all the masses before 10 pm on Christmas Eve), Mass during the Night (“Midnight Mass”), Mass at Dawn, and Mass during the Day. Many parishes these days have several Vigil Masses. At our parish in Virginia we will have 6 vigil Masses. The vigil mass has two options for the Gospel reading.

The option that is most often selected is one that seems well suited to Christmas: “This is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about. 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…”(Matthew 1:18-25) The reading goes on to describe the angel’s message to Joseph to take Mary into his 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.”

Especially when one of the Vigil Masses is preceded by the Children’s Christmas Pageant this is a great choice and an easy one to be part of the evening’s homily.

The other option presents a few more challenges to listener and homilist alike: “The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham. Abraham became the father of Isaac, Isaac the father of Jacob,  Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers. Judah became the father of Perez and Zerah, whose mother was Tamar…” and on for a total of 25 verses (Matthew 1:1-25). It really is a great gospel, but…it just does not seem a good choice for what will undoubtedly be a Mass filled with families and lots of children. Still…

When we gather for Christmas Eve, most of us come already filled with excitement. Children can hardly wait for tomorrow morning. Families look forward to being together. Lights are shining in every corner of the church. In his gospel, before Matthew tells us about angels, shepherds, and the Baby in the manger, he begins with a long list of names. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob… Ruth, David… and on and on. I have never had the gumption to choose this gospel. I wonder that as I proclaimed the gospel and watched eyes wander, children get restless, and their foreheads wrinkle as people think: “why on earth is he reading that gospel? Where is Joseph, Mary and the baby Jesus?” – would I accelerate the reading to rush to the end as soon as possible… and then… and then what? Then, I have to preach. So, maybe I will just share my thoughts with you.

Why does the gospel start with a genealogy? Because Matthew wants to tell us something important about the story of Jesus, something that is a great message for Christmas: God keeps His promises. Always.

The genealogy is a description of God’s promise moving through history, through the almost 2,000 years that passed from Abraham to Jesus. In that stretch of time, the people of God paid were faithful and not-so-faithful. But God remained faithful and never forgot the promise. God never abandoned His people even when they abandoned Him. God remained faithful across centuries. That is exactly what St. Paul offers in the Vigil Mass’ second reading: “From his descendants God, according to his promise, has brought to Israel a savior, Jesus.” (Acts 13:23)

So before Matthew gets to the point when that promise becomes flesh — a Baby laid in a manger. Matthew wants us to be mindful that God works through ordinary—and imperfect—people. Look closely at the genealogy and you’ll notice that the list is filled with surprising people: Abraham sometimes doubted. Jacob was a trickster who cheated his brother out of his inheritance. David was a great king, but also a great sinner. Ruth was a foreigner. Rahab wasn’t even part of Israel at first. What does this tell us? It says God is willing to work with our flaws because God’s plan is bigger than our weaknesses. God can work through saints and sinners, kings and shepherds, parents and children. God isn’t put off by the messiness of human life. That’s good news for everyone. It is good news for the families and folks that feel they are too complicated, a little imperfect, unsure and struggling.  We all would fit right into the genealogy and the family of Jesus.

If the genealogy’s characters weren’t surprising enough, the biggest surprise is that God kept His promise by becoming one of us: “Behold, the virgin shall be with child and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel, which means ‘God is with us.’” (Matthew 1:23) There was no flash of lightning or earthquakes. There was only a baby — small, vulnerable, needing to be held and fed. The promise was fulfilled gently, quietly, and in ways we never could have imagined.

The genealogy is a great gospel for Christmas because it is an invitation for us to trust, believe and remember that God is with us. No matter the year we’ve had, the worries we carry, the troubles we’ve seen, and the fears that grip us. No matter what. In the proclamation of the genealogy gospel, God whispers: “I am with you.”

He has been with his people for thousands of years and has kept the Promise, working through Jesus’ long and imperfect family line, and God is ready to work in all of our lives too. In the kindness we show, the forgiveness we offer, the prayers we whisper, and in the generosity with which we give.  In these things, we take our place in Jesus’ family. 

The Gospel reading of the genealogy of Jesus reminds us that as we gather around the manger, we gather not as strangers, but as members of the family God that has been forming since Abraham. The genealogy begins with Abraham and ends with a newborn child… but the story continues with each one of us.

It really is a great gospel. 

Image credit: Photograph | South dome of inner narthex at Chora Church, Istanbul, depicting the ancestors of Christ from Adam forward | Wiki Commons from José Luiz Bernardes Ribeiro | CC BY-SA 3.0

A Song of Hope

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On the final days of Advent, the Church places on Mary’s lips a hymn that teaches us how to wait for Christ. The hymn is known as the Magnificat (Lk 1:46–56). This is not a quiet lullaby but a bold proclamation of what God is doing in Mary’s time, now, and forever.

Mary praises God not for what she has achieved, but for what God has done: “The Almighty has done great things for me” (Lk 1:49). It is a reading well placed in these last days of Advent. It reminds us that salvation begins with God’s initiative and not our own. While we often speak of “getting ready for Christmas,” in truth Christmas is a gift we receive. I wonder if we truly, deeply appreciated that we would be more ready to join Mary and proclaim, “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord.”

But the Magnificat also reminds us to not be complacent because the hymn reveals God’s great reversal. He lifts the lowly, fills the hungry, and scatters the proud. As we await the birth of Christ, Mary teaches us that God’s coming always disrupts injustice and restores dignity. So powerful was the message that governments banned the public recitation, singing, or display of the Magnificat because they found its message politically or socially threatening (Guatemala in the 1980s | Argentina in the later 1970s and early 1980s). God’s preferential concern for the poor was seen as a subversive message during a time of political violence and repression.

Advent hope is not pious prayer but is meant to be a song of Hope that has the power to transform.

But perhaps most importantly, Mary reminds us to anchor our present moments in God’s ancient promises: “He has remembered his promise of mercy” (Lk 1:54). In these last days before Christmas, the Magnificat assures us that God is faithful. What He promised to Israel, He fulfills in Christ.

As we prepare for the Lord’s coming, may Mary’s song become our own—one of trust, humility, and joyful expectation.

Isaiah During the Night

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By tradition and familiar naming, each Christmas eve, Catholic churches and communities celebrate a “Midnight Mass.” Technically the title of the Mass in the Roman Missal is “Mass During the Night” and by rule may not start before 10 pm and must be finished by 2 am.  Hence the question, “what time is Midnight Mass” is actually a good question. But that aside, the first reading at the Midnight Mass is from the Prophet Isaiah.

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; upon those who dwelt in the land of gloom a light has shone.

You have brought them abundant joy and great rejoicing, as they rejoice before you as at the harvest, as people make merry when dividing spoils. For the yoke that burdened them, the pole on their shoulder, and the rod of their taskmaster you have smashed, as on the day of Midian. For every boot that tramped in battle, every cloak rolled in blood, will be burned as fuel for flames. For a child is born to us, a son is given us; upon his shoulder dominion rests. They name him Wonder-Counselor, God-Hero, Father-Forever, Prince of Peace. His dominion is vast and forever peaceful, from David’s throne, and over his kingdom, which he confirms and sustains by judgment and justice, both now and forever. The zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this!  (Isaiah 9:1-6)

In formatting the reading (above) I intentionally separated the first verse from the remainder of the reading in order to draw your attention to this question: who are the people who walked in darkness that now see a great light? For that answer we need only turn back one chapter – Isaiah 8.

The bulk of chapter 8 is words of judgment for King Ahaz who has chosen to align himself with the Assyrians rather than God and to ignore the signs of God’s presence (see Isaiah 7:14: “Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign; the young woman, pregnant and about to bear a son, shall name him Emmanuel. ” ) Ahaz has good reasons to fear the Assyrians. Assyria is in the process of taking over the world as it was known then and Israel (the northern tribes) had already fallen – and fallen into hard times. Isaiah describes what a traveler through the North lands would witness: “he will pass through it hard-pressed and hungry, and when hungry, shall become enraged, and curse king and gods. He will look upward, and will gaze at the earth, but will see only distress and darkness, oppressive gloom, murky, without light.” (8:21-22)

King Ahaz was right to fear Assyria, but he should have had better reasons to trust in the Lord.

In Isaiah 8:23, the Prophet proclaims the promise of salvation under a new king, one not like Ahaz, but one worthy as a successor to the line of King David. The prophet writes: “There is no gloom where there had been distress. Where once he degraded the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, now he has glorified the way of the Sea, the land across the Jordan, Galilee of the Nations.” (Isa 8:23) Zebulun and Naphtali are in the north, under Assyrian rule.  In other words, the opening verse of our Midnight Mass reading is to the people of the North living under the crushing oppression of Assyria: The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; upon those who dwelt in the land of gloom a light has shone. (Isa 9:1)

This sets the stage for a dramatic shift in imagery and mood that comes in verse 2. Out of the depths of oppression, depression, war, and separation from God, all symbolized by the presence of darkness, comes assurance. The following verses signal the promise of a new king, a coronation hymn of sorts, one who will come from the royal Davidic line, who will bring light and life and hope to a suffering people. 

“His dominion is vast and forever peaceful, from David’s throne, and over his kingdom, which he confirms and sustains by judgment and justice, both now and forever.” (Isa 9:6)

It is a prophetic promise of a future reality that will be made possible because of God’s never ending love for God’s people. The reading is a statement of faith, trust, and gratitude for what the Lord has already done. Grounded in this certainty makes the words of promise and future hope believable. While it appears that the powers of this world have a firm hold, God’s power will have the final victory.

Situating Isaiah in its political, historical, and geographical context might better witness to its meaning for Christians beyond the level of foretelling or prophesy as we tend to think about it, especially when it comes to the expectations of the coming Christ. In other words, what might happen when Isaiah is not only heard as proof of the fulfillment of God’s promises about the coming of the Messiah but as testimony as to the faithfulness of God – a characteristic that is at the heart of who God is? Then we can be more deeply aware that God is not just about future plans but present promises here and now. In the midst of that which creates despair and darkness, God’s light shines as that which is the fulfillment of all that we need and everything that we wish could be. 

On Christmas Eve, when candles burn bright to witness God’s light that shines in all of our darkness, we are reminded that this is not just a claim for tonight, or because of Jesus, but points to the nature of who God is and always has been. When the candles are extinguished, the lights put away, and the decorations stored until next year, this promise is indeed what we will need to journey into the days and years ahead.

Image credit: Prophet Isaiah, Mosaic, Right of Lunette, South Wall of Presbytery, Basilica of San Vitale | PD-US | scripture image from Canva CC-0

The Obedience of Faith

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The second reading today is from St. Paul’s Letter to the Romans. By any measure Romans is a complex book with enough theological content to last a lifetime. But in our reading, taken from the opening chapter, there is a phrase, often overlooked, which captures the heart of the Christian life: “the obedience of faith” (Rom 1:5). The “obedience of faith.” It almost seems like a contradiction. Obedience can sound passive or forced – something from the exterior. Faith is something we associate with the interior life, but Paul joins them together. For St. Paul, faith is not merely believing certain truths. Obedience is not blind submission. The two acting together is to entrust one’s life to God so that our interior and exterior are in harmony with God’s will. In the gospel, St. Joseph is a living example of the obedience of faith.

Joseph is in a bit of a pickle. Somehow, he has come to know that Mary is with child and he knows he is not the father. From Joseph’s perspective, Mary’s pregnancy made no sense. The situation threatened his honor, his future, his reputation, and his understanding of God’s plan. Matthew then reveals something about Joseph’s character: “Joseph her husband, since he was a righteous man, yet unwilling to expose her to shame, decided to divorce her quietly” (Mt 1:19). That’s the plan anyway. It was not sinful. It was a plan that merged mercy and obedience to the Law. All things considered, it was a reasonable plan. Quietly stepping away seemed the most just and compassionate solution.

And yet—God interrupts Joseph’s good and reasonable plan with a greater one.

In a dream, the angel tells Joseph: “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary your wife into your home” (Mt 1:20). I think we are conditioned to react, “Huh…OK, an angel… don’t overthink this … I mean it’s an angel of the Lord and everything… just do it, just obey.”  But if we pause for a moment we might notice what the angel does not say. He does not explain everything. He does not promise it will be risk free, easy or even give a hint as to the next step beyond taking Mary into his household. But he does reveal a great plan in the works: This child is from the Holy Spirit. This child will save his people from their sins. 

And Joseph must decide whether to entrust his honor, future, and reputation to God’s plan. Will he entrust his life to God?

Matthew’s description of Joseph’s response is striking in its simplicity: “When Joseph awoke, he did as the angel of the Lord had commanded him” (Mt 1:24). There is no indication of questions, there is no bargaining, no conditions or stipulations. There is simply the obedience of faith.

Joseph surrenders control, not because he understands everything, but because he trusts the One who speaks. His obedience is not weakness. It is courage. It costs him security, reputation, and the comfort of certainty. But through that obedience, Joseph becomes guardian of the Redeemer and spouse of Mary.

Advent is not only preparation for Christmas; it is a season for us to learn about trust. Like Joseph, many of us enter Advent with our own plans, expectations, and hopes. We are regular people who want clarity before commitment. We want certainty before agreement or surrender. But Advent teaches us that God often asks for obedience before understanding.

What might the obedience of faith look like in our lives? It may look like:

  • Trusting God when our plans fall apart.
  • Choosing fidelity to our commitments when walking away seems easier.
  • Accepting a responsibility we did not choose and might really rather avoid.
  • Remaining faithful when the future is unclear and circumstances reveal an easier path.
  • Saying “yes” to God without seeing the full picture, without bargaining, and despite our fears.

Faith does not eliminate fear. Faith acts despite those fears.

Joseph never utters a single word in Scripture, but his actions have a lot to say. A lot to teach us. He shows us that holiness often can be found in the quiet places, the hidden places, when good people act in faith when “reasonable” people caution and direct you to a safer path.

The lives of the Saints tell the stories of the obedience of faith. One day in an abandoned chapel outside Assisi, the Word of God came to St. Francis: “Rebuild my church.” He obeyed in faith. One night long ago in Nazareth, the salvation of the world entered history not only through Mary’s “yes”, but also through Joseph’s obedience.

Here in these final days of Advent, the Church invites us to ask where God is asking each one of us to trust Him more deeply. Sometimes that will ask us to name our fears (loss of honor, an uncertain future, etc.). Sometimes it asks us to let go of our reasonable and prudent plan in exchange for the unknown.

The readings remind us that we are called to a life lived in the obedience of faith.” Joseph shows us what that looks like in flesh and blood.

To live that life, we don’t have to have everything figured out, but we are asked to be ready to obey when God speaks. For when faith obeys, Christ is born anew in the world and in us.

Amen

Image credit: Ceiling detail Battistero di San Giovanni | Florence | 13th century | photo by Marie-Lan Nguyen | Wikimedia Commons  | CC-BY 2.5

Such a Simple Verse

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24 When Joseph awoke, he did as the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took his wife into his home. 25 He had no relations with her until she bore a son,  and he named him Jesus. 

All Christian denominations adhere to the Virgin Birth of Jesus; it is essential orthodoxy. The controversy about the perpetual virginity of Mary arises out of later interpretations of “until” in v. 25.  Some argue that afterwards normal marital relations existed. In the English use of “until” something is negated up to a point in time, occurrence after that time is normally assumed. However, the expression (heōs hou) and its Semitic counterpart have no such assumption. In any case, the immediate Matthean context should be taken as silent on any future implication given Matthew’s stress on Mary’s virginity so that the Isaian prophecy is fulfilled.

The Virgin Birth was universally held in the earliest Church and confessed in The Apostles’ Creed and The Nicene Creed (325 A.D.) and its expansion at Constantinople (381 A.D.). These creeds enshrine the doctrine, showing it was not under dispute at the time but affirmed as essential to Christian faith — particularly as a testimony to Christ’s true humanity and divine origin. To be clear, The Nicene Creed says: 

“He was incarnate and was made man.” The phrase “born of the Virgin Mary” appears in the expanded Creed of Constantinople. The council was not addressing the Virgin Birth itself but the Arian heresy, which denied the full divinity of the Son. 

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Contrasts

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Today’s first reading is taken from Judges 13:2–7, 24–25 and talks about Samson. The paired gospel is from Luke 1:5-25 in which an angel of the Lord comes to Zachariah to tell him that he and his wife Elizabeth, long considered barren, would have a child. At first blush it is an odd pairing – at least to my mind.

Samson was the last of the Judges of the ancient Israelites mentioned in the Book of Judges; he appears in  chapters 13 to 16. The “judges” were leaders (often military leaders) that the Lord appointed to deliver the Israelite people out of their current predicament with hostile neighbors. This is the age before the monarchs of Israel.

Samson’s mother was thought unable to have a child but in a miraculous turn of events she gives birth to Samson and dedicates him to the Lord. As a result he possessed immense strength enabling him to perform seemingly superhuman feats, including slaying a lion with his bare hands and single handedly killing an entire Philistine army with a donkey’s jawbone. These are the episodes most often featured in Christian comic books. In the final scene of his life, betrayed by his close associates, he is captured by the Philistines and is about to be offered as sacrifice to the pagan god Dagon. He used his superhuman strength to bring down the columns – collapsing the temple and killing both himself and the Philistines.  Superhero action aside, Samson is a vengeful bringer of death; there really is nothing in his character and life that is anything we would consider Christ-like. And yet the readings are juxtaposed in a way that calls for reflection of what we are to understand from the pairing. Both readings point to God’s saving plan beginning with a miraculous birth, but in what ways does Samson foreshadow John the Baptist or Jesus and in what ways is Samson different? Perhaps the pairing of readings is to cast Samson and John the Baptists as the ones who point to Jesus. In any case, both readings present the same divine pattern: God begins salvation not with armies or institutions, but with a child announced by God. 

In Judges 13 Samson’s mother is barren but an angel of the Lord announces the birth. One sees the pattern to be repeated in the annunciation to Zechariah. In each instance, the child is chosen before conception for a role in the Divine Plan – a plan that the parents do not initiate. It is God’s initiative by which the child is set apart before birth and his life is meant to serve God’s saving purpose for Israel. In his role as deliverer Samson imperfectly foreshadows Jesus in his role as Savior. We can compare and contrast this and perhaps tease out an understanding of why these readings are paired in Advent.

  • Samson is dedicated by his mother and is consecrated to God’s purpose. Jesus is not consecrated by vows, rather by his identity.
  • Samson’s role is partial and incomplete: “He shall begin to deliver Israel from the hand of the Philistines” (Judg 13:5) – limited to a single nation. Jesus comes to save Israel and the world from sin and death. His salvation is total and definitive. Samson points to a “deliverer,” but not the final one.
  • In Judges 13:25 we are told that “The Spirit of the LORD stirred him.” But as the story unfolds it is not clear Samson let the Spirit lead him. Jesus is conceived by the Holy Spirit, anointed at baptism by the Spirit and acts consistently under the Spirit’s guidance.
  • Samson is physically strong but spiritually weak. His strength is external and he repeatedly gives in to lust, anger, revenge, and impulsiveness. He breaks the very vows that consecrate him. Jesus, by contrast, shows strength through obedience, triumphs through humility, resists temptation in the wilderness, and is faithful unto death It might be said that Samson saves by force; Jesus saves by fidelity.
  • And consider the way Samson “delivers:” he kills enemies directly, his victories increase conflict, and his final act is destructive to others and himself. His death is simply tragic as he dies in despair and vengeance. Samson dies with his enemies. 
  • Jesus refuses violence, heals enemies, absorbs violence rather than inflicting, and saves via his own death on the cross – a gift that leads to resurrection – all given in love. Jesus dies for his enemies and his gift becomes the source of new life. 
  • Samson is morally inconsistent. His life is marked by compromise. His calling is real, but his obedience is partial. Jesus is the faithful Son who completes the Father’s will perfectly and as a result brings salvation to completion.

I think the Church gives us Samson during Advent to teach us something essential: God has always worked through human weakness, but that is not enough to save us. Every flawed deliverer increases our longing for the true one. Samson shows us how far God’s grace can take a person and how incomplete salvation remains without perfect obedience. Jesus is what Samson points toward but cannot become.

The readings remind us God is ever active in history, consistent in promise and covenant, and loved the world so much He would send his only Son – not to deliver us, but to redeem and save us.

Image credit: Samson slaying the lion | Peter Paul Rubens |  El Imparcial, Madrdi | PD-US

God’s Plan

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Joseph’s plans are interrupted in vv.20–23 by the appearance of a messenger from God in a dream — a device familiar from the Old Testament account of the birth of Samson (Judges 13). The first words uttered are “do not be afraid to take Mary your wife into your home.” The angel gives an explanation for Mary’s pregnancy, announcing the divine plan is already in motion. The angel also informs Joseph of his part in the divine plan: “you are to name him Jesus.” As explained above, this simple directive makes clear to Joseph that he is to claim Jesus as his own. As the legal son of Joseph, Jesus will be a “Son of David” (v. 20). 

In first-century Judaism the Hebrew name Joshua (Greek Iesous) meaning “Yahweh helps” was interpreted as “Yahweh saves.” The language reminds us of similar revelations in the Old Testament (Gen. 16:11; 17:19; etc.), as well as of Isaiah 7:14, soon to be quoted. Names, especially divinely revealed names, are full of meaning, and this is often revealed by a word-play which need not always correspond to the actual etymology of the name. In the case of Jesus (the Greek form of Joshua or Jeshua, a common name) both the sound (cf. Heb. yôšî’a, ‘he will save’) and the probable etymology contribute to the explanation for he will save his people from their sins (v.20).

22 All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: 23 “Behold, the virgin shall be with child and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel,” which means “God is with us.” 

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