This coming Sunday is the celebration of The Epiphany of the Lord. In the previous post we outlined the basic story and discussed issues of dating the event and a took a first look at the magi. Today we take a second look at these travelers of whom St. Matthew only says, “Wise men came from the East.” East is East, but perhaps not the one traditionally thought about.
Continue readingThis coming Sunday is the celebration of The Epiphany of the Lord. In the previous post we considered St. Matthew’s setting for the gospel and how the account fits into the narrative arc of his entire gospel story.
Jesus is born, the magi arrive in Herod’s court stirring the pot as it were, consultations are made, the magi are told to go to Bethlehem, the star locates the Holy Family, and the magi do homage to the child. Meanwhile Herod plots and assumes the magi will return via Jerusalem and help the King fill in the details regarding this newborn king. But “having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, [the magi] departed for their country by another way.” It is a simple story in the telling, but less in the details, especially when those details pique our curiosity.
Continue readingThis coming Sunday is the celebration of The Epiphany of the Lord. As much as we want to combine the nativity stories of Matthew and Luke, they really have no points of contact other than the birth of the child Jesus. Luke’s story is set among the lowly shepherds; Matthew’s story is set among royalty, chief priests and wealthy foreigners. The desire to make them one story is natural, but to do so misses the uniqueness and point of each gospel writer. Which would be a loss since Matthew’s story arcs across the ages and geography of the Middle East.
Continue readingToday we celebrate the Feast of the Holy Family. We’re not celebrating “perfect family Sunday.” Offered as a point of humor, let us remember Jesus was without sin and Mary, by God’s grace, was kept free from sin – no such claim was made for Joseph. He wasn’t perfect, but he was holy. And so we celebrate and consider holiness this Sunday as we are all called to remember that it was into a family that God sent his Son. A family that has its ups and downs, joys and sorrows, agreements and disputes, and all the things that are tossed into the cauldron called family life. A family like yours in many ways. A family that was holy, not perfect. My point being, that holiness lives and grows apart from perfection and perhaps even thrives best among the flawed and messy. And in family life, that means something far different than a Norman Rockwell painting.
Consider the early life of the Holy Family:
Hardly a portrait of a perfect family. But a family that is together through the very turbulent cauldron of their life. I do not think too many people are going to volunteer to travel the same path to holiness in their family. No matter what path, family can be a cauldron where hearts and souls are tested.
But here’s the thing about families: everyone is part of one. You choose your friends, not your family. Still family isn’t for you. It is all for others in the family. Listen again to the words of our reading from the Letter to the Colossians – it is a blueprint for making family holy no matter whatever form or shape you find yours – and it is neither simple nor easy – but it is graced.
as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved – Begin by remembering you are loved. Recall your faith in God and Jesus – that alone makes you hagios – a holy one. Admiral William McRaven gave a commencement speech in 2014 that became a book: Make Your Bed. His advice was, first thing in the morning, before all else, make your bed. And you will have already accomplished something at the beginning of the day. I would amend that advice: remember you are holy and beloved…and then make your bed.
Put on, …. heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving one another: Put on… in other words, it will take an effort. Part of the effort might be that you are being called to be/do other than what you feel. Compassion and all the rest might be a universe away, or seem that way, amidst all the turbulence and turmoil in your heart.
Think about patience: “Patience is a virtue.” We’re all familiar with that expression, and many of us know that patience is listed by Paul in Galatians 5:22-23 as among the fruit of the Spirit. So, there’s no disputing that the Christian ought to be patient. But what about impatience? Is it a sin? I would suggest it is a temptation but remember this: all such moments are ever surrounded by the grace of God in superabundance. You just need to remind yourself to choose grace – and where patience is lacking, compassion, kindness, or gentleness can take its place.
The 19th century theologian, Maurice Blondell, suggested that in the moment you most feel like striking out at another who has offended you, worn out your patience or any other manner of annoying thing – in that moment, to choose charity, is perhaps the most Christian you will ever be. In that moment you have chosen to follow Christ instead of yourself. Blondell goes on to write, in essence, that just keep doing such virtues and you will become those virtues. Your thoughts become your actions, which become your habits, which form your character, which leaves you as the person you have become.
if one has a grievance against another; as the Lord has forgiven you, so must you also do. No one earns true forgiveness, it is always a gift. Give it away. There’s more!! If you pause for a moment it is not too hard to dip into our own memories and experience to recall a time when we had been wronged and we were just not able/willing to forgive, or the forgiveness was so shallow that it did not take root and soon arose again into daily life. It is not too hard to imagine those moments in our lives as moments of darkness with not a whole lot of light able to penetrate and shine in. Poetically it is as though those times are as being imprisoned by hurts and our lack of forgiveness. We are just unable to set down the burden of all that marks those days and nights. Meanwhile, the other person is probably not giving the matter a second thought, just moving through life unburdened, free. …and then you meet the other person. Be charitable in the moment remembering you have been forgiven. So pass on the gift.
And over all these put on love, that is, the bond of perfection. Despite what Hallmark Cards proclaims, love is a choice. Ask anyone who has been married for many years. They can all remember a time when they did not like the love of their life, but they chose to love: “love bear all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things. Love never fails…” But we have to choose to love, to make the effort, to “put on” love.
All of the above is to be your gift to your family.
What’s there for you?
Hopefully, your example helps create a home where those gifts are being given to you by others. Then you will know: And let the peace of Christ control your hearts… Even when you don’t feel peaceful.
And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly…. with gratitude in your hearts…
This is your family. It is one of a kind, warts and all. It is uniquely loved by God
Go do all these things, “put them on.” Be a holy family.
Here’s a question: heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience – are we as family members holding that out to one another? We need to because Family is like a roller coaster – wonderful one moment, chaos and screaming the next, and a lot of hard work in between.
Holiness isn’t about feeling happy and having rosy memories. It is about love — the kind of love that is willing to suffer or die for the beloved. The kind of love Christ has for us.
First thing tomorrow: remember you are holy and beloved. Then make up your bed.
Amen
Image credit: Stained glass window, Sts. Joseph & Paul Catholic Church, Owensboro KY | PD
Reflections on Matthew 2:13-23
Alyce M. McKenzie
In her book Amazing Grace: a Vocabulary of Faith, contemporary Christian author Kathleen Norris contrasts the fear of Herod with the faith of Mary and Joseph.
Everything Herod does, he does out of fear. Fear can be a useful defense mechanism, but when a person is always on the defensive, like Herod, it becomes debilitating and self-defeating. To me, Herod symbolizes the terrible destruction that fearful people can leave in their wake if their fear is unacknowledged, if they have power but can only use it in furtive, pathetic, and futile attempts at self-preservation (Norris, 225).
The tradition of Herod’s “slaughter of the innocents” (Mt. 2:16-18), offers an account of the tragic consequences of such defensive, self-preserving, paranoid fear. This brand of insecurity never leads to anything good. Ironically it most often backfires, shrinking rather than enhancing the one who fears. Herod is a case study that proves the truth of the first half of Proverbs 29:25: “The fear of others lays a snare, but the one who trusts in God rests secure.”
In the process of fearing others, sadly, the one who fears seeks to douse the light of other lives and often appears to succeed. We could make a long list of the sufferings inflicted on others by those who in the past and today are both powerful and paranoid. We hold to the faith that such fear cannot douse the light of the world we celebrate at Christmas. This passage forces us to stay real—paranoid insecurity is a persistent force.
Norris points out that Herod’s fear is the epitome of what Jung calls “the shadow.” Herod demonstrates where such fear can lead when it does not come to light but remains in the dark depths of the unconscious. Ironically, Herod appears in the Christian liturgical year when the gospel is read on the Epiphany, a feast of light (Norris, 226).
Norris tells of preaching about Herod on Epiphany Sunday in a small country church in a poor area of the Hawaiian Island of Oahu. It was an area of the island that tourists were warned to stay away from, an area where those who served the tourist industry as maids and tour bus drivers could afford to live. The church had much to fear: alcoholism, drug addiction, rising property costs, and crime. The residents came to church for hope.
In her sermon Norris pointed out that the sages who traveled so far to find Jesus were drawn to him as a sign of hope. This church, Norris told her congregation, is a sign of hope for the community. Its programs, its thrift store have become important community centers, signs of hope. The church represented, said Norris, “a lessening of fear’s shadowy power, an increase in the available light.” She continued to say that that’s what Christ’s coming celebrates: his light shed abroad into our lives. She ended her sermon by encouraging the congregation, like the ancient wise men, not return to Herod but find another way. She encouraged them to “leave Herod in his palace, surrounded by flatterers, all alone with his fear” (Norris, 226).
There is the fear of Herod and there is the fear of the Lord exemplified by Mary and Joseph which, we are promised, is the beginning of knowledge and wisdom (Pr. 1:7). When we open our doors, even just a crack, to allow the fear of the Lord to enter in, we have taken the first step in a lifelong process of exchanging the fear of Herod for the faith of Mary and Joseph.
The fear of the Lord is the Bible’s code word for a full-bodied faith that includes trembling before the mystery of a Transcendent God and trusting in the tenderness and faithfulness of an imminent God. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of our being able to say, with Mary, “Here am I, a servant of the Lord. Let it be to me according to your word” (Lk. 1:38). It is the source of Joseph’s wordless obedience (Mt. 1:24) and Jesus’ words from the cross in Luke: “Into thy hands I commit my spirit” (Lk. 23:46). The fear of the Lord opens us to the comfort and stamina God offers even in times of undeserved and profound suffering. The fear of the Lord is the impulse that shuts our self-righteous lips when we look upon the suffering or mistakes of others. It impels us, rather than to retreat in cold judgment, to reach out with comforting, capable hearts and hands.
When we put aside our paranoid, self-centered fears and embrace the fear of the Lord, we face the reality of an unknown future with the good news that we are accompanied by a God who never abandons us. The shadows of fear are illuminated by the light—Immanuel, God with us!
Image credit: Stained glass window, Sts. Joseph & Paul Catholic Church, Owensboro KY | PD
Christians around the world will gather to celebrate Jesus’ birth. The season is punctuated by carols, gatherings and parties, good cheer, brightly wrapped gifts, festive foods, and family traditions. In my parish we need ten Masses between Christmas Eve and Christmas Day to accommodate all the folks who come to celebrate the Nativity. At the masses the familiar and traditional gospel readings are proclaimed telling of angels, shepherds, and a child wrapped in swaddling born to save us. All of this on the same date each year: December 25th.
How did December 25 come to be associated with Jesus’ birthday? The Bible does not specify the date of the Nativity. Which is interesting in that the gospels are quite specific as regards the Last Supper, the Crucifixion and the Resurrection. Lots of people might offer, it can not have been December since shepherds were tending their flocks in pasture lands; that would be during the spring lambing season; in the cold month of December, on the other hand, sheep might well have been corralled. But then one should have a bit of caution when trying to exact a date from an incidental detail whose purpose is theological.
But it is interesting to note that the earlier New Testament scripture – St. Paul’s epistles and the Gospel of Mark – make no mention of Jesus’ birth. But the Gospels of Matthew and Luke provide us with the well known accounts, although without mentioning a date. The writings of the early Christian era, the first and second century, has no mention of birth celebrations in the writings of folks such as Irenaeus (c. 130–200), Tertullian (c. 160–225) or Origen of Alexandria (c. 165–264).
In the second century, we see additional details of Jesus’ birth and childhood – but they are written in books not considered part of the Canon of Sacred Scripture (apocryphal writings) such as the Infancy Gospel of Thomas and the Proto-Gospel of James. These texts provide everything from the names of Jesus’ grandparents to the details of his education, but not the date of his birth. In about 200 AD, Clement of Alexandria notes that several different days had been proposed by various Christian groups. Surprisingly, December 25 is not mentioned at all. The dates being bandied about were August 28th and May 20th. By the fourth century we find references to two dates, Dec 25 (West) and January 6 (East), that seemed to be celebrated in the Roman Empire. In time December 25 would prevail as the date for celebrating the Nativity, while January 6 eventually came to be known as the Feast of the Epiphany, commemorating the arrival of the magi in Bethlehem.
But why December 25th?
A popular theory is that the Christian Church borrowed from the pagan celebration of Sol Invictus (the Unconquered Sun), a Roman celebration established in 274 AD by the Roman emperor Aurelian. According to this theory, early Christians deliberately chose these dates to encourage the spread of Christmas and Christianity throughout the Roman world. Despite its popularity today, this theory of Christmas’s origins has its problems. It is not found in any ancient Christian writings. Some Christian authors of the time note a connection between the solstice and Jesus’ birth, but in connection with setting a calendar date. Rather they see the coincidence as a providential sign, as natural proof that God had selected Jesus over the false pagan gods.
It’s not until the 12th century that we find the first suggestion that Jesus’ birth celebration was deliberately set at the time of pagan feasts. A marginal note on a manuscript of the writings of the Syriac biblical commentator Dionysius bar-Salibi states that in ancient times the Christmas holiday was actually shifted from January 6 to December 25 so that it fell on the same date as the pagan Sol Invictus holiday. In the 18th and 19th centuries, Bible scholars spurred on by the new study of comparative religions latched on to this idea. They claimed that because the early Christians didn’t know when Jesus was born, they simply assimilated the pagan solstice festival for their own purposes, claiming it as the time of the Messiah’s birth and celebrating it accordingly. This line of argument was extended to show that many of the Christmas holiday’s traditions reflect pagan customs borrowed from pagan practices, e.g., the Christmas tree. But all of these traditions are from a much later period as Christianity expanded into northern and western Europe.
There are problems with this popular theory. Most significantly, the first mention of a date for Christmas (c. 200) and the earliest celebrations that we know about (c. 250–300) come in a period when Christians were not borrowing heavily from pagan traditions. In the first few centuries, the persecuted Christian minority was greatly concerned with distancing itself from the larger, public pagan religious observances, such as sacrifices, games and holidays. This was still true as late as the violent persecutions of the Christians conducted by the Roman emperor Diocletian between 303 and 312 C.E.
When Constantine came to power and converted to Christianity, Christianity took over pagan temples and converted them to churches, but there is no evidence of Christians adopting pagan festivals in the third century, at which point dates for Christmas were established. Thus, it seems unlikely that the date was simply selected to correspond with pagan solar festivals.
There is some evidence that the Donatist Christians in North Africa were celebrating the Nativity of the Lord on December 25th in the 3rd century before the age of Constantine and perhaps even before the establishment of Sol Invictus. Which still leaves us with: why December 25th?
Around 200 AD Tertullian of Carthage calculated that the date of Jesus’ death, given in the Gospel of John at 14th of Nissan, was equivalent to March 25th in the Roman calendar. That date should stand out as it is the date the Catholic Church celebrates the Feast of the Annunciation, Jesus’ conception. And yes, that date is 9 months prior to December 25.
An idea of the time was that Jesus was conceived and crucified on the same calendar date. The idea appears in an anonymous Christian treatise titled “On Solstices and Equinoxes”, which is likely from fourth-century North Africa. The treatise states: “Therefore our Lord was conceived on the eighth of the kalends of April in the month of March [March 25], which is the day of the passion of the Lord and of his conception. For on that day he was conceived on the same he suffered.” St. Augustine was familiar with this association. In On the Trinity (c. 399–419) he writes: “For he [Jesus] is believed to have been conceived on the 25th of March, upon which day also he suffered; so the womb of the Virgin, in which he was conceived, where no one of mortals was begotten, corresponds to the new grave in which he was buried, wherein was never man laid, neither before him nor since. But he was born, according to tradition, upon December the 25th.”
In Eastern Christianity the same idea was present, but rather than March 25th, the starting date was April 6th. Bishop Epiphanius of Salamis writes that on April 6, “The lamb was shut up in the spotless womb of the holy virgin, he who took away and takes away in perpetual sacrifice the sins of the world.” This led to the dating of the Nativity on January 6th. Thus, we have Christians in two parts of the world calculating Jesus’ birth on the basis that his death and conception took place on the same day (March 25 or April 6) and coming up with two close but different results (December 25 and January 6).
Connecting Jesus’ conception and death is an odd connection for us to make, but it reflects ancient and medieval understandings of the whole of salvation being bound up together. One of the most poignant expressions of this belief is found in Christian art. In numerous paintings of the angel’s Annunciation to Mary, the moment of Jesus’ conception, the baby Jesus is shown gliding down from heaven on or with a small cross; a visual reminder that the conception brings the promise of salvation through Jesus’ death.
Image credit: The Annunciation | Master Bertram, 1379-1383 | Altarpiece at St Peter (Grabow) | Kunsthalle, Hamburg. Source credit: Andrew McGowan, Bible History Daily | July 10, 2025
Yesterday the Church sang of angels, shepherds, light, and joy. Quite jarringly, today we are shown stones, hatred, and death. On the very day after Christmas, the Church places before us St. Stephen, the first martyr. This is not accidental. It is profoundly intentional. Because Christmas is not only about a child in a manger; it is about a life that will be given, and about what happens when that life truly takes root in human hearts.
In the first reading from the Acts of the Apostles, Stephen stands before the Sanhedrin, accused, threatened, misunderstood. Yet we are told: “Stephen, filled with the Holy Spirit, looked up intently to heaven and saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God” (Acts 7:55).
Stephen does not defend himself. He does not bargain. He does not save his life by silence. Instead, he remains faithful to what God has revealed, even when that fidelity leads directly to his death. This is obedience of faith in its most costly form: trusting God not only when obedience brings blessing, but when it brings suffering.
The story of Stephen’s martyrdom is a lesson in seeing what others cannot see. While his accusers see a blasphemer, Stephen sees heaven opened. While stones are raised against him, Stephen entrusts his spirit to Christ: “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” (Acts 7:59) And like his Master, he prays: “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” (Acts 7:60)
Stephen’s death mirrors Christ’s death, because the obedience of faith always conforms us to Jesus.
But why the day after Christmas? I think the Church places the Feast of St. Stephen immediately after Christmas teaches us a hard but necessary truth: if Christmas is real, it will change how we live and it may cost us something. Christmas proclaims that God has entered the world. St. Stephen shows us what happens when that truth is lived without compromise:
Love becomes dangerous.
Truth becomes costly.
Faith becomes visible.
The Gospel becomes a warning as Jesus tells His disciples: “You will be hated by all because of my name, but whoever endures to the end will be saved.” (Mt 10:22) Stephen is the first to prove that these words are not symbolic. The obedience of faith does not promise safety. It promises Christ’s presence.
I suspect most of us are challenged by Stephen’s obedience of faith and our own. Most of us will not face stones or martyrdom. But this feast day celebration invites us to examine the quieter ways we resist obedience to the faith:
When faith costs social approval
When truth creates tension
When forgiveness feels unjust
When fidelity requires sacrifice
Stephen teaches us that obedience of faith is not about heroic gestures but rather it is about faithfulness to Christ, even when the outcome is uncertain or painful.
The world sees Stephen’s death as a failure. The Church sees it as a birth. Stephen dies while heaven stands open. The child born yesterday is already reigning. And one of those who watches Stephen die will one day become St. Paul, apostle to the nations. The obedience of faith may look like loss in the moment, but God never wastes it.
On this day after Christmas, the Church reminds us that the manger leads to the cross. The cross leads to glory. And no matter the cost, obedience of faith leads to life.
Image credit: The Stoning of Stephen | Rembrandt, 1625 | Musée des Beaux-Arts de Lyon | PD-US
In the short span of time between our celebration of Christmas and the Feast of the Holy Family, there is not sufficient time to have a week of posts – and besides, I hope your days are filled with visits from friends and family and you’ve got a fun-filled day ahead of you. But if you are interested, you can read a detailed commentary on the gospel reading for the Feast of the Holy Family. The commentary covers the flight to Egypt, the slaughter of the Holy Innocents, and the Holy Family’s return to Nazareth. Enjoy.
Image credit: Stained glass window, Sts. Joseph & Paul Catholic Church, Owensboro KY | PD
“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice! The Lord is near.” Such were the words on the Third Sunday of Advent, Gaudete Sunday. Perhaps we should rephrase the words: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice! The Lord is here.” All of Advent we have been waiting and praying for the coming joy of Christmas. On this night the angels proclaim the message of “good news of great joy;” for unto us has born a child, Emmanuel, who is Christ, Lord and Savior. This good news of great joy is for all the people of God.
The Church’s liturgical seasons of Advent, Christmas and Ordinary Time are shaped to lead us to the experience of joy. In a way it matches a pattern of life of which we are intuitively aware because we are people that live among patterns shaping our lives. It might be simply described simply as three “seasons” similar to the Church’s liturgical seasons. The first season is “Preparation” for an event. It is a season which carries along with it a sense of anticipation. Next comes the “day” itself, when anticipation is realized in an occasion of great joy. And then comes the time after the event and that season where we move on into life but we want to hold on to the joy of the day. Like Christmas: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice! The Lord is [here].”
The joy of Christmas is here; all around us, before, behind us, surrounding us. How do we appropriate it? How do we grab some and put it in our pocket for later? How can we bottle it? How can we capture the joy which pervades this night. And once we have it, keep it safe, and share the joy?
There are lots of events in our life that have that same pattern of anticipation, preparation, and finally the day comes:
Parents and grandparents look back and remember the joy.
As a community of faith we have anticipated and prepared for this evening – and here we are at Christmas. Not just us and not just now – but every year. And it has been this way since before the time of Jesus. The Prophet Isaiah, more than 2,500 years ago, looked forward to this day of “abundant joy and great rejoicing” when he prophesied:“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.” And the people of God waited and anticipated – through the days and nights, joys and sorrows, and all that makes up the cauldron of this life. They had faith that the day would come.
And then, out of the dark night sky, there shown above shepherds in the fields, the glory of the Lord and angels who proclaimed good news of great joy: “For today in the city of David a savior has been born for you who is Christ and Lord.” And then the heaven exploded in an angelic chorus.
Think of the anticipation those shepherds felt as they hurried into Bethlehem to witness what the angels proclaimed. Think of the anticipation of Mary and Joseph. The joy of the world focused on a manger is a backwater town of Bethlehem.
Be it on the grand scale of the history of Redemption, the celebration of one year’s Christmas, or so many events of our life – there is the pattern of anticipation all pointing towards “the day”- be it Christmas, the first day of college, your wedding day, and so much more.
And comes the day after Christmas, the second day of college, the end of the honeymoon and the start of building a life together.
Here at Christmas we are again asked to recall the words of St. Paul to Titus: “The grace of God has appeared, saving all and training us to reject godless ways and worldly desires and to live temperately, justly, and devoutly in this age.” And to carry those words and these memories into the cauldron of life, to face the next day. Likewise, to recall:
And Christmas – to remember the warm glow of this evening, the close comfort of friends and family, the good cheer, and to recall a Savior has been born to us, saving all, and asking us to be Christ for others. To renew our covenant with God in this Eucharist with our “Amen”, and then to go into the world to strive to make the promises of Christ come true for yourself, your loved ones, for friends, and for those you will meet in the days and years to come.
With all the anticipation comes the day, and with the day, comes the day after. We are people of the day after but recall this day in memory and rejoicing, for to us a Savior has been born!
Merry Christmas.
I hope you have been following the readings here during the final week of Advent. These have been the gospel readings:
God is doing what he promised. His word will come to pass. These events are “as he promised through the mouth of his holy prophets from of old.” The promise involves rescue: God will save his people from their enemies and from all who hate them. Such salvation reflects the mercy of God and the recollection of the covenant made with Abraham. In this way the hymn actually combines two sets of divine promises – those about David’s son and those made to Abraham. What God will do for his people he does through Messiah. The fresh fulfillment of both covenants begins with Jesus’ arrival.
But what is the goal of this salvation? Here is perhaps the most insightful part of the hymn. Zechariah is not retreating from life or looking only to a future reward in heaven. His heart’s desire is to serve God “without fear … in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.” This is the expression of an exemplary soul. The meaning of life comes in faithful service to a holy God.
Such was the goal and purpose of Advent that we too might serve God without fear and in holiness all the days of our life. And to be reminded these are the days of promises fulfilled.
Image credit: Stained glass window, Sts. Joseph & Paul Catholic Church, Owensboro KY | PD
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