At the beginning

Today is the first weekday of the Season of Advent. The gospel reading is the account of a centurion who approached Jesus and asked that his servant, paralyzed and suffering, be healed. Does it strike you as odd that this is the gospel? It seems like something suited to Ordinary Time rather than Advent. Or does it? I think that here at the very beginning of Advent the choice of this gospel is quite appropriate for Advent. Let me suggest six reasons why this gospel is a great choice.

It highlights Advent’s central theme: It is Faith that welcomes the Messiah. The centurion expresses one of the most remarkable statements of faith in all the Gospel: “Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof; only say the word and my servant will be healed.” (Mt 8:8) At the start of Advent, the Church places before us the posture we must have to welcome Christ: humble, trusting, expectant faith. This faith is so exemplary that the Church echoes it at every Mass before Communion.

This gospel reveals that Christ came for all nations. Advent looks forward not only to Bethlehem but to the final coming of Christ, when all nations gather before Him. Jesus’ response would have been startling to the listeners in the 1st century: “Many will come from the east and the west, and will recline with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob…” (Mt 8:11) The centurion is a Gentile, yet he recognizes Jesus more clearly than many in Israel. This scene is a partial fulfillment of Isaiah’s Advent prophecies which proclaim that all nations will come to the Lord – “In days to come, the mountain of the LORD’s house shall be established as the highest mountain and raised above the hills. All nations shall stream toward it. (Isaiah 2:2)  Here at the very beginning of Advent we are reminded that Christ’s Kingdom is universal. It is for outsiders, seekers, and anyone drawn to the light of Christ.

The gospel mirrors our Advent longing: “Come, Lord Jesus” The centurion comes seeking the Lord, confident that Jesus’ arrival brings healing. Advent is the season we sing “O’ Come, O’ Come Emmanuel” expressing our longing, a longing embodied by the centurion. He seeks Christ, calls out to Him, and trusts His word even before seeing results. It holds up for us a model of our Advent posture: not passive waiting, but active reaching.

Advent’s weekday readings are filled with Isaiah, a prophet whose words shaped Israel’s hope for the Messiah. This gospel emphasizes the Power of the Word of Christ. The centurion believes Jesus’ word alone is enough: “only say the word and my servant will be healed.” (Mt 8:8)  From the Word made flesh, the Word goes out to accomplish its mission. We are given an example that God’s Word fulfills what it promises. As Isaiah foretold and as the centurion believed, the Word made flesh is coming and will accomplish healing and salvation.

The readings for the early Season of Advent carry themes of healing and restoration. The first days of Advent feature several healing miracles: the centurion’s servant, healing the two blind men who cry out to him, sending apostles out with the specific mission of healing, and others. These early readings present Christ as the One who restores creation, heals what is wounded, and makes all things new. This is the very mission promised in Isaiah and fulfilled in Christ’s coming at Christmas and in glory.

And last but not least, this gospel anticipates the Eucharist. The centurion’s words echo through the liturgy: “Lord, I am not worthy…” Placing this Gospel early in Advent highlights the link between Christ who came at Bethlehem, Christ who comes at every Mass, and Christ who will come again in glory. As many have noted: these are the “three comings” of Christ during Advent.

It is a great choice for the first weekday of the Advent Season.


Image credit: The Healing of the Officer’s Son | James Tissot, c.1880 | Brooklyn Museum | PD-US

John in the Wilderness

A new section of Matthew begins at Mt 3:1. From Jesus’ infancy we jump several decades in time.  Without warning or preparation, John the Baptist appears in the wilderness preaching not (as in Mark 1:4) a “baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins,” but rather repentance, “for the kingdom of heaven is at hand” (Matt 3:2). This is also different from Luke’s gospel in which we follow the story of Zechariah, Elizabeth and their son John (Lk 1); we are not told of the relationship between Mary and Elizabeth – hence there is no announced family relationship between John the Baptist and Jesus.  

Yet the structure of Matthew’s gospel points to a more key relationship between John and Jesus. The section (3:1 to 11:19) brackets a chiastic pattern that describes the parameters of the relationship that are central to Matthew’s understanding of the gospel good news.

  • The content of John’s preaching is clear from the beginning: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!”  Later when John is in prison, those words are repeated verbatim by Jesus (Mt 4:17). 
  • John’s announcement of the “one who is coming” (3:11) corresponds to his question in 11:3 – “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?
  • In Chapter 3 John is the one “on stage” whereon the reader hears the Baptist’s view of Jesus. In Chapter 11, John is offstage, Jesus is the primary voice, and the reader receives Jesus’ view of the Baptist and himself.
  • This chiastic bracketing informs our reading of lays between: Jesus’ words and actions are signs that the kingdom, long promised, is indeed at hand and Jesus is that long promised Messiah.
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The coming flood to sweep us away

In our first reading, the Prophet Isaiah says that All nations shall stream toward it. Of course he is speaking about a day in the future when the light of salvation will shine from the highest mountain. If you grew up in Orlando, you could be forgiven for thinking Isaiah was referring to Space Mountain at Disney World. Based on all measures of tourism, people indeed stream toward that Magical Kingdom – that entertainment mecca that offers a respite from the imperfect, unredeemed world in which we live.

 Our world is not too dissimilar from the apocalyptic images of wars and rumors of war. In our world, people are homeless, hurting, and helpless. People are lonely, lonesome, and lost. It can be a struggle – and there is a part of us that wants the holiday season. That wants a break, a pause, a Disney moment. We need to recharge, be happy, be hopeful, and hospitable. So, we also open our homes for gatherings of friends and families. There are concerts, lots of children’s Christmas pageants, musicals, and we light up our homes and streets against the darkness of winter, the darkness in the world. And like Disney, our homes are filled with people and music: familiar tunes like “Silent Night” where  All is calm, all is bright.  But the world we live in is not perfect, not redeemed, not Disney. 

The words of our Advent scripture are neither “Christmassy” or “Disney.”

…the flood came and carried them all away.
Two men will be out in the field;
one will be taken, and one will be left. 
Two women will be grinding at the mill;
one will be taken, and one will be left. 

On this first Sunday, the message is ominous and dark. It takes us by surprise.  The message of our Advent Scripture roars, asking us to look around because it is just like it was in the days of Noah. We are going about business as usual, but there is a coming flood that will sweep us all away. While the world would present a huggable, domesticated, Disney Christmas, Advent begins with a roar that shatters the calm on this day.   It cries “wake up!” because Salvation is coming; Redemption is on its way!  You have to be ready.

If we really hear the Advent message, we would better understand the power of the coming God. If we are deeply connected with the reason for the season, we would not come to church at Christmas in our finery, we would be prepared and come wearing crash helmets and life preservers, prepared to be swept away in the flood of God’s power and grace.

God is not like Disney.  God does not want to pacify us – He wants to electrify us. He does not want us lining up for Space Mountain, but rather would have us stream towards the mountain of the LORD’s house. He does not want to dazzle us with fireworks and Main Street – He wants to mystify us the idea that God, our Redeemer, the one to heal, house, and give hope –  would come to us as one of us – as a helpless child.  Would draw us into the hard and demanding work of raising a child.

A child in a manger, arms raised upward, inviting you into the embrace.  A child we are called to pick up and take into our lives, doing the hard work of nurturing our faith into maturity. A Child that will make the demands of love known. A Child that will point to homeless, hurting, and helpless – past all the magic of Disney – and remind us of Love’s demand to be played out away from the Magical Kingdom – on the highways, byways, back alleys, and streets of the Kingdom of God.

The readings of this first Sunday in Advent asks us to wake up, be vigilant, and reminds us that this Child’s story cannot truly be rolled into malls, markets, Main Street Disney, or any endeavor that would soften, temper, domesticate, obfuscate, or obliterate news that should roar at us like the full grown lion, sweep us away in the flood waters of change. It truly is “As it was in the days of Noah…

Salvation is coming; Redemption is on its way!  You have to be ready. You have to ready your family. That’s the gospel message…. and now comes the hard part: what will you do to prepare? And in midst of all the fun holiday endeavors, what part of Advent will you carve out for the Lord? What’s the plan? What are the actions? 

I have faith in you… after all, you have organized the family vacation to Disney World – a logistics miracle in itself! You prepared, you readied the family, y’all had a great time. You got this. You can make your Advent family plan to be electrified by the love of God, break out the Advent crash helmets and life vests, prepare for the coming of the Christ Child, with your prayer, time to volunteer, and more. You got this.

As it was in the days of Noah…” but unlike those days, you can be ready for the Redemption that this way comes. It’s Advent – prepare yourself.

Amen


Image credit: Canva, St. Francis, CC-BY-NC

Why we sing Alleluia

Let us sing alleluia here on earth, while we still live in anxiety, so that we may sing it one day in heaven in full security.

Why do we now live in anxiety? Can you expect me not to feel anxious when I read: Is not man’s life on earth a time of trial? Can you expect me not to feel anxious when the words still ring in my ears: Watch and pray that you will not be put to the test? Can you expect me not to feel anxious when there are so many temptations here below that prayer itself reminds us of them, when we say: Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us? Every day we make our petitions, every day we sin. Do you want me to feel secure when I am daily asking pardon for my sins, and requesting help in time of trial? Because of my past sins I pray: Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us,and then, because of the perils still before me, I immediately go on to add: Lead us not into temptation. How can all be well with people who are crying out with me: Deliver us from evil? And yet, brothers, while we are still in the midst of this evil, let us sing alleluia to the good God who delivers us from evil.

Even here amidst trials and temptations let us, let all men, sing alleluia. God is faithful, says holy Scripture, and he will not allow you to be tried beyond your strength. So let us sing alleluia, even here on earth. Man is still a debtor, but God is faithful. Scripture does not say that he will not allow you to be tried, but that he will not allow you to be tried beyond your strength. Whatever the trial, he will see you through it safely, and so enable you to endure. You have entered upon a time of trial but you will come to no harm—God’s help will bring you through it safely. You are like a piece of pottery, shaped by instruction, fired by tribulation. When you are put into the oven therefore, keep your thoughts on the time when you will be taken out again; for God is faithful, and he will guard both your going in and your coming out.

But in the next life, when this body of ours has become immortal and incorruptible, then all trials will be over. Your body is indeed dead, and why? Because of sin. Nevertheless, your spirit lives, because you have been justified. Are we to leave our dead bodies behind then? By no means. Listen to the words of holy Scripture: If the Spirit of him who raised Christ from the dead dwells within you, then he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your own mortal bodies. At present your body receives its life from the soul, but then it will receive it from the Spirit.

O the happiness of the heavenly alleluia, sung in security, in fear of no adversity! We shall have no enemies in heaven, we shall never lose a friend. God’s praises are sung both there and here, but here they are sung by those destined to die, there, by those destined to live for ever; here they are sung in hope, there, in hope’s fulfillment; here they are sung by wayfarers, there, by those living in their own country.

So, then, my brothers, let us sing now, not in order to enjoy a life of leisure, but in order to lighten our labors. You should sing as wayfarers do—sing, but continue your journey. Do not be lazy, but sing to make your journey more enjoyable. Sing, but keep going. What do I mean by keep going? Keep on making progress. This progress, however, must be in virtue; for there are some, the Apostle warns, whose only progress is in vice. If you make progress, you will be continuing your journey, but be sure that your progress is in virtue, true faith and right living. Sing then, but keep going.


Saint Augustine’s Sermon 256 | Image credit: Shelagh Murphy, Pexels, CC-BY

The Franciscans in China

Writing earlier about St. Francis Xavier, I was reminded about a Franciscan missioner, John of Montecorvino, whose feast was November 29. Mention John of Montecorvino and most people – even most Franciscans – will say “who?” John was the first Catholic missionary to China, centuries before the efforts of other Catholic religious orders. It is a compelling story.  If you would like to read an interesting and accessible account of the travel within the context of an art historian comparing 13th century Italian and Chinese art, read Lauren Arnold’s: Princely Gifts & Papal Treasures: The Franciscan Mission to China & Its Influence on the Art of the West, 1250-1350 – fascinating book.

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Why this Gospel?

This coming Sunday is the first Sunday in Advent. In yesterday’s posts we considered more about the need for watchfulness, readiness, and being attentive to God’s call. In today’s post we will look into why this gospel is used for the First Sunday in Advent.

So far we have looked at this gospel in its Matthean context. But what about it use on the first Sunday of Advent, the first Sunday of the Liturgical Year?  If last Sunday (Christ the King Sunday) represents a culmination of things – when Christ reigns above all – then what are we to make of the First Sunday in Advent?  Do we go back to the beginning and again work our way through the year until Christ is again King?

Yes…in way. The beginning is not the birth of Jesus. The beginning is the advent (the coming) of Jesus as the fulfillment of the promise of God and thus the hopes and dreams of the Jewish people. This is the first Sunday of Advent, the Sunday of Expectation and Hope. The Old Testament Lectionary reading for this first Sunday of Advent is Isaiah 2:1-5.

This is what Isaiah, son of Amoz, saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem. In days to come, The mountain of the LORD’S house shall be established as the highest mountain and raised above the hills. All nations shall stream toward it; many peoples shall come and say: “Come, let us climb the LORD’S mountain, to the house of the God of Jacob, That he may instruct us in his ways, and we may walk in his paths.” For from Zion shall go forth instruction, and the word of the LORD from Jerusalem. He shall judge between the nations, and impose terms on many peoples. They shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks; One nation shall not raise the sword against another, nor shall they train for war again. O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the LORD!”Nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.”

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Standing in Hope

Over the last several weeks as we near the end of the liturgical year, the Church has chosen readings that are quite apocalyptic. The readings from the Book of Daniel and the gospels – are they meant to scare us into fearful compliance with the demands of God? The imagery easily serves as a source of all manner of end times predictions of death, doom and despair. Yet, that is not the reason why the Church selected these readings. What is common to all the apocalyptic texts is the final triumph of God. We are called to turn our eyes toward the final triumph of God and to recall where our hope truly lies.

Daniel lived in chaotic times. We live in chaotic times. Think of the past year: wars in Ukraine, Gaza and Israel, Syria, Myanmar, Sudan, Yemeni, Haiti, Ethiopia, Rwanda, and Congo – and those are state actors. There are all kinds of conflicts among non-state actors. Sabre rattling, trade wars, the war on drugs, gun violence, political acrimony reaching ever new levels of accusation and calumny.

There’s a word you don’t hear much. Calumny: the act of maliciously misrepresenting someone’s conduct to harm that person’s reputation. There are days when I think the majority of political party statements are calumnious in their nature.  

In Daniel’s vision the chaos arose from the sea, the usual source of such Old Testament beasts. In Scripture, the sea represents chaos, evil, and the forces that oppose God. The beasts symbolize earthly political and military empires – violent, unstable, rising and falling with history. And yet, after all the terrifying beasts, Daniel suddenly says: “As the visions during the night continued, I was watching and saw one like a Son of Man coming… He received dominion, glory, and kingship” (Dan 7:13–14).

This is the heart of the reading: human kingdoms rise and fall, but God’s kingdom, given to the Son of Man, endures forever. Daniel and all the prophets remind us that the last word is not chaos, but Christ and the Kingdom.

It is easy to be mesmerized by the chaos. It is like watching a tornado; we just can’t seem to look away. In the Gospel Jesus uses the fig tree to remind us to learn to see God at work: “When you see it put forth leaves, you know that summer is near. In the same way, when you see these things happening, know that the kingdom of God is near” (Lk 21:30-31). Jesus is telling us to read the signs, to learn how God works in our lives.

The fig tree does not leaf out suddenly. It happens quietly, gradually, almost unnoticed. The same way God’s grace unfolds in our lives. It is there amidst the chaos in a world full of noise, fear, and “beasts” of every kind such as division, conflict, sin, moral and confusion. Mixed right in with signs of His presence: acts of charity, the persistence of faith, forgiveness offered, hope renewed and much more.

Tornadoes demand our attention. Signs of the kingdom demand no such thing but patiently wait to be noticed.

Like the first reading, the gospel is a call to hopeful watchfulness. Daniel says: “Do not be afraid of the beasts; God remains King.” Jesus says: “Watch with faith; the Kingdom is already blossoming.”

Each reading proclaims: no matter how dark the world seems, God’s Kingdom is closer than we think. It is already growing, becoming, patiently waiting for us to spread its borders. “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away” (Lk 21:33).

Empires pass. Cultures pass. Trends pass. Even our worries pass. But Christ’s word, His promise, His presence – these do not pass away.

We can name the beast, the chaos and our fears. But where might we also see the first small leaves of the Kingdom God is quietly unfolding? We need not deny the reality of struggle. But we are not defined by it.

We are defined by the Son of Man who already reigns and who already draws near.


Image credit: Flevit super illam (He wept over it) | Enrique Simonet (1892) | Museo del Prado, Madrid | Wikimedia Creative Commons | PD-US

No One Knows the Day

This coming Sunday is the first Sunday in Advent. In yesterday’s posts we looked at Matthew’s emphasis that the disciples will not know the day – no one knows – but that does not remove the need to stay awake – a key theme of Advent. Today, we consider more about the need for watchfulness, readiness, and being attentive to God’s call.

If the time is unknown… It will catch people unprepared. The analogy with the days of Noah suggests that judgment is to be a major feature (though it is not the whole picture) of the coming of the Son of man. But the main point is the unpreparedness of Noah’s contemporaries. Whereas Noah and his family were ready, everyone else carried on oblivious to the threat of judgment, and so, while Noah was saved, they were swept away. The implication is that it is possible to prepare for the parousia, not by calculating its date, but by a life of constant readiness and response to God’s warnings and introductions. There will apparently be only two categories, the prepared (and therefore saved) and the unprepared (and therefore lost).

Some are taken – some are not… This radical division is reinforced by two cameos of ordinary life suddenly disrupted. Both men are involved in the same work in the field, both women in the same grinding at the mill. It is not a difference in work or situation which causes the separation, but a difference in readiness. (Cf. 13:30 for the idea of a coexistence of the ‘saved’ and the ‘lost’ until the final judgment.) Taken is the same verb used e.g. in 1:20; 17:1; 18:16; 20:17; the word for “taken” (paralambanomai) doesn’t mean “to go up” or “to meet”, but “to go along with”. It is used in the Transfiguration story: “Jesus took with him Peter and James and John his brother.” It is used in the section on church discipline. If someone has sinned against you, you are to go to him and tell him his fault. If he does not listen, take one or two others along with you. 

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