The Christmas Story -- Get It?!

Most of us, as children, have had the experience of someone telling a joke or a story, ending with the words: “Get it?!” The fact is that sometimes people don’t “get it”, the punch line or the point of the story, for any number of reasons. We simply may not understand, and need a moment to think about it. Perhaps we weren’t really paying much attention. We may even have been unreceptive. Maybe the person telling the joke or story didn’t communicate it clearly. Sometimes the joke or story needs to be repeated.

How much more does this all apply to the Christmas story: the message which we call the Incarnation, the good news about God’s Son coming among us as a human being. Do you and I “get it”? The Church, at least, seems sensitive to the fact that we might not. Have you noticed how she repeats the Prologue to John’s Gospel both in the third liturgy for Christmas Day and again on the First Sunday after Christmas (though not in the RCL)? Sometimes a story needs to be repeated so that it becomes part of us.

This Christmas story, in which Jesus is the main character, teaches us three things: 1) to praise and glorify the Father, giving us reasons why we should; 2) to learn, to receive the light-giving and life-giving Word and Wisdom who is Jesus; and 3) to bring, to convey, the reality of this story to others in the power of God’s Holy Spirit.

Put more simply, the Christmas story teaches us to worship, to learn, and to serve. These are simple tasks, available to and within the capability of each of us who make up the Church. The reason we gather here each week is to share this story and ours, and to become skilled in how to worship, to learn, and to serve. The Book of Common Prayer’s Collect for Christmas 1 acknowledges that God has “poured upon us the new light” of the Incarnate Word, and it prays that “this light, enkindled in our hearts, may shine forth in our lives…”

In Galatians 3:23-25; 4:4-7 Paul reminds the Galatians that, prior to Jesus’ coming, they were bound up, “imprisoned”, in slavery, “subject to a disciplinarian”, i.e., the Mosaic Law. In taking on our humanity, Jesus released them, set them free, enabled them to set their hearts on Jesus and to “receive adoption as [God’s] children”. Through Jesus the Father sends the Spirit to us who enables us to cry out: “Abba!”, the approximate literal meaning of which is “Daddy!”, and all that that implies. It’s a grateful exclamation, full of thanks and gratitude for our Father’s completely undeserved grace. Our weekly sharing of the Eucharist is simply an outward, communal continuation of our daily personal outpourings of appreciation for all of our releases from “slavery” during the week, and for all our continual graces.

John’s moving and majestic Prologue to the Gospel (1:1-18) is a rich theological statement which the Church seems hardly able to restrain herself from repeating over and over. John’s words impress on us the reality of God’s Son who is both divine and human, the Source of life and light, yet one of us. “Of his fullness”, it says, we’ve received a sort of cascading flow of “grace upon grace”, countless times in our lives. It acknowledges that “grace and truth” come only through Jesus the Christ, God’s Anointed One, and it emphasizes the urgency of our responsibility as followers of Jesus. As the Father makes Jesus known to us (the story), so you and I are to make Jesus known (HISstory and ours).

And as with stories generally, mentioned above, we shouldn’t be surprised that some people are unreceptive or unwilling to accept it, that some don’t understand it, are confused or challenged by it, that some don’t “get it”. Yet others do: “...to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God…” Our job as bearers of his story is not necessarily to succeed, but only to be faithful, to make sure that we know the story, that we’ve learned it well, and to communicate it as clearly and as simply as we know how.

The nature and reality of what Jesus taught us by his words and example is such that it simply has to express itself by being shared, by being given, in service, to others. Take Isaiah 61:10-62:3, for example, and notice the “action” words which Isaiah uses:

- “the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to spring up before all nations”
- “...I will not keep silent.”
- “...her vindication shines out like the dawn, and her salvation like a burning torch.”
- “...The nations shall see your vindication…”

The fire of God’s Holy Spirit within us makes us fairly explode in crying out “Abba, Father!” in praise, and enlightens our hearts and teaches us, leads us into all truth. That same Spirit refashions and renews us from within, sending us out to share the fruits of grace with others who are so desperately needy for it.

To worship, to learn, to serve: that’s the essence of the Christmas story. It puts our entire church life into true perspective. To worship: we realize, isn’t just ceremony and ritual. It leads us to ask how do we praise and glorify God? Are our music, words, gestures, etc. genuine vehicles of praise? Do we prepare well for praising God? Are we able to cultivate inward silence as an aid to our worship?

To learn: Are our Bible studies, quiet days, and our other ways of exploring the Word just “programs”, something which nice church folks are supposed to do? What motivates us to learn? Or do we run on “empty” most of the time? Are we courageous enough to ask hard questions of ourselves, of God, and of the Church? Are we then willing to find ways to resolve them?

To serve: Are we knowledgeable enough and excited enough about Jesus‘ story to share it with someone else? You don’t have to answer this, but how many people, in the past year, have you and I at least invited to hear and know more about Jesus? Do we have any sort of plan in order to address the needs of others?

“He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God...And the Word was made flesh and lived among us...full of grace and truth...we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son...From his fullness we have all received…”

The story of Christmas. The story of the Church. Your story and my story.

Get it?!

The Nativity of Our Savior Jesus Christ

 

Hymn at Lauds

"A solis ortus cardine" ("From lands that see the sun arise")
  by Coelius Sedulius (5th century)

A solis ortus cardine is part of a venerable musical tradition. The earliest Christian hymns date from the fourth century AD. St. Augustine tell us that his friend, St. Ambrose, began composing metrical Latin songs as a tool in dealing with the Arian heresy and to reinforce orthodox doctrine in the liturgy.  Coelius Sedulius (d. c. 450) composed A solis ortus cardine a generation after Ambrose. The hymn is a well-fashioned example of poetry in Ambrosian style. Despite this classic form, however, Sedulius' text also uses a clever literary idea. Called Paean alphabeticus de Christo by Sedulius, A solis ortus cardine contains an acrostic. First letters of each stanza take successive letters of the alphabet. The use of acrostics was well known in Old Testament Hebrew: for example, the rather long Psalm 119). Musically, an elegantly arched melody in the solemn Phrygian mode sets Sedulius' hymn text, which celebrates the mysteries of the Incarnation and birth of Jesus. Roman Rite churches, as well as those following the Mozarabic (Iberian) rite, quickly adopted A solis ortus cardine into the liturgy. Sedulius' hymn, expressed through Gregorian chant, has now survived for over 15 centuries.

From the lands that see the sun arise

To earth’s remotest boundaries,

The Virgin-born to-day we sing,

The Son of Mary, Christ the King.

 Blest Author of this earthly frame,

To take a servant’s form He came,

That, liberating flesh by flesh,

Whom He had made might live afresh.

 In that chaste parent’s holy womb

Celestial grace hath found its home;

And she, as earthly bride unknown,

Yet calls that Offspring blest her own.

 The mansion of the modest breast

Becomes a shrine where God shall rest:

The pure and undefiled one

Conceived in her womb the Son.

 That Son, that Royal Son she bore,

Whom Gabriel’s voice had told afore;

Whom, in His mother yet concealed,

The infant Baptist had revealed.

 The manger and the straw He bore,

The cradle did He not abhor;

By milk in infant portions fed,

Who gives e’en fowls their daily bread.

 The heavenly chorus filled the sky,

The Angels sang to God on high,

What time to shepherds, watching lone,

They made creation’s Shepherd known.

 All honor, laud, and glory be,

O Jesu, Virgin-born to Thee:

All glory, as is ever meet,

To Father and to Paraclete.

The Eve of Christmas

From Sermon XXI, "On the Nativity of Our Lord Jesus Christ", by Pope St. Leo the Great

"My friends, this is the day our Savior was born: let us rejoice and give thanks. This is no season for sadness, this, the birthday of Life. Life removes all fear of death, giving birth to the joy of immortality.

No one is a stranger to this happiness. The same cause for joy is common to us all. No one of us was free from guilt when the Savior removed our chains. His salvation from sin and death was offered to all without exception. Let the saint rejoice who hastens towards heaven; let the sinner rejoice for pardon has been won; let those who feel excluded too rejoice at this untrammelled call to life and freedom.

When the fullness of time had come, chosen in God's inscrutable wisdom, the only Son of God became himself a human being, to realign us with God's plan...

My friends, let us give thanks to God the Father, through his Son, in the Holy Spirit, whose tender compassion so overwhelms us, that in giving life to Christ they gave us life too, making a new creation out of our humanity...

Let us leave behind us the self we used to be, with all that held us back or held us down. As newborn sharers in the life of Christ let us break with our former way of life and live with him.

O Christian, be aware of your nobility: you now share in God's own nature. Do not fall back into your former way of life. Remember the Head, remember the Body to which you now belong. Remember that you have been removed from the threshold of darkness and made welcome in a household of light and of love.

Through the waters of baptism the Holy Spirit has made of you a temple. Do not forfeit your freedom by turning yourself once more into a slave. Remember that you were ransomed at the price of Christ's Blood."

Sharing a Treasure

 This line from Isaiah in the Morning Office was a real gift to me, and I share it with you as we await the celebration of Christ's birth:  "The meek shall obtain fresh joy from the Lord, and the neediest people shall exult in the Holy One of Israel..."

Obedience In Faith

Matthew's Gospel (1:18-25) today seems a bit peculiar. It says: "Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way..." Yet it doesn't seem to address that issue, except in five brief words later: "...until she had borne a son..." Matthew devotes the rest of the story to Joseph and the "bind" in which he found himself.

To state the problem succinctly: "...When...Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child..." Betrothal, in those times, was as firm an obligation as marriage, though Joseph hadn't taken Mary home as yet. Divorce, dismissing her, as Joseph saw it, "quietly", that is, seemed the kinder way of dealing with Mary and would save her from public disgrace, and so he had resolved. Then, when he fell asleep, he dreamt, receiving a message from the Most High which explained this expected child's origins and his destiny.

"...You are to name him Jesus..." Yeshua = he saves. He will really be born. He'll be one of us:"God with us". Those words would've conjured up for Joseph all the saving promises of Jewish history of the Messiah. The bottom line, literally, was: "he took her as his wife"/she bore a son/"he named him Jesus". Joseph obeyed, as his wife, Mary, had done, in faith.

It's significant that Matthew quotes from Isaiah 7, from which today's first reading (7:10-16) is taken. In its original context, King Ahaz of Judah is afraid to do God's will regarding his nation. He lacks faith. Isaiah the prophet confronts Ahaz and tells him that God will offer him a sign, any sign he desires, as long as he acts in faith. Ahaz demurs, out of false piety, in order to cover up his unbelief. Isaiah cries out in frustration: "Is it too little for you to weary mortals, that you weary my God also?..." I thought about this line at the place where I worshipped this morning, as water from the recent rain dripped down incessantly from the roof outside. Drip...drip...drip. It occurred to me that all our human whining and complaining and moaning about our situations must at times weary God just a bit like that! Our dissatisfactions are like a constant drip, drip, drip. Yet, for all that, we're still God's beloved, each and every one, unconditionally, and God always seems to relent. "...the Lord himself will give you a sign...", a sign of salvation to give assurance: to Ahaz and his nation, and to us. The sign is that a young woman will bear a son in the future. He will be a king and will bring the blessing of "God with us". Immediately, of course, this refers to Hezekiah, who will later reign as a good, faithful servant of God. In its fullness, the text refers to Hezekiah's descendant, Jesus, who will be the faithful Servant, par excellence.

In the second reading from the Letter to the Romans (1:1-7), Paul tells the community that they are "called to belong to Jesus Christ." He hints that we come to belong to Christ by "the obedience of faith". This is how the birthing of Jesus the Christ takes place in us. Each of us struggles in her/his own way to bring Jesus to live in our lives, even as Joseph and Paul did. "The obedience of faith" is a constant challenge. It's uncertain. It's painful. And this side of death, we never quite have the assurance that our choices are valid, that we're making any noticeable progress in letting Jesus truly live in our lives. But we choose to go on, to obey in faith.

During these last few days before Christmas, we wait in prayer and in the spirit of Mary who bore Jesus into her life and into the world. "Let it be to me according to your word."  

Advent 4

Last week we lit the candle of joy. We light it and the candles of hope and of peace again as we remember that Christ will come again and bring us everlasting peace and joy. We might think of the fourth candle of Advent as the candle of love. Its light is meant to remind us of the love which God has for us. Jesus embodies God's perfect love for us. He is God's love in human form. The Scripture says that "God so loved the world that he gave God's only Son, so that whoever believes in him should not perish, but have eternal life." Love is patient, love is kind, and envies no one. Love is never boastful or conceited, rude or selfish. Love isn't quick to take offense; it keeps no record of wrongs; it doesn't gloat over other people's troubles, but rejoices in the right, the good, and the true. There's nothing which love cannot face. There's no limit to its faith, hope, and endurance. Love persists and is unending. We light this candle today to remind us of how God's perfect love is found in Jesus the Christ.

Loving God, we thank you for your gift of love shown to us perfectly

in Jesus Christ, our Lord. Help us prepare our hearts to receive him.

Bless our worship. Help us to hear and to do your word. We as it in 

the name of the One born in Bethlehem. Amen. 

"The Church's Safest Mystical Theologian"

The title above was the tag given by Thomas Merton to Juan de Yepes Alvarez (1542-1591), or as we know him, St. John of the Cross. St. John had a profound influence on Merton's life. Michael Mott, in his The Seven Mountains of Thomas Merton, notes that: "No writer and no religious authority meant more to Merton in the 1940's than St. John of the Cross, and St. John of the Cross had told those who read his work to darken their memories. Merton wrote the passage down: he could not follow it. His sense of duty to history was too strong, too urgent..."

Though he never lost his love for St. John, and quoted him often in his writings, within 20 years Merton had broadened the list of spiritual writers and mystics whom he most admired. In fact, by the early 1960's Merton looked for guidance to Meister Eckhart and Julian of Norwich, among others. Merton observes, in a letter to his friend, Sister Madeleva at St. Mary's College, Notre Dame: "Julian...gets greater and greater in my eyes as I grow older and whereas in the old days I used to be crazy about St. John of the Cross, I would not exchange him now for Julian if you gave me the world and the Indies and all the Spanish mystics rolled up in one bundle..." [Seeds of Destruction, pp. 274-275]  I only include this, of course, as a way of crowing a bit about "our" Julian! But I also think it's important for all of us to realize that the effect of certain saints, their writings, and our devotion to them may change at various phases of our life, and there's nothing wrong with that. God, I believe, "sends" them to us at certain times to help accomplish what God has in mind for the direction of our spiritual lives.

I'll confess, unabashedly, that in my seminary days I avoided John of the Cross like the plague! His message, I supposed, as conveyed by well-meaning instructors, was of no interest to me. It became even worse when we had a semester's course on the mystics in our later years just before ordination. That class, because of its utterly boring presentation, killed any vestige of curiosity I might have had for St. John. I loved St. Teresa of Avila, whom I pictured as this very joyful, happy, but serious lover of God: a lively woman who enjoyed reading books, joking around during recreation, singing, and who loved water, particularly, among so many other things.  I remember standing at Niagara Falls one year with my parents, on vacation, gazing at the breathtaking sight in front of me and thinking to myself: "How St. Teresa would have loved this!" I was also hooked on St. Thérèse of Lisieux early on, as well as Teresia Benedicta of the Cross [Edith Stein] through a collection of her writings, given to me as a Christmas gift from my spiritual director in 1956. But St. John of the Cross...no way!

It wasn't until 2005 that, for the first time, I picked up and read St. John's The Spiritual Canticle. That was followed by reading The Ascent of Mount Carmel and The Dark Night of the Soul during Lent, 2006. Reflecting on the experience in a letter at that time to my Oblate director, I wrote: "Lent was very ordinary this year, but there was a curious sense of being generously fed...Part was from [a] wonderful Chapter Talk series relating to John of the Cross and Cassian; part was due to my reading St. Edith Stein's Science of the Cross [her last work before she was exterminated in the Holocaust, the manuscript of which I was privileged to actually hold in my hands when I visited the Carmelites at Echt, The Netherlands, in 1998]. Both spurred me to take up reading John of the Cross, which I've pretty much avoided through the years...It amazed me how simply he presents the real purpose of our lives, to be free from everything on this earth and to seek to be one with God, something I've heard spoken of many times. Unfortunately, I was frustrated because John never did finish the commentary he set out to write..." That latter statement highlights the importance of reading things like St. Edith Stein's The Science of the Cross, her take on what John of the Cross was trying to say, or other works, like the writings of Ruth Burrows, another Carmelite, on the mystical life.

Now that in recent years I've picked up a little Spanish, by simply reading St. John's poems in that language one can get just a small taste for how masterful a poet he was, perhaps the greatest which Spain has ever produced. If I've learned one thing from my experiences regarding John of the Cross, it's this: don't be afraid of him! Throw yourself into his poetry and other writings, and you'll love it! You may not understand it -- but, trust me, you'll love it!

A few selections:

"Where have you hidden, 
Beloved, and left me moaning?
¿Adonde te escondiste,
Amado, y me dejaste con gemido?..."

"She lived in solitude,
and now in solitude has built her nest;
and in solitude he guides her,
he alone, who also bears
in solitude the wound of love.

Let us rejoice, Beloved, 
and let us go forth to behold
ourselves in your beauty..." 
"En soledad vivía,
y en soledad ha puesto ya su nido, 
y en soledad la guía
a solas su querido,
también en soledad de amor herido.

Gocémonos, Amado,
y vámonos a ver en tu hermosura..."
(From The Spiritual Canticle)

"A deeper enlightenment and wider experience than mine [!!] is necessary to explain the dark night through which a soul journeys toward that divine light of perfect union with God that is achieved, insofar as possible in this life, through love. The darknesses and trials, spiritual and temporal, that fortunate souls ordinarily undergo on their way to the high state of perfection are so numerous and profound that human science cannot understand them adequately. Nor does experience of them equip one to explain them. Only those who suffer them will know what this experience is like, but they won't be able to describe it..." (Prologue, The Ascent of Mount Carmel)