In our readings today, the parallel between Samson and John the Baptist is clear.
Barren women unexpectedly conceiving is something that happens a number of times throughout the Bible. In addition to Samson’s mother (who is not named) and Elizabeth, there is Sarah, wife of Abraham, who conceives Isaac in her old age. Let’s not forget Hannah, the mother of the prophet Samuel, whose pleading with God was answered by her giving birth to a son whom she promised to dedicate to God’s service (see Genesis 17:15-17 ; 1 Samuel 1).
In the society and culture of ancient Israel, being a married woman without children was a cause for shame. Children were seen as blessings from God. The source of shame was likely the idea that because God had not so blessed a barren woman, she must’ve done something to incur God’s displeasure.
Theologically, these women naturally conceived their sons. It is only Miriam of Nazareth, who comes to be with child, God’s only begotten Son, by the Holy Spirit, that is an exception to this. But we can also make a connection between Samson and Jesus. Samson, according to the Book of Judges, will deliver “Israel from the power of the Philistines” (Judges 13:5). Jesus will save his people, that is, all who put their faith and hope in him, from death and from their sins.
In our readings today, the contrast between the disbelieving Zechariah and the mother of Samson (as well as all the other faithful women mentioned above) is clear.
Both Samson and John the Baptist were “Nazarites.” A Nazarite dedicates himself to God, either for a specified period or for life. As indicated in our readings, a Nazarite avoids grape products, primarily wine, does not cut his hair, and also avoids graves and contact with corpses.
In a move that would seem more like one the inspired author of Matthew might make, Luke has the archangel Gabriel make clear to the incredulous Zechariah that his and Elizabeth’s unexpected son would fulfill the prophecy of Malachi, outlined in the final two verses of the final book of the Old Testament (see Malachi 3:23-24). Their son would point people to God by pointing them to Jesus Christ.
While we’re not likely called to be Nazarites, it’s important for us not to forsake or avoid ascetical practices. In former times, beginning on or around the Feast of Saint Martin of Tours, Roman Catholics observed Advent much like we’re still supposed to observe Lent: by fasting and abstinence, increased almsgiving, and more time devoted to prayer. Eastern Catholics and Orthodox Christians still observe what is called the Nativity Fast in preparation for their celebration of the Lord’s Nativity.
Zechariah's Vision in the Temple
It's safe to say that for many of us, probably even most of us, the time leading up to Christmas is a time of increased almsgiving. But I don’t think it is a time of deeper prayer and it certainly doesn’t seem to be a season marked by any sort of fasting and abstinence. While no longer obligatory, there are still Ember Days. Ember Days are days of fasting of abstinence, meaning you abstain from meat and either fast from food altogether or follow the rules of fasting set forth by the Church.
Advent Ember Days are the Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday following the Feast of Saint Lucy on 13 December. If nothing else, these days provide us with opportunities to prepare ourselves for Christmas, for Christ’s coming, for his dwelling in and through us. To modify something G.K. Chesterton wrote: It’s not that fasting has been tried and found wanting or useless for spiritual life. It’s that it’s been found hard and left untried. Nonetheless as taught by Jesus himself, along with prayer and almsgiving, fasting is a fundamental spiritual discipline.
In case you’re wondering, the next Ember Days are the Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday following the First Sunday of Lent. Beyond that, the Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday after Pentecost.
“We fast,” observed Richard Foster, “because it reveals the things that control us. We fast because it helps to give us balance in life. We fast because there is an urgent need. Most important of all, we fast because God calls us to it. We have heard the kol Yahweh, the voice of the Lord, and we must obey” (Richard J. Foster “Understanding Fasting”).
Cistercian monk, Fr. Charles Cummings, who for many years was resident at the Abbey of Our Lady of the Holy Trinity in Huntsville, noted: self-discipline is “a secret path to freedom.” He goes on to observe that the word “discipline” is of Latin origin, from disciplina, which means “instruction.” Hence, he concludes, practicing spiritual disciplines fosters “an attitude of listening and learning, an attitude of discipleship” (Monastic Practices, Revised Edition, 117).
As followers of Jesus, asceticism should not be foreign to us. While it features more prominently in monastic life, cloistered monastics are not the only Christians who should engage in ascetical practices. Like all spiritual disciplines, the fruit these practices bear takes time to grow and ripen before they can be harvested.
So, while the practice of the spiritual disciplines, things like Ember Days, Angelus bells, and Friday abstinence throughout the year and not just during Lent, may no longer be woven into our lives by way of ecclesial obligation, we are free to use our freedom to take them up. In fact, we are encouraged in our freedom, not by way of obligation on pain of sin, to still practice penitential disciplines.
We can take up these practices in the confidence that they are time-tested ways of becoming more like our Lord. The rhythm of the Christian life laid down by the beat of living between the already-and-not-yet is fasting and feasting. This is how we live what the Second Vatican Council’s Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World calls “the joys and the hopes, the griefs and the anxieties” of our age (Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World [Gaudium et spes], sec. 1).
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