Saturday, December 8, 2012

"Immaculate Mary, your praises we sing"

Today is the glorious Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary. A glorious day that, along with the Memorials of Sts. Nicholas and Lucy, bring some light to our observance of Advent, lights that lead us to the Light, the One who shines in the darkness "and the darkness has not overcome it" (John 1:5). They are like the moon and stars to Jesus the Sun (the Son).

Earlier this week I was reading a post on a blog that I go to regularly, written by a Reformed Evangelical pastor from whom I learn a lot and whose writings I very much appreciate, Tim Challies. The particular post that struck me, especially in light of today's glorious solemnity, was How the Incarnation Humbles Me. The starting point of his reflection is our Gospel reading for today's solemnity, taken from the first chapter of St. Luke's Gospel, the narrative of the Annunciation (verses 26-38).

He particularly focuses on what we Roman Catholics call, referring to the Vulgate (i.e., the Latin version of Sacred Scripture that was normative for us for centuries up until Vatican II, which called for translations of Scripture to be directly made from the original languages into modern languages), Mary's fiat. In English translations of Scripture the word translated into Latin as fiat is typically translated as some variation of "be it done" (Vulgate text: fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum).

Challies wrote: "What stood out to me about Mary’s response to the news that she would give birth to this child is her humility through it all." All I can say to this is "Amen," which I suppose would be the response of any Roman Catholic. He went on to write something that will undo an assertion he makes a little further on, "You might think that being chosen to be the mother of the Messiah would generate pride, but this is not what we see in Mary. Though she immediately understood that people would forevermore regard her as specially blessed, she knew that she was in no way deserving of this honor. It was nothing that she had earned." Again, there is nothing here with which any believing Roman Catholic would take issue.

Immaculate Conception, by Bartolome Esteban Murillo (1650)


Then, in a move that surprised me, he wrote: "This is not the Mary of Roman Catholicism who was without sin and, in that way, the most suitable mother in all of human history. No, she is a sinful girl who stands in desperate need of the very Savior she is carrying. She is humbled at the honor that is hers because she has a realistic assessment of who she is." Say what?

Let's go back to his statement "You might think that being chosen to be the mother of the Messiah would generate pride." Leaving aside all of the historical issues, like Mary being a betrothed (likely) teenage girl who would suddenly turn-up pregnant, and focus instead on the great honor of being chosen as Mother of the Son of God, why was she not filled with pride? Was it because she was, to use Challies' word, "sinful," or because she was sinless, taking a big risk and trusting God, leaving aside all concerns about what this might entail for her? Mary's response was humble, one might say a perfect act of humility. Humility befits a sinless person, pride befits a sinful person. As far being in need of a Savior, like you and me, she surely needed one. By God's amazing choice, she would bear her own Savior in her womb and give birth to Him! While sinless, due to the fact she was immaculately conceived, Mary is still a creature, a human being, one in need of redemption. In other words, she was not the cause of her own sinlessness.

In a reflection written for today's solemnity for Magnificat's Advent Companion, Fr. Romanus Cessario, OP observed, "The Blessed Virgin Mary stands among those redeemed by the One whom she calls, according to the flesh, her Son." It is God's action, not Mary of Nazareth's that is operative here. Cessario rightly noted, "The Church speaks about this divine action as prevenient grace." All this means is that this is grace given by God prior to any human deliberation or decision. For someone who adheres to sola gratia, I would think this would be more evident.

As Bl. (Mother) Teresa of Calcutta was known to say, when challenged by non-Catholics about our Blessed Mother, "No Mary, no Jesus." Since it has been snidely insinuated that I am a "hipster," I'll add the "groovy" spin- Know Mary, know Jesus.

Thursday, December 6, 2012

Hip to be unsquare means hip to be hip

Being forty-seven years old does not mean I'm too old to engage in (relatively tame) acts of defiance. My (tame) defiance will consist of a kind of irony; being both passive-aggressive and hip. This is in response to the morass that social media sometimes turns into. Truth be told, I would be inclined to put this post up even were it not an (very tame) act of defiance.

First, in honor of the Second Sunday of Advent, when we will hear the Baptist trying to wake us from our cozy pre-Christmas sentimentality, say "Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths" (Luke 1:4), I offer something posted on the "Occupy Advent" Facebook page- St. John "the Hipster" Baptist. It came with this caption: "Because celebrating Christmas in November is too mainstream."



Not being a hipster, I would agree with not celebrating Christmas in November, or even for most of December (I am so radical that I start celebrating Christmas at sundown on 24 December and keep on celebrating it until Epiphany), but simply because I find Advent, as I mentioned in yesterday's post, a wonderful season. Of course, without being followed by Christmas, Advent would have no little or no meaning. Not being a hipster, I would also like to see Advent become mainstream, along with a robust and joyous celebration of our Lord's Nativity, or Christmas. If you want to keep Christ in Christmas, then observe Advent.

Second, I am once again posting an early traditio featuring the now sadly late Dave Brubeck, who was born on St. Nicholas Day (6 December) 1920 and passed into eternity yesterday- his composition "Unsquare Dance." Because today would've been Brubeck's 92nd birthday, I am putting up my Friday post early. Brubeck was hip, truly hip, right up until his last breath.

Today is St. Nicholas day



I sorta apologize for the cartoon up-front, but some years, and some days every year, I really feel this way. Like many people, when I was an undergraduate I worked in retail. It was then that I began to realize what Christmas had become. This made me very grateful for the up-bringing I had. I was blessed growing up. Christmas at our house was always pleasant and wonderful, quiet and reflective. More than twenty years later, I know I have not recovered from those Christmases spent working in retail. I suppose this is one of the reasons why I soak in Advent. Without a doubt it is the most complex of all the seasons of the liturgical year, but for me it is perhaps the most rewarding.

There are two observances over Advent that are truly wonderful: St. Nicholas day and St. Lucy's day. With some wistfulness, I urge you to look back over some of my previous posts for this day:

Memorial of St. Nicholas- 2011

Memorial of St. Nicholas- 2010

My very first St. Nicholas day post, Happy St. Nicholas Day!

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Anticipation and fulfillment- Advent with Brubeck

It's been another quiet week here on the ol' blog. I am enjoying Advent and I hope you are too, as we approach the Second Sunday of this sacred season, the Sunday on which each year we hear the voice of the Baptist telling us to prepare for the Lord's advent, His coming.



With the passing of Jazz great Dave Brubeck, who, like me, was convert to the Catholic faith, who else's music am I going to post for our Friday traditio? Well, it's a few days early in honor of Brubeck. Since we celebrate Las Posadas in The Cathedral of the Madeleine just prior to Christmas (i.e., still during Advent), I thought I would post a piece from his extensive catalog of sacred music, Cantos para pedir las posadas. It is an amazingly lovely, quiet, and even contemplative composition:



A great musician, a spiritual and gentle man, has gone to be with the Lord. Requiescat in pace Dave Brubeck. We'll always have your music. Thank you. It should be a hip-happenin' Christmas and New Year in heaven.

Sunday, December 2, 2012

Advent: the hour for you to awake

Our reading for Morning Prayer today, the first sunrise of Advent, is from St. Paul's Letter to the Romans. It sets the tone for the season, which is not about "nesting," that is, decorating, baking, flitting about like Martha, instead of intently seeking the Lord, like her sister Mary.

In order to grasp the context of the reading it is necessary to back up a verse, to the last verse of what, in most modern English translations, is the previous section, the heading to which is usually something like the New American Bible's Love Fulfills the Law: "Love does no evil to the neighbor; hence, love is the fulfillment of the law" (Rom. 13:10). Now we move to verses 11-12, which constitute our reading for Morning Prayer and extending it two verses, to the end of the chapter:

And do this because you know the time; it is the hour now for you to awake from sleep. For our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed; the night is advanced, the day is at hand. Let us then throw off the works of darkness [and] put on the armor of light; let us conduct ourselves properly as in the day, not in orgies and drunkenness, not in promiscuity and licentiousness, not in rivalry and jealousy. But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the desires of the flesh
It is helpful to note that the Greek word for "flesh" is sarx and does not usually mean "body" (there are some exceptions here and there in Paul's writing, but like the meaning of many words, context determines specific meaning) In Koine Greek, the language in which the entire New Testament was originally written, the usual word for body is soma. Sarx, or "flesh," as it is used here by the apostle, refers to decisions and actions that are self-centered, or selfish. Living in this manner is living in a carnal, or fleshly, way and flows from the part of us that is unchanged, not converted, not transformed by God's saving and healing power.

This morning, the first morning of Advent, the first morning of a new Year of Grace, the holy apostle, along with our Lord Himself in today's Gospel, is telling us to awaken those sleepy, untransformed parts of ourselves, to reckon with them in light of Christ's return, or our going to meet Him (whichever comes first). So, the question for each of us today is what in us needs to be transformed by the power of God's Spirit?

Saturday, December 1, 2012

"There's no place like home"

Now, amid all of the hubbub swirling around us, threatening to suck us into it's swirling vortex, we enter the sacred, holy, quiet, contemplative season of Advent, which is easily the most counter-cultural season of all the seasons of the liturgical year, which is why it is also the most neglected. Advent is a season of holy waiting and longing. A season of waiting in the dark for the Light to appear and dispel our gloom.

It's easy to forget that this of time year is perhaps the most difficult for many people, especially for those who are alone, in trouble, or in anxious circumstances. Let those of us blessed with home and hearth, good health, adequate wealth and the treasure above all treasures, faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, not forget those in need and reach out to them as He undoubtedly would have us do. It's important, too, not forget our own neediness, our own longing, our own fears and anxieties.

Yesterday I drove home from work "amid the encircling gloom." It was getting to be dusk and a storm had blown in, turning the skies a lusterless shade of gray, making everything look lifeless and dull. I was so happy to walk into my well-lit house, to see my family, to be where in a loving, hospitable place. In the immortal words of Dorothy of Kansas, "There's no place like home." This sentence strikes me as a fitting motto for Advent.

I have used this great photo, taken by Ben Bell, for the past four or five years. It's one of those that doesn't wear off

Two years ago my bishop issued his first and, to date, only Pastoral Letter to our local Church. It garnered quite a bit of national attention at the time. His letter, "Waiting in Joyful Hope!" includes this set of reflections:
In the late autumn of the year, as the world darkens, the Church is called to gather and quietly wait in hope for the coming of Christ, her bridegroom, the Light of the World. I am reminded of a song by Marty Haugen: "For you, 0 Lord, my soul in stillness waits, truly my hope is in you."! Is our hope really in Christ? Have we really allowed ourselves to wait in silence and ponder the great mystery of salvation? Have we been changed by our reflection on this mystery so that we live differently as our relationship with the risen Christ deepens? In the darkness, we watch for the coming Lord. We must not let our busyness distract us from that, lest we be caught unawares like the foolish virgins in Matthew's Gospel", The season calls us to be attentive to our preparations for the final day and attentive to the quality of our life in union with Christ.
Already having cited John Henry Newman's 1833 poem Lead Kindly Light, citing the entire first stanza seems a fitting way to beckon this season of holy waiting, this season in which we undertake to fully engage the strangeness of living between the already and the not yet...

LEAD, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom
           Lead Thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home—
          Lead Thou me on!
Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene—one step enough for me...

I encourage you to look further into the circumstances under which this poem was written (it was written at sea while Newman was voyaging home to England from being abroad longer than he intended when he left his home).

I also encourage you to read Max Lindeman's post, Avoiding the Advent Trap, which is the best article I have read on Advent in recent memory.

"Soon and very soon..."



It seems fitting on this last day of the liturgical year, which, as does the Solemnity of Christ the King, symbolically puts us in mind of the end-of-time, to share a reflection from the end of C.S. Lewis' The Magician's Nephew.

Before departing Narnia for their home world, this world in 1900, Aslan gives Digory Kirke and Polly Plummer a dire warning rooted in the now non-existent world of Charn, to which Polly replies, "But we're not quite as bad as that world, are we, Aslan?" The majestic lion responds:
Not yet, Daughter of Eve... Not yet. But you are growing more like [Charn]. It is not certain that some wicked one of your race will not find out a secret as evil as the Deplorable Word and use it to destroy all living things. And soon, very soon, before you are are an old man and an old woman, great nations in your world will be ruled by tyrants who care no more for joy and justice and mercy than the Empress Jadis. Let your world beware.
Queen Jadis of Charn, set loose in London

It would be too much to say that Lewis was prophetic because The Magician's Nephew, while chronologically the first book of the Chronicles of Narnia, was actually the sixth book of the series to be published, being published in 1955, that is, after the unleashing of the atom bombs on Nagasaki and Hiroshima and the firebombing of Dresden and other German cities at the end of World War II, at the height of the Cold War.

In Revelation the end time is depicted as the cosmic Mother-of-All-Battles. Keeping this in mind, let us not lose sight of something terribly important, a matter of life and death, something that St. Paul so emphatically taught is his letter to the Church at Ephesus:

"Put on the armor of God so that you may be able to stand firm against the tactics of the devil. For our struggle is not with flesh and blood but with the principalities, with the powers, with the world rulers of this present darkness, with the evil spirits in the heavens. Therefore, put on the armor of God, that you may be able to resist on the evil day and, having done everything, to hold your ground" (Eph. 6:11-13). Or, prepare ye the way of the Lord.

Tragedy challenges God's love

No sooner did I finish my reflection on this week's second reading from Romans chapter 8 about the all-encompassing nature of God's...