St. Nicholas, Bishop
Today’s readings | Today’s saint [more]
The general rule of thumb is that the saints are always supposed to point us to God. The stories of the saints aren’t always real factual, and we cannot rely on them for actual historical records. That’s not their purpose. The stories of the saints are designed to illuminate the saints’ lives in a colorful way and to get us thinking about strengthening our relationship with God.
I was thinking about that as I was reading the stories of St. Nicholas. He died probably around the year 350 or so, so we don’t really know a lot about him. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t stories! One of the best known is that St. Nicholas came from a very well-to-do family. He became aware of a family in his village that had three daughters who were close to marrying age. The father was very poor and could not provide a dowry for his daughters, so that meant in that time, they would generally have to resort to prostitution. St. Nicholas had no intention of seeing that happen.
So one night, he walked by the man’s house and tossed a bunch of gold coins wrapped up in a cloth through the window. The man rejoiced the next morning on finding it, and so he gave thanks to God. He was able to provide a dowry for his oldest daughter. A while later, the second daughter was to be married, and St. Nicholas repeated the same action. The man again woke up to find the gold, and what did he do? He gave thanks to God! And then he was able to provide for his second daughter’s dowry. A short time after that, St. Nicholas did the same so that the youngest daughter could have a dowry, and this time the man woke up when he heard the gold hit the floor in his house. So he ran out the door and began to follow Nicholas, and eventually realized who it was he was following. He knelt down and wanted to kiss the saint’s feet, but Nicholas would not let him, and made him promise not to tell of it as long as he lived.
And so this was the story that led to the giving of gifts on St. Nicholas’s feast day. And it’s just a little twist of the tongue in English that turned St. Nicholas into Santa Claus. I think the celebration of St. Nicholas shines an interesting light on our gift giving. St. Nicholas did not want to be known for his generosity. He wanted to keep it quiet and was content to have the man give the glory and praise to God for the generous gift. How willing are we to do the same? Or does our gift giving have a sort of one-upsmanship to it? The giving of gifts is not bad or good; it is the intent of the giver and the heart of the receiver that really matters. When we wrap up our gifts in these Advent days, and when we unwrap them on Christmas, I wonder if we can tuck some prayer in it somewhere. Maybe we can find a way to give glory to God among all the hectic-ness of our Christmas season.
Sphere: Related ContentThursday of the First Week of Advent
There’s an old saying that if you want to hear God laugh, just tell him your plans for the day. And we know how true that is, don’t we? How many times have we had a plan for the day, only to have it derailed by whatever circumstances come our way during the day. But I think the real problem with our plans sometimes is that we don’t always factor God’s will into our plans. We want God to come to our rescue when things go awry, as they always do when we depend only on ourselves. But if things are going well, we sometimes feel like we can do without God’s direction, thanks anyway.
This is the meaning of the song they’re singing about Judah in today’s first reading from Isaiah. The people who are in lofty high places don’t think they need God, or don’t even give God a second, or even a first, thought. And won’t they be surprised when God allows them to be caught up in their own folly and go tumbling to the ground?
This Advent time is a time for us to examine our lives and see if we might have thought ourselves to be lofty recently. How much do we depend on God? Do we rely on his help day after day? Do we consider his will in our daily plans? Are we open to the movement of his Spirit? If not, we might find ourselves tumbling and falling. But if we choose to be aware of God and our need for him, nothing will ever make us stumble. As the Psalmist sings today:
It is better to take refuge in the LORD
than to trust in man.
It is better to take refuge in the LORD
than to trust in princes.
And so we forge onward in Advent, aware of the coming of Christ, building our houses on his rock-solid foundation.
Sphere: Related ContentCREEDS Retreat Conference I: Advent and the Incarnation of Christ
Readings: Matthew 1:18-25; Matthew 3:1-7
Godspell: “Prepare Ye” and “Save the People”
One of the single greatest mysteries of our faith is the Incarnation of Christ. When you stop to think about it, who are we that the Author of all Life should take on our own corrupt and broken form and become one of us? It has been called the “marvelous exchange:” God became human so that humans could become more like God. When I was in seminary, it was explained to us by a simple, yet divinely complex rule: Whatever was not assumed was not redeemed. So God assumed our human nature, taking on all of our frailty and weakness, all of our sorrows and frustrations, all of the things that make being human difficult at times. As the fourth Eucharistic Prayer puts it, he became “one like us in all things but sin.”
This belief in the doctrine of the Incarnation is essential for our Catholic faith, even our Christian religion. One cannot not believe in the Incarnation and call oneself Christian. It’s part of our Creed: “By the power of the Holy Spirit, he was born of the Virgin Mary and became man.” This doctrine is so important, so holy to us, that at the mention of it in the creed, we are instructed to bow during those words, and on Christmas, we are called to genuflect at that time. There is always a reason for any movement in the Liturgy, and the reason for our bowing or genuflecting is that the taking on of our flesh by our God is an occasion of extreme grace, unparalleled in any religion in the world. If the Incarnation had not taken place, there never would have been a Cross and Resurrection. First things are always first!
And so it seems that it’s appropriate as we being our reflections on Matthew’s Gospel to begin with the Incarnation. It’s even more appropriate that we do that during this season of Advent, whose very name means “coming.” During Advent, we begin this wonderful period of waiting with the cry of St. John the Baptist,
“A voice of one crying out in the desert,
‘Prepare the way of the Lord,
make straight his paths.’”
And the movie and play Godspell famously does this with the wonderful refrain “Prepare ye the way of the Lord…” You notice in the movie that this song accompanied the liturgical action of the players being baptized by the Baptist. Their dancing after pledging repentance of the sins of their past life signifies the joy that we all share being on the precipice of something new this Advent. They received the forerunner of our sacramental Baptism by the one who was the forerunner of Christ. This baptism was a baptism for the forgiveness of sins like ours, but unlike ours, did not convey the Holy Spirit. That would come later, after the death and Resurrection of Christ. He had to return to the Father in order to send the Holy Spirit.
But, as the song suggests, that baptism was essential to prepare the way for Christ. The Benedictus, the Gospel canticle from the Church’s Morning Prayer, which is based on a passage from the Gospel of Luke, speaks of that baptism and the significance of the Baptist’s ministry: “You my child will be called the prophet of the Most High, for you will go before him to prepare his way. To give his people knowledge of salvation by the forgiveness of their sins.” Indeed, if our sins had never been forgiven, we would know nothing of salvation, indeed there really would be no salvation. But that baptism of St. John literally prepared the way of the Lord by helping the people to know that God was doing something significant among them. That was the reason for them dancing and splashing around in all that water: they too were on the precipice of something new, something incredibly, amazingly, wonderfully new.
Now in Matthew’s Gospel, we have an infancy narrative – a story of the birth of Christ. “Now this is how the birth of Jesus came about,” the Gospel begins. Mary is found with child through the Holy Spirit, and Joseph doesn’t know what to believe. But in Matthew, Joseph is the one who gets a visit from an angel, not Mary. And he is the first one to hear a key phrase in Matthew’s Gospel: “do not be afraid” – “do not be afraid to take Mary your wife into your home.” Fear, for Matthew, is the cardinal sin, because it is fear that keeps us from responding in love to the movement of the Holy Spirit. Apparently Mary had no such fear, because the beginning of the Gospel “finds” her already with child through the Holy Spirit. The child is born to the couple and at the instruction of the angel, he is named Jesus, he is Emmanuel, God-with-us.
In the movie, there is no infancy. Christ comes at the end of John’s baptism sequence, and instructs John to baptize him because, as Jesus tells him, “it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.” As he is baptized, Jesus sings, “God save the people,” a prayer that is of course already being accomplished as he speaks. The play seems to be a bit more pessimistic than the actual Gospel, because Jesus practically pleads for God’s mercy on his people, implying a relationship that was not nearly as close as the Gospels proclaim and our faith believes. This is one of the little grains of salt we need to take from the movie; in fact it does seem to be an expression of the author’s take on the Jesus event. So I’d just say don’t take Godspell as Gospel, if you know what I mean!
And so the advent and Incarnation narratives give us some pause in these Advent days. We have the opportunity to think about our own birth, or rebirth, in faith. We get to make the paths straight and the way smooth for the coming of our Lord yet again. Maybe these days find us struggling to come to a new place in our faith, a higher stage, a bold move. We might tremble a bit at where God seems to be leading us through our study of Scripture. But Matthew begs us to hear those all-important words – “be not afraid” – be not afraid to go where God and Scripture lead you. Be not afraid to take the next step. Be not afraid to ascend to that higher place God longs for you to be in right now.
Sphere: Related ContentTuesday of the Second Week of Advent
I love the ending lines of today’s Gospel reading, because they call me to conversion all the time. Listen again:
“Blessed are the eyes that see what you see.
For I say to you,
many prophets and kings desired to see what you see,
but did not see it,
and to hear what you hear, but did not hear it.”
It’s a call to conversion, because I think sometimes we get so caught up in ourselves and the things that make our life hectic, and we tend to see a lot of the events of our lives as nuisances. People can try our patience, events can frustrate us.
This is Advent, a time for new beginnings. And so maybe this Gospel reading is calling all of us today to do something new, to hear something different, and to know the real blessings that come to us in our lives.
So today, maybe we can make an effort to see our interactions with people not as nuisances, but as blessings. What is the gift that God is giving us in this present moment? What is the new thing that God is doing in our lives? Is this frustrating circumstance a call for us to change our lives in some way?
When people or events seem frustrating in these Advent days, maybe we can hear that wonderful invitation: “Blessed are the eyes that see what you see!”
Sphere: Related ContentFirst Sunday of Advent
“To you, my God, I lift my soul,
I trust in you; let me never come to shame.
Do not let my enemies laugh at me.
No one who waits for you is ever put to shame.”
With these words of the proper entrance antiphon today, the Church begins the new Church year. We stand here on the precipice of something new, a new creation, lifting up souls full of hope and expectation. We come to this place and time of worship to take refuge from the laughing enemies that pursue us into our corner of the world. And yet we wait for God on this first day of the year, keenly aware that our waiting will not be unrewarded. This is Advent, the season whose name means “coming” and stands before us as a metaphor of hope for a darkened world, and a people darkened by sin.
I sure think Isaiah had it right in today’s first reading, didn’t he? “Why do you let us wander, O Lord, from your ways,” he cries, “and harden our hearts so that we fear you not?” What a wonderful question for all of us – it’s a question that anyone who has struggled with a pattern of sin has inevitably asked the Lord at one time or another. He goes on to pray “Would that you might meet us doing right, and that we were mindful of you in our ways!” Almost as if to say, “Yeah, that’ll happen!”
Whether it’s our own personal sin, which is certainly cause enough for sadness, or the sin in which we participate as a society, there’s a lot of darkness out there. Wars raging all over the world, abortions happening every day of the year, the poor going unfed and dying of starvation here and abroad. Why does God let all of this happen?
On Thanksgiving, one of the topics of conversation at the dinner table was who was going to get up at what unheard of hour to go shopping on Black Friday. I had absolutely no desire to join thousands of my closest friends at the crack of dawn to participate in a frenzy of consumerism. But many did (and don’t worry; I won’t take a show of hands!). But it seems like this traditional shopping day gets worse all the time. This year, the news spoke of a Wal-Mart employee in New York who was trampled to death by people trying to get into the store. A gunfight broke out at a Toys R Us in southern California and two people were killed. What kind of people have we become? Is this the way we should be preparing for Christmas – the celebration of the Incarnation of our Lord? Why does God let us wander so far from his ways? Why doesn’t he just rend the heavens and come down and put a stop to all this nonsense? It’s no wonder the Psalmist sings today, “Lord, make us turn to you; show us your face and we shall be saved.”
There is only one answer to this quandary, and that’s what we celebrate in this season of anticipation. There has only ever been one answer. And that answer wasn’t just a band-aid God came up with on the fly because things had gone so far wrong. Salvation never was an afterthought. Jesus Christ’s coming into the world was always the plan.
I’ve been thinking about some of my favorite Advent hymns this week. One of my favorites is “O Come, Divine Messiah,” a seventeenth-century French carol translated into English in the late nineteenth century. It sings of a world in silent anticipation for the breaking of the bondage of sin that could only come in one possible way, and that is in the person of Jesus Christ:
O Christ, whom nations sigh for,
Whom priest and prophet long foretold,
Come break the captive fetters;
Redeem the long-lost fold.
Dear Savior haste;
Come, come to earth,
Dispel the night and show your face,
And bid us hail the dawn of grace.
O come, divine Messiah!
The world in silence waits the day
When hope shall sing its triumph,
And sadness flee away.
As we prepare to remember the first coming of our Savior into our world, we look forward with hope and eagerness for his second coming too. You’ll be able to hear that expressed in the Preface to the Eucharistic Prayer today. That second coming, for which we live in breathless anticipation, will finally break the captive fetters and put an end to sin and death forever. That is our only hope, our only salvation, really the only hope and salvation that we could ever possibly need.
We want our God to meet us doing right. And so our task now is to wait, and to watch. Waiting requires patience: patience to enjoy the little God-moments that become incarnate to us in the everyday-ness of our lives. Patience to accept this sinful world as it is and not as we would have it, patience to know that, as Isaiah says, we are clay and God is the potter, and he’s not done creating, or re-creating the world just yet. And so we watch for signs of God’s goodness, for opportunities to grow in grace, for faith lived by people who are the work of God’s hands.
We wait and we watch knowing – convinced – that God will rend the heavens and come down to us again; that Christ will return in all his glory and gather us back to himself, perfecting us and allowing hope to sing its triumph at the top of our lungs, dispelling the night and putting sadness to flight once and for all.
“To you, my God, I lift my soul,
I trust in you; let me never come to shame.
Do not let my enemies laugh at me.
No one who waits for you is ever put to shame.”
Fourth Sunday of Advent: O Emmanuel
How often have you wondered why God allows this or that calamity to happen, or why God hasn’t put an end to one injustice or another? When you’re in the thick of frustration, or even sorrow, do you question why a loving God wouldn’t put an end to all of that? Do you question whether God really loves you at all? I don’t know anyone who hasn’t wondered about that kind of thing at one time or another in their lives. On Friday, we had the funeral of a man who died suddenly, at a relatively early age, this close to Christmas. I have no idea how that kind of thing gets to be part of God’s plan. I really don’t. Making sense of the frustration, tragedy, and sadness in our lives is a gift that I’m not sure anyone really has. Some people can handle difficult times better than others, but the real understanding of pain is something that I think is in some ways beyond us.
So what keeps us going day after day? Pope Benedict gives us a hint at what’s needed in his encyclical, Spe Salvi: “Let us say once again:” he tells us, “we need the greater and lesser hopes that keep us going day by day” (Pope Benedict XVI, Spe Salvi, 31). The greater and lesser hopes to which he refers are the things we think of when we are grasping for hope. A smile from a four-year old, a hug from a friend, getting a project finished, a word of encouragement from a coworker, that kind of thing. Those might be what he calls “lesser” hopes, they are the kind of thing for which my grandmother used to say, “Thank God for small favors!”
The “greater” hopes he’s talking about might be the knowledge that something we worked long and hard on made a difference to a person, or to a community, or even to those we work with. Maybe it’s the favorable diagnosis, or the resolution of a problem. It could even be reconciliation with a loved one. But Pope Benedict acknowledges that sometimes even these are not enough and only one kind of hope can ever be enough to bring us into the kingdom. He says, “But these are not enough without the great hope, which must surpass everything else. This great hope can only be God, who encompasses the whole of reality and who can bestow upon us what we, by ourselves, cannot attain” (Spe Salvi, 31).
This is the kind of hope that Ahaz needed in our first reading. In that day, Jerusalem was being attacked by Rezah and Pekah, kings of neighboring nations. They were not successful, but the feeling was it would only be a matter of time before Jerusalem, the capital city of Judah, fell to their oppressors. Isaiah, in our reading today, is trying to calm Ahaz with the knowledge that God is in control. He invites Ahaz to ask God for anything his heart desires. But Ahaz refuses. Rather than open himself up to the peace that God has in store for him, and cling to the hope God offers, he prefers to cloak himself in false humility and take care of things on his own.
But this is not to be. Frustrated, Isaiah offers Ahaz a sign: a virgin would conceive and bear a son who was to be named Emmanuel, a name that the Gospels tell us means “God is with us.” Which is incredibly good news for Ahaz, because with all that Jerusalem was going through, it had to seem like they were on their own. But that was never the case, God was with them and promised them salvation from their enemies. Now that’s the kind of great hope that Pope Benedict is talking about.
In these later days of Advent, we are given the many names of our Savior. Today we hear that he is to be named Jesus. And the original hearers of this story would have realized what that meant. But for us who don’t speak Hebrew, Scripture scholars tell us that the name “Jesus” means “The LORD is Salvation.” Jesus, our Emmanuel, our God with us, is the one for whom we have longed from the beginning of the world, into Isaiah and Ahaz’s time, even up to our own day.
There’s a wonderful tradition in the Church that in the latest days of Advent, we meditate on what’s called the “O Antiphons.” There is one of these “O Antiphons” for each day starting on the 17th of December. The antiphons are prayed at Vespers, or Evening Prayer each day, and they are part also of the great hymn “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” that we will sing at the Offertory today. When we sing it, I invite you to meditate on the words and hear in them the many ways in which Jesus is our Salvation.
On Monday, the antiphon was “O Wisdom,” and we reflected on the fact that it is only through God’s wisdom that we could come to salvation. Tuesday was “O Sacred Lord,” and we heard that our Lord once appeared to Moses in the burning bush, extending his hand to bring his people salvation. Wednesday was “O Root of Jesse,” which called on the Lord to extend his roots into the depths of hell and the grave to bring his people everlasting life. Thursday was “O Key of David,” the one who could unlock the many barriers that are between us and God. Friday was “O Radiant Dawn,” the coming of the One who brings light to our darkness. Yesterday was “O King of all the Nations,” because our Lord is the fulfillment of every need and desire universally. Today is the last of these “O Antiphons” and today we sing “O Emmanuel” - God with us - be present to us now and give us your grace and courage.
So, will Emmanuel take away all of our frustrations, sadness and pain? Well maybe not now. But one day, when the time is right, and everything is brought back to the One who made it in the first place. Until then, we may have suffering, but we will also and always have hope in Jesus our Emmanuel, our God with us, in good times and in bad, in this day and every day to come. We can cling to this hope because our God is not just any god as Pope Benedict points out, but “the God who has a human face and who has loved us to the end, each one of us and humanity in its entirety. His Kingdom is not an imaginary hereafter, situated in a future that will never arrive; his Kingdom is present wherever he is loved and wherever his love reaches us. His love alone gives us the possibility of soberly persevering day by day, without ceasing to be spurred on by hope, in a world which by its very nature is imperfect” (Spe Salvi, 31).
So we can let our hopes be outrageous, deep as the netherworld and high as the sky. Because we have our Jesus, our God who is salvation, our Emmanuel, God with us, who longs to reach out to us and bring our greatest hopes to fulfillment. “O Emmanuel, king and lawgiver, desire of the nations, Savior of all people, come and set us free, Lord our God” (Vespers, December 23).
Sphere: Related ContentSaturday of the Third Week of Lent: O King of all the Nations
We hear a similar song from Hannah and Mary today. In fact, many Biblical scholars suggest that the song of Mary we heard in today’s Gospel is a restatement of the song of Hannah that we have in today’s psalm. Whether or not that is true, it is clear that both women give birth to a child by the grace of God, and both women’s sons are destined for greatness. Samuel’s strength is a foreshadowing of the strength of Jesus Christ who will overcome sin and death.
Samuel becomes a great king, but it is Jesus who becomes King of all the Nations, which is the title of Jesus we celebrate in the “O Antiphons” today. The verse from vespers prays,
O King of all the nations, the only joy of every human heart; O Keystone of the mighty arch of man, come and save the creature you formed from the dust.
And our verse from “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” sings:
O come, Desire of nations, bind
In one the hearts of all mankind;
Bid Thou our sad divisions cease,
And be Thyself our King of Peace.
Today we anxiously await the strength of Christ, King of all the Nations, the only joy of every human heart. He alone can save us from our sins. He alone can unify the hearts of all humankind, putting to an end, once and for all, the sad divisions that keep us from the communion we were always meant to have with one another. Lord Jesus, King of Peace, King of all the Nations, come quickly and do not delay!
Sphere: Related ContentO Oriens (O Radiant Dawn)
Vespers
O Radiant Dawn, splendor of eternal light, sun of justice: come, shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death.
Hymnody
O come, Thou Day-spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here;
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night,
And death’s dark shadows put to flight.
Sacred Scripture
Sphere: Related ContentStop passing judgment before the time of the Lord’s return. He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and manifest the intentions of hearts. At that time, everyone will receive his praise from God. 1 Corinthians 4:5
Thursday of the Third Week of Advent: O Key of David
We humans put up all sorts of barriers. Some are necessary, like the walls of prisons, or the sound barriers along a highway. Some are sad, like the old wall that used to separate East and West Germany. Others are exasperating, like the wall along the frontier into Mexico. The physical barriers that we accept every day keep us safe and warm, define our space, and keep us in our place. Not sure if that’s always good or bad, but there it is.
Perhaps the saddest barriers that we put up, though, are the spiritual barriers that keep us from God, or the spiritual barriers that are intended to keep God from being God, or are intended to force God to do what we would want. How often do we want God to answer our prayers in our own way, or not at all? Are we sometimes afraid of what God would do if we really let him open the dark places of our lives? Are we like the Israelites who could not bear to even look at Moses lest they be enlightened by the radiance of God at work in him? The spiritual barriers that we put up as some kind of laughable defense against God are heartbreaking, because they succeed only in defeating the outpouring of God’s mercy on us in this time and place.
For all of us locked up inside those barriers, the antiphon from Vespers today prays:
O Key of David, O royal Power of Israel controlling at your will the gate of heaven: come, break down the prison walls of death for those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death; and lead your captive people into freedom.
And our verse of “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” sings:
O come, Thou Key of David, come,
And open wide our heavenly home;
Make safe the way that leads on high,
And close the path to misery.
In today’s Gospel Mary found out that nothing can stand in the way of God’s plans, that the Key of David can even unlock the barren womb of her cousin Elizabeth to provide a herald’s voice for the coming of our Savior. Perhaps today we can allow the Key of David to unlock the dark places of our hearts so that we can see a miracle happening in our own lives too.
Sphere: Related ContentO Root of Jesse
From Vespers
O Flower of Jesse’s stem, you have been raised up as a sign for all peoples; kings stand silen in your presence; the nations bow down in worship before you. Come, let nothing keep you from coming to our aid.
Hymnody
O come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free
Thine own from Satan’s tyranny;
From depths of hell Thy people save,
And give them victory over the grave.
Sacred Scripture
Sphere: Related ContentOn that day, The root of Jesse, set up as a signal for the nations, The Gentiles shall seek out, for his dwelling shall be glorious. (Isaiah 11:10)
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