Monthly Archives: December 2011

Reflecting on Luke 2:1-14

We were arguing when it happened.  We were keeping the night watch in the fields.  The new hire, the one who just got out of one of Herod’s prison dungeons, started leading the sheep away from the water.  But we wanted to spend the night there, drinking wine and telling stories about our good times up north in Jerusalem.

And all of a sudden it wasn’t night, and it wasn’t day.  It was just LIGHT, everywhere LIGHT.  And this Angel was standing right in the circle where we’d been arguing.  We were terrified.  Somehow we heard this Angel speak. And our fear just fell away as we heard about this Baby, this Savior, who had just been born just three miles away in Bethlehem.

And then!  The sky was filled, from every corner, with these HUGE, BEAUTIFUL messengers of LIGHT.  And oh, the music.  Try to imagine the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard, coming from LIGHT in every corner of the sky.

Glory to God in the highest!  And Peace! Peace! Peace!

We don’t remember running.  We couldn’t stop until we found Him.  He was there, this heavenly Child, lying in a manger in the back of a barn.  We shouted out what had happened in the skies, and what we had learned about Him.  And we knelt in front of this Child and His mother.  And nothing will ever be the same.

As we left we saw the Beautiful Mother gazing at the Child, and we wondered what she was seeing.  She was quiet as we walked away.

What mysteries of your own life do you “ponder in your heart”?

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

Statue of Mary and Elizabeth outside Church of the Visitation

Every year at this time I find myself thinking about a beautiful song about Mary’s visit to her cousin Elizabeth, which of course occurs right after today’s Gospel account of the Annunciation. My favorite lyrics are the last two lines of the second stanza.  Here are the words, reprinted with permission from Sr. Miriam Therese Winter of the Medical Mission Sisters:

THE VISIT

She walked in the summer, through the heat on the hill.

She hurried as one who went with a will.

She danced in the sunlight when the day was done.

                                                            Her heart knew no evening. She carried the Sun.

Fresh as a flower at the first ray of dawn

She came to her cousin, whose morning had gone.

There leaped a little child in the ancient womb

And there leaped a little hope in every ancient tomb.

Hail, little sister you herald the spring.

Hail, brave mother, you carried our King.

Hail to the Moment beneath your breast. 

May all generations call you blessed.

When you walk in the summer through the heat on the hill

When you’re one with the wind, and one with God’s will,

Be glad with the burden you are blessed to bear.

For it’s Christ who you carry everywhere, everywhere… everywhere.

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In what ways are you carrying Christ everywhere, everywhere, everywhere?

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

One of the most beautiful things about the liturgical year is the lovely way the Church ties all the mysteries of faith together.  This is especially poignant with the feasts that point to the Nativity.  For all kinds of interesting reasons that may have their roots in the earliest  Christian understanding of time, the celebration of  the birth of Jesus was placed right smack at the Winter Solstice.  Why?  Perhaps to counter the pagan festival of Sol Invictus (the Invincible Sun), which worshiped the sun as it dimmed to the shortest day and longest night. The Roman Emperor (who, by the way, liked to be addressed as Son of God) purposely celebrated his birthday at the exact same time.

So he thinks he’s the Invincible Sun?  Let’s place the feast of the Nativity at the Winter Solstice too, to celebrate the birth of the true Son of God.

Also, the ancient date of the Annunciation to Mary (and the conception of Jesus) –which may have even preceded the date for Christmas−−was set around the vernal equinox (March 25^th), which of course was a perfect nine months before December 25^th.

But it’s the date chosen for the birth of John the Baptist that I think is the most beautiful of all.  If Jesus was born at the Winter Solstice, when the sun gradually begins to increase, then John would be born at the Summer Solstice, when the sun’s power gradually decreases.

That I may decrease, and He may increase. The Baptist’s prayer whispers to us still, in the dark Advent night.

What do you like best about Advent?

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

Reflecting on 2 Peter 3:8-14

I’m not comfortable with that second reading today, and maybe it’s because I’m taking it too literally.   The section from the Second Letter of Peter warns of the “day of the Lord”, and the fate that the heavens and earth will experience at the Second Coming.

I don’t like the idea that, when Christ comes in his glory, the heavens will “dissolve in flames” and the elements will “melt in fire”.  It was the heavens that opened up on the night of his birth so that the angels could fill the sky and sing their Glorias.  And each of the “elements”−−water, earth, metal, wood and fire−−served Christ in his ministry to us.

John baptized Jesus in the waters of the Jordan River.  Jesus wrote a mysterious message in the earth while forgiving the woman caught in adultery. The metal coin on which the Roman’s engraved Caesar’s image provided the perfect teaching moment for Jesus.  The wood of the cross held the Savior of the world, and the fires of Pentecost still enflame the world today.

The beautiful but gasping earth is our home.  Pollution obscures the skies, but they still hold the majestic stars. The waters are belching with our waste, but they still are home to billions of silent creatures.  Why should God’s first creations—the heavens and the earth−burn up when Christ comes again?  I like to think that they who served him when he lived on earth will be given the highest places of honor when he comes again.

The Franciscans, in the spirit of their founder, say that Christ won’t destroy the world but will HEAL the world.  Ah.  Come, Lord Jesus.

In what ways have the heavens and earth helped you draw closer to God?

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).