It's Good to be King

Matthew describes Herod as a powerful king of his time who reigned strictly for his personal benefit Matthew 2:1-12. His power and influence spanned nearly a half century during which time he continued to build the great temple which pleased the Jews and the Romans, who were content that all was calm during his reign.

In a real sense Herod and Israel conspired together as they both pursued their common interests in which religious and political motives intermingled.   Each “scratched each other's back,” and bowed before legislative and religious laws. Despite more than “passing interest” in reports of a Messiah's birth, the chief priests and scribes and Herod turned a blind eye to what had happened. Both were unwilling to relinquish their world and accept the possibility that the Messiah has been born. It was more convenient if this was not true and they could keep their good thing going for a while longer.  

While the Magi are not insiders, they were a force to be reckoned with, and not readily dismissed. Their arrival was more than a nuisance; it was an “international event”… the status quo was not prepared (willing) to accept the glory of God's heavenly kingdom whose power was love as opposed to Herod’s love of power....not now; maybe later; they had a good thing going and didn’t need another king much less a Messiah to spoil it.  

Do we sometimes yearn for God’s Kingdom, while finding it hard to leave our comfort zone? After all, Herod’s kingdom was comfortable for the insiders

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God

The first lines in John's Gospel (John 1:1-18) combine two beautiful poetic images that celebrate the birth of Christ on spiritual levels that go beyond the bucolic events in Bethlehem. The Word of God is revealed to us and inspired by scripture and prayer as John's use of metaphor speaks to us in the language of the soul and not our intellect. When we surrender to his will, a call, a prompting, we too allow the Spirit to penetrate the depth of our being and join in his birth.  The Word becomes our flesh as we celebrate the birth of love in us and through us and we too become bearers of the light, his light to be lived and shared.

 

Let it be done unto me according to your word. Let it be to me according to your word concerning the Word, Let the Word that was in the beginning with God become flesh from my flesh. Let the Word, I pray, be to me, not as a word spoken only to pass away, but conceived and clothed in flesh, not in the air, that he may remain with us. Let him be, not only to be heard with the ears, but to be seen with the eyes, touched with the hands and borne on the shoulders. Let the Word be to me, not as a word written and silent, but the incarnate and living. That is not traced with dead signs upon dead parchment but livingly impressed in human form upon my caste womb; not by the tracing of a pen of lifeless reed, but by the operation of the Holy Spirit. Let it thus be to me, as was never done to anyone before me, nor after me shall be done

Annunciation Dialogue, Bernard of Clairvaux (1090-1153)

Don't ask...It's a Mystery

We celebrate those events in the life of Christ in the Gospel as stories that are meant to be lived as we are inspired to live them. I’ve come to the realization that it’s not a mystery when I really understand a concept and feel that I can explain it. Yet, there is an undeniable urge to let our egos run rampant and do our best to try to explain that which defies explanation

Somehow, the mistrust of all that has been handed down to us has led to the failure of the imagination, evidenced by language that is thoroughly comfortable and unchallenging. How many times do we quickly turn the page because something we read in scripture challenges our ability to fully comprehend its meaning… instead of just letting it rest long enough in our hearts for it to speak to us without words?

So here we are in the fourth week in Advent as we focus on the Annunciation according to Matthew (Matthew 1:18-24), a mystery of epic proportions that defies rational explanation. It stuns us to hear some attempt to reduce the virgin birth to a mere story of an unwed pregnant teenager. Have we come to a time when anything that did not stand up to reason or that we couldn’t explain, should be characterized as primitive and infantile? Why do we think that an Almighty Spiritual Being would be confined to man’s limited intellect and his feeble language to communicate His message? Do we not see how metaphor and poetry reveal meaning, not explanation on a deep personal level, unique to each of us who are willing to open our hearts and just listen?

I remember visiting the Church of my youth at Christmas and found myself being drawn to the Crèche. I stared at the statue of the Baby Jesus and was moved by the scene. Of course I knew that this charming bucolic setting was not really the way it was, yet the Divine Incarnation could not be contained as it spoke the beautiful reason for the Blessed season.

When we allow God’s love to break though into our consciousness and contemplate the Mysteries of the Annunciation and Virgin birth, do we run from it? Do we ask it to explain what it cannot? Or are we “virgin” enough to surrender to our deepest self and allow it to fill our being?

For many of us mystery became an adversary; unknowing became a weakness. The contemplative spiritual life is an ongoing reversal of this adjustment. It is a slow and sometimes painful process of becoming ‘little children’ again in which we first make friends with mystery and finally fall in love again with it. And in that love we find an ever increasing freedom to be who we really are in an identity that is continually emerging and never defined. We are freed to join the dance of life in fullness without having a clue about what the steps are…Confusion happens when mystery is an enemy and we feel we must solve it to master our destinies. And ignorance is not knowing that we do not know. In the liberation of the night, we are freed from having to figure things out and we find delight in knowing that we do not know. (Mystery & Freedom, May, Dark Night p.133)

 

Are You the One? Who Do You Say That I AM?

This week’s account of John in Matthew 11:2-11 Matthew 11: 2-11 is quite a contrast to last week’s Gospel. What happened to the outspoken firebrand, the radical Messianic prophet? He attracted large crowds as he fearlessly rebuked religious leaders with his preaching. While his arrogant, self-assured confidence made us a little uncomfortable, we were eager to hear what he had to say about the Advent of the One. But this week, we see a different John, pacing his small prison cell, wondering if his ministry was all in vain and having his doubts about whether Jesus truly was the long awaited Messiah. By all accounts, Jesus was not measuring up to his expectations. Desperate for some validation, he manages to send a messenger to put the question directly to Jesus: “Are you the one?”

Rather than answer John’s question directly, Jesus cites all that he has done and dispatches the messenger: 

Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.

Matthew gives us reason to suggest that John was aware of Jesus ministry and his works. But was he looking for something more spectacular? Were Jesus’ works a little too mundane for a Messiah? What was it that he wanted to hear from Jesus? Maybe John’s sights were set on a different kind of Messiah, one based on his concept of what a Messiah is, because he hadn’t prepared himself to see God at work His presence in the quiet things. 

As a child I sang in a boys’ choir every Sunday and on Holy Days. I remember singing the beautiful Magnificat, the Canticle of Mary, in May and at Christmas time. We sang the hymn in Latin. However, I was confused by Sister Henrietta’s translation: the haunting melody and cadence and its sweet sounding words, albeit meaningless to us, seemed to betray the theme of a humble virgin’s song of praise. It sounded more like a revolutionary battle cry:

He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, *
and has lifted up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things, *
and the rich he has sent away empty.

Was this the powerful Messiah John was expecting? Perhaps Jesus’ answer to John says it best: What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? And yet, John was right, the Messiah was all about dethroning the mighty but Jesus was all about exalting the lowly, or filling the hungry. Jesus was interested in deeds and not words, Go and tell John what you hear and see. Jesus was all about repentance, a metanoia…turning the mind around. His revolution was about social change…the fruits worthy of repentance. 

And so I wonder, are we any different from John? What limits have we placed on our imagination, on our expectations? Sure the beautiful Church services, with its inspirational sermons, hymns and fellowship at Christmas all serve to create a sense of God, but do we continue to carry that sense of God with us when we leave the Church and tend to our day-to-day activities in the other 167 hours of the week? Have we prepared ourselves to look for God in the ordinary people, places and things of our lives, in the ordinary nickels and dimes of our lives? 

We do not come to know God by contemplating Him in secure spiritual isolation or by discussing the scripture every Wednesday night. No, God comes to us when we provide shelter for the homeless or offer a cup of water to the thirsty, in either a Waterford glass or Dixie cup. It's a Quiet Thing