Though that trust is powerful, its power doesn’t come without pain.
This trust involves practicing lifelong patience and perseverance.
When the practices of trust, patience, and perseverance are not given up on, when they are instead authentically lived, they reach from generation to generation.
Mary, Joseph, and Jesus had faith that all of the above statements were true. They also had proof of these truths in their own lives too, but they didn’t know at the time of the events in this week’s Gospel just how much pain they’d bear because of their trust in God’s promises or what forms that pain would take.
What someone else is sharing about this week’s readings:
On this day that honors the Holy Family, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Lisa Fullam, D.V.M., Th.D. reflects on the spiritual meaning of family. Spoiler alert: this meaning may be found among people who don’t share genes.
Beyond this week’s readings:
There are more choices for today’s readings than there are on many days. Dr. Fullam responds to different passages than the ones I read. I invite you refer to those passages as well as to the ones I listed at the top of this post. Dr. Fullam addresses what I often struggle with in the alternate passages and in the messages I often receive on this day each year. You can find the chapter and verse numbers for the alternate readings here.
Lord, thank You for giving us Jesus, Mary, and Joseph as models of trust in God. Thank You also for inspiring Professor Emerita Lisa Fullam to encourage us, who are neither Jesus, nor Mary, nor Joseph, and yet, are still members of families. Amen.
This week’s readings say to me that God has always accompanied humanity in all its joys and sorrows. As part of that accompaniment, God gave the tribes of Israel the special mission of bringing awareness of God’s accompaniment to the rest of humanity by being chosen to receive and to live God’s commandments. Eventually, a king from one of the tribes would be the ancestor of the Savior. This Savior would be for humanity the ultimate model of how to live God’s commandments and would offer humanity the Spirit for help living those commandments.
We can become God’s children and inherit God’s life because one of God’s daughters was given the grace and cooperated with that grace of being the dwelling place for God’s perfect son. Because she cooperates with that grace, God and humanity become one again, and I share in that oneness if I offer myself as a dwelling place for the Holy Spirit — just like she did. The challenge of this opportunity is that being the Spirit’s dwelling place is a gift that is neither easy to give nor to receive,
That gift most wasn’t an easy one for Mary to receive. She’s described as “greatly troubled” by the Gabbriel’s greeting alone, and for me it’s no wonder that her mental and emotional state is described this way when she hears the angel’s salutation (Luke 1: 29). Having a messenger of heaven suddenly appear before her and speak wouldn’t be anything like choosing a tree-topper from a store. A visit from an angel is an experience that few have, and she would’ve been no exception. Angels in Scripture aren’t quaint decorations. They’re overwhelming and disruptive attention-grabbers. Furthermore, Mary’s culture has taught her that finding favor with God carries with it indispensable work — not a comfortable life. I imagine her having thought all this before Gabriel got past “the Lord is with you” (Luke 1:28).
That announcement would bring plenty more difficulties along with the wonder that we perhaps associate with it today. Then again, I wonder how often awe accompanies it these days. It’s another one of those passages people tend to know by heart, even if they aren’t very familiar with others Scripture passages. I find that the more familiar something is, the more complete my numbness to its specialness becomes, and I know I’m not alone in this experience. That’s why I wanted to reflect in a way that removes the sugarcoating, and perhaps a little of the over-familiarity from this week’s Gospel passage.
Having this goal in mind doesn’t mean I don’t see these passages as bringing Good News. Rather, this goal is an exercise in remembering that not all that is good is sweet. Sometimes this is a challenging reminder to receive. At other times it’s comforting. It might be the latter at this time of year because expectations for this season can get so high. Given this reality, looking at the Gospel passages associated with this season, beginning with this week’s, without the lenses of what we think they should feel like can provide some very helpful perspective, a perspective that makes us feel less alone if we feel sad, alone, overwhelmed, afraid, or uncertain this time of year.
With this encouragement in mind, let’s go back to sitting with Mary as she receives the angel’s message. Sure, she’s being offered a role in history more important and unlike any other, and yes that’s an honor and a gift, but it’s a gift that comes at a higher price than she could’ve guessed from the angel’s greeting. For one, nowhere are we told that Gabriel included in his message that Mary’s parents were told of her role in God’s plan before she was. I imagine her being awestruck by the announcement but also but also dreading how people would treat her when her pregnancy became apparent. Remember that in this culture, the law evidently said she could be stoned to death for adultery for being unmarried and yet found to be with child — and not by her betrothed. Remember also that she would likely have been a young teenager, given her culture and that she hadn’t lived with her betrothed yet. I imagine she must have participated in the basics of managing a household and caring for a family for as long as she could remember, under the guidance of older female relatives. Still, being the wife and the mother in a household had to be different than being the daughter, the niece, or the cousin. And that’s just in terms of responsibility. Then there are the massive physical and emotional changes that motherhood entails. On top of all that, her calling was to be the mother of God. I imagine her feeling so small upon learning that this was her call. I imagine her finding comfort in a few thoughts as she received it:
If this news wasn’t just a hallucination (maybe she’d been out in the sun too long, she might have thought), what an amazing call it was. She could bring hope and righteousness to her people, to the world. And the role was hers to accept or to refuse.
The angel hadn’t left her without a way to test the truth of the announcement. She could visit her cousin Elizabeth, and see if the older woman was, in fact, pregnant.
If Elizabeth was, she would know the message was from God, and she already trusted that whatever the Divine Plan was, it would be brought to fruition, regardless of whatever obstacles were placed in its path, whatever hardships she’d have to weather as a result of being so central to it. I imagine that, in any circumstance, and especially given these consolations, she discerned the best and right course of action was to cooperate with the Divine Plan. I imagine her thinking she could never go wrong by declaring her intention to do that. God would use her proclamation of faith to do whatever God willed.
What someone else is sharing about this week’s readings:
Tonight is Christmas Eve, so I’m considering this post to be my reflection for both the fourth week of Advent and Christmas Eve/Christmas Day. If you’re juggling a lot this Christmas, you’re not alone. So did Mary, Joseph, and the innkeeper.
I see innkeepers getting bad raps in interpretations of biblical accounts of the Nativity. In so many stage adaptations, several innkeepers turn Mary and Joseph away before one offers a stable to the couple. The innkeepers who turn the Holy Family away are characterized as unyielding, heartless. If Mary and Joseph did inquire at more than one inn, maybe the proprietors wouldn’t have thought they were being heartless. Maybe they thought they had no accommodations to offer the couple that wouldn’t offend them, especially given Mary’s condition and that many animals were considered unclean. Maybe the last innkeeper was better at staying calm under the pressure of the influx of travelers. Maybe he saw the wisdom, under the circumstances, of dispensing with expectations, tradition, and rules, and offering the best he had left, humble though that offering is said to have been. (And for the record, Luke’s account mentions the inn whose stable the couple was provided with as if there were only one inn in town. We aren’t told that anyone turned Mary and Joseph away.)
May I be more like that innkeeper, wisely discerning what actions are best based on what situations require from moment to moment. May I see the value in what I have and what I have to offer.
May I remember that whatever my circumstances are this Christmas, God is with me. The accounts of Jesus’s earliest years remind me that:
If traveling, especially at peak travel times stresses you out, Mary, Joseph, and countless others understand.
If you are “greatly troubled” by unexpected events that are disrupting what you hoped to give the people in your life, Mary, Joseph, and the innkeeper understand (Luke 1:28).
If you are headed home after a long time away or are away from home this Christmas, Mary and Joseph can relate.
If you are grieving this Christmas or someone you love is, Mary and the weeping mothers of the Gospel can relate.
If you’re setting off on a journey with an uncertain destination, the Wise Men can relate. The Holy Family can too.
If you are a parent-to-be or a new parent, Mary and Joseph can relate to whatever you’re feeling.
If you are living amid or fleeing violence or are a refugee for another reason, the Holy Family can relate.
God is with us in each aspect of and participant in the Nativity story and in the stories unfolding around us this Christmas — the ones involving strife and struggle and the ones that are sappy and sugar-coated.
Lord, help us recognize your presence among us, especially when doing so feels most difficult. Amen.
Work cited
Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “4th Sunday of Advent, Sunday 24 December 2023: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.183, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 31 Oct. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm.
This week’s readings remind me that we’re all called to be a mirror for the Holy Spirit, and like Jesus, to share the mind, the heart, and the eyes of God. We are called to use this mind, this heart, these eyes, and the rest of our bodies to do God’s work rather than to be a boulder the Holy Spirit has to go around. While each of our callings has what I just mentioned in common, none of us can know all that God knows, I see all that God sees, or can have compassion on all that God has compassion on. Unlike God, we’re limited — not omnipotent. We can’t be everywhere, do everything, and know everything all at once.
But this isn’t bad news. Rather, it points to the Good News. One way aspect of this Good News is that the limitations mean we need each other and God. Another aspect of this Good News is that, as Richard Rohr said, God’s nature is relationship, and as we are made in God’s image, we are made for relationships — with God and one another. We were made to depend on God and one another and, by being open to the movement of the Holy Spirit within us, to be dependable for God and each other. We are dependable for each other and God when we reflect the unique combination of God’s qualities that each of us is able to.
This week’s readings show how four different people will read with God so they can reflect Divine qualities in different ways. Perhaps the first reading demonstrates how two people do this. Through a prophet, this passage foretells what life will be like when God takes on a human existence and when God reigns over the “. . . new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells” that we were promised in the third reading last week (2 Peter 3:13). In the second reading, Mary proclaims that despite her apparent insignificance in her culture, God has blessed her. God’s ways are not like human ways, and so she rejoices in who God is and what God and will do. In the fourth reading, John the Baptist reflects who God is by demonstrating humility, honesty, and an unflinching dedication to the mission God has given him. The readings themselves illustrate better than I can by just pointing to specific verses how Isaiah, Mary, John the Baptist and Jesus each invited the Holy Spirit to work through them in ways that are unique to who they are in the situations in which they find themselves.
Yes, I’ve skipped the third passage so forth because it doesn’t show us how a famous biblical figure invited God to work through him or her (except that the passage comes from a letter a letter attributed to Paul who is letting God work through him and reflecting God in a way that only he can by composing the letter). Instead, it instructs us in how to invite the Holy Spirit to work through us. It urges us to become a link in the chain of love, some other links of which we’ve met in the rest of this week’s readings.
No link in this chain is a copy of the others around it. It’s not a dull, rough restraint that rubs skin raw. I propose it’s more like a bracelet on which each charm or jewel is unique, each reflecting the light in a different way and reflecting a different, significant moment.
What someone else is sharing about this week’s readings:
This reflection from Jeff Cavins was released in response to last week’s readings. However, I heard it right before I looked into this week’s readings as I prepared to draft this post, and I heard influenced how I read this week’s passages. You’ll need to login to listen to the reflection, and even after you login, this particular session may not be available on the free version of the Hallow app. In case you are unable to listen to it without subscribing to the paid version of the app, the gist of Mr. Cavins’ message is that each of us is called to “Prepare the way of the Lord,” even though each of us may not be called to do so in the same way as the person next to us (Isa. 40:3).
When I hear “prepare,” I think of doing something, but I’m realizing how often changing my habits would involve not doing something. Yes, I say hurtful things, and a version of me in perfect union with God wouldn’t. But as I reflect on this blaming, these barbs, I realize that even they come from my wanting to make the pieces around me fit where I want them to, instead of accepting that I can’t make them fit.
Maybe I and the people around me aren’t connected like precious charms on a bracelet, but more like pieces of broken, yet beautiful differently colored pieces of glass that God brings together to form a beautiful picture. A few days ago, I saw a Christmas movie whose title I’ll only link to here so that anyone who wants to can avoid having me spoil its plot. For these readers, I just want to acknowledge that the plot of that movie inspired my colored-glass metaphor. In my life and in any life, the pieces are the shapes and colors they are. All I can do is accept the pieces as they are, let God polish the piece that is me, and seek where I fit best.
It’s difficult enough to seek where I belong in the mosaic and to let God polish me. I didn’t come up with the concept for the overall picture the picture or any of its elements, nor do I know what the whole picture looks like, so its components usually don’t connect the way I’d like them to, I feel frustrated and embarrassed that I can’t complete the picture as I would like because I can’t see the whole picture. I respond to these feelings by lashing out and making edges on the multicolored, reflective shards sharper and the gaps between them wider. I scatter the pieces, accomplish the opposite of what I want by trying to force what I want to happen, to make it take place when and how I want it to. What would do the most good is surrendering instead. In addition to the prayers I linked to last week, this prayer is one I find myself turning to for help with surrendering:
Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty, My memory, my understanding And my entire will, All I have and call my own. You have given all to me. To you, Lord, I return it. Everything is yours; do with it what you will. Give me only your love and your grace. That is enough for me. Amen.
Lord, help me experience Your love and grace as enough for me. Help me to mean the words of the above prayer, trusting that when I offer the gifts You’ve given me back to You, You’ll remove any distortion caused by sin from them and they’ll do the good you intend them to do. Amen.
Work cited (but not linked to)
Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “3rd Sunday of Advent, Sunday 17 December 2023: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.183, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 31 Oct. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm.
This week’s readings remind me that for God there are no obstacles. It’s on account of the Divine Nature, which is love, that God doesn’t override our freedom to reject God or to invite God into our lives.
Comfort, give comfort to my people . . . . A voice cries out: In the desert prepare the way of the LORD! Make straight in the wasteland a highway for our God! Every valley shall be filled in, every mountain and hill shall be made low . . .
Isaiah 40:1 and 4
No canyons or soaring peaks can get in God’s way. God is neither held back, nor propelled forward, nor weighed upon by time.
Like a shepherd he feeds his flock; in his arms he gathers the lambs, carrying them in his bosom . . . .
Isaiah 40:11
And yet you and I are. And so we wait for God to level the steep climbs and fill in the craters, wondering when the Prince of Peace is going to see to it that justice and peace reign. We wish God weren’t delaying so long in making this reign happen.
The third reading suggests the delay is thanks to God’s love. The landowner hasn’t returned to call for an how we’ve managed his resources because he wants as many people as possible to have the chance to use them to heal and to grow. He knows that if we do our part to bring about the world we want to see, the effort will bring about peace and justice within us. Figurative and literal mountains may be obstacles for us, but obstacles can be good for us if we ask God to help us look at them with clear, eternal eyes and to see them as opportunities to give, to depend on God, and to open ourselves to the Holy Spirit.
Kindness and truth shall meet; justice and peace shall kiss.
Psalm 85:10
That’s what this week’s readings say to me, but the readings themselves express their message were beautifully than I can. I think there are verses in this week’s passages that are familiar and cherished by many, regardless of how regularly someone revisits Scripture passages. So I decided to include pull quotes of my favorite verses from these readings in this post. Also, I suggest that the readings as a whole might be sat with throughout Advent.
. . .we await new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells.
2 Peter 3:13
What someone else is sharing about this week’s readings:
Sarah Hansman reflects on how practicing patience doesn’t conflict with taking an active part in prepar[ing] the way” for Christ to renew all that is by entering into it (Isa. 40:3).
The theme of waiting for God’s coming to live among us and offering salvation, even as we are invited to take part in bringing about that salvation calls to my mind “The Serenity Prayer,” especially the well-known first stanza. It also brings to mind “A New Serenity Prayer” by Fr. James Martin. To give proper credit to the sources of these prayers, rather than typing them here, I’m just going to link to them and close this post by wishing you a fruitful, grace-filled week of active waiting. As I write this prayer, also on my mind is anyone waiting in suffering and grief. Come to those who are sorrowing. Comfort them with Your presence, Lord Amen.
Work cited (but not linked to)
Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “Sunday 10 December 2023: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.183, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 31 Oct. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm.
I’ve heard of the stages of grief, and after revisiting this week’s readings, I’m wondering if any professionals have ever identified stages for processing guilt. The narrator in the first reading seems to begin processing guilt by blaming God for misdeeds. Why do you allow me to sin, he asks? Come stop me.
Upon making this request, he seems wary about having it granted. And why wouldn’t he be? God’s gaze isn’t a social media filter that can erase any blemishes. It doesn’t allow him to delude himself into thinking he can escape the truth of the life he lives in its combination of ugliness and beauty. Taking an honest look at his life brings him to the next stages in the process of addressing his guilt: asking for God for the grace to become the best version of himself and being open to the possibility of receiving this grace.
The psalmist asks for these graces, and the psalm concludes with an expression of trust that the speaker will receive what he asks for.
The third reading expresses faith that those who live with Christ and in Christ receive all the graces they need to find unending union with God and with other partakers in that union.
I find it difficult to trust in the promises of the third passage. Contrary to its message, I experience that I am, in fact, “lacking in [plenty of spiritual gift[s]” (1 Cor. 1:7). Furthermore, my memory tells me that I haven’t been kept “firm” in any of them in the past, so I find it difficult to believe that I will be firm “to the end” and will be found “irreproachable on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Cor. 1:8). Paul concludes the promises of the passage by reminding us that “God is faithful, and by him you were called to fellowship with his son, Jesus Christ our Lord (1 Cor. 1-9). The implication of these reminders seems to be that God will complete the journey toward union among all who are connected to the divine.
Yet we’ve seen in wedding feast parables that symbolize that union that not everyone who is invited accepts the invitation and not even everyone who accepts it is prepared for it. These parables suggest that neither those who reject the invitation to the feast nor those who are unprepared for it are able to enjoy the feast.
And even those who accept and respond to the invitation cannot prepare themselves for the celebration. They need God’s help.
I need God’s help — to accept the invitation to the feast, to light the way to it, and to make room for it within. I can trust in this help, but it often doesn’t feel like I can. I often don’t recognize it being extended, so I reject the invitation. I don’t always lead others along the path to it by letting God’s light shine through my words and actions. I let fragile imitations of that Light block its reach, its warmth and radiance. My choices and the choices of others mean that sometimes I can’t sense its radiance and warmth. At these times, I’m spiritually asleep and need the Gospel passage’s wake-up call.
What someone else is sharing about this week’s readings:
I want to share three podcast episodes that gave me additional perspective on the Sunday readings for the three weeks before today. You may want to have headphones on when you click the play buttons on the pages where the following links lead:
The third link not only looks back at past weeks’ readings but also offers some considerations for how we might look at the weeks ahead.
Lord, may the material world awaken us to Your presence and to Your coming in the past, present, and future rather than numbing us to the reality that You have come, are here, and will come again. Amen.
Work cited
Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “1st Sunday of Advent: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.183, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 31 October 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm.
Sitting with the Sacred 