“…. and the soul felt its worth…"

“…. and the soul felt its worth…”[i]

I find this line from the French carol translated into English as ‘O Holy Night’ deeply moving.  I am reminded of Jesus’ words in Matthew 10: 30-31 – ‘Yet not a single sparrow falls to the ground with your Father knowing it…..so do not be afraid of anything.  You are worth more than many sparrows’.  Such tenderness, such reassurance.

Time and time again the Scriptures remind us of how precious each person is to God.  Not in some abstract, theoretical way as a unit of value, but precious as a new born child is precious, as a treasured friend is precious, as a lover is precious.  The Holy One under the name of Divine Wisdom says ‘I found delight to be with the children of humankind’ [ii]

God keeps reminding us of our preciousness because it is just too much for us to take in.  However the more we allow this deep identity we have to change us the more we will know each person, each part of creation is sister and brother

In silence as we allow our own gaze of love rest on the crib we begin to know what Dante called ‘the love that moves the sun and other stars’[iii]  Little wonder that mystics understood Incarnation as the marriage of Divinity to humanity so close is our life in God.

St. Francis of Assisi loved the feast of Jesus’ birth and he always celebrated it with tender exuberance because ‘the Lord of glory became our brother’ and everything, absolutely everything is now sister and brother.  Again, this is not as a theory but as a living fact, a way of living.  The crib of Greccio grew out of this passionate love; he wanted everyone to understand the love that impelled God who became poor for us.

St. Francis frequently prayed, ‘Who are you Lord, and who am I’.  Over and over again he would pray these words which evoked tears of sorrow for his failures in responding to Love, he would weep because ‘Love is not loved’.  Then he would break into joy that could not be contained in himself and he would stutter with joy, he would dance with joy in the knowledge that Love keeps on loving, that Love is relentless in tenderness and forgiveness.

So, gazing at this baby, in the knowledge of the grown man who taught, healed, died and rose, we become aware, even if dimly, of how and how much God loves us and all creation.  Not abstractly but from within but flesh of our flesh.  God enfleshed in Jesus is God-with-us most truly, irrevocably and for all eternity.

In the end words fail, only the heart can begin to savour the mystery of this Love ‘and the soul felt its worth…’

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[i] Oh holy night!
The stars are brightly shining
It is the night of the dear Saviour’s birth!
Long lay the world in sin and error pining
Till he appear'd and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!

[ii] Prov. 8:22-31

[iii] Paradiso Canto XXXIII

The eight days before Christmas

The Gospel readings from 17 to 24 December intensify the drama of these waiting days and women are at the heart of it.

The Gospel for the 17^th recounts the genealogy of Jesus according to Matthew.  This is Jesus’ identity traced back to Abraham.  The genealogy told the rest of the community who you were and a ‘good’ genealogy meant honour.  As the names roll on in their historical and numerical groupings the reader is caught up in the flow of names of the forefathers of Jesus.  At certain points the flow pauses to name foremothers – Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheeba (identified only as wife of Uriah) and Mary.  In a world where identity was named through the fathers, these women are significant.

All these women were vulnerable because there was something questionable about their lives according to the culture of their times but here they are heroines in the unfolding of God’s relationship with Israel.

Matthew’s Gospel for 18 December reveals why Mary is in the company with the women of the genealogy.  She is pregnant and not by her betrothed husband.  Joseph’s ‘justice’ or uprightness was to separate from her quietly rather than expose her to shame and possible execution.  It took a dream of an angel to reassure him.  I wonder how often in later years he must have looked at Jesus and wondered, wondered at these mysterious events.

In the Gospel texts of the following days we contemplate Elizabeth, another vulnerable woman who bore the social and religious stigma of childlessness which was seen as being cursed by God and now facing a dangerous birth because she was older than normal child bearing age.

Did Mary visit Elizabeth for mutual comfort and support?  The older woman having the wisdom of experience and the younger woman filled with hope despite uncertainty about the future.  Two women carrying the mystery of God join forces.  Luke’s Gospel depicts these two women as vulnerable, faithful – the anawim of Israel, the poor ones.  And precisely because of this their meeting results in explosive joy as they sing of God’s salvation and favour.

For Luke these two women epitomise how the mystery of Jesus is welcomed and understood by those of little account in the large scheme of the chosen people.  Just like the women of Matthew’s genealogy.

Luke parallels the annunciation to Zachary and the annunciation to Mary.  Zachary – the priest, representative of Israel before God did not understand.  His loss of speech is more than physical, it is symbolic of his inability to understand and proclaim the mystery.  However, Mary and Elizabeth, women who had no official role understood this momentous manifestation of God.  Later Luke follows this theme with the shepherds.  This mystery is grasped by the most unlikely people.

Angels too are busy in these narratives.  They come to invite, proclaim, reassure, direct, honour and admonish.   The presence of angels heightens the drama.  They symbolise God’s courtesy – no coercion, always invitation.

So as the great feast draws closer, in this time of heightened anticipation, we are invited to sit with these female ancestors of Jesus who held onto a promise at each historical moment of Israel’s history; with Joseph bewildered, compassionate to Mary and obedient to God; the angels, busy and joy-filled; and above all with Elizabeth and Mary both life-bearers, bearing more than physical life, life that is faith, life that is God who is fecund, life that explodes in joy.

In the midst of our Christmas preparations, may we share in the expectant hope of these people of the Gospel.  We never know when angels in strange disguise and in unlikely places may want to whisper words of invitation to us.  May we wait with them in joyful hope.

The Splendour of God

The Splendour of God 

The entrance antiphon for today (Friday of first week of Advent): 

The Lord is coming from heaven in splendour to visit his people, and bring them peace and eternal life.

‘Splendour” what an evocative word this is.  Often it is used to describe some sort of pageantry – the splendour of a royal wedding, the splendour of a lavish spectacle, the splendour of cardinals in procession.  It is connected with political (in the widest sense) power.

We use it too to describe something of beauty – the splendour of a sunrise, or a breathtaking view.

I have a friend who uses it with great enthusiasm as a word of praise – a splendid person, idea, meal etc.  She uses it so well that it allows the recipient to feel delight in their bumbling actions, appreciated by her and that they could do and be even better.

This antiphon proclaims how God will visit us – in splendour.  This splendour is not that of power and pageant it is the splendour of the crib.  God redefines power and glory.

The Gospels claim we find the splendour of God in a child born into uncertain times, into a family displaced at the whim of a ruler and living under foreign rule, a family so threatened with death so they had to escape.  But despite all that, the new life of the baby gives hope and a family is formed in which love, protection and wisdom abide and grow.

Representations of the crib usually have an ox and an ass as part of the display.  This is not just a sentimental idea.  It refers to Isaiah 1:3 - ‘the ox knows its owner, and an ass, its master’s manger; but Israel does not know, my people has not understood’.  We are asked to see this domestic scene with the eyes of God who comes in splendour in Jesus.  So contradictory.

Perhaps this is closer to the use of splendour used by my friend.  The splendour of God comes in ways that have little to do with pageantry, display of dominating power or hubris.  The splendour of God resides in the broken ones of this world; wherever forgiveness, love, compassion, care for others are found; where sisters and brothers call an end to displacement, exploitation, violence in all forms. It is found when we know in our deepest self how God delights in us, gives us God’s own life and power to see and be the splendour of God.

Then perhaps we can see the splendour and beauty of this earth and each sister and brother.