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Mary’s Mother

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by Howard Hain
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Albrecht Durer, “Virgin and Child with Saint Anne”, ca. 1519 (The Met)

Christmas is a time for grandmothers.

They bake and cook and decorate. Their homes become mini North Poles, diplomatic outposts of Santa’s Castle.

At its core, Christmas is of course all about Jesus. All about Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. All about the Holy Family.

The Holy Family is an extended family though. And it doesn’t stop at grandmothers and grandfathers, aunts and uncles, or even cousins and distant cousins.

Just ask Saints Joachim and Anne, Zechariah and Elizabeth, or John the Baptist—not to mention all the unknown relatives whom the child Jesus surely encountered throughout His Galilean days. Ask any one of them about the far-reaching ripple effects of family grace.

Those touched by Jesus have a tendency to appear bigger than life.

Look at Santa Claus.

Most of us are aware that he is really Saint Nick.

But do we stop to wonder who Mrs. Claus really is?

I think she’s Saint Anne.

After all, Mrs. Claus is seen as everyone’s grandmother, especially when it comes to holiday cheer. But when it comes to truly celebrating the birth of Jesus, it is through Saint Anne that we approach the gates of Christ’s Nativity.

Mary’s Mother holds a special key. She is first among grandmas, first among those who pinch chubby cheeks, who pass along one more extra sugary treat.

———

Saint Anne help us. Speak to us. Show us how to be grand parents to all those around us, especially the little ones. Stir up the spirit of Advent. Bake away the holiday blues. Cook up a dish of Christmas love that only your hearth can serve.

———

Come one, come all, to the home of Saint Anne. Come with me to Grandma’s house for a holiday visit. Taste and see. Enter her kitchen, where the hot chocolate can always fit a little more whipped cream, where you hear the constant refrain: “eat…eat…eat…”

At Grandma’s your plate is never empty.

Her table is continually set.

She always sees Jesus as having just been born.

She is always wrapping Him up tightly in swaddling clothes.

It is simply grand.

To Grandma, Jesus is always an innocent child.

And she can’t help but see Him deep within both you and me.

(Dec/21/2017)

Howard Hain is a contemplative layman, husband, and father. He blogs at http://www.howardhain.com

Web Link: Metropolitan Museum of Art. Albrecht Durer, “Virgin and Child with Saint Anne”, ca. 1519

 

Morning Thoughts: Little Drummer Boys and Girls

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by Howard Hain

Yesterday I witnessed a “dress” rehearsal for a live nativity. The cast was made up of first and second graders, and the audience was mostly composed of residents of a retirement home for religious sisters, Franciscans. It was spectacular.

Last week I was at Radio City Music Hall to watch the Rockettes in their “Christmas Spectacular”. It was quite a production.

Sitting in the dark this morning I cannot help but contrast the two.

I also cannot help but relate to the seven-year old who played the part of The Little Drummer Boy.

As that child walked so slowly toward the foot of the altar, where the rehearsal was being staged, I saw my vocation in an entirely different light.

The children were all singing their hearts out, and many of the eighty and ninety year-old sisters were mouthing the words. The boy with the drum didn’t utter a sound. He just kept walking, slowly, extremely slowly toward the altar, every once in a while ever so slightly pretending to tap two tiny sticks upon a toy drum. He was beautifully awkward.

There was no greater spectacle on earth at that very moment. Shall I dare to say, no greater event that heaven or earth has ever known?

For a child was born. We were all being born.

Come they told me, pa rum pum pum pum
A new born King to see, pa rum pum pum pum
Our finest gifts we bring, pa rum pum pum pum
To lay before the King, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,

So to honor Him, pa rum pum pum pum,
When we come.

Little Baby, pa rum pum pum pum
I am a poor boy too, pa rum pum pum pum
I have no gift to bring, pa rum pum pum pum
That’s fit to give the King, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,

Shall I play for you, pa rum pum pum pum,
On my drum?

Mary nodded, pa rum pum pum pum
The ox and lamb kept time, pa rum pum pum pum
I played my drum for Him, pa rum pum pum pum
I played my best for Him, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,

Then He smiled at me, pa rum pum pum pum
Me and my drum.*

.

.*(Little Drummer Boy was composed by Katherine K. Davis, Henry Onorati and Harry Simeone in 1958.)

 

The Lowliness of Human Flesh

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Our Advent Preface says the Son of God assumed “the lowliness of human flesh” when he came among us, and so fulfilled the divine plan formed long ago.

How long ago? God plans are from all eternity, we believe. Our lowly “human flesh” finds it hard to discover God’s plan in time. 

In today’s gospel John the Baptist asks Jesus through his emissaries: “Are you he who is to come, or are we to look for another?” John was not altogether sure, some say. Jesus appeals to the Prophet Isaiah: “Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the poor have the good news proclaimed to them.  And blessed is the one who takes no offense at me.” (Luke 7:18-23)

In yesterday’s gospel the chief priests and leaders of the people are certainly not sure about Jesus and his authority. They hesitate about John too, but they’re afraid of the people. (Matthew 21: 23- 27) Before them, Ahaz, King of Judea, was not persuaded by the Prophet Isaiah and will not ask for a sign.

“Human flesh” finds it hard to discover God’s plan in time, our readings this week of Advent say.

The Advent liturgy proclaims the coming of Jesus Christ in the fullness of time. It measures time from the prophets and the history of Israel, which traces its beginnings to the Book of Genesis. The genealogy of Jesus will be proclaimed in our liturgy this Friday. 

Until recent times, the biblical timetable was the accepted norm in the western world for measuring geological history, even science accepted it. Now we have “Deep Time.” Science sees the world evolving over billions of years. 

It seems to me we have a task before us reconciling biblical time and “Deep Time.” Lowly human flesh finds it hard to discover God’s plan in time.

Broken Baby Jesus

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by Howard Hain

(Note: This post was originally published on December 24, 2011.)

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We have not put up a tree in years.

For nearly a decade we have been moving—no longer than two years in any one house and no less than ten different not-so-humble abodes. Between and during the moves we were very much engaged with the world. A seemingly endless movable beast.

This December marks one year in our current house. I am happy to say it is our home. The Lord has blessed us with great peace. And with that peace comes a tree. A simple, well-shaped tree. Fittingly, a dear friend offered it to us as a gift.

Francesca could not be more ready to be initiated into the act of trimming. Before the tree arrived, her two-year-old fingers pointed out every tree, artificial or real, that graced the pages of a holiday flyer or the commercial floor of a Rite Aid or Dollar Store.

Up the stairs came the evergreen, into the old stand that has been in storage since my father last used it several decades ago. I cut off the mesh and out popped the branches.

We hung the lights and old glass ornaments that my mother-in-law washed a few days before.

The main attraction for Francesca was the Nativity.

Not since St. Francis of Assisi assembled the first Nativity in Greccio in 1223, has there been such admiration for each and every witness who Our Lord assembled to adore His Son that first Christmas two millennia ago. Francesca kissed and hugged every shepherd, sheep, donkey, angel, and king. Most of all she adored the Holy family, calling Mary and Joseph, Ma-ma and Da-da, respectively. And Jesus, He was simply called: “ba-be.”

She carried them around the apartment. I did not want to ruin her fun, but they are ceramic. I explained a few times to be very careful.

“Gentle, Francesca…gentle…”, I harked a host of times.

Boom. To the wood floor went the shepherd. Amazing, grace held him intact. I took that as a great sign to put an end to her carrying the animals, angels and representatives of mankind.

I was fixing my coffee when I turned to see Francesca with Baby Jesus in her tiny hands. But He is so small, so tiny, what harm could come from holding Him? So I let her get away with carrying the Savior.

As I stirred my spoon Christ crashed to the floor, the tile floor. Francesca immediately looked at me, as if expecting all hell to break loose. I think I sighed but that was about all. It is Christmas, right? And it is, after all, only a ceramic figure purchased at Target.

After assuring Francesca not to worry and guiding her toward a few coloring books in the living room, I bent down to retrieve the broken Christ.

———

St. Francis was told by a Crucifix in an old abandoned chapel: “Restore my Church.”

In my small one-bedroom apartment, I found Baby Christ, broken into exactly three: The Head, the Torso, and the Crossed Legs.

“Restore the Trinity,” was spoken to me.

———

For half of my forty years I can honestly say I have tried to pursue Truth, wherever it lie. In philosophy, in scripture, in literature, in art, in nature, in history…

Now, the entire Gospel of Christ lie naked on my kitchen floor.

We separate, we distinguish, we categorize, we breakdown. The Fall of Adam was a fall into denomination.

Christ’s body is One. His Church cannot be broken. Only mere men can get things so wrong.

I think of the great “Angelic Doctor” of the Church, St. Thomas Aquinas, who after spending a lifetime in unparalleled pursuit of human understanding, said after glimpsing a vision of what Our Lord has in store for those who love God:

“All that I have written seems like straw compared to what has now been revealed to me.”

Yes… “straw”…my brother Thomas…merely straw. Straw that lines the manger within which Our Savior is laid bare.

———

It is tradition to leave the crib empty until Christmas morning. Only then do we place the figurative baby Jesus into the scene, after all until that moment he was not yet brought forth from Mother Mary’s womb.

This Christmas morning I will glue together a Broken Baby Christ. The Head, the Torso, and the Crossed Legs will again be One.

Like the world after the birth of Christ, I will never be the same.

For what has now been revealed to me, no fall can break apart.

 

Howard Hain is a contemplative layman, husband, and father. He blogs at http://www.howardhain.com

 

Bless the Tree in Your House

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Don’t forget to bless your Christmas Tree which reminds us that, besides the blessings of the human family, we’re blessed through creation.

Long ago, God placed a tree of life in the garden of paradise as a sign of the wisdom, knowledge,  and every good thing the created world brings us.

Our Christmas Tree reminds us of creation’s blessings  and the blessings we receive through Jesus Christ who renews the created world through his coming.

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A Voice That Passes Away

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Spring Lake even

John the Baptist is a voice that passes away, according to St. Augustine:  “John is the voice, but the Lord is the Word who was in the beginning. John is the voice that lasts for a time; from the beginning Christ is the Word who lives for ever.”

John’s “voice” passes away. He no longer baptizes at the Jordan River. He cedes to the Word, and so should we. Our voice passes away; something of ourselves has to go– some of the things we hold dear, the friends who surround us,  the institutions that have upheld us.  Our way must give way to  God’s way.

We think so little of this.

Listen again to Augustine:  “What does prepare the way mean, if not be humble in your thoughts? We should take our lesson from John the Baptist. He is thought to be the Christ; he declares he is not what they think. He does not take advantage of their mistake to further his own glory.

“If he had said, “I am the Christ,” you can imagine how readily he would have been believed, since they believed he was the Christ even before he spoke. But he did not say it; he acknowledged what he was. He pointed out clearly who he was; he humbled himself.

“He saw where his salvation lay. He understood that he was a lamp, and his fear was that it might be blown out by the wind of pride.”

Monday, 3rd Week of Advent

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Most people see the season of Advent as a time to prepare for the birth of Christ in Bethlehem. The angel announces his coming to Mary; the shepherds and the wise men visit him as an infant. He’s presented in the temple. Advent is a time to put up the creche, the tree and the lights. Most see Advent in a linear, historical way, within the time frame of those few events.

But Advent is about the mystery of the Incarnation. Jesus not only became human in Mary’s womb and was born in Bethlehem. He became part of the humanity of his time and indeed all time, our time.

He came in the fulness of time.The readings early on in Advent speak about the beginning and end of the world. Most of Advent’s Old Testament readings are from the Prophet Isaiah who promises that all nations will come to Jerusalem’s holy mountain when the Messiah appears. Many of our early Advent readings are about John the Baptist and his ministry.  Jesus entered the company of prophets like Elijah, Isaiah and John who not only  tell us of the coming Messiah, but tell us what his mission will be and what happens because he embraces that mission. 

Advent takes us beyond the events of Jesus’ birth. 

Today’s gospel says Jesus entered the temple on his final journey to Jerusalem and he’s questioned and opposed by the chief priests and elders of the people. They will put him to death. (Matthew 21: 23-27)

Our liturgy, like the scriptures, is not simply linear and historical in its approach to Jesus. We’re invited to see things “ as it was in the beginning, is now and will be forever, world without end.” This is the way God sees things.

“Come thou long-expected Jesus, born to set thy people free; from our fears and sins release us, let us find our rest in thee. 

Israel’s strength and consolation, joy of all the earth thou are; dear desire of every nation, joy of every longing heart.” (Charles Wesley)

The Yet Empty Stable

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by Howard Hain

There’s a little stable not too far from here.

It sits in a church that has seen better days.

The parish is poor and the people seem to disappear.

But a few persistent peasants won’t stay away.

I love it there.

The priest is wonderfully uncertain.

He is afraid of God.

He instinctively bows his head at the mention of the name.

He knows how little he is in front of the great star.

I imagine he was involved in setting the stable.

It is a good size, on the relative little-stable scale.

It is surrounded by ever-green branches.

Probably snipped from the few Douglas Firs placed around the altar and yet to be trimmed.

The stable itself is composed of wood.

A little wooden railing crosses half the front.

A single string of clear lights threads through the branches laid upon the miniature roof.

They are yet to be lit.

I love it there.

I kneel before the empty scene.

For as of yet, not a creature or prop is present.

Not an ox or a goat, not a piece of hay or plank of fencing.

Not even a feeding trough that is to be turned into a crib.

No visible sign of Joseph and Mary, nor a distant “hee-haw” of a very tired donkey.

I wonder if I could get involved.

Perhaps I could slip into the scene.

There’s a darkened corner on the lower left.

In the back, against the wall.

I could hide myself within the stable.

Before anyone else arrives.

I don’t think they would mind.

I’d only be there to adore.

To pay homage to the new born king.

I might even help keep the animals in line.

Yes, a stagehand, that’s what I can be!

I know there’s no curtain to pull.

That’s to be torn in a much later scene.

But to watch the Incarnation unfold from within!

That’s what I dream.

To see each player take his and her place.

To see the great light locate the babe.

To watch the kings and shepherds stumble onto the scene.

Hark! To hear the herald angels sing!

O the joy of being a simple farmhand.

Of being in the right place at always the right time.

Of course though I wouldn’t be alone.

In that darkened corner, also awaiting the entire affair, there are many others.

Most I don’t know by name.

Too many in fact to even count.

But a few I know for sure.

For certain, present are those few persistent peasants who won’t stay away.

And of course there’s that wonderful anonymous parish priest.

The one who helped set into place this yet empty but very expectant stable.

The one whose fear of God is so clearly the beginning of wisdom.

(Dec/16/2016)

Howard Hain is a contemplative layman, husband, and father. He blogs at http://www.howardhain.com

December 13-19: Readings and Feasts

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Jesus was a companion to the prophets, our weekday readings reminded us last week. The gospel readings for this week remind us he met fierce opposition, like the prophets before him.  Matthew’s gospel read the first few day of this week recalls how the chief priests and elders refuse to accept him when he arrives in Jerusalem towards the end of his ministry. They’re blind to who Jesus Christ is. (Matthew 21,23-27)

By contrast, the Book of Numbers (Monday) tells the story of Balaam the prophet, who recognizes the presence of God in the tribes of Israel and refuses a handsome payout to curse them, but blesses them instead. Even his donkey gets it right.

In the gospel for Tuesday, Jesus scolds the chief priests and rulers of the people for their blindness to him and John the Baptist before him:                                                                                     “Amen, I say to you, tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the Kingdom of God before you. When John came to you in the way of righteousness, you did not believe him; but tax collectors and prostitutes did. Yet even when you saw that, you did not later change your minds and believe him.” 

Both Jesus and John the Baptist will be put to death. Advent cannot go by without remembering that mystery. “I wonder as I wander at under the sky, why Jesus our Savior was born for to die, for poor, ornery people like you and like I?”

December 17th we turn to events that precede the birth of Jesus, starting first with the genealogy of Jesus which, according to Matthew, starts with Abraham and ends with Joseph, the husband of Mary. (Matthew 1, 1-17)

December 18th, there’s the announcement to Joseph, “Son of David,” of the conception and birth of the Child. He will name him Jesus, because “he will save his people from their sins.” (Matthew 1,19-25)  In the first reading Jeremiah prophesies God’s people will return to their own land. (Jeremiah 23,5-9=8)

The Infancy Narrative from Luke will be read in the liturgy from December 19 on till Christmas.

DECEMBER 13 Mon Saint Lucy, Virgin Martyr Memorial 

Nm 24:2-7, 15-17a/Mt 21:23-27 

14 Tue Saint John of the Cross, Priest, Doctor of the Church Memorial

Zep 3:1-2, 9-13/Mt 21:28-32

15 Wed Advent Weekday Is 45:6b-8, 18, 21c-25/Lk 7:18b-23

16 Thu Advent Weekday Is 54:1-10/Lk 7:24-30 

17 Fri Advent Weekday Gn 49:2, 8-10/Mt 1:1-17 

18 Sat Advent Weekday Jer 23:5-8/Mt 1:18-25 )

19 SUN FOURTH SUNDAY OF ADVENT Mi 5:1-4a/Heb 10:5-10/Lk 1:39-45

3rd Sunday of Advent c: What Shall We Do?

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For this week’s homily, please watch the video below.