Tag Archives: Liturgy

Nazareth again

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Nazareth: 1843

The gospel readings for the last two Sundays, and then today’s reading, make you wonder about Nazareth, where Jesus spent most of his life. He was rejected there, the gospels say, even by his own family. Why? Because they knew him too well, or at least they thought they did?

What happened at Nazareth afterwards? Did the rejection continue?

Archeologists and historians piece together some facts about the place where the Word made flesh dwelt. John Meier’s, A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus, Vol 1, New York,1991, offers a lengthy assessment of what the gospels and other early sources say about his parents, his family status, the language he spoke, his education, his own place in society.

In his book, Meier criticizes the popular over-reliance on apocryphal literature like the Gospel of Thomas–which colors so many media presentations about Jesus today–  and asks why more attention isn’t given instead to the more reliable New Testament and patristic writers of the “great church.’

For the gospel writers, especially Mark,  leaving your own town and place was part of a prophet’s mission, Meier says, and so they have little to say about any connections Jesus had with his hometown during his ministry. Besides the story of his rejection there, Mark records some unpleasant visits from his family to Capernaum. (Mark 3, 21; 3,31-35) That explains somewhat the silence about Jesus’ hometown.

John’s gospel, though, mentions that after the wedding at Cana in Galilee, Jesus “went down to Capernaum with his mother, his brothers, and his disciples and remained there for a few days.” (John 2,12)

So there wasn’t a radical break.

Later, some from Nazareth took up his cause. Though they didn’t take part in his public ministry,  people from Nazareth were there when he died. In John’s gospel,  Mary, his mother, his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clophas–all presumably from Nazareth– stand beneath his cross with one of his disciples, and Jesus gives his mother into the disciple’s care.

The Acts of the Apostles say that Mary, his mother, along with “certain women’ and “his brothers” join in prayer with the eleven disciples after Jesus ascends into heaven. (Acts 1,14)

James, called the Just, likely one of those brothers mentioned in Acts, became a leader of the Jerusalem church. Paul met him a number of times, beginning shortly after his conversion . “Then after three years I went up to Jerusalem to confer with Cephas and remained with him for fifteen days. But I did not see any other of the apostles, only James the brother of the Lord.” (Galatians 1,18-19)

Paul notes too that Jesus appeared to James after his resurrection. “…He appeared to Cephas, and then to the Twelve. After that, he appeared to more than five hundred of the brothers and sisters at the same time, most of whom are still living, though some have fallen asleep. Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles”

James continued to be a highly respected leader of the Jewish Christians in Jerusalem and probably met his death there in 62 AD, for resisting the pressure of the Jewish authorities to limit the growth of that faith in the city.

He’s the author of the Epistle of James, a hard-hitting appeal for social justice. “If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill,’ and you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that. So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead.” ( James 2,15-17)

Besides James, a number of relatives of Jesus became leaders in the new Christian movement. We wonder about Joseph, but the silence of early sources seems to indicate that he died before Jesus began his ministry.

Still, others from Nazareth must have found Jesus “too much for them.” Early sources speak of the Ebionites, Jewish Christians who thought that Jesus of Nazareth was indeed the messiah, but not the Son of God born of a virgin. There must have been some too from his native place who considered him a fraud. Jesus of Nazareth cast a dividing fire on the earth. “From now on five in one house will be divided, three against two and two against three…” (Luke 12,52)

But what about the Nazareth itself? The town  was certainly affected by the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 AD, which reduced the presence of Jewish Christianity and Judaism  throughout that land.  When Jerusalem was rebuilt, gentile Christians became leaders of the Christian church there. Some relatives of Jesus still lived as farmers in Nazareth and kept memories of him alive, but their relationship meant less and less as time went by.

Hegesippus, a Jewish Christian writer of the 2nd century, says that at the end of the 1st century, Zocer and James, descendants of Jude, a relative of Jesus, were called to Rome for questioning by the Emperor Domitian, because of suspicions that as descendants of David  they might lay claim to his throne.

The emperor’s fears vanished when he saw the poor bedraggled farmers with callused hands standing before him, and he immediately sent them home.

In the 3rd century, another relative of Jesus, Conon, was arrested and stated that he was from Nazareth and was related to Christ. He was put to death; a shrine to him was built in the town and remains can still be seen.

Today Nazareth is a sprawling new city, the regional capital of Galilee, with over 60,000 people, the majority of whom are Moslem. Ancient and modern Christian shrines have been built over the old town. and remnants of the houses like the one where Jesus and his family once lived have been unearthed.

As with other great places of the past–Rome, Athens, Constantinople–the right kind of eye lets you see great things in this ancient town.

I hope to go there next November.

A Rejected Prophet

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Usually celebrities are welcomed to their hometowns by proud family members and neighbors,  but when Jesus returns to his native place, a rising star in Galilee, he’s driven out of the synagogue and almost killed by the people of Nazareth. He claims to be anointed by the Spirit of God and he’s been acclaimed elsewhere, but they see him only as the son of Joseph, the carpenter, and reject him. (Luke 4,21-30)

They stay unconvinced, it seems, because some of his family appear later at Capernaum, the base for most of his ministry, and want to take him home because he’s out of his mind,they say.

Why are they against his extraordinary claim? Is it because they know him too well? Or really, not enough? They’ve watched him grow; he’s worked on their homes and in their fields. He built some of the tables they’ve used for their meals. They know his father, his mother, his relatives. An unassuming young man whom they’ve known since infancy.

Where does he get all this?

We have to be careful that, like them, we get used to Jesus Christ, whom we may have known from our infancy. They took him for granted. His silence through the years made them blind to his power and they did not believe in him.

We know his silence too in faith and sacraments. He may act somewhere else, we may think, but not in us. We can mistake his silence for powerlessness too.

Give us faith in you, Lord.

(4th Sunday of the Year)

2nd Sunday of Advent

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In last week’s reading, Jeremiah looked out at the bleak landscape of Jerusalem, destroyed by the Babylonians, its people mostly in exile, and pointing to a shoot, a little sliver of life, told us to hope. This Sunday, his scribe Baruch describes a glorious restoration when God leads his people home.

The holy city clothed in glory will rise in splendor to welcome her returning children. “Led away on foot by their enemies they left you: but God will bring them back to you borne aloft in glory as on royal thrones.”

They have been “remembered by God, ” who levels mountains and valleys for their joyful journey, beneath fragrant trees, “with God’s mercy and justice for company.”

How unrealistic, many listening to the prophet’s vision must have thought!

How unrealistic the gospel reading also seems, as John the Baptist turns towards the desert to welcome “all flesh” to Jerusalem, still in the firm grip of the Romans, Herod’s dynasty and the priestly caste from Jerusalem.

Yet, the prophets speak the truth, even though we see only ruins and what is.  Remember us, O Lord.

First Sunday of Advent

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This Sunday begins the Season of Advent, leading to Christmas.

Advent is more about the future than about the past. Yes, we prepare to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ two thousand years ago, but we celebrate his birth because Jesus Christ changes the way we look ahead. He brings us hope.

The Jewish scriptures we read during Advent tell us the kind of hope Jesus brings.  This Sunday’s first reading is from the Prophet Jeremiah. God says to him:

I will raise up for David a just shoot ;

he shall do what is right and just in the land.

In those days Judah shall be safe
and Jerusalem shall dwell secure;
this is what they shall call her:
“The LORD our justice.”

Now, God spoke to Jeremiah as Jerusalem and Judea were being laid waste by a powerful Babylonian army that came from the north to level cities and towns, destroy crops, confiscate valuables and round up able-bodied Jews to bring them to Babylon as slaves. They spared nothing, brutally crushing everything.

So Jeremiah sees nothing but wasteland before him. The land he loved, life as he knew it was gone; everything has been uprooted.

However, God points to a shoot, a tiny sliver of life pushing up amidst the ruins. It’s a sign of life, and through it God will made Judah safe and Jerusalem secure. God will bless his land again.

It’s so easy to be overwhelmed by some great loss, some defeat, some bad situation that seems to take away all we know and love. Our world today, with all its many problems, can look like a wasteland.

The time of advent says, “Signs of hope, small though they be, are there in the midst of it all. God promises life not death in Jesus, whom he has sent. Look for those signs of hope.”

Bread and Wine

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After the homily at every Sunday Mass, we pray the Creed, that sweeping summary of what we believe as Christians.  We say it before we bring the bread and wine to the altar because it helps us understand what we’re doing. It begins:

We believe in God the Father Almighty,

creator of heaven and earth,

of all that is seen and unseen.

Bread and wine are symbols of the heavens and the earth– the world God has made. They represent the totality of God’s gifts found in creation which we acknowledge as we bring them to their Creator:

“Blessed are you, Lord God of all creation, through your goodness we have this bread to offer, which earth has given and human hands have made. It will become for us the bread of life.” “Blessed are you, Lord God of all creation, through your goodness we have this wine to offer, fruit of the vine and work of many hands, it will become our spiritual drink.”

These simple gifts stand for all the gifts that come from an almighty God, a kind Father, the generous One who made the heavens and earth, the Maker “of all that is seen and unseen.” They point to a God, beyond our minds grasp, a good God, who is with us always; a loving God who is our friend.

They  represent God’s promise of life everlasting.

The prayers at Mass address God, the Creator. “All life, all holiness comes from you,” (3rd Eucharistic Prayer) “All things are of your making, all times and seasons obey your laws,” (P33) “In you we live and move and have our being. Each day you show us a Father’s love.(P34)

At Mass we approach God, Maker of all.

As Creator, God doesn’t act alone, but shares power with his creation. Our prayers at Mass recognize that: “You formed us in your own likeness, and set us over the whole world in all its wonder. You made us the stewards of creation to serve you our creator and to rule over all creatures.” (P33)

As “stewards of creation” we have an important role in the world, but we’re not the only power in our universe.  Creation itself has rights and a role in God’s plan. As we come to know the story of our own universe, we’re amazed at its mysterious development, its complexity and its beauty. It’s charged with the glory of God, and so for all our importance, we’re  meant to be respectful participants in its story.

That’s the vision of faith our Mass offers. But is it true? Our experience of life can sometimes tempt us to doubt it. Is God really the creator of us all? Does God really care? Why do bad things happen? Why do people do what they do? Why do we die? Why is there suffering? Why is there injustice. Questions like that raise doubts. Then too, preoccupation with ourselves also can weaken our vision of faith. We think we are the creators of the world and its gods.

The Mass tells the story of creation, but also the story of salvation. The Creed reminds us that God sent his only Son to be our Savior. In the mystery of the Mass, Jesus Christ is sent into the world. He comes into the bread and wine, just as he came into the womb of Mary.  Listen to the words of one of our prayers.

“Father, you so loved the world,

that in the fullness of time you sent your only Son to be our Savior.

He was conceived through the Holy Spirit,

and born of the Virgin Mary,

one like us in all things but sin.

To the poor he proclaimed the good news of salvation,

to prisoners, freedom,

to those in sorrow, joy.

In fulfillment of your will

he gave himself up to death,

but by rising from the dead,

he destroyed death and restored life.

And that we might live no longer for ourselves but for him,

he sent the Holy Spirit from you, Father,

as his first gift to those who believe,

to complete his work on earth

and bring us the fulness of grace.”

The prayer goes on to ask God, the Father, to send his Holy Spirit upon the bread and the wine, as he did on Mary.

“Father, send your Holy Spirit to sanctify these offerings,

Let them become the body and blood of Jesus Christ our Lord

as we celebrate the great mystery

which he left us as an everlasting covenant.” (4th Eucharistic Prayer)

Our Mass is a creation story and a story of salvation.

Holy Souls

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Before the altar in our chapel in this month of the Holy Souls, there’s a large stack of names sent in to be remembered at Mass. Just names written on paper. No eulogies, no lengthy description of who they are, what they did, or anything else about them.

In one sense, they represent us poor mortals as we are in death. We have nothing, except hope in the mercy of God. We are in God’s hands.

We place the names of our dead before the altar and great crucifix that hangs over it because of  the promise of Jesus Christ:

“And this is the will of the one who sent me,

that I should not lose anything of what he gave me,

but that I should raise it on the last day.”

Our prayers at Mass say the same thing; we don’t earn eternal life, it is a gift to us. “All life, all holiness comes from you, through your Son Jesus Christ, our Lord, by the working of the Holy Spirit.”

God blesses the bread and wine with the presence of his Son, and he blesses the world he loves so much.

“Remember those who have died in the peace of Christ, and all the dead whose faith is known to you alone.”

Even though others forget, a merciful God remembers.

No Life Without Sacrifice

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In this Sunday’s gospel (Mark 10,35-45) James and John, two of his disciples, want something from Jesus; they want the power and position they believe he can give them. “Grant that in your glory we may sit one at your right and the other at your left.”

But they want glory without any cost. Grant it and it’s ours, they say to him. They’re looking for an easy way to get something good. Jesus says they want glory “without drinking the cup,” a life without struggle, effort and suffering. But there’s no life without sacrifice.

You can’t live without sacrifice. You can’t have it all and you can’t have it easily. That applies to every level of life.

We have to sacrifice for our own good. For example, we can’t be healthy without adopting a healthy life style, something often hard to do.

We make sacrifices for others, and that’s often hard to do. Parents sacrifice for children; children for parents. Sacrifice for strangers–that’s very hard. Soldiers have  to be ready to give up their lives for their country. The ultimate sacrifice, we say.

Jesus described his own death on the Cross as a sacrifice. That sacrifice was the culmination of a life given for others.

Sacrifice has a holy dimension we may forget.  We remember that dimension at Mass, where we use the word frequently. Sacrifice comes from    two latin words that mean “doing something holy.” If  what we do is good, for ourselves, for others, for our world, we are brought  to God through it, and God blesses our efforts, our struggles and the suffering what we have done entails.

“We come to you, Father, with praise and thanksgiving, through Jesus Christ your Son,

Through him we ask you to accept and bless these gifts we offer you in sacrifice”

What are the gifts we offer to God in sacrifice? Yes, they’re the gifts  of his Son, who offered himself to his Father once on the Cross and now becomes our offering to God who blesses us through him.

But they’re our gifts too, our sacrifices, many and varied as they are, that are joined to his and they bring down God’s blessings on us and on our world.

Let’s keep our sacrifices holy.

The Prayer of Abel

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“Look with favor on these offerings and accept them as you once accepted the gifts of your servant Abel.” (1st Eucharistic Prayer)

In a homily, St. Ambrose explains why God accepted Abel’s gifts and not Cain’s. His gifts were a prayer from his heart.

He brought them to God prompted by the same gratitude that caused the Samaritan to give thanks to Jesus after being cured of leprosy. Gratitude is always at the heart of the Eucharist.

Abel’s gifts were the result of true prayer, according to Ambrose, who summarizes what true prayer is: “Jesus told us to pray urgently and often, so that our prayers should not be long and tedious but short, earnest and frequent. Long elaborate prayers overflow with pointless phrases, and long gaps between prayers eventually stretch out into complete neglect.

Next he advises that when you ask forgiveness for yourself then you must take special care to grant it also to others. In that way your action can add its voice to yours as you pray. The apostle also teaches that when you pray you must be free from anger and from disagreement with anyone, so that your prayer is not disturbed or broken into.

The apostle teaches us to pray anywhere, while the Saviour says Go into your room – but you must understand that this “room” is not the room with four walls that confines your body when you are in it, but the secret space within you in which your thoughts are enclosed and where your sensations arrive. That is your prayer-room, always with you wherever you are, always secret wherever you are, with your only witness being God.

Above all, you must pray for the whole people: that is, for the whole body, for every part of your mother the Church, whose distinguishing feature is mutual love. If you ask for something for yourself then you will be praying for yourself only – and you must remember that more grace comes to one who prays for others than to any ordinary sinner. If each person prays for all people, then all people are effectively praying for each.

In conclusion, if you ask for something for yourself alone, you will be the only one asking for it; but if you ask for benefits for all, all in their turn will be asking for them for you. For you are in fact one of the “all.” Thus it is a great reward, as each person’s prayers acquire the weight of the prayers of everyone. There is nothing presumptuous about thinking like this: on the contrary, it is a sign of greater humility and more abundant fruitfulness.”

The Triumph of the Cross

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crosspottery

The Feast of the Triumph of the Holy Cross (September 14) originated in Jerusalem, the city where Jesus died and rose again. An immense throng of Christians gathered on September 13, 335 A.D. to dedicate a church built by the Emperor Constantine over the empty tomb of Jesus and the place where he was crucified– Golgotha.

The resplendent church, one of the world’s largest, was called the Anastasis (Resurrection), or the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. From then on, Christian pilgrims from all over the world flocked there to see where Jesus was buried and where he died.

Until the Moslem conquest in the 7th century, vast crowds of bishops, priests, monks, men and women from all over the Roman empire continued to come annually to celebrate the feast, which went on for 8 days. It was Holy Week and Easter in September. One visitor, Egeria, a widely-traveled 4th century nun, said the celebration recalled the Church’s dedication, but also the day when “the Cross of the Lord was found here.”

Many Christian denominations continue to celebrate the Feast of the Triumph of the Holy Cross on September 14th.

Visitors to Jerusalem’s Old City today see a smaller, shabby successor to Constantine’s great church, which was largely destroyed in 1009 AD by the insane Moslem caliph al-Hakim and was only half rebuilt in the 11th century by the Crusaders. Today the church bears the scars of sixteen centuries of wars, earthquakes, fires, and natural disasters.

The scars of a divided Christendom also appear in the church, where various Christian groups, upholding age-old rights, warily guard their own turf. Visitors have to wonder: Does this place proclaim the great mystery that unfolded here?

Like our reaction to the sacraments, we ask Is This All There Is? It takes time to discover the Cross and its triumph.

Changes in the Liturgy

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The American Catholic Church is gearing up for changes in the liturgy. There’s a site on the bishops’ web pages outlining the changes. The opening page captures some of my questions about the new changes, to be voted on by the bishops this November, submitted to Rome afterwards, and likely introduced in Advent of 2011.

“New Words: A Deeper Meaning but the Same Mass,” reads the heading announcing the changes: “Prayers for the observances of recently canonized saints, additional prefaces for the Eucharistic Prayers, additional Votive Masses and Masses and Prayers for Various Needs and Intentions and some updated and revised rubrics (instructions) for the celebration of the Mass.”

“The English translation of the Roman Missal will also include updated translations of existing prayers, including some of the well–known responses and acclamations of the people.”

The last sentence announces the changes that will impact ordinary church-going Catholics most of all. I was thinking of recent complaints against drug companies for introducing new medicines and applications without proving they are better and more cost effective than previous ones. Will the new words lead us to a deeper meaning of the Mass? I’m not sure.

A picture on the site’s opening page shows the back rows of a congregation at church at Mass. From where the picture’s taken those back row Catholics can hardly see the altar in the distance. Is that going to be the experience of most ordinary people when the new words are introduced?

Looks like some dark clouds ahead.