Homily for Sunday, 29 December 2019– The Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph

Readings of the day: Sirach 3:2-6, 12-14; Psalm 128:1-2, 3, 4-5; Colossians 3:12-21; Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23

This homily was given at St. Clare Church and St. Joseph’s College, Edmonton, AB, Canada.

Did we miss something? Our Gospel reading today begins as “the wise men” have already left the place of the Lord’s Nativity in Bethlehem. At least I thought we did not celebrate the Epiphany, the “making known” of the Lord through these wise men to the world, until the first Sunday after the New Year. At this point in our Christmas season, we would not yet have the wise men at the Nativity Scene in our house. When I was a child, my sister, brother, and I would simulate the journey and belated arrival of the wise men to Bethlehem by inching the wise men figurines, day by day, a little closer to the Nativity scene at home until they finally arrived there on the Epiphany. By this point in the Christmas season, the magi would still have most of the living room to cover before arriving at the Nativity scene!

Yet today, on this Solemnity of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Matthew’s Gospel says that the wise men had already arrived and left. Maybe they simply decided to arrive early this year, right? Maybe they braved those Boxing Day sales on gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Well, not really. We will still celebrate the Epiphany, when we will hear of the arrival of the magi at Bethlehem from the same Gospel of Matthew. So what is going on here?

First, let us be clear that our Church’s celebration of Advent and Christmastime is not play-acting, and it does not follow an orderly timeline of historical events. If our Church’s celebrations this time of year do not follow a precise order of historical events, then what is their purpose? What was Matthew’s purpose in giving us the Gospel we hear today and, more importantly, what might it mean for us today?

This part of the infancy narrative, as it is called, of Matthew’s Gospel, from Matthew’s telling of how Jesus came to be born of Mary and Joseph, to the arrival and parting of the wise men, to the Holy Family’s flight to and return from Egypt to escape the massacre by Herod, is particular to Matthew in many ways. Compared to the other Gospels in our Bible, Matthew devotes much more detail especially to Joseph, husband of Mary. Even then, though, we know little about this Joseph of Nazareth from our Gospels; of the man Matthew first introduces to us as “a righteous man,” concerned not to put Mary in danger after she conceives Jesus “by the Holy Spirit” before she and Joseph live together. Joseph never speaks a word in Matthew’s or any of the other Gospels. But those three words of Matthew’s to describe Joseph, “a righteous man,” speak volumes about the saintliness of Joseph; about his care for his family—the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph—about his care for us, the Church, and about how we might be called to model our lives after that of St. Joseph and the Holy Family.

Joseph may not speak a word in our Gospels, but he is a master communicator, especially with God but with us, too. Joseph communicates with God through an angel in three dreams in Matthew’s infancy narrative, the last two of them in today’s Gospel reading: First, when the angel says to Joseph not to fear and to take the pregnant Mary into his home as his wife; second, before the Holy Family’s escape to Egypt; and, third, when Joseph hears from the angel that Herod is dead and it is safe to return with Mary and Jesus from Egypt home to Israel.

In many ways Matthew’s presentation of Joseph of Nazareth parallels, deliberately or not on Matthew’s part, how another Joseph famous for dreaming and interpreting dreams is presented in the Old Testament Book of Genesis. God reveals his favour toward the Joseph of Genesis through dreams; God favours Joseph over his brothers in a way that angers Joseph’s brothers and leads them to leave Joseph in a cistern in Egypt to die. The Joseph of Genesis, of course, survives and goes on to be a prominent figure (and dream interpreter) in prison and then in Pharaoh’s court.

The parallels between Joseph of the Book of Genesis and Joseph of our Gospels are not perfect: The New Testament Joseph does not speak a word recorded in our Bible, whereas the Old Testament Joseph speaks plenty, interprets his dreams vocally, and would go on to have the story of his Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat (loosely) told in a famous Andrew Lloyd Webber rock opera. Joseph of Nazareth is more of a humble behind-the-scenes dreamer, although he, like his Old Testament name counterpart, is a prophetic figure. Joseph of Nazareth plays a critical role in the fulfillment of “the law and the prophets” in Jesus Christ according to Matthew’s Gospel.

Joseph of Nazareth is a master communicator; an obedient communicator with God, not so much in the sense of blindly following what God’s angel tells him to do in his dreams as in the sense of attentive listening to what God reveals to him through these dreams. Joseph is, first and foremost, “a righteous man”; these are Matthew’s first words to describe Joseph.

Joseph of Nazareth is a model and a prophet from God to us; a master communicator to us in his faithfulness to and his care for Mary and Jesus. Joseph of Nazareth is a model and a prophet to us of solidarity with the most vulnerable among us. Without hesitation, Joseph the Righteous welcomes Mary into his home as his wife. Without hesitation, Joseph flees Herod’s tyranny, placing himself along with Mary and Jesus in solidarity with everybody through the ages who are unwelcome or subject to violence, even in their own homelands; people who continue to encounter not welcome but walls, literal and figurative, in the lands to which they flee desperately for safety; all people who, as Pope Francis reminded us on Christmas Day, continue to be subject to injustices that make them “cross seas and deserts that become cemeteries.”

Today, on this Solemnity of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, we remember and we celebrate St. Joseph of Nazareth, who never hesitates to place himself within our human realities, from the joyful to the tragic. The obedience, faithfulness, and attentiveness of Joseph of Nazareth to God shows us the immaculate purity of Mary, Mother of God; mother of the Church; our mother. This, in turn, shows us the way to God and to God’s Son, Jesus Christ; the way to our salvation.

The Holy Family of Jesus our Lord and Saviour, Mary our Mother, and the righteous dreamer, Joseph, exemplifies a truth expressed so beautifully nearer to our time, in the opening lines of Vatican II’s Pastoral Constitution Gaudium et Spes: “The joys and the hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the people of this age, especially those who are poor or in any way afflicted, these are the joys and hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the followers of Christ… United in Christ, [we] are led by the Holy Spirit in [our] journey to the Kingdom of [our] Father and [we welcome] the news of salvation that is meant for every person. That is why this community [the Church] realizes that it is truly linked with humankind and its history by the deepest of bonds.”

Our “joys and hopes,” and if I dare say dreams, were the “joys and hopes” of the Holy Family. They were central to the dreams of Joseph the Righteous of Nazareth, Joseph’s silent yet prophetic communication and intercession between God and us. They are the “joys and hopes”; the dreams of our Church, of one another, for one another here at a most essential level. These are “the joys and the hopes”; the most essential dream of God for us: That, through Jesus Christ, through the intercession of the Holy Family and all the saints, our journeys; our lives, our experiences from the joyful to the tragic, will lead us home to God himself, to eternal life.

Homily for Sunday, 16 July 2017

15th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Isaiah 55:10-11; Psalm 65:10-11, 12-13, 14; Romans 8:18-23; Matthew 13:1-23

This homily was given at St. Joseph’s College of the University of Alberta, Edmonton, AB, Canada

Have any of us ever tried to place ourselves within the scene of Jesus’ parable of the sower, or within any other Biblical scene for that matter? This imagining of ourselves “on scene” of a Biblical story or event is one of my favourite methods of praying with the Bible, one probably most famously pioneered by St. Ignatius of Loyola, founder of the Jesuit order. Ignatius calls this method of placing ourselves within a Biblical scene; taking in our surroundings with our senses— hearing, sight, touch, smell, and taste— contemplation. It is a form of Lectio divina, a Latin term meaning literally “divine reading” with which some of us may be familiar.

The purpose of Lectio divina, whether Ignatian contemplation or several other forms is to lead us from an initial reading of a Biblical passage, an event or story, into a progressively deeper and more prayerful focus on the passage we are reading and hearing. Our attention may be drawn, more and more, to a single word or short phrase within the passage. In Lectio divina, I think, we are eventually drawn toward asking ourselves two questions the more we pray over a Biblical passage: What is the word or short phrase that attracts my attention, and why? What am I sensing, with my human senses of hearing, sight, touch, smell, and taste, when I feel attracted or perhaps confused, or maybe downright discomforted by a part of the passage over which I am praying? Why do I feel this way?

With these two questions in mind, let us return to Jesus’ parable of the sower that we hear today in Matthew’s Gospel. Imagine being “on scene,” as one person among the great crowds hearing Jesus as he preaches this parable of the sower that has become particularly familiar to us. Are many of us not able to recite the parable of the sower almost by rote?

“A sower went out to sow,” Jesus begins. Almost automatically, we might continue the parable: There are several types of soil or surfaces onto which the seed, which we may safely assume is the word of God, may fall. “Some seeds [fall] on the path.” Others fall “on rocky ground.” Still other seed falls “among thorns.” Finally, some seed falls “on good soil” and brings forth a great yield; a crop one “hundredfold [or] sixty [or] thirty” times what was initially sown. Only the seed that falls “on good soil” thrives in this way. The seed that falls “on the path” becomes food for the birds. The seed sown “on rocky ground” is unable to take root and so it withers and dies. The seed sown “among thorns” is choked out.

Jesus explains later that “the path” onto which some of the seed falls represents the people who hear “the word of the Kingdom,” God’s word, but do “not understand it,” and so are vulnerable to Satan, “the evil one,” who “snatches away” this seed; this word of God that is sown but not understood. The “rocky ground” represents the people who at first receive God’s word “with joy,” but “fall away” as soon as adversity, “trouble or persecution,” strikes. These people have not taken God’s word to heart, where it is able to take root and thrive. Other people fall prey to “the cares of the world and the lure of wealth,” and so God’s word, competing against worldly priorities made into our gods; our idols, is choked out much like seed sown “among thorns.” The “good soil” stands for “those who [hear] the word and [understand] it” and so the seed “bears fruit” by the way these people hear, pray over, and live out God’s word.

But, in this whole long parable and just-as-long explanation of it that Jesus offers us, might anybody here have noticed that Jesus never says where any of his hearers; where we stand with respect to his parable. Jesus does not (or not yet, anyway) judge the quality of our “soil”; of our hearts for hearing, understanding, and living by God’s word. Jesus does not point out the unfortunate soul in the front row and say, “You, how rocky a heart you have”! He does not single out the wealthy person, or the person feeling guilty about something he or she said or did, and is trying to hide him or herself in the middle of the crowd so not to be seen. “You with the thorny heart: Do you really expect my word to thrive in there? Shame on you”!

“Now, there we go, you who sit anywhere but the front row at Mass, like a good, stereotypical Catholic: There is a humble person with ‘good soil.’ My word will surely take root and thrive in your heart”… But no, Jesus does not say this! He would not insult our intelligence in this way. Instead, Jesus honours our conscience. In honouring our conscience, though, Jesus leaves it up to us to discern, that is to think, sense, and pray over carefully, where we stand with respect to his parable of the sower. What kind of “soil” are we? Are we really the “good soil” we would like to be, or are our hearts at times more like the path, the rocky ground, or the patch of thorns in which God’s word cannot thrive?

Here I think Jesus, through his parable of the sower, is leading us in an examination of conscience. When we think of an examination of conscience, how many of us think of generating a “laundry list” of our failures; our sins since a particular point in time, maybe since our last confession? This is only part of an examination of conscience. Essentially, to make an examination of conscience is not only an occasional, even daily, accounting for our failures; our sins. It is to think, sense (with our senses, if we remember St. Ignatius’ way of placing ourselves within a Biblical scene, story, or event), and pray constantly, not only occasionally, over two questions: Where am I in this scene, story, event, my own successes, failures, and so forth? And where is God in all this; in my own life?

How good of quality is my “soil,” and how is God continuing to sow God’s word in me; in us, even when our soil is not sometimes of the best quality; when we are not fully disposed and attentive to understanding God’s word; even when we are conscious of having sinned? In this sense, our examination of conscience is connected to our “divine reading” of Scripture; to placing ourselves within these events, stories, and parables of the Bible and allowing the Bible to enlighten our own lives. St. Ignatius calls this form of “divine reading” (Lectio divina) contemplation, but he also calls it the examen. St. Ignatius’ examen is a key and constant part of his famously intense Spiritual Exercises that some of us may know or have undertaken.

Engage in this “divine reading” of Scripture. Place ourselves “on scene” in the Bible’s events, stories, and parables. This is the examen in Ignatius’ words, the examination of conscience to which we are called. It is a constant rather than occasional process and, I will admit, not an easy one. Of what quality is my “soil”; my disposition to receive and live the word of God; the word of God’s “kingdom”? How does God continue to sow in us, sometimes in spite of our less-than-ideal “soil” conditions? And then how are we called to be sowers in turn of God’s “word of the Kingdom”?

We are able to answer these questions; to examine our consciences well; to allow God to increase the quality of our “soil”— our hearts— for receiving his word; to sow God’s word in turn to our world, only if we are able to sense God’s word with our human senses. Jesus invites us to place ourselves “on scene”: Let anyone with eyes see; with hands and feet and a body touch; with a nose smell; with a mouth taste…

“Let anyone with ears listen”!