Daily Scripture

Scripture:

Genesis 49:2, 8-10
Matthew 1:1-17

Reflection:

In eight days Christians will again celebrate the miracle that forever changed the world. When God became one of us in Jesus, being born into our world in Bethlehem, we received a promise of hope we never thought possible and a blessing of joy we never believed our hearts could know. This is why Christians profess that in Jesus we meet our king and redeemer, our savior and messiah.

But, as today’s readings testify, Jesus will be a king dramatically unlike other kings and a savior it is easy to overlook. The reading from Genesis foretells the royal life of Israel. Jacob announces to his son Judah that he, like other kings, will conquer his enemies, receive homage from the people, and be like a lion, “the king of beasts,” that everyone fears to approach. By contrast, the psalm response foretells the reign of God that comes in Jesus. Jesus will rule with the wisdom, mercy, and goodness of God. Under his kingship, the world will overflow in justice and peace. The poor will not be trampled, crushed, and forgotten, but liberated. The suffering will not be overlooked or ignored, but comforted and healed.

The gospel passage from Matthew recounts the genealogy of Jesus, tracing his lineage from Abraham through Jacob and Judah, Jesse, David, and Solomon up to Joseph, Jesus’ father. What can seem like a bewildering chronicle of names nearly impossible to pronounce reveals something wonderful: God works through human beings—including some who were dramatically flawed—to bring about something extraordinarily blessed. But it is easy to miss the blessing because God, who is savior and king, enters our world not in wealth and majesty, but as a helpless child in a family of refugees looking for shelter.

Today’s scriptures remind us that to prepare for the coming of Christ we must look for Jesus where perhaps we least expect to find him. Jesus is right before us, once more beseeching our help, in the stranger, in migrants and refugees, in the poor and homeless, in all those who, like Joseph and Mary and Jesus, are in need of hospitality. Are our hearts open to receive them? Are our hands ready to help?

Paul J. Wadell is Professor of Theology and Religious Studies at St. Norbert College in De Pere, Wisconsin, and a member of the extended Passionist Family.

Scripture:

Zephaniah 3:14-18a
Philippians 4:4-7
Luke 3:10-18

Reflection:

This little periscope is especially inspiring because the most unlikely of people are asking the searching questions about what we must do to attain salvation.  The crowd which is asking of John the Baptist these questions are  unusual because it is made up of Soldiers and Tax Collectors.  The Soldiers are despised because they are not army, but sort of Pinkerton Detectives paid to protect the Tax Collectors who are extorting monies from the Jews.  They are mercenaries hired by the Roman government to oversee their fellow Jews.  The Tax Collectors are known for extorting and victimizing their fellow Jews.  Hence despised by their fellow Jews.

The crowd is asking what must they do to be saved?  John replies “You don’t have to change anything.  John goes on to tell them that all you have to do is to carry out your daily responsibilities with concern for others, honesty and integrity.  Share your surplus with those who lack necessities.   In other words share with the needy and do not exploit the vulnerable.

The crowd askes John the Baptist if he is the Messiah who is to come?  John responds  “No I am not worthy to removing the sandals from the Strong One who is to come.”  The time is near so be prepared. The hearts of those who hear and respond to John’s message are filled with joy and gratitude in response to God’s goodness.

As Christmas draws near for us and as our hearts have a sense of the exuberant and  “Dancing God” who is the Strong One, Our Savior, Liberator and Hero coming soon. This period “Advent” is a joyful time.  Today’s Sunday is been called “Gaudete Sunday”.

This special day fills us with joy not because Christmas is near, but because God is already in our midst.  God’s greatest gift is His Son wrapped in human flesh. Rejoice.

Fr. Ken O’Malley, C.P., is the local superior at Holy Name Passionist Community in Houston, Texas.

Scripture:

Sirach 48:1-4, 9-11
Matthew 17:9a, 10-13

Reflection:

It took us a long time to understand clouds because we could only see them from one perspective – the earth. But when I fly in a plane, I get an entirely different view. I see layers of all different sizes and shapes, as varied from each other as the species of trees are on the ground. They appear to be solid, as if one could bounce on these soft, cottony masses or fall asleep cushioned on a billowy blanket.

As we gained sight and perspective on these layers and types of clouds, we learned that despite appearances, they are not solid at all. We began to classify them, understand the conditions under which they occur, and see how they interact with the weather patterns we experience across the globe. (We also learned the turbulence it causes when a plane flies through them!) I can no longer look at clouds from the ground in the same way, knowing there is depth, substance, and a well-coordinated cascade of meteorological activity within them. My old view had to die in order to accept this new and more accurate reality.

With so many things in our world, we think they are one way because our sight is limited. As we discover more, we have to stretch our understanding, let our old views die, and adapt to ever-new realities. Too often we don’t allow that same process to occur with God. Elijah, John the Baptist, and Jesus all called us to repent and turn to God. But to what God are we turning?

Although God cannot be contained, neatly defined, or explained in human terms, the Bible gives us many images of God, all predicated on the biblical writers’ “sight” at the time. The problem occurs when we get stuck on ideas of God that are based on century- or millennia-old perceptions and we cling to them ferociously, instead of recognizing that God is forever showing us new views and teaching us more about the depth, behavior, and impact of the divine Spirit and will. We say God is a mystery, but God is not a mystery because we simply can’t understand. Rather the mystery of God is something we are constantly understanding better, even as we realize that we will never have the whole picture in this life.

Certainly, any view we have of God has to include the Incarnation. When Jesus came, at last we were literally able to “see” God.  He gave us a glimpse of the view from the divine side and opened endless depth, showing us a God of love, inclusion, compassion, creativity, forgiveness, and faithfulness. But many people of his day didn’t “see”. They refused to let their traditional laws and images of God die, to the extent that they killed the messenger who challenged them. Even the disciples interpreted what Jesus said in light of what they knew, what they could see, and what they already believed to be true. Jesus was correcting them up to and including his dying breath.

I believe that if Jesus were walking on the earth right now, he would still be correcting us. He would teach us to put to death all views of a judgmental, exclusive, narrow-minded God whose love we have to somehow earn and who is waiting with bated breath to condemn us to eternal hellfire. He would tell us to stop dividing the world into good guys and bad guys (always counting ourselves on the “good” end, of course) and instead work for a better world for everyone. He would point out that God created, formed, knows, and loves each and every person in all the diversity of humanity, and longs to draw us all into the divine embrace together. And he would remind us that we are “God with skin on” to the world – the face, hands, eyes, and hearts that embody the mystery of God so all may see and better understand.

As we approach the celebration of the Incarnation, I need to do a better job ensuring that I am not blocking the sight of others who are looking for God. What image of God do I convey in my words, my eyes and facial expressions, my attitudes and beliefs, and my actions? To what extent do those I encounter on the street, in the store, and wherever I go see judgment, narrow-mindedness, exclusion, and condemnation? To what extent do they see acceptance, unconditional love, forgiveness, and a glimpse of the infinite God? What do I need to let die in myself in order to more fully birth Christ?

Come Lord Jesus. Help me be an instrument of sight, committed to making the world a better and more just place, and being a window enabling everyone I encounter to know more of the mystery of God.

Amy Florian is a teacher and consultant working in Chicago.  For many years she has partnered with the Passionists.  Visit Amy’s website: http://www.corgenius.com/.

Scripture:

Isaiah 41:13-20
Matthew 11:11-15

Reflection:

Today’s readings continue along the Advent theme of waiting in hope with restoration soon to follow. The first reader of this text would surely have felt the hopeful promise. This particular section of Isaiah begins the second book (chapters 40-55). The exiles still await their freedom to travel home to Jerusalem. “I the Lord who grasp your right hand” v. 1, surely Israel felt grasped by the hand of the Babylonian empire. The prophet uses words like worm and maggot, not such pleasant visuals for the chosen people. Can he be making the point that even the lowest creatures are in God’s care and not forgotten in their misery—in the direst of situations—he is there.

How does this translate today and in this Advent Season of waiting in joyful hope? So many of our brothers and sisters are displaced, homeless, sick, isolated. As we get swept up in the Christmas preparations, we can easily lose sight of the plight of others. What does this first reading have to say to you, today?

I wonder, in fact, if we largely feel helpless to the problems of our society. Yet, these words are written exactly to bring hope into a troubled, broken world.

Yesterday, as I was second in line at an office supply store, the person being served was experiencing difficulties with his purchase and it was taking quite some time. I could feel the stress of the customer and the checker. The store brought out some new checkers and invited the next customer to approach. The customer who was in front of me simply turned and offered me the spot. I thanked him for his kindness. When I was finished my transaction, I again turned to thank him, he simply smiled and said, “we all need patience this time of year” and he wished me a “Merry Christmas.”

And I understood the next part of the reading—I will make of you a threshing sledge, ….to thresh the mountains and crush them..”  The invitation for us today and everyday is to become that tool that God can use. We CAN crush the mountains of despair, of doubt and of suffering because our God is with us. We crush those mountains every time we are kind—it’s that simple. Perhaps I cannot solve the problems of the world, but I can make my corner of the world a kinder place. We can turn the desert into a marshland.

The old custom of winnowing—separating the seed of wheat from the chaff –was only possible when the West wind blew. Apparently, the North wind was too strong and would blow everything away and the East wind came in gusts which was not helpful. This process required a waiting until the West wind blew and I find this fascinating; so much of what is important in life requires waiting for the right conditions.

John the Baptist was aware and preached that Jesus was the long-awaited Messiah, he saw the signs. He is known as the hinge prophet; the one who bridges the old to the new. And, while there has been none greater than John, he is least in the Kingdom of heaven; perhaps the message the Scriptures invite us to hear is that humility is the gift needed to bring about the Kingdom of heaven. May we wait in joyful hope and be inspired to bless our world today. Amen.

Jean Bowler is a retreatant at Mater Dolorosa Passionist Retreat Center in Sierra Madre, California, and a member of the Office of Mission Effectiveness Board of Holy Cross Province.

Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe

Scripture:

Zechariah 2:14-17 or Revelation 11:19a; 12:1-6a, 10ab
Luke 1:26-38 or Luke 1:39-47

Reflection:

I am aware today that 76 years ago my mother, Mary Nell Diver, married my Dad, Fred Steinmiller. They now are together in God their Creator for eternity! I can recount gratefully where they sacrificed over six decades so that I and my 7 siblings would grow to appreciate the good, the beautiful, and the truthful. (Is not that our destiny, to “have life and have it to the full?” John 10:10)

And the greatest gift that they would give each one of us children was their acting on the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, the affirmation of God’s will for us, that we would be baptized into the Holy Family of the Catholic faith. Let’s call baptism “a challenge to a New Way.” That is how the Christian life can be, a constant opportunity to level out those “impossible” resistances and obstacles, to fill in the deep gorges of corruption, disappointment and sin, and to make straight the crooked, deceptive road ways.

Advent is a time period of expectation. Of taking on a way of thinking that is actually that of the expectant, the pregnant mother. This God-induced expectation, this season of Advent, is all about the furthering of something new that will contribute to the good, the beautiful and the truthful. Can you think of a person, or human situation that is not in need of these life-giving qualities? Who are the recipients of these life-giving qualities? The person to whom you are married, those with whom you have the responsibility to raise into responsible Christian adults, the persons with whom you live in an intentional communal setting, the persons with whom you work or study, the neighborhood in which you live, and the “societal stranger/foreigner” whose path you cross daily.

In the words of the prophet Zechariah today, we read, “Many nations will bind themselves to the Lord on that day.” That is what happened, initially, to all of us in our baptisms in the Spirit and our subsequent embracing of God’s Will through pursuing actively our vocations, i.e., God’s personalized purpose and mission instilled in each one of us.

In Pope Francis’ letter, Rejoice and Be Glad, he is calling the whole church “to be saints and not to settle for a bland and mediocre existence.” What better time to think about growing in holiness than Advent, “the season of expectation.”

And Mary continues to show us how to “give birth to Jesus” through our presence and activities that promote newness in life. Why is she the model for us to follow”? The Angel Gabriel announced it: “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you.”  Who does not want to be around anyone who shows us hope, enthusiasm, creativity, newness, perseverance, not to mention just plain love. These are attractive persons.

So where did Jesus get this sensitivity to people who were “lost, condemned, alienated and divided.”  His Mother, the one who nurtured, nourished, sensitized, guided and accompanied him even to the horrible death on the cross as she stood beneath it.

And today, these lessons of giving birth to newness in the face of tragedy and hopeless ness we honor in Our Lady of Guadalupe. Into the region we call Mexico, known only to native peoples in their innocence, traditions and, yes, powerlessness, they would suffer the extreme consequences of greed through genocide, the destruction of a whole culture. In 1531 with the invasion of Spaniards with the insatiable thirst for wealth and gold, God would send the Mother of us all, and appearing to Saint Juan Diego and working through him, she would bring salvation through her intervention. Pope Paul VI would define salvation as the “free gift of God offered to all through the sufferings and death of Jesus Christ, for the lifting of the burdens due to oppression and sin to a waiting world.”

Mary challenged all peoples of this land to become a new people as reflected in her “mestiza face,” the face that reflected the peoples of that region. In her face each would recognize elements of their own likeness, in diversity and unity.

One of the core messages of Our Lady of Guadalupe, Patroness of the Americas, is this challenge to unity, to a newness where people of all backgrounds, colors, and ethnicities would live and work in mutual respect, peace, and harmony. Mary still challenges us today to create newness in every person and situation in which we find ourselves. I pray, “make me, like Mary, your mother, not only to listen, but also to put the Word into action.”

Thanks to Sr. Janet Schaeffler, OP, and Fr. David Knight, who inspired this meditation.

Fr. Alex Steinmiller, C.P., is the administrator at Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic Church in Birmingham, Alabama.

Scripture:

Isaiah 40:1-11
Matthew 18:12-14

Reflection:

Las Posadas is a popular Latino Advent tradition.  The faithful process on nine evenings with candlelight, reenacting the journey Mary and Joseph took from Nazareth to Bethlehem, searching for lodging (posada) where Mary could give birth to the baby Jesus.  When they were rejected in place after place, they were forced to seek shelter a stable where the Christ Child was born.

Spanish friars introduced this tradition in the 15^th century to the forcibly colonized people of Mexico as a way of converting them to Christianity.  Even though I have no facts to back me up, nevertheless I am convinced that within a short time Las Posadas became a ritual of resistance embedded within an ostensibly charming tradition by a people forced to wear the yoke of a foreign culture.  This was no mere effort to convert a people to a different religion.  This was a forced conversion of traditions, culture, and language by the dominant Spanish power.

Such a political understanding of Las Posadas has certainly been the case in our time for many communities throughout the nation.  In Boyle Heights, the poorest barrio of Los Angeles, for example, and in Billings, Montana, the faithful organized Las Posadas processions to advocate for the poor and affordable housing, and immigration rights.  In the central California town of San Juan Bautista, El Teatro Campesino with its powerful theater of political resistance, annually lead the community in Las Posadas with Mary and Joseph dressed as campesinos seeking shelter, fair wages and decent working conditions against a faceless and oppressive agribusiness.

Similar implications of injustice and oppression could not have escaped the indigenous people of Mexico as they were led in Las Posadas led by the Spanish priests.  Like Mary and Joseph, they undoubtedly experienced the pain of rejection, class inequality, discrimination, and displacement.  In this nine-day journey of resistance, they must have they carried the hope that the God who acts in history would one day unshackle them from their oppressor.  In the long December darkness, within the posada songs, the Mexican people may have heard the haunting echo of Isaiah: “Comfort, give comfort to my people” (Is 40:1).

Three-thousand years earlier, God gave comfort to another people similarly forced to assume foreign values in a foreign culture.  The Judeans had suffered a generations-long Babylonian exile.  Through the prophet Isaiah, however, God sent them a message of comfort.  Indeed, this was more than a mere message.  This was a proclamation of “glad tidings” and “good news” – the pivotal term for gospel.  And the good news was that God was about to reveal himself, make himself known, in the oppressive circumstance of their lives.  Get ready, Isaiah tells his people.  “In the desert prepare the way of the LORD…then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed” (Is. 40:3-5).  Isaiah is arousing hope and a vision of stunning possibility among the Judeans.  Get ready; your exile is about to end.  Centuries before Babylon, the Israelites cried out in their shackled Egyptian slavery.  God heard their cry, and through Moses, led them to freedom, their Exodus.

God’s self-revelation is always manifested in acts of salvation, in Egypt, in Babylon – and in a town in Bethlehem.  “God so loved the world, that he sent his only son” (Jn 3:16).  Isaiah’s proclamation of glad tidings, good news, is our good news today, our gospel.  This time, God’s self-revelation came about incarnationally, through a weak and vulnerable infant.

In this season of Advent, we sing the anthem: “O come, O come Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel that mourns in lonely exile here.”  In many ways and on many levels, we are those exiles, displaced, for example by sin, by consumerism, or addiction.  Others of us are exiled, displaced by poverty, homelessness, political oppression and violence with doors slammed shut, no posada, no room.

Amid this darkness, we are to remain hopeful.  “Comfort, give comfort to my people.”  Isaiah is ever the “disrupter for justice,” as Bible scholar Walter Brueggemann describes the prophets.  Isaiah tells his people to get ready for their freedom, their exodus from the Babylonian oppressor.  Isaiah’s message never changes.  It is simply re-interpreted for different times and circumstances.  Get ready to journey from displacement to restoration, from alienation to reconciliation, from the rejection of lodging to the posada of a stable, and from darkness into light.  Advent is a time of hopeful anticipation.  In the meantime, we await in ritual resistance, refusing to be conformed to this world, but ready to be transformed by the coming of Messiah.

Deacon Manuel Valencia is on the staff at Mater Dolorosa Passionist Retreat Center, Sierra Madre, California.

Scripture:

Isaiah 35:1-10
Luke 5:17-26

Reflection:

It is an Ignatian practice to put oneself into the stories of scripture and see what can be learned. The first time I did this with the Gospel story of the paralytic, I imagined myself as that man, lying miserably on my mat at home. Suddenly, my friends burst into the house with stories of a miracle healer who could make me walk. Brimming with excitement, they pick up my mat and start running through the rough stone streets, causing me to hang on for dear life. When we reach the house where Jesus is, there are so many people we can’t get in. Somehow, my determined friends manage to climb up onto the roof, me and my mat in tow! They start literally ripping the roof apart until they have a big enough hole, and then breathlessly lower me down until I am face-to-face with Jesus.

Trembling, I look up at this miracle worker, waiting for his words. And what do I hear? “Your sins are forgiven.” ………….  WHAT? I thought you were going to make me walk! What do you mean, my sins are forgiven? What kind of a healer are you? ……. In other words, I thought that I’d be hopping mad!

But then I did a double take. I thought about the sick, dying, and grieving people I’ve worked with, and especially those who lived with disabilities. Combining their experience with the gospel story, I re-imagined a very different possibility.

Maybe when Jesus said those words, for the first time in my life, I realized there was someone who looked at me and didn’t see a disability. Maybe I recognized his insightful wisdom that the kind of healing I really needed was not outward and physical, but interior and more deeply rooted. Maybe I needed to be healed of the pain I had caused others when I took my frustration out on them, healed of my lack of acceptance of myself, healed of the guilt I felt when I considered myself little more than a burden, and healed of my distancing from God when I blamed God for my circumstances. Maybe, just maybe, instead of being angry, my heart was pierced, I felt completely loved just as I was, and I cried for joy.

Of course, that wasn’t enough for the bystanders, who loudly refused to believe that Jesus could forgive sins. So he acquiesced and said, “Rise, pick up your mat, and go home.” And that’s exactly what I did. I didn’t get up and throw a party. In fact, the story seems almost anti-climactic, and perhaps at that point it was. Perhaps I had been healed in the most important ways, and being able to walk was just the extra bonus – nice, but not so necessary anymore. So I unceremoniously walked home praising God.

There are many lessons in this story. One that is often overlooked is exactly the point of my reflection: When we pray for healing, God always heals. But God heals us in the ways we most need healing, and those may not be physical healings at all. Sometimes we need a healing of relationships, or healing from hurt and abuse, or spiritual healing, or even healing into a peaceful death. So when we pray, we need to allow God to act as only God knows how. We need to allow God to heal us and our loved ones where we most need it, rather than in the very narrow definition of healing that we intend.

Every day since I engaged in this practice, I decided to begin my prayer by asking God to heal me where I most need healing. Then, when I pray for someone else, I ask for the same thing. One example of such a prayer: God of compassion, your daughter Mary is hurting.  Look upon her with love, see all the places that need your healing touch, and embrace her in those places. If there can be a physical healing, then please, O God, let it be. But we trust that you will heal her in the ways she most needs it, filling in holes that are empty, repairing what is broken in her life, and raising her up where she is brought low. We trust in your goodness and rely on your loving power, for you are our God forever and ever.  Amen.

In fact, I prayed this prayer with my mother last month as we walked her on her journey, entering her into hospice care in mid-November. God did indeed heal her, but not physically. She died and went to her eternal home on the feast of Christ the King.

In our broken world, filled with hate, division, prejudice, and violence, we need healing more than ever, and I dare say, the type of healing we most need is rarely physical. In fact, if all those hurting, afraid, broken people who feel justified or compelled in carrying out abuse, exclusion, and violence were healed in their hearts, our society and world would be a very different place.

This Advent, then, as we work to birth Christ in our world, let’s join together to pray that all people may be healed where they most need healing, that they may be made whole and brought into the awareness of God’s love for them and for all people. Let’s pray and let’s work tirelessly to be instruments of God’s healing and loving power. If we start with ourselves and work out to encompass our neighborhoods, cities, nation, and globe, we may yet be able to make straight the path and see the glory of God on this earth.

Amy Florian is a teacher and consultant working in Chicago.  For many years she has partnered with the Passionists.  Visit Amy’s website: http://www.corgenius.com/.