Both Present and Future (Mt 13:24-43)

Language is an interesting tool that we often use in unexpected ways.  For instance, we can refer to one and the same event in both a present and a future sense.  We might say something like, we are having a meeting on Monday, or the plane is leaving tomorrow afternoon.  In both cases, the reference has a present and a future sense.  We are having a meeting and the plane is leaving both refer to the present, but both events will occur in the future.  This might be an odd way of speaking, and yet, few would have trouble understanding what we mean. 

The descriptions of the Kingdom of God found in scripture often have this same present and future reference.  In a present sense, scripture often portrays the kingdom of God as a current orientation or mindset with respect to our way of living in the here and now.  In a future sense, scripture often focuses on the kingdom as a state of being to be realized in its fullest sense at an unknown future date and time.

Jesus uses exactly this kind of language in describing the kingdom of God.  At the beginning of his public ministry after his sojourn in the desert, for example, Jesus announces to those gathered in the temple that “now is the time of fulfillment.  The kingdom of God is at hand.  Repent and believe in the gospel” (Mk 1:15).  This way of speaking has both a present and a future sense.  Jesus comes in the here and now as Messiah and Savior to bring about the kingdom it its fullest sense.  Asking us to repent and believe is an invitation to collaborate with him in bringing about that future reality by aligning our values with the values of God.

 St. Paul picks up on this way of referring to the kingdom in many of his letters.  In his letter to the Romans, for example, he relies on the present sense of the kingdom to claim that the “kingdom of God is not a matter of food and drink,” but rather a way of living born of “righteousness, peace, and joy in the holy Spirit.”  For Paul, whoever serves Christ in this way is pleasing to God.  For that reason, he encourages his readers to “pursue what leads to peace and to building up one another” (Rm 14:17-19).

On the other hand, Paul appeals to the future aspect of the kingdom in his first letter to the Corinthians.  In that letter, Paul claims there will come a time when Christ will hand over the kingdom to his God and Father.  This will occur after Christ has destroyed every sovereignty, authority, and power, the last of which to be destroyed is death itself.  Then, all those who belong to Christ will be united as one, with our heavenly Father as the center and supreme being of all reality (1 Cor 15:24-28).

Jesus conveys all of these ideas in a series of parables on the kingdom.  The three parables in today’s gospel are part of that series.  The symbolism in these parables reveals the kingdom as a kind of flourishment in the way we live.  That way of life begins in the present, evolves over time, and matures in its fullest sense at a future date and time uncertain.  Jesus never reveals what the kingdom will look like in its fullest sense.  He merely affirms that the outcome is assured.  

These three parables show that the successful conclusion of the kingdom will be immeasurably larger than its humble beginning suggests—seed that yields an abundant harvest; the smallest seed that becomes the largest plant; leavening that produces a whole batch of dough.  Jesus comes as the Word of God to initiate this process of fulfillment, despite those who oppose his mission—the weeds among the wheat (Jn 6:68).  In the words of Isaiah, “So shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but shall do what pleases me, achieving the end for which I sent it” (Is 55:11).

Although Jesus invites all to participate in the kingdom, deciding who is worthy in that regard is for God alone to determine.  This is why the householder in the parable does not allow his fieldhands to separate the weeds from the wheat.  Instead, he allows the weeds and wheat to grow alongside one another until harvest.  This serves as a warning to the disciples not to preempt the final judgment of God.  The harvesting will be done by his angels (Mt 13:26-30; 41).  In other words, excluding people from the kingdom is a judgment reserved to God alone, and not to the disciples and not to us.  “God alone determines who does, and who does not belong in the kingdom” (cf. commentary on Mt 13).

Until then, bringing about the kingdom in its fullest sense calls for patience, perseverance, and careful nurturing, as all farmers know (Mk 4:26-32).  To make that happen, Jesus invites us to continue his work of making God fully present in the here and now by imitating his good works grounded in his values (Jn 14:15).  Jesus expresses this counsel perhaps most clearly in his Sermon on the Mount where he reveals his core values of mercy and love for others (Mt 5:3-11). 

Key to this process is our belief in Jesus and living by his values.  Jesus is not looking for grandiose effort on our part.  For, he tells us that God desires mercy, not sacrifice (Hos 6:6; Mt 12:7).  Not all of us are called to do the work of Mother Teresa.  For most of us, our contribution in bringing about the kingdom comes in very ordinary ways.  Jesus provides the example with his own life, the majority of which he lived in an ordinary way.  His example gives us the confidence to follow him.  "I am the vine, you are the branches,” he tells us.  “Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit” (Jn 15:4-10). 

We therefore follow his example whenever we provide a helping hand, a kind word, a compassionate response, a decision to forgive, a desire to love others.  We imitate Christ each time we renew our commitment to be just and good to others, especially the poor and vulnerable members of society.  Today’s reading from the Book of Wisdom suggests that the kingdom of heaven comes about in exactly this way—"You taught your people by these deeds, that those who are righteous must be kind” (Wis 12:19).

Our part in bringing about the kingdom of God therefore begins when we allow the Holy Spirit to change our hearts and direct our lives (Jn 15:4-10).  The Holy Spirit shows us how and when to be just, how and when to be merciful and kind, how to love, how to bring Christ to others.  His grace and inspiration are the spiritual yeast acting in our hearts that will eventually leaven the whole human community into the Kingdom of God.  Now is the time.

Some Good Old Ancient Advice (Mt 10:26-33)

Back in the days when my family and I went on vacation, we rarely went anywhere for more than a week or two.  For some unknown reason, however, we always packed enough clothes to be gone for six months, not to mention the snacks and drinks we also took along.  On those occasions when the family trip was to my in-laws for Christmas, then all the stuff we took with us made our car looked more like we were moving away.  

Too bad we didn’t follow the advice that Jesus gave to his twelve disciples before sending them out on their mission.  His advice has a lot of practical value that we could have used when packing our car.  His advice also has value that applies to our own spiritual journey as much as it did for the apostles.

We learn about that advice in a conversation Jesus has with the twelve.  We come in on the tail end of that conversation in today’s gospel where Jesus gives the apostles a sort of pep talk before sending them out.  He sends them to the towns and villages around Galilee to proclaim the good news, heal the sick, and drive out demons.  Before they go, however, Jesus provides them with some specific instructions for their journey.

He tells them what they are to take with them—no money, no sandals, only one tunic; and where they should go—to the lost sheep of Israel; and where to stay—in the house of a worthy person; and when to leave—either when their mission in that place is complete, or when the people there reject them.  Should that happen, Jesus has a special warning for those who reject the apostles.  He says that “it will be more tolerable for the land of Sodom and Gomorrah on the day of judgment than for that town” (Mt 10:15). 

This is how the apostles learn that things may not go as well as they might expect on their journey.  Jesus warns them because he knows that doing good works sooner or later will pit them against those who oppose such a purpose.  Odd as that may sound, there are those who actually oppose doing good, as much today as it was back then.  

In fact, Isaiah provides a warning to such persons.  To those who pretend that evil is good, and good is evil, to those who acquit the guilty for bribes, and deprive the innocent of justice, Isaiah says that they expose themselves to the wrath of God (Is 5:20-25).  They might hide their true intentions from others for a time, but in the end, they will be found out (Jn 3:20).  As Jesus points out, “Nothing is concealed that will not be revealed, nor secret that will not be known” (Mt 10:26).

Jesus appeals to such warnings because following him comes at a cost, at times including the cost of life itself.  For that reason, Jesus minces no words when he tells the apostles that they “will be hated because of his name, but that they shouldn’t worry, for they are worth more than many sparrows (Mt 10:31).  Thus, they can be sure that God the Father will take notice and reward their devoted witness (Mt 10:22-23).  

Jesus speaks to the apostles in this future sense because his mission of spreading the good news and doing good works will continue after his own earthly life ends.  His mission will continue not only with those apostles, but also with all the dedicated followers who come later (Jn 14:12).  Through his own life and mission, Jesus demonstrates that the true meaning of life is found only in loving service to others (Mt 16:25).  Thus, the final commissioning of the twelve before his ascension to go forth and teach all nations was only the beginning.  Our own baptismal call is a continuation of that same commission to be witnesses for Christ.  

It follows that the advice Jesus gave the twelve is meant for us as well, for we know that following Christ can be a challenge at times.  The challenge flows from the fundamental principle that guides our calling—love of God and love of neighbor.  As Jesus made clear, “The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments” (Mt 22:40).  Nevertheless, we all know from our own experience that loving some folks doesn’t come that easy.  Still, we are called to do just that in imitation of Christ, and so we try.  

In a sense, however, we have an advantage over the early apostles.  They followed Christ because they saw what he did and therefore believed in him.  We, on the other hand, have not seen or heard Jesus in a direct sense.  We only know Jesus indirectly.  We are those Jesus called attention to when he said to Thomas, “Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed” (Jn 20:29).  Our belief in Jesus at this point in the post resurrection era therefore affords us an advantage and blessing not available to those early followers of Christ.

This is where the advice Jesus gave to the disciples becomes helpful.  The first piece of advice was to travel light.  Sometimes, we get too focused on the things of this world, our material possessions, our jobs, our business and personal relationships.  Add on the potential for drama in our lives, and these otherwise legitimate concerns can become a real distraction on our spiritual journey.  When that happens, we might do well to lighten our load and be less anxious about our worldly affairs.  We might do well to spend less time on acquiring material wealth and more time on sharing what we have, especially our time and our love with those who need us the most, those closest to us.

The second piece of advice Jesus gave his apostles was to avoid certain people.  He refers to those who do us spiritual harm (Mt 10:28). Our commitment to doing good for others often goes against the cultural and political grain.  Thus, the cost of following Christ might include avoiding those who are at odds with our spiritual aims and undermine our spiritual welfare.  No matter how much we like them or value their opinion, avoiding them might be the only way to safeguard our own spiritual health.  

Despite the need for vigilance in this regard, the third piece of advice offers us hope.  In all cases, Jesus assures us that we have no reason to fear anyone or any set of circumstances, however unfair or unjust.  As the Psalmist proclaimed long ago, “If the Lord is my light and my salvation, whom should I fear?  If the Lord is my life’s refuge, of whom should I be afraid” (Ps 27:1).  Jesus offers us this same hope in the promise he made to the apostles.  He promised not to ask them, nor does he ask us, to endure anything beyond our capability, or that he himself has not already endured in one form or another (cf. 1 Cor 10:13).

This is what motivates St. Paul to remind the Hebrews that “we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who has similarly been tested in every way” (Heb 4:15).  Because our worth far exceeds that of a fallen sparrow, no matter how bleak or unfair things appear to us, Jesus is with us to the end (Mt 10:31; 28:20).  He is the source of our joy and the strength of our life—in this world and in the next. 

Faith is Expectation (Lk 24:13-35)

The road to Emmaus is a story about the road of life that could be told about any one of us.  Like the two disciples on their journey, we often encounter Jesus in unexpected ways and unexpected places on our own journey.  He remains hidden from our eyes, but opens our hearts and enlightens our minds to show us the way through our struggles.  This is essentially what happens to the main characters in the post resurrection stories, especially the disciples on their way to Emmaus.

These two disciples begin their journey in confusion and sadness—sad because Jesus is their leader and friend who recently suffered a cruel death, and confused because Jesus was not who they had wanted him to be.  They thought Jesus would be a great warrior who would restore Israel’s rightful place of honor among nations.  Instead, Jesus was betrayed by the leaders of his own religion, while the enemy of Israel remains firmly in place.  And, here they are, explaining all this to a stranger who joined them uninvited and is apparently unaware of all these events.  

So, they pour out their hearts telling the stranger all about Jesus.  What they did not expect was to have been taught so much by the stranger.  Much less did they expect the stranger to be Jesus himself.  Perhaps it is no coincidence that Jesus vanishes from their sight at the very moment they discover him in the breaking of bread with others.  Perhaps this is how Jesus shows us that now he dwells with us, and we dwell with him and with each other, in new and unexpected ways.

The Emmaus story calls to mind the many suppers Jesus had with tax collectors and those on the fringe during his life.  Intentionally socializing with those on the margin is how he sought to break down the barriers that separate and divide us.  Even at the last supper, Jesus broke bread with his betrayer, and washed the feet of his disciples to show them how to serve others in humility.  These events show us that Jesus remains with us and continues to teach us and show us the way.  Thus, Jesus has not vanished at all.  The challenge for us today is to look for him in the right places—where he can be found.

Looking for Jesus in the right places was the challenge for the main characters in the post resurrection stories.  They were looking in all the wrong places, expecting to see Jesus as a certain kind of person in a certain place.  For that reason, they were unable to see the real Jesus right before their eyes.  A friend of mine once illustrated this point to me by explaining his view of being caught in slow traffic.  

According to his explanation, our impatience with slow drivers in front of us inspires us to pray for a faster pace to get where we want to be.  At such times, we don’t think of the slow drivers as the messengers of Jesus, slowing us down to save us from a fatal accident ahead of us.  My friend makes an interesting point, although I do not know what he would say to someone who had to endure a more serious struggle.  

I am certain, however, that Jesus provides all the support and guidance we need no matter what we are going through, even if we don’t ask for it, or do not recognize Jesus as the source.  In times of trouble, we can be like the two disciples traveling to Emmaus.  Our anxiety and lack of trust keep us from realizing Jesus is right there with us.  Jesus always travels with us even though we are not aware of his presence.  This guarantee motivates Paul to claim in his letter to the Hebrews that the Lord will never forsake us or abandon us.  “Thus, we may say with confidence, the Lord is my helper…What can anyone do to me” (Heb 13:5-6; Ps 118:6).

We forget that Jesus often comes to us disguised as the marginalized, the poor, the hungry, the least of his children.  All we see, however, is the irritating associate who longs for and needs our patience; the caring friend who gives the unsolicited but loving advice; the expert healer who cares for us but does not understand our pain.  We see the vulnerable, the addict, the homeless, the stranger—but we do not see Jesus.  We are like the Emmaus travelers.  We see the stranger who needs to be taught, but we do not expect the stranger to teach us.  

In the same way, we come to the table of the Lord expecting to see only bread and wine, but we do not see the hidden Jesus longing for our arrival.  We do not see Jesus in others and in ourselves because we do not expect to see Jesus.  We think Jesus is somewhere else, hidden from our view.  The prophet Isaiah understands our insecurity in this regard, and for that reason says to us, “Seek the Lord while he may be found; call upon him while he is near” (Is 55:6).

As the powerful post resurrection stories reveal, Jesus is not put off by our doubt, our confusion, or our fear.  Jesus is the seeker who comes looking for us and finds us where we are on the road of life.  He is not discouraged or deterred by our expectations for him.  He came to show us the Father and the way to his home, our home.  Jesus does this in unexpected places, in unexpected ways, with unexpected people to unite himself to each of us and with each other in the bond of love.

This is the whole point of breaking of bread with others.  This communal meal is an act of peace that tears down the barriers between us and brings us together.  When we break bread with others, Jesus abides in each of us.  In union with Jesus, we become the new body of Christ.  Then, in the words of St. Paul to the Galatians, we can say it is no longer we who live, but Christ who lives in each of us (Gal 2:20).

Trust is Key (Jn 6:1-15)

Can you imagine what life must have been like when there were no modern food stores around?  If you wanted some vegetables for dinner, you didn’t hop in the car and run down to the grocery store.  You either went to the cellar and gathered from the stored harvest, or you did without.  Those were the conditions when Jesus poses his question to Phillip about where to buy enough food to feed the huge crowd following along.  

Along with the obvious lack of resources for that purpose, the amount of money it would take to buy the food even if it were available completely baffles Phillip.  The disciples manage to come up with the five loaves and two fish, and the miraculous results fill twelve wicker baskets.   With this miracle, Jesus aims to show that he is enough for all our needs, both physical and spiritual.  All we have to do is entrust all that we have to his care.  

The significance of this miracle is undeniable for that reason and others, especially since this story is the only miracle recorded in all four gospels.  We have John’s version, which he uses as one of seven signs that reveal who Jesus is and what he is about (The Gospel of John, Barclay, p. 9).  The multiplication story serves as a prelude to the bread of life teaching that occurs when Jesus says to the people, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst” (Jn 6:35).  The Eucharist is the bread of life, a mere morsel that feeds and nourishes the many, just as the multiplied bread had fed and nourished the many on the grassy knoll.  

The supporting characters in the multiplication story provide additional insight into who Jesus is and what he is about.  Phillip is the first.  When Jesus asks him where to buy food, Phillip’s immediate response is to throw up his hands in frustration and desperation.  He is overwhelmed.  He sees no available option.  Not only is no food available, the money needed to buy for so many is absurd.  Phillip suffers from the common ailment of paralysis by analysis, so he does nothing.  He doesn’t even think to ask Jesus for his opinion on the matter.   

How many times do we respond like Phillip when faced with what appears to be insurmountable odds?  Our anxiety and worry lead us to forget the advice of Peter who urged the early Christians to “Cast all your cares on God, because he cares for you” (1Pt5:7; Ps55:23).  Jesus likewise cautions against worry and urges us to have courage.  Seek first the kingdom of God, he says, and God will provide everything else we need (Mt 6:33-34).  We find it very difficult to accept that level of trust at face value.  We forget that God responds generously to those who put their trust in him (Ps 118:8; Mal 3:10). 

Andrew is another character in the story with a lesson for us today.  He is a little more positive than Phillip.  Andrew’s first response is to point out the boy with the bread and the fish.  Andrew’s positive approach quickly fades into skepticism, however.  He doubts the usefulness of such meager supplies for such a crowd.  Andrew has little confidence in his ability to do anything, so he simply relies on someone else to solve the problem.  

How often we act like Andrew.  We are hopeful at first that things will work out well, but our confidence soon turns to doubt.  We act like the seed that fell on rocky soil.  Our anxiety and fear hold us back, and we do not let our trust in Jesus take root.  We ignore the idea that Jesus pleads for our trust when he says, “Come to me all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest” (Mt 11:28).

Then, there is the boy.  We don’t even know his name, but we know that he brings all that he has with complete humility and trust that Jesus will accept his meager supplies and take care of the rest.  He surrenders himself to Jesus and lets Jesus take care of everything, and he does so without question.  His guideposts are total abandonment and trust in Jesus.  Wittingly or not, this young man took seriously the advice found in Proverbs: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart; on your own intelligence do not rely.  In all your ways be mindful of him, and he will make straight your paths” (Prov 3:5-6).

The lesson that all these characters offer is clear.  When Jesus said, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst” (Jn6:35), he claims that he alone can nourish our spirits.  He alone can satisfy our hungry hearts.  Jesus is enough for all.  The challenge for us is that we doubt this guarantee.  As a result, we don’t know how to find genuine nourishment.  We look it in the wrong places.  We spend our spiritual coin for what is not bread, our wages for what fails to satisfy (Is 55:2).  

There are times we experience spiritual poverty and feel as though we have nothing to eat or drink.  Yet, the Lord Jesus calls us out of our poverty.  He invites us to come to his banquet with trust.  He invites us to bring all that we have—our hunger, our thirst, our troubled hearts—bring it all to him, and then do whatever he says (Jn 2:5).  He is enough.  

The Son cries out, but the Father does not answer (Mt 27:46)

Nailed to the cross for our salvation, Jesus cries out to the Father, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”  With these words, Jesus seems to express despair in the face of his suffering.  Yet, this is not a cry of despair, but a painful cry of desolation and anguish that we hear from Jesus.  No wonder.  His cross is the culmination of a hellish tragedy, laden with deceit, infidelity, betrayal, ridicule, rejection, and condemnation.  Religious and political leaders have falsely accused Jesus.  His dearest and closest friends have fled in fear.  The crowds have mocked him and spit on him.  He has suffered the indescribable cruelty of crucifixion.  He is physically and morally exhausted.  Every ounce of energy gone.  Even the heavens have darkened in solidarity.  Is there any wonder that Jesus cries out in agony, “My god, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

With these words, Jesus protests his sense of abandonment, humiliation, and neglect.  His entire mission has been to do the will of his heavenly Father.  This was his only food by which he carried out his mission, emptying himself for others, proclaiming God’s kingdom, and doing good works.  And, Jesus had some measure of success—gathering a band of faithful followers and inspiring crowds to embrace his message of love and hope.  And now this—the injustice of the crucifixion—and the stone, cold silence of God.  The Son cries out, but the Father does not answer.

The Evangelist “does not hesitate to show Jesus in the utter agony of feeling forsaken as he faces a terrible death” (R. Brown, 44).  At his lowest moment, Jesus cries out in unity with the whole human condition.  We can understand the anguished prayer of Jesus in the Garden where he prayed for this cup to pass from him.  No wonder that, in the depths of his suffering on the cross, Jesus now confronts God with his pleading—but God does not answer.  God is silent.  How many times have we too cried out to God—and God does not answer.

The contrast between Jesus on the cross and Jesus in the desert at the beginning of his public ministry is stark indeed.  Jesus in the desert declares his unwavering faith in God by resisting all the lies and appeals to fear that Satan uses to lure him into abandoning the one true God.  Because Jesus keeps a steady hand and remains faithful in the face of adversity, the angels immediately come to his aid.  Jesus on the cross is no different.  There, Jesus once again has proven his faith in God to the last, and yet, no one comes to his aid, not even God it seems.  This contrast, this undeserved abandonment, this is the injustice that Jesus rails against with his cry of protest.  And yet, God is silent.

Perhaps the explanation lies in plain sight at the foot of the cross.  No one is there except his holy Mother and his beloved disciple, and the idle passersby who mock Jesus with sneering contempt.  All those who should have been there are nowhere to be found—his disciples, his supporters, his friends.  Even the women who had followed Jesus and ministered to him watched from a distance.  All those whom Jesus held near and dear had left him alone in his greatest need.  Because he was abandoned by all, Jesus felt abandoned even by God.  Are we surprised that this is what drives his painful question—why have you forsaken me?  Why have you left me alone?  Despite his sorrowful pleading, Jesus does not hear the Voice of Love.  God is silent.

Sad to say that a similar fate awaits many in today’s society.  When those who should care for us abandon us, we often feel abandoned by God.  When we abandon those for whom we should care, they feel abandoned by God.  This is especially true for those who cannot fend for themselves—the young, the old, the homeless, those subjected to violence and war, the weak, those without sufficient resources.  Those who are isolated from a web of love and support often feel a deep sense of powerlessness.  When their pleas for help go unanswered, they often feel abandoned.  The longer their pleas go without our response, eventually, they feel abandoned even by God.  If they do not hear us, they will not hear God.

This is a sad and terrible fate that the prophet Isaiah warns against (58:7).  Isaiah warns us not to turn our backs on our own, especially the vulnerable and those who suffer.  We are called to see the face of Christ in the sufferer, even in those whom we think deserve to suffer.  Our commitment to Christ compels us to respond to suffering with love.  There is no place for self righteousness in regard to the suffering of our neighbor.  We, the Samaritan of today, stop by the side of the road, not out of curiosity, but out of solidarity, availability, sensitivity, and a willingness to be effective in our help (Salvifici doloris, 28-29, John Paul II).

Although our immediate response to suffering is invariably one of protest, our love for Christ and for others compels us to discover anew the meaning of suffering, not on a human level, but on God’s level.  On God’s level, love becomes the most effective response and antidote to suffering of any kind, especially suffering from hatred, violence, cruelty, contempt, and insensitivity.  Through his own life and mission of love, Christ taught us to care for those who suffer and to seek the good with our own suffering.

Christ is our model and our protector.  He has been in the depths of our suffering.  The crucified Christ understands how we feel when faced with insurmountable odds.  He knows what it means to feel all alone and without help from anyone.  Jesus knows the feeling of exhaustion, the fear of never being able to succeed, the horrible doubt of not having done enough or the right thing.  He knows the pain and isolation like those who are divorced, addicted to drugs or alcohol, battered or raped, out of work and without resources.  Jesus knows what it means to feel alone and unloved.  He knows the feeling of depression and chronic disability.  Without any doubt, Jesus understands the silence of God.

With his own life, crucifixion, and death, Jesus shows us that we are not alone in these experiences.  Because of our mutual need for care and understanding, there is solidarity among those who suffer.  Because of Christ’s constant concern and love for each of us, there is also solidarity with him, who suffers with us each time we suffer.  For this reason, all suffering is holy and deserves reverence. The poet Elizabeth Lavers gives reverence and voice to this solidarity in her poem, “Why hast Thou forsaken me?” Her loving verse of four stanzas with four lines each is a beautiful, heartfelt description of the suffering Christ on the cross, and a fitting reflection on the way of the cross: 

Rejected and set apart

To hang between earth and sky,

Straight from his anguished heart

Comes this dreadful cry.

His spirit wearies now.

Forsaken and alone.

Bearing, I can’t tell how,

Our sins, not his own.

No voice to wish him well.

No milestone or mark

In all the bleak wastes of Hell,

All the freezing dark.

Now that he nears death’s gate

I must not turn away.

But I weep for him, desolate.

And try to pray.

A Trusted Friend (Jn 11:1-45)

Having a trusted friend close at hand in times of trouble can be a great source of strength and comfort.  The very presence of such a friend can be uniquely beneficial, especially when a loved one of ours dies.  If our dear friend fails to show up during our time of need without good reason, our emotional distress and sense of loss can be more agonizing.  We often feel alone and abandoned, more so if we had asked our friend beforehand to be there at a particular time, and still, they do not show.

This must have been the way Martha felt when Jesus finally showed up after Lazarus had died and she said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died, but even now I know that whatever you ask, God will give you” (Jn 11:21-22).  Despite her distress over Jesus not being there at a critical time, Martha does not lose hope.  She still trusts that Jesus will help her, and he does.  Jesus eagerly reciprocates her faith by raising Lazarus to life.  Take away the stone!  Come out of the tomb!  Untie him and let him go!!  This is how Jesus offers hope in the face of death—he embraces life.

Hope and trust are the whole point of the story about raising Lazarus from the dead.  With this miracle, Jesus underscores the whole purpose of his mission.  Jesus came that we may have life to the full (Jn 10:10).  Jesus is the source of all life, and he offers eternal life to those who believe in him and follow his way of love.  This is the hope that Jesus offers Martha as a comfort in her sorrow.  This is the same hope that he offers all of us.

In raising Lazarus, Jesus demonstrates his power over life and death, both in a physical and a spiritual sense.  Therefore, not only can he make good on his own claim to rise from the dead.  Jesus shows that he can make good on his promise of eternal life to those who believe in him and trust in his ways (Ps 37:3-4; Jer 17:7-8).  Against the hopelessness and sadness of death, Jesus reveals the hope that he alone embodies.  I am the resurrection and the Life, says Jesus; he who believes in me shall live, even if he dies (Jn 11:25).  

An interesting detail in this story is the very human emotions that Jesus displays upon his arrival.  Jesus grieves with Mary and Martha over the loss of their brother, for he too loves Lazarus.  The language used in the story conveys the depth of Jesus’ feelings:  he is “...deeply moved in spirit and was troubled” (v33).  He weeps (v35).  Jesus is not only sorrowful.  He is also perturbed over the tragedy and harsh reality of death itself (v38).  Thus, with his own tears and emotions, Jesus shows that he is our brother.  He knows and understands our suffering and sorrow, especially over the death of our loved ones.

For these reasons, the raising of Lazarus is a powerful story about faith, hope, trust and love.  It is also a story about fear and rejection.  The story reflects two different reactions to the event.  Some of those who witness the raising of Lazarus embrace Jesus in faith.  The disciples even had their faith strengthened by the event.  Others, however, react with fear and rejection.  

The chief priests and the Pharisees were among those who became very afraid of Jesus when they learned what he had done.  Their fear was so great that they immediately began their plot to murder Jesus a few days later.  For all we know, their plans may very well have included a plot to murder Lazarus as well, to erase the influence and appeal of the miracle.  In any case, the story reveals that having hope and trust in Jesus can be risky business, as much today as it was back in his day.  Nevertheless, Jesus calls us to follow him and live in the Spirit of God with the same three commands that he gave at the tomb of Lazarus.

First, Jesus commands all those present to “Take away the stone” (v 39-41).  Imagine that we are the tomb, with hearts and minds closed to what God wants.  Jesus urges us to take away the stone that blocks his entry into our hearts.  He implores us to remove the stone that blocks our faith and trust in God.  God wants to put His spirit in us and turn our stony hearts into natural hearts for love, but only if we allow it.  The Psalmist highlights our freedom in that regard when he says, “if today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts” (Ps 95:7-8).  In all humility, Jesus begs us to make room for him in our hearts without delay.

The second command Jesus gives to the dead man himself: “Lazarus, come out!”  Lazarus does just that and gropes his way out of the tomb.  He stumbles because he cannot see. He is all wrapped up in burial linens.  At times, we too cannot hear God calling us, or we hear but do not listen because we are tightly wrapped up in our own wishes and desires.  But this is no excuse.  We have a choice in that respect.  This freedom is what motivates Paul’s advice to the Ephesians—learn what is pleasing to God (Eph 5:10).  Isaiah too declares that we can learn to do good and seek justice (Is 1:17).  Thus, if we ask, Jesus will help us loosen the bonds of selfishness and structure our lives with the values of God.

The third command Jesus gives directly to the community: “Untie him and let him go.”  Lazarus needs the community to set him free.  Some of our friends and loved ones are in the tomb of hopelessness and despair.  Some are in the bondage of oppression and injustice.  Some are wrapped tight in prejudice and criticism.  Like Lazarus, they need our help to be set free—those who struggle with finances or family problems, or those who suffer with sickness or addiction, or those who are separated or alienated from friends and loved ones.  Even if they do not ask, our love and forgiveness can help free them and bring them back to life in Christ.  This is true even when all we have to give is heartfelt prayer. 

Jesus wants the Lazarus miracle to happen again.  Each time we take away the stone that stands between us and our companions in Christ—each time we step out of the tomb of isolation and help others—each time we break the chains of fear and reach out with love and forgiveness—we help Jesus bring others to life again.  This is risky business for sure.  Some may ridicule our offer and reject our help.  We may lose more in the effort than we expect.  We may even fail to achieve the desired result.

We are not without hope, however, for we know that God is the everlasting health of those who believe in Him.  “We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose” (Rm 8:28).  Thus, with all confidence, we implore His aid to restore us to bodily and spiritual health.  We give thanks for His love through Christ, for, with the Lord, there is mercy and fullness of redemption.  There is eternal life.  We can place our hope and trust in Jesus without fear, for he is our light and our salvation (Ps 27:1). 

It's Not What You Think (Lk 9-22-25)

We often misunderstand the kind of self-denial and sacrifice called for in following Christ.  Our misunderstanding stems from the claims that Jesus makes in a conversation with his disciples.  Jesus tells his disciples that he soon must undergo great suffering, and that we too must take up our own daily cross to follow him.  From this claim, we get the idea that following Jesus might create tension between our wills and the will of God.  In reality, the sacrifice and self-denial Jesus calls for does the very opposite—it brings the kind of peace possible only by living in a manner consistent with the values of God.

Jesus proves this point in confronting several temptations in the desert before starting his public ministry.  Satan presents these temptations to entice Jesus away from his original purpose—to do the will of God.  In tempting Jesus, the devil tries to repeat his success with Adam and Eve.  Satan tempts Adam and Eve with what appears to be an attractive alternative to the life and mission God had given them.  Satan seduces Adam and Eve into believing that they would be as gods, if only they would follow his command.  Satan offers Adam and Eve a different interpretation of their lives, and they buy into it.  Instead of holding fast to the life and mission that God had given them, Adam and Eve settle for the illusion invented by Satan.

Jesus, on the other hand, does not buy into the interpretation of his life and mission that Satan offers.  The devil tries to seduce Jesus into believing that Jesus’ mission is to be financially secure with material wealth and political power.  Jesus rejects that interpretation and holds fast to the life and mission that God gives him.  He understands and accepts what faithfulness entails for him in this world despite the self-denial and suffering involved—and God rewards his faithfulness.  For, the angels come and minister to Jesus after he successfully resists these temptations and reaffirms his faithfulness to God, no matter the cost.

The success of Jesus in resisting these temptations gives the impression that he’s now off the hook.  He’s proven his mettle as the faithful Son of God and will no longer endure temptation of any kind.  In reality, the desert temptations were only an example and prelude to the temptations that Jesus would continually face throughout his earthly life (Lk 4:13; Mt 16:23).  This reality is the basis for Paul’s claim that Jesus is able to “sympathize with our weaknesses…because he has been tested in every way like we are, yet is without sin” (Heb 4:15).  

Hunger, grief, rejection, homelessness, and the unrelenting threat to his life posed by the Pharisees were no less difficult for Jesus than for anyone.  These conditions alone would pose a constant temptation for Jesus to abandon his mission and avoid the easily foreseeable cruel death he would endure.  So, no, Jesus was not let off the hook once he conquered the desert temptations.

We might be tempted to think that such temptations are not ours to deal with and overcome.  And yet, with all the glamor and attractions of modern life, listening and responding to the Word of God is a challenge at times, to say the least.  There are many other voices competing for our attention and devotion.  Do we follow a voice alien to our Father in heaven?  Jesus said that his sheep hear his voice and follow him (Jn 10:27).  Do we accept the interpretation of our lives that others try to impose on us?  Do we let others decide who we are or who we should be?  Do we abandon the grace and purpose that God gives us in favor of the interpretation that others have for us?  Do we respond to temptation like the Israelites in the desert who chose a golden calf idol over the true God, or do we follow Jesus in the desert and remain faithful to God no matter the cost?

We are children of God.  Jesus said that being a member of his family meant not only hearing the Word of God, but acting on it as well (Luke 8:19-21).  As children of God, we are called not only to be hearers of the Word, but also doers of the Word (Jm 1:22-25).  Lent is a time of preparation and choice to adopt and follow the values of God.  

May these days of Lent be our preparation to imitate the faithfulness of Jesus.  We have Jesus’ word that the Holy Spirit is our guide and helper (Acts 1:3-4).  His own response to temptations in the desert is reason enough to believe that Jesus will keep his word.  For, we have a high priest able to sympathize with our weaknesses in every way (Heb 4:15).  In that case, we can be sure that following Jesus creates harmony with the will of God and brings the peace he offers to his faithful ones.   

Take Off the Mask (Mt 5:17-37)

Very soon, we will celebrate Mardi Gras in preparation for Lent.  A fun part of Mardi Gras is the enjoyment of many foods and various delights before giving up some of them for Lent.  Another fun part of this celebration are the many parades and costume parties that go on.  Putting on a costume and mask to hide our true identity is always fun because we can pretend to be anybody we want.  Indeed, pretense is the whole point of wearing a mask.

In real life, we also wear masks for the same reason.  At times, we want to pretend in a way that conceals our thoughts or emotions, or enables us to meet social expectations, or to hide our true intentions.  In most cases, the pretense is a harmless part of ordinary living, like putting your best foot forward, so to speak.  The innocence of wearing a mask disappears, however, when the pretense becomes an excuse for mistreating or unjustly harming others.  

The injustice of this kind of pretense is precisely why Jesus called out the hypocritical behavior of the Pharisees.  Their public pretense of keeping the Word of God concealed their fake piety and religious elitism.  Their mask enabled the extortion and mistreatment of others for personal gain.  They had taken the wrong road.  Theirs was an inauthentic faith that undercut their true spiritual destiny by steering them away from the true God.  Jesus wants us to go the other way and stay on the right road of authentic faith based on the values and wisdom of God.  

To that end, he does something a bit unexpected.  He provides several examples to help us think outside the box and expose the illusion and spiritual danger of an inauthentic faith.  He deepens our understanding in that regard by describing anger as having the same root as murder.  He warns us to settle our differences before offering our gifts at the altar.  He claims that the vows of marriage require more than a pretense of loyalty.  He says that mocking others and calling them names is a form of cruelty subject to severe judgement.

From a modern perspective, these claims appear absurd, impractical, and unreasonable.  Today, we readily shun those who hate us.  We think nothing of returning insult for insult.  We imprison those who steal as common criminals, and we expect repayment in full for money loaned.  We only give to those who deserve it, and we know exactly who qualifies.  We view bad behavior as deserving of just punishment.

Authentic faith, on the other hand, calls for a different perspective—love of enemies, doing good to those who hate us, giving more to the one who steals from us, lending without expecting a return, refusing to judge and condemn others.  Jesus wants us to stop focusing on who deserves our help, and instead, offer assistance when and where needed regardless of why the person needs our help.  This is not to say that motive counts for nothing, but it does mean that we cannot turn our backs on those who need our cloak, our funds, our respect.  To refuse such help is unjust.

God gives us a choice between life and death, good and evil.  Whichever we choose will be given us.  We receive back what we give: give and gifts will be given in good measure…overflowing in fact (Ps 126:5; Lk 6:38).  We can live by the wisdom and values of God if we so choose (Sir 15:15).  As Jesus puts it, whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake, will find it (Mt 16:25).  The inference of that choice is plain enough—we literally build our spiritual life both here and in the hereafter by the way we live day by day, deed by deed, choice by choice.

We simply make better choices on our spiritual journey when we love others in a way that is shaped by our love for God.  This is the point that Christ makes when he emphasizes the preeminence of love with the two great commandments.  For Jesus, love binds us to each other and to God in a dynamic, interconnected relationship.  The result is that whatever we do to and for the other, we do to and for Christ himself.  Living by the principle of love means that we see things in a different way than is expected.  We see with the eyes of the soul rather than with ordinary eyes.  

With ordinary eyes, many of the “least” don’t look as we imagine God.  The least may frighten us, be different from us, or seem undeserving.  Such a vision leads us to give only to those who give to us; to do good to those who do good to us; lend only to those who will repay.  Jesus calls us to a different way of life, a different way of seeing things. Jesus expects us to live according to the values and wisdom of God.

In essence, Jesus expects us to follow him on his path of love.  He is our model for daily living in both word and deed.  We put on the mind of Christ without pretense to see ourselves and others as Jesus sees us—with the eyes of love.  This is the essence of authentic faith that enables us to be the kind of person we are meant to be, in which case we have no need of masks.  This deeper perspective on authentic faith is what Jesus means when he says that he came not to abolish the law or the prophets, but to fulfill. 

Stick to the Right Road (Mk 6:14-29)

The mission of John the Baptist is described in the New Testament as the “voice of one crying out in the desert,” proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins (Mk 1:4; Is 40:3).  In fact, these three words—sin, repentance, and forgiveness—indicate the entire focus of John’s mission, a mission that Jesus himself reaffirmed when he said, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand” (Mt 4:17).  These three words have meaning for us today as well, because sin is part and parcel of the human fabric.  Thus, the need for repentance and forgiveness persists to this day.

Sin itself is a matter of going down the wrong road, embracing something that takes us away from the one true God.  To sin is to follow and imitate a false god.  We get an idea of what a false god is in the Psalm that reads: “Their idols are silver and gold, the work of human hands…Those who make them become like them; as do all who trust in them” (Ps 115:4-8).  In other words, false gods are those things with no lasting value, the illusions we treasure and prefer.  We know what those illusions are because we know what captures our attention, and how we devote our time and energy.  We know what matters to us.   

For that reason, the god we worship—whether the true God or a false god—always motivates and energizes our decisions about what to pursue and how to live in the world (CCC 1782-89; CCC for Adults, p. 315).  There is a spiritual line that separates the two possibilities, with legitimate attention and effort on one side, and the illusion of idol worship on the other.  No rule of religion or theology draws this line for us.  Each of us knows where the line is and when we cross it.  

All of this is to say that sin is not simply a matter of breaking rules by doing this, or not doing that.  Rather, sin is a mindset, a choice to turn away from the true God of love toward a false god of illusion.  It follows that repentance is a decision to go back on the right road.  What triggers a decision to repent is perhaps different for each of us, but St. Paul attributes the underlying motivation to God himself.  

For Paul, the loving kindness of God leads a person to give up sinful ways and once again live with integrity, to live in a manner consistent with the values of God (Rm 2:4).  In this sense, repentance is more often a process of transformation that begins with an awareness that we have crossed the line, that we have gone down the wrong road.  Acknowledging and owning this error in turn leads to a desire for forgiveness.    

Forgiveness is a standing offer from God, always available, without reserve, to those who ask for it (1 Jn 1:9).  In fact, the word “pardon” first appears in the golden calf story when Moses says to God, “If I find favor with you, Lord, please…pardon our wickedness and sins, and claim us as your own.”  God does just as Moses requests, thus revealing himself to be a God of mercy and forgiveness (Num 14:20).  

This exchange between God and Moses shows that God does not deal with us according to our sins, but with his mercy.  God is therefore our hope because he is gracious and slow to anger, a God of second chances who is eager to forgive our unfaithful behavior (Ps 103:8-10).  Awareness of our loving God is often the inspiration we need to repent and remain steadfast on the right road.

To Witness is to Evangelize is to Witness (Jn 1:29-34)

Suppose we knew that God wanted each of us to be his chief witness for Jesus, to testify on his behalf in a way that inspires faith in others.  Could we meet that challenge?  How would we meet that challenge?  These questions must have occurred to John the Baptist, appointed by God to be a chief witness for Christ, to testify to the Light.  John is not the only one called by God to be a witness for Jesus, nor is he the first.  

The first witness is Mary, the mother of our Lord Jesus.  God chose Mary to proclaim the coming of the Lord, first to her cousin Elizabeth, and then to others—in a special way at his birth, and then later at the Cana wedding feast.  There are many other such witnesses whose testimony is recorded in the New Testament.

These early witnesses are in essence the first evangelizers.  They were eager to spread the good news of salvation through Jesus Christ.  They simply revealed to others what they had seen and heard.  In fact, the efforts of these first evangelizers defined the course of missionary work in the early Church that continues today in full force the world over.   We celebrate this missionary work every year on the third Sunday in October.  This year will mark the 100th anniversary of this celebration established by Pius XI.  The theme for this year’s celebration chosen by Pope Leo is “One in Christ, united in mission.”

The heart of all missionary work centers on the confident proclamation of the message of Christ.  The aim is to inspire trust and faith in Christ.  Go forth and teach all nations, Jesus says to his disciples.   This directive applies to more than a select few in the Church, however (Mt 28:19).  As followers of Christ, we all are called to proclaim his message.   

There is no better way to understand his words when Jesus says, come, follow me.  All four gospels record this invitation of Jesus (Mt.16:24-28, Mk. 8:34-35, Lk. 9:23-24, Jn. 12:25).  Jesus calls each of us to work in his vineyard (Mt. 20:1-16, Mk. 10:29-31, Lk. 18:29-30), to be his witnesses (Acts 1:8).  In accepting his invitation, we in fact become evangelizers.  The question for us today is how do we do that?  How can we evangelize the Christian message?  

The short answer is twofold—we evangelize with our lives and with our deeds.  There is no other way to evangelize other than living out the faith that we hold in our hearts.  The way we live our daily lives in fact is our answer to the invitation by Jesus to follow him.  In turn, what we hold dear in our hearts motivates what we do, our deeds.  We always do what is important to us.  When our lives are centered on Christ and his love for us, we bring his loving presence to others in a way that inspires faith and heals the soul (Mt 7:16, Rm 15:7).  Evangelization is fundamentally a journey of love.  

Jesus invites us to go with him on this journey for three good reasons.  First, Jesus appeals to our natural fondness for challenge.  This is the whole point in asking us to go on a journey that invites us to exchange our love of wealth for love of others.  Jesus wants us to journey with him, who is love itself.  Jesus is fully aware that accepting his invitation means that we abandon our fear of the unknown and place our trust in him.  He also knows how difficult this can be at times.

Second, Jesus appeals to our natural fascination with mystery.  We like the mysterious.  Jesus asks us to follow him without saying where we shall go or what we will do together.  Jesus invites us without providing the details.  We do not chart the way.  We do not decide when to rest and when to go on.  We do not even know what the experience will be like along the way.  We simply get up, leave behind our old ways and habits, and follow him.  

Third, Jesus appeals to our natural desire for community, for connection.  His invitation is to voluntarily associate with his followers in a special way.  Living in community provides the most fundamental way we experience love, especially in our families and in our faith communities.   In both family and in community, we can learn how to connect with others in a meaningful way.  We learn how to love and invite others to join our community.  

These three elements—challenge, mystery, and community—are the heart and soul of the invitation that Jesus extends.  With these elements, Jesus aims to show that the journey of love, however mysterious, is a journey that leads to eternal life.  That journey begins with a genuine attitude of trust and abandon in the here and now.  

Our choice to accept his offer calls for us to think about our lives in comparison to how Jesus invites us to live—seeking peace, honoring justice, showing mercy, and above all, loving others without bias and judgment.  In that case, we might have to give up some old ways of doing things, but we have nothing to fear in accepting this challenge.  We can trust the Holy Spirit to show us the way and to provide the necessary grace to “walk the talk” (2 Cor 12:9).

Walking on this path provides opportunity to encounter others with the ears and eyes of faith.  Faith enables us to see Christ in ourselves and in others.  We can do this because each person we encounter on the path of love is a child of God.  When we look into the face of another, no matter how distorted or ugly that face appears to us, we look into the face of Christ.  When we deliberately seek the Lord in our encounters with others, especially the least of his children, we are sure to see him.

Our calling to evangelize is a calling to live a different way in the world, to see things in a different way, to adopt a worldview that is possible only through Christ, who strengthens us for the task (Phil 4:13).  As evangelizers, we become coworkers with Christ.  We become the salt of the earth, light for the world, a branch of the true vine, a temple of the Holy Spirit, who in turn renews the face of the earth.  We are all chosen for a life of good works born of faith and love to bring about a new reality, a new world—the kingdom of God.  This is what evangelization is all about.  This is what it means to bring the message of Christ to others.  

Faith is Active, Not Static (Mk 2:1-12)

    There’s a different way to imagine what faith means than how we usually think of it today.  Today, we tend to think of faith in static terms, more as a frame of mind, something we have, rather than something we do.  In modern terms, having faith in God is commonly understood as a belief that God exists, while the content of our faith is a set of beliefs about God.  The ancient Hebrews, however, understood faith as something more than a fixed belief.

    For them, faith was an active relationship with God built on a lively belief and trust on their part that God would make good on his promises; that God would indeed do as he said he would.  For that reason, their lives centered on their faith, which in turn, shaped and influenced the way they lived.  In other words, the ancient Hebrews understood faith in an active sense, something they did.  Their faith was a matter of daily living in a vibrant, dynamic, trusting relationship with God.  

    This is the background for the story of healing in today’s gospel.  The story of Jesus healing the paralytic is a story about faith in an active sense.  Notice that the paralytic does not ask Jesus for healing.  Rather, he is brought before Jesus by his friends and remains silent.  This approach reveals humility and courage on his part as a reflection of his hope and trust.  The paralytic’s desperate need to be among the living once again compels him to seek the help of Jesus.  And, in his compassion, Jesus meets the man where he is, in his silent need.  Their encounter shows that hope, trust and compassion are the essence of faith rather than law and ritual.  Their encounter shows that the relationship between believer and God is a personal relationship built on trust and energized by faith.

    In plain terms, the story reveals Jesus’ divine power to heal in both a physical and a spiritual sense and welcome the sinner back into the faith community.  Inspired by faith, the paralytic takes the initiative in approaching Jesus with hope for a cure, and trusts that Jesus will respond with compassion.  Jesus does indeed respond with compassion and authority to heal the man’s paralysis and forgive his sins.  Jesus affirms the authenticity of his faith, first by forgiving the man’s sins, and then by telling him to “rise, pick up your mat, and go home.”   

    The lesson for us is clear.  Jesus is willing to respond to us in our need, and wants us to be daring in seeking his help.  Because Jesus wants a relationship with us, he does not restrict who may seek him or when.  Clearly, the paralytic sought Jesus WHEN he was in need of healing, and BEFORE he was healed.  Jesus is not saying to us:  Go get holy, go be healed of your sins and then knock on the door.  Rather, Jesus says to us:  Knock on the door and I will open it.  I will show you how to be holy.  I will forgive you and welcome you back into full communion with me.

    The encounter between Jesus and the paralytic demonstrates that we can approach Jesus no matter what our circumstances.  Jesus meets us where we are.  He looks for and is eager to respond to the faith and trust that each of us can muster.  We can trust that Jesus will respond to our needs with compassion.  That is the nature of his love.  May the faith and trust of the paralytic inspire and strengthen us in our own faith and trust in Jesus that we may follow him more closely in our daily lives. 

Be a Dreamer (Mt 1:18-24)

An angel appearing to Joseph in dream would not have seemed unusual to him, or to the ancient Israelites (Mt. 1:20).  Scripture records many such dreams as a means of divine communication and prophecy.  For example, the First Book of Kings records the dream of Solomon wherein he receives wisdom from God (1 Kings 3:12).  Genesis describes the dream of Joseph, the beloved son of Jacob, whose dream was about his own fate and that of his family before being sold into slavery by his brothers (Gen 37:5-11).  Matthew records the dream of the wise men who are warned to take a different route home to avoid the danger posed by Herod (Mt 2:12).  

Foiled by the Magi, Herod does not let up.  For that reason, soon after the birth of Jesus, Joseph receives a second dream instructing him to flee with his family to Egypt to avoid the violence of Herod.  Yes, Mary, Joseph and Jesus were indeed refugees like the many refugees of today who must flee their homes for safety reasons.  In any case, the dreams recorded in scripture were meant to prepare the dreamer for action, and preparation is the heart of every Advent season.

Before Joseph has his first dream, however, he becomes aware that Mary is pregnant.  How he becomes aware of that the story does not reveal, but his awareness brings about a difficult dilemma for him.  The Mosaic Law requires that he now renounce his promise of marriage to Mary because of her apparent infidelity.  He has two options in that regard.  He can do so in a very public manner that exposes Mary to public scorn, humiliation, and possibly even death by stoning as prescribed by the Law.  Or, the alternative provides that Joseph give Mary a discreet bill of divorce that avoids such dreadful consequences.  Because he is compassionate and merciful, Joseph chooses the latter option and plans to divorce Mary in a private manner.  

Mary also faces a difficult time of decision.  Because she is an unmarried woman and pregnant, she is aware of the likely threatening consequences that will come about by accepting the proposal delivered by Gabriel.  Such consequences include a humiliating bill of divorce from Joseph and the ultimate possibility of death by stoning.  We know how Mary courageously faced these adverse consequences to become the mother of Jesus.  Her consent expresses her profound faith and trust in the Lord.

Ironically, the way Joseph initially chooses to resolve his own dilemma would have helped Mary resolve her situation in a satisfactory manner as well.  Before Joseph carries out his decision, however, lo and behold, an angel of the Lord appears to him in a dream.  The angel reassures him about his original marriage plans with Mary, which is enough for Joseph.  Although he cannot foresee the full consequences of following the inspiration of the Lord, Joseph sets aside his personal judgement and fear to comply with the angel’s instruction.  

Like Mary, Joseph places his trust in the Lord and goes against the grain of public opinion to do the right thing—follow the right road—despite the hardship that such a choice will bring about for him.  His response mirrors the faith and trust that Mary places in the Lord.  Their story of faith and trust in the Lord despite the consequences is an ancient story that we commemorate and celebrate in a special way on Christmas day and throughout the season.

Given the way we have idealized and romanticized their story, however, we tend to overlook the difficult challenges Mary and Joseph had to endure and resolve.  For one, at serious stake for both is their intimate relationships and reputation with family and friends.  These relationships could easily deteriorate and turn ugly, or cease altogether, depending on how others viewed their decisions.  The same holds true with respect to their standing in their faith community.  Indeed, their personal identities—how they saw themselves and how others understood them—could, and most likely would be altered forever by the decisions they made.  Indeed, their entire spiritual fate is at stake.  The unavoidable degree of fear and unimaginable difficulty Mary and Joseph must have endured in their situation are important but often overlooked aspects of their story that offer inspiration for us today.

In fact, Mary and Joseph are iconic examples of how to resolve any conflict and do the right thing.  How they faced the fear and anxiety of unexpected challenges with family, friends, and community offers inspiration to all those in difficult situations.  This is especially true for those who are poor, homeless, refugees, immigrants, and those who must flee their homes for safety reasons.  Mary and Joseph also offer support and encouragement for those who must deal with painful stress and unavoidable disruptions in family life.  

Most of us find inspiration in the story of Mary and Joseph because we see ourselves as independent agents willing to go against the grain of public opinion to do the right thing.  We pride ourselves on our determination to live by our humanitarian values in helping the poor and homeless, for example, despite the fact that we too can be a fearful people.  But, sometimes our fear leads us instead to protect ourselves by rejecting, shunning, and ostracizing those who are different from us—any person or group that does not fit our view of the world and our purpose in it.  

Sometimes, we add ridicule and condemnation to further separate ourselves from those who are different.  The many recent violent attacks against minority groups of one kind or another is one hideous example of how fear sometimes ignites a violent response to that which is different.  This contradiction in values and the underlying fear that often motivates a distasteful and dreadful response is what the dream of Joseph is all about.

For that reason, the way in which Joseph ultimately resolves his conflict provides a message of hope and guidance for us today.  Although Joseph’s first response is to let public opinion and fear drive his choice to quietly divorce Mary, he ultimately puts his total trust in the Lord.  With courage, he follows a new path of love and compassion.  If he looks like a sinner, so be it.  Joseph had a conflict of values that he resolved by placing his trust in the Lord; likewise for Mary.

We can do the same.  We can hand ourselves over to the Holy Spirit.  We can place our trust in the Lord and allow him to guide and inspire our choices, especially those choices that are difficult and possibly disruptive to our daily routines.  And, like Joseph and Mary, we can be sure of the outcome.  Joseph’s dream and his decisions echo the ancient proverb, “Trust in the Lord in all things” (Prov 3:5).  Like Joseph and Mary, we can be confident that the Lord works all things to the good for those who love him (Rm 8:28).  Let their inspiration and trust in the Lord be the heart of our Advent and Christmas celebration.