The most blessed

Now as soon as Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leapt in her womb and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. She gave a loud cry and said, ‘Of all women you are the most blessed, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.

Luke 1:41 - 42

What can it mean for human history when God chooses to become like us? Not like us in some ways, but in every way. He entered his own creation as a helpless infant. He was fed by his human mother, learned to recognise her voice, uttered first words and made first steps. He was taught to love with an open heart. He was introduced to the landscape of the Holy Land and heard the stories of his Hebrew people. He grew, over time, to come to understand who he was and what he was called to be. No doubt this child Jesus along the way, said or did things he may have regretted, been hurt by what others may have said, fallen, been saddened, bereaved, admonished, corrected, admired, celebrated. To be anything less, is to be less than human.

What purpose do the infancy narratives in Luke and Matthew’s have? Why are they so plainly different from each other? What do they tell us about the mystery that is the Incarnation?

We know that the narratives are later constructions in their respective communities and that they respond to very specific circumstances in those communities. The three Magi of Matthew, for example, emphasise the Christian mission to the gentiles and the primacy of Israel among the nations, how these men from foreign lands are able to ‘read’ the stars, follow the star to Bethlehem and then worship the child as Lord. The choice of Bethlehem as the child’s birthplace has already been determined by the prophets (Micah 5:1). The flight into Egypt and the Holy Family’s return to Nazareth mirrors the Hebrew’s migration to and subsequent flight from Egypt. Luke uses a rich tapestry of images from the scriptures, his Jesus is wrapped in swaddling clothes like a child born to poverty, his shepherds remind us of the church ready for the coming of the Lord, awake and watching, again mirroring the life of Israel as it awaits its own saviour, the Christ.

What feelings for her son Jesus did Mary possess that each of you has not felt at the birth of your own children? What heartfelt joy, what protectiveness, that flows from deep within us. You each know the healing and warmth that comes from a newborn child. As you hold your child you dream of futures unknown, of potentials yet to be unleashed, of returns that promise to be savoured.

Were Mary and Joseph aware of what they were heading into? I cannot imagine they knew anything more about parenting than we did when we became parents. Were their moments of satisfaction and relief accompanied by choirs of angels and visits from shepherds and Magi? In reality I don’t know, and for me they are just incidental to this wondrous and most beautiful and godly sacrament we call the miracle of life. Jesus has come amongst us. Come, Lord Jesus, come.

Wishing all of you a happy and holy Christmas.

Peter Douglas

‘Silent Night’ turns 200 this year. Is it the greatest Christmas song ever?

Edward W Schmidt SJ

The hills around Salzburg are alive, we hear, “alive with the sound of music.” Young and old, the people sing and hum and strum. The water in the brooks laughs as it trips and falls downstream. Church chimes sigh with the breeze.

This music, we also hear, has been sung for 1,000 years. Maybe. But one song—probably the most famous—is celebrating only 200 years. On Christmas Eve 1818, in the church of St. Nicholas in Oberndorf near Salzburg, “Stille Nacht” (“Silent Night”) was sung for the first time.

The words to “Silent Night” were the work of the Rev. Joseph Mohr, a young priest in Oberndorf. He wrote them in 1816 as a reflection on peace after a summer of violence in Salzburg. On Christmas Eve two years later, he asked his friend Franz Xaver Gruber, a schoolteacher in the neighboring town of Arnsdorf and also the organist in Oberndorf, to set his words to music. Gruber did so, and together that evening at Christmas Eve Mass, the two performed “Silent Night” for the gathered faithful, Mohr singing and Gruber playing the guitar, since the church organ was not working. “Silent Night” was an immediate sensation.

The story of the carol’s origin was lost for a couple of decades, even as Tyrolean choristers performed it across Europe. In Berlin, people tried to trace its origin. In 1854, the Royal Hofkapelle (court orchestra) in Berlin contacted the Archabbey of St. Peter’s in Salzburg to research the composer of the carol. It was thought the composer might have been Johann Michael Haydn (1737-1806), Joseph Haydn’s younger brother. Felix Gruber, Franz Xaver Gruber’s son, was a boy chorister in St. Peter’s at this time. He directed the query to his father. This made Franz Xaver Gruber aware of the importance of the carol, and he wrote a statement about it, “Authentic Origination of the Composition of the Christmas Carol ‘Silent Night’,” and sent it to Berlin. The Stille Nacht Museum in Hallein, near Salzburg, in the house where Franz Xaver Gruber lived for 28 years, keeps two drafts of this letter, thus documenting the creation of the carol in Salzburg as well.

The carol has been translated into some 300 languages. The first English translation appeared in New York City in 1851.

On Sept. 29, 2018, commemorative exhibits about the carol opened in Salzburg and eight neighboring towns. The exhibit in the Salzburg Museum brings together documents and artifacts relating to the carol. It has copies of Gruber’s letter and early scores.

The first room, the Christmas Room, shows how Advent and Christmas have been celebrated in the area. Next is a room with music boxes, metal records, 78s and Decca’s recording of the song by Bing Crosby, as well as versions by Mahalia Jackson and the Trapp Family Singers. A guide at the museum explains that Bing Crosby’s recording was the best-selling song of all time from its introduction in 1948 until 1997, when Elton John’s “Candle in the Wind” tribute to Princess Diana topped it.

Another room shows the history of the song in films; among them are “Das Unsterbliche Lied” (“The Immortal Song”) from 1934; “The Legend of Silent Night” from 1968; “Merry Christmas” from 2005; and “Stille Nacht” from 2012.

The carol was used to build up spirits of soldiers getting together for a short Christmas respite from fighting in 1914. In 1941, Franklin D. Roosevelt and Winston Churchill stood on the balcony of the White House and joined the crowd gathered in front to sing the carol.

The Salzburg exhibit also shows how the song was used for commercial and propaganda purposes. One gruesome rendition changed the words to tell how on this “Stille Nacht, Heilige Nacht, Alles ruht, Einer wacht” (“Silent night, holy night, all is calm, one is awake) and then asserts that this one is “Adolph Hitler” who “führt uns zu Größe, zu Ruhm und zum Glück…” (“leads us to greatness, to fame and to fortune…”). Tributes this year include a six pack of beer with one of the carol’s six verses on each bottle. There is also a potent drink named Stille Nacht marked “feel good.”

The exhibit’s last room is a place of quiet marked with a sign: “Laut sein ist cool! Still sein auch.” (“It’s cool to be loud. Also to be quiet.”) This beautiful Christmas carol brings stillness with its soothing melody and gentle words, “Sleep in heavenly peace!”

Other resources:

Silent Night: A Companion to the Song, by Thomas Hochradner and Michael Neureiter (eds.) (Salzburg: Verlag Anton Pustet, 2018).

“All Is Calm: The Christmas Truce of 1914” by Peter Rothstein is an a cappella musical about the moment when enemy soldiers came out of the trenches and laid down their arms to celebrate Christmas together, a respite from the horrors of war.

This article also appeared in print, under the headline "The sounds of silence," in the 24 December 2018 issue of America

Gaudete!

[John] said to them in reply,
"Whoever has two cloaks
should share with the person who has none.
And whoever has food should do likewise."

Luke 3:11

John captures the essence of the message that Jesus would soon clearly proclaim. One of the key themes that runs right through Luke’s gospel is the hospitality of God. And while we in the 21^st century think of hospitality as something we offer invited guests, the radical Lucan view is that hospitality is an obligation on each of us as we mirror the constancy of God’s generosity to the stranger. The risks of hosting strangers are as likely to be as dangerous today as they were in the ancient near east, and that is the very tension that this kind of hospitality produces.

Hospitality is freely given. The writer of the letter to the Hebrews (13:1 – 2) reminded the early Christians: Let mutual love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it. (Hebrews 13:1-2). And one of the most famous stories is of Abraham’s visitors who announced that his wife Sarah will bear a child in her old age (Genesis 18:1 – 8) and this is repeated in the story of Elizabeth and Zechariah (Luke 1:5 – 23). The wonderful story of the disciples walking to Emmaus (Luke 24:13 – 35) ends with the revelation that the stranger to whom they have given hospitality is indeed the Lord himself. The feeding of the great crowd (Luke 9:10 – 17) is the greatest gift of hospitality, even more so despite the protestations of the disciples. Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan stunned his Jewish audience (Luke 10:25 – 37).

There are those in our world who are strangers by choice – migrants, tourists and travellers; there are those who are strangers because there is no choice – refugees and evacuees. We can choose to make them welcome, or we can ignore them or reject them. In the end, as Christians, we are asked to measure our response against the Gospel. Let’s not forget, however, that there is enormous generosity in our community – perhaps it is a step back from opening the doors of our homes, but we generously support the victims of bush fires, floods, earthquakes, the bereaved, the homeless, the sick, medical research.

The anxiety that comes from welcoming strangers to our table is the possibility that like Abraham and Sarah, or the angelic visit to the young Mary or to Zachariah, is that there may be great news to be heard, that it is not we who give blessings to the stranger, but that is they who bless us.

This 3^rd Sunday of Advent is also called Gaudete Sunday because the entrance verse for the Mass of the day begins with: Gaudete in Domino semper" (Rejoice in the Lord always).

Peter Douglas

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How parishes can turn ‘Christmas Catholics’ into regular Mass-goers

 

By Jack Bentz SJ

No one wants to be the innkeeper in a Christmas pageant. You know the one, the door-slamming landlord who turned away Joseph and Mary before they became the Holy Family. Any other role is better that that one. Even wearing the scratchy sheep costume is better or being the rope pull on the flying angel—anything but the mean innkeeper of Bethlehem.

This failure to give a bed to a tired pregnant teenager has had far-reaching consequences. Imagine how different Christmas would be if the couple had not been left out in the cold. In one small action of thoughtfulness, we would have been spared all those plastic light-up outdoor Nativity scenes. If only we could do it all over again.

The Latin American tradition las posadas gives participants a chance to be better than the original host. For several nights before Christmas, groups accompanying children dressed as Joseph and a pregnant Mary travel from door to door looking for lodging. The procession can feature lanterns, singing, a donkey and a whole lot of adorable kids dressed in biblical costumes. On these nine nights, the holy couple is welcomed inside, and festive foods like tamales and atole are served. The community gathers and ritually rewrites the Scriptures, this time welcoming the strangers in from the cold.

If Jesus and Mary had been regular guests at the inn, their room would have been reserved, their names would have been known and the story would be different. But it was their first time at this inn, and they didn’t know you had to show up early. They didn’t know a lot of things. How could they? That is what being a stranger means: Not being known is part of it, but not knowing is the rest.

But even if posadas are not part of your tradition, this Christmas we can all do better than the innkeeper who shut the door. Many of us will be gathering with family and friends for Christmas Mass. And, as usual, we will be a mixed group made up of those who get to Mass regularly and those who do not. Our experience of Christmas Mass is going to be different depending on our place in the mix. For the regular Mass-goers, it will seem homey and routine, and a nod of recognition is going to be enough.

But the Catholics who go to church only on Christmas and Easter will carry with them the reasons they usually do not make it to Mass. So they are going to need more than a nod. Their experience will hinge on feeling welcomed or not. Studies bear this out. People return to churches because they are welcomed, not because the church got everything else right. Both regular Mass-goers and Christmas Catholics can make this work better. We, as a group, can rewrite the moment at the inn.

So if you are a Christmas Catholic, plan to arrive with an open mind. And do it for your own sake. Not for your mother or your boyfriend but for you. Yes, the church is a mess, but sitting in judgment will only make your Christmas grimmer and rob you of joy. I know how easy it is to see what is wrong with the church; there is always plenty to choose from. But the truth is, the ministers, the building, the music, the priest and the preaching are not specifically designed to disappoint you. And if you are reeling from the abuse crisis and the hundred other things the Catholic Church is doing wrong, I get you. But instead of being judge and jury for the entire Catholic Church, go ahead and choose to see how God wants to love you through this particular parish on this specific night.

And for those who call the particular parish home, Christmas is the chance to welcome the stranger; to be the good innkeeper and not the bad one. And who knows, the welcome you extend to the infrequent Mass-goer might be what brings that person into community. And next year you both will be welcoming a new stranger together.

But this hospitality does not just happen. If a parish wants to welcome the stranger, they have to imagine what it is like to be a stranger. And to do that, they have to start where the stranger starts: online.

Unlike Mary and Joseph, the contemporary stranger is going to check out the local parish online. And the Christmas Mass times have to be prominently featured on the front page of the website. Boom, right there. And if you really want to get the bonus points for hospitality, you could do a front page link to a “What to expect” page for newcomers. People want to know how long Mass is going to be, as well as the style of music. Easy to do, with big impact not only on Christmas but all year long. If you do not already have a page like this at your parish, see if you can make it happen.

At the doors of the church, a parish can have well trained, friendly people greeting everyone, letting them know where the bathrooms are and handing out thoughtfully composed guides to worship. These guides can include music and lyrics that will help everyone sing and will avoid intrusive announcements from the choir director. Including the text of prayers that strangers might not have memorized is another act of hospitality. That means including the Creed and any other spoken prayers. Christmas Catholics will appreciate being looked after.

When deciding what to include in the Christmas worship guide, it is worth trying to imagine the reasons this stranger has not been to Mass in quite some time. If the parish has a social justice group, list it; if there is an LGBT Catholics \ group in your parish, mention it. Financial transparency might make an appropriate appearance. And yes, if there is a contact for reporting clerical abuse, list it. Many parishes are deeply involved in vital human issues, and this is the time to mention them. People, especially new ones, read these worship guides and make choices in light of what they read. Finally, if your parish has a program to welcome Catholics back into the faith, list it. With an eye to the stranger’s next step, parish contact info and regular Mass schedule should also be included and not relegated to a separate bulletin.

But not everything has to be crammed into the aid to worship. An announcement from the pulpit before Mass can go a long way toward making people feel welcome. At that point let people know the parish custom around reception of the Eucharist in the most carefully worded way possible. Be aware that people are sensitive to the slamming of a door throughout the liturgy, not just at the physical front doors of the church. This can happen when the pastor makes a sideways remark about the crowd of unfamiliar faces or blithely remarks he has not seen many of them since last Christmas. These wry comments about Christmas-and-Easter Catholics can go so wrong and people feel called out, criticized and confirmed in their reasons for avoiding the church in the first place.

Finally, if you are at your local parish, just as you were on the Sunday before Christmas, and if you are sitting in your usual spot, keep an eye out for a stranger looking for a seat. Be the family who makes room for strangers. Be the good innkeeper, the one who chose the stranger, the one who did what she could to help bring the Savior of our world into the world.

First published in America 3 December 2018.