This is how Jesus Christ came to be born. His mother Mary was
betrothed to Joseph; but
before they came to live together she was found to be with child through the
Holy Spirit. Her husband Joseph, being a
man of honour and wanting to spare her publicity, decided to divorce her
informally. He had made up his mind to do this when the angel of the Lord
appeared to him in a dream and said, ‘Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife,
because she has conceived what is in her by the Holy Spirit. She will give
birth to a son and you must name him Jesus, because he is the one who is to
save his people from their sins.’ Now all this took place to fulfil the words
spoken by the Lord through the prophet:
The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son
a name which means ‘God-is-with-us’.
When Joseph woke up he did what the angel of the Lord had told him to do: he
took his wife to his home.
Matthew 1:18 - 24
The word
‘annunciation’ is a very grand way of saying ‘announcement’. Either word
heralds a message of some importance. Governments, press releases,
organisations, media, political parties announce new policies, decisions,
successes, progress, appointments. Very few, I would imagine, would announce
the conception of a child, or even celebrate the day on which it occurred! As
time progresses, of course, we do make an announcement – that a child is on its
way. For first parents (and grandparents) the excitement is often palpable.
Christmas in
the Roman tradition is celebrated on 25 December, and consequently, we
celebrate Jesus’ conception on 25 March, nine months to the day earlier. It is
a moment in history which the Gospels recall through the eyes of faith: a
young, unmarried girl, is found to be with child 'though the Holy Spirit. In
Matthew's narrative this announcement is not made from the rooftops of
Nazareth, nor proclaimed in the streets, it is made to Joseph, her husband. If
Mary was still living with her parents (whom we call Anna and Joachim as
recorded in the apocryphal Gospel of James), Mary would have had to reveal her
condition. Through the course of the Christian experience, this annunciation is seen as a critical event: at that moment God
becomes flesh, fully human – human history and the divine story merge into one.
We are all
truly blessed when we receive the gift of children, but we are doubly blessed
when they are welcomed into a community of love. It’s always worth an
announcement. That God reached into humanity and humanity into the divine is
the mystery of the incarnation itself.
The infancy narratives
provide details that were helpful to the first Christians, to 'fill the gaps',
that assured them of God's action in their world and his continuing presence.
But we shouldn't get distracted from the real action - which is that God has
become human - he is Emmanual - God-is-with-us.
Many you have a
happy and holy Christmas.
If a little Catholic confusion exists, maybe it is a
blessing
6 December 2019
When Georgetown University launched its Initiative on
Catholic Social Thought and Public Life, the venture benefited from the
popularity of a relatively new pope.
People packed the university's Gaston Hall one October
evening in 2013 for the first of what would become a series of conversations on
"The Francis Factor."
As we reported at the
time, John Carr, director of the initiative, opened the event
"by wondering what a publisher, pre-Francis, would say to the outline of a
book that began with the first resignation by a pope in 600 years and was
followed by the election of an old Jesuit who rode the bus to work as the
archbishop of Buenos Aires, Argentina; who announces a church for and of the
poor; lives in a guest house instead of the papal palace; and spends Holy
Thursday washing the feet of young people in prison."
"He'd say don't waste
your time or mine," Carr said. "Well, I can't wait for the next
chapter."
The chapters since have not
disappointed in terms of Vatican intrigue and departure from past practice.
Francis' papacy has been nothing if not consistently interesting and
challenging — an open, inclusive, approachable and warmly pastoral approach
with an emphasis on those in the margins that goes far beyond words in a papal
document.
Six years later, a capacity crowd in Georgetown's Dahlgren
Chapel heard described some of the jitters and "confusion"
rippling across the community in the wake of Francis' approach to church
governance. Those attending the recent event also heard an archbishop speak of
the scandalous organized opposition to a pope who is highly critical of two
particularly American idolatries: money and militarism.
At home or on the road, the lens capturing this papacy has
moved from the previous spectacle of crowds in thrall of a commanding stage
presence to a somewhat bowed figure surrounded by refugees and the disabled, in
the midst of those whose neighbourhoods represent the most destitute on Earth,
kneeling to wash the feet of the incarcerated.
Catholic identity, once a calculus of rigid rule-keeping,
has shifted more to a practice of mercy and accompaniment.
Francis has moderated the recent excesses in the use of law
to determine membership in the community, and he has opened up new
possibilities for grace to work in the lives of those seeking the embrace of
God. He has replaced the image of the border-patrol bishop, making sure that no
one unworthy gets in, with that of the shepherd accompanying the flock,
acquiring the smell of the sheep, at times shuffling over and blurring the
boundaries.
Perhaps in the same way that rigid legalisms were viewed by
some segments of the Catholic community as inhuman and obstacles to God's
grace, this new approach, with its inherent messiness and lesser regard for the
letter of the law, may be off-putting to others.
The word "confusion" is often applied by those who
find unsettling Francis' more pastoral approach compared to recent papacies.
His language and even his daily routine follow his clear intent to remove the
stench of royalty and privilege from the world of Catholic leadership.
Maybe we need to understand that the differences we perceive
are facets of the same infinitely diverse and compassionate God. No single
papacy or interest group in the community captures it all.
What should be intolerable in any quarter, however, are the
ad hominem attacks on Francis, some of the loudest clearly questioning his very
legitimacy. Such attacks are transparent attempts to maintain ecclesial
privilege and status or to disguise the faith in the comforts of the prevailing culture.
In the United States, as we
have amply documented in this space, "conservative" or
"orthodox" is often shorthand for describing a faith ensconced in
American economics and national ambitions. Francis, in his critique of an economy that
"kills" or in his absolute
condemnation of the possession of nuclear weapons, as well as
his severe criticism of the excesses of the clerical culture,
has certainly afflicted the comfortable on many levels and in more than a few
corridors of power.
Opposition to papal
positions or teaching is nothing new. But the displays of disdain for Francis
seem of a different calibre quantitatively and qualitatively, a reality
acknowledged by Washington Archbishop Wilton Gregory during the recent Dahlgren
Dialogue.
"The thing that I
think makes [the opposition] different now is social media. The opposition now
has a microphone that has no volume control on it," he said, adding, "What's different, however, is that this is
organized, and it is well-funded, and it is prominent in social media. I
think it's scandalous, personally. I don't think Francis is afraid of
criticism. He's a Jesuit. What does cause him headaches is the insidiousness of
the opposition."
If Christianity were nothing more than a moral code with
unambiguous teachings that never changed, we wouldn't still be finding infinite
meaning in the words of Jesus and endless fascination with the implications of
the universal Christ. Instead, we are confronted with a God of love, we say
repeatedly. It is a God of infinite compassion and mercy who engages us in
profound matters of the heart, the dimensions of which are incalculable. For
the Catholic Christian, there should not be anything confusing about modelling
that compassion and the embrace of those whose lives might fall outside some
perceived ideal.
Francis has quoted his immediate predecessor, Pope Benedict
XVI, explaining that faith is not a matter of philosophy or dogma, but an encounter
with Jesus Christ.
Helen Alvaré, a law professor, noted pro-life advocate, and
Dahlgren Dialogue participant, said, "I think of Francis' pontificate as
an extended meditation on the good Samaritan story. He is highlighting who are
the people strewn on our path right now, and that's been a change over time
over different papacies."
If a little confusion exists, maybe it is a blessing,
leading, if not to absolute answers, then, far more important, to correct
questions. If the original Twelve who encountered the living Christ are any
example, we can take serious consolation. They are the best indicators that
faith is not a matter of certainty and that confusion can be a path that sends
us deeper into the mystery.
Here's hoping for a lot more chapters ahead.
A version of this story appeared in
the Dec 13-26, 2019 print issue under the
headline: Some Catholic confusion may be a blessing .