4th Sunday of Advent - 19 December 2010 [Cycle A]

Fourth Sunday of Advent - 19 December 2010 [Cycle A]

Who is this Jesus? (According to Matthew)

Biblical scholar John Pilch points out that the construction of this passage probably strikes us as odd. The author begins by saying, “This is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about,” and yet it doesn’t actually go on to tell you how the birth came about. Rather, it tells how Joseph learned of Mary’s pregnancy and how he responded to the news. In fact, all of the details surrounding Jesus’ birth as we commonly think of it are conspicuously absent from Matthew’s account. Matthew says nothing about the angel Gabriel appearing to Mary and announcing that she had conceived a child by the Holy Spirit. Matthew doesn’t mention the visitation with Elizabeth where the baby John the Baptist supposedly leapt in his womb. Nor does Matthew include any sort of details about why Mary and Joseph found themselves in Bethlehem at all—only very matter of factly, and with the scantest of accompanying information, does the evangelist even say that Jesus was BORN!

In Matthew’s account of the birth of Jesus, none of the familiar Nativity imagery is present. There is no knocking on doors, being told that there isn’t room at the Inn. No angel in the sky announcing peace on earth and good will to men. Just Joseph learning about Mary’s pregnancy in a dream but being assured that it was part of a Divine plan, and Joseph’s accepting this apparently at face value and going ahead with the marriage. So... what’s the deal? Why is Jesus’ birth described in this somewhat odd manner?

To understand why Matthew tells the story the way he does, it’s important to remember who Matthew was and to whom he was writing. Each Gospel was written by a particular person with a particular audience in mind. Matthew was a Jew who saw Christ as the Messiah foretold by the Jewish prophecies of old. To Matthew, and to the community of Jewish followers of Jesus (remember, the early followers of Christ did not at first use the word “Christian,” that was a derogatory term applied to them by the others, the way we might describe disciples of Glenn Beck or Jon Stewart not as Americans but as “Beckians” or “Stewartians”) Jesus was the fulfillment of Jewish teaching about a Messiah. He was not start- ing some new religion—he was bringing to fruition the existing one.

So Matthew begins his Gospel narrative first by listing Jesus’ ancestors, all the way back to Abraham, the first person to have a relationship with Yahweh. Jesus’ connection to Abraham is then traced through David, but all of this is done by virtue of his being the son of Joseph, who was the descendant of David.

We Americans tend to think of personal value as attained by individuals. My honor is my own—if I am a good person, a successful businessman, a loving husband, etc., then it does not matter if my father was convicted of corporate embezzlement and my brother was impris- oned for drug distribution. My honor is my own. Not so in ancient society. One’s whole value, one’s honor, was inextricably bound up in, and dependent upon, one’s family ties. Honor was a shared commodity within families, so if my father was a shameful figure in the eyes of the community, people who met me and heard who my father was would have treated me likewise as a dishonorable person—without ever having spoken to me!
And so, for Matthew to establish that Jesus was this Messiah figure, the one predicted by Jewish prophets, he had to demonstrate to the audience of Jewish listeners that he fit the criteria of being from the “stump of Jesse,” that is, from the family of King David. Thus, what is most important for the readers to hear, at the outset, is that Jesus is part of the Davidic line, through Joseph. Then the evangelist can proceed to tell the listener how this Davidic descendent, this one destined to be the Messiah, actually came into the world. And it’s of no ordinary means... it is by the power of a Holy Spirit that Jesus is conceived. So far, so good. Jesus is the successor to King David, and he comes into existence through Divine origins. In case the audience could not make the connection themselves, Matthew even inserts a direct quote of prophecy from the Scriptures, just to say, without any ambiguity: This is the guy we’ve been waiting for, the fulfillment of our covenant with God.

We tell different stories about people to communicate a particular truth about them, since it is impossible ever to convey all that it is to be someone simply through a single conversation. For instance, if one of Mrs. Tebow’s friends from Church saw her with Tim, helping her buy groceries in preparation for Thanksgiving, and said, “Who is that young man with you?” she would answer that Tim is her son, and she might tell a story about how he helped mash the potatoes and cook the green beans for the family gathering the previous year. If Urban Meyer, the head coach of the Florida Gators were asked who Tim was while a bunch of NFL scouts were watching a Florida football practice, he wouldn’t mention Tim’s skills at mash- ing potatoes—he would talk about Tim’s ability to read defensive coverages and plow through linebackers in scoring touchdowns. Again, if Tim were with a group of Christian missionaries in the Philippines volunteering at a rural health clinic, and one of the locals asked who the guy helping administer shots was, someone would answer that he was an American Christian missionary volunteering for the summer.
Each of these would be true; but each only tells one facet of who Tim Tebow is. It is not a lie to say that he’s a great help around the house at Thanksgiving, but leave out the fact that he won the Heisman trophy. And vice versa. His college coach is not doing him an injustice to talk about his downfield passing ability but leaving out the fact that he often helps his mother put the leaf in the dining room table before the family comes over. Meyer is a par- ticular person (a college football coach) talking to a particular audience (a group of NFL scouts) about a specific dimension of who Tim is (a great quarterback) and is trying to convey where he thinks Tim fits within the world that they operate (the NFL). Same thing with Matthew. Matthew is a particular person (a member of the Jewish community) writing to a particular audience (Jewish people interested in this person Jesus) trying to convey where he thinks this person Jesus fits within their understanding of Jewish history. So he talks about a very particular facet of who Jesus is, i.e. how he is related to Joseph who is the descendent of David, who is the descendent of Abraham, and how Jesus fulfills these prophecies.

Reflection Questions

1) Matthew is describing Jesus in one particular way, but how would you describe him to someone who was unfamiliar with the Jesus story? What sort of details would you give? Why would you choose those details and not others?

2) Think of the different dimensions of yourself, if someone were writing your story. What might different people say about you? Your parents, your college professors, your parish priest, your roommate? How would they tell the story of you?

3rd Sunday of Advent - 12 December 2010 [Cycle A]

Third Sunday of Advent - 12 December 2010 [Cycle A]

"You're almost there!"

The third quarter is THE WORST. The third quarter of anything. The third lap of the mile around the track. The third quarter of an academic semester at college. Being only halfway through writing a paper. The third quarter is, without a doubt, the toughest part—mentally—of any race, physical or otherwise. Same goes with Advent.

A couple of researchers studying exercise science and human biology decided to take a look at the lap times for world record-breaking milers to see if they could determine which laps were the fastest and which were the slowest. The results were unsurprising to anyone who has actually run a mile, particularly after having trained for it on the track: for most of the runners, the third lap was the slowest. The final lap was almost always the fastest, followed in quickness by the first lap. The researchers merely broke down the splits; they did not offer any suppositions as to why the third lap might be the slowest, but it is not hard to speculate.

Generally speaking... the first lap, you’re full of energy and excitement; you’ve been anticipating this moment for weeks, months, possibly even years. The combination of fresh legs and pent-up excitement is a potent mixture. The final lap is when you can see the finish—you’re almost there, so you’re drawing on whatever reserves you may have left in the tank to push through to the end. If you’re going to finish strong, you suppress the protests from your now-tired muscles and focus on the exhilaration you will feel upon finishing. (Those who have survived final exams, papers, qualifying exams, and other types of grueling academic “races” likewise recognize the feeling. Even if you’ve paced yourself well, you’re still forced to make that last push through to the finish, so you can finally rest and enjoy being done.)

The mile is a lot like Advent. Four laps to a mile; four weeks to Advent. And like a mile on the track, the season of Advent is a time of discomfort and anxiety. Of anticipation and eagerness for the feeling that follows. Humans recognize how difficult it is to do anything straight through with no breaks, and so all major team sports—football, basket- ball, soccer—have intermissions. Halftimes. It’s not just hard to play straight through— to pour yourself into that athletic competition wish such reckless, unrestrained inten- sity—it’s even hard for the fans to watch! Even the spectators need a break! And so football games, theatre productions, academic semesters (woooooh, Spring Break!)... All have intermissions about half-way through. Because otherwise—as a miler can attest—it’s really, REALLY hard to maintain 100% intensity straight through, and especially in the third quarter. The Church recognizes this, too. And so, the third week of Advent, we observe what is known as “Gaudete Sunday.” Also known as the Sunday when the priest wears “pink” and we light a “pink” candle instead of a purple one on our Advent Wreath.

In fact, the actual Liturgical color is “rose,” and it dates back to a time when the color worn by the priest were not purple, but black. Black as in penance. Black as in ashes and death and mourning. Advent, much like Lent, was seen as a time of radical penitence. After all, the readings focus upon John the Baptist’s calls in the desert for us to “Repent!” and to prepare ourselves for the coming of the Lord. And so the priests wore black at Mass, to remind us that we were supposed to be focused on our sinfulness, and more spe- cifically, on our ongoing effort to repent from that sinfulness to be ready for the coming of new life at Christmas. At a time when black symbolized death and penitence, rose— like the flower—symbolized hope and new life. Indeed, the word, “Gaudete” literally means “Rejoice” and calls us to hope.

“Gaudete Sunday” is so named because, back before we had a piano and a choir to open up Mass, the priest would enter to what is known as an “Antiphon.” (In fact, many daily Masses continue to use this in place of an opening hymn.) An antiphon is a fragment of a Psalm or part of Scripture that basically sets the tone for service. And on this Sunday in Advent, the opening antiphon begins with a call to “Rejoice!” and to be “hopeful!”

The opening antiphon of the third Sunday of Mass is basically like a big, hand-made posterboard being held up by your friends along the side of the track that reads, “You can do it!” or “Keep going!” or “You’re almost there!” The Church, in its understanding of human experience, knows that, during that third quarter of Advent, we need a little pick me-up, a little boost. And so, in the depth of winter, amid the season of repentance, we take a week to “Rejoice” and focus on the celebration we’re going to experience as soon as the race is over, i.e. at Christmas.

In your own life, think of the many “races” you have undertaken or in which you currently find yourself. Think also of this Advent season—of how you are “almost there” and to “keep pushing through” this third part, because next Sunday, we will light the final candle, and you will be able to see the finish line. By that point, you’ll get your second wind, and you’ll find yourself full of adrenaline (and possibly sugar cookies, hot cocoa, or candy canes) that will sustain you in the final lap. Therefore, “Rejoice!” and “Keep Going—You’re Almost There!”

Reflection Questions

1) Have you ever run a mile around a track? How about played some other sport? What was the toughest part, mentally and physically? How did you push through? What sustained you?

2) How do you experience the flow of the semester? How do you keep yourself focused and motivated, even when you are tired and just want to be done? What do you draw upon to keep you going?

3) How is your Advent going? Have you “paced yourself” well? What have you done in terms of repentance and preparation for the coming of the Lord? What might you do in the final two weeks? How could you “pick up the pace” if you haven’t done your best to this point?