topleft05.jpg (18208 bytes)HOMILY
Fourth Sunday of Advent (A)
23 December 07


 

In his book Starlight, John Shea says at the end of the Advent season, that is, on Christmas day, we can rediscover not only the light that is God—the light Jesus came to bring into the darkness of our lives and world—but also the light that is and has always been with each and every one of us simply because we have been uniquely created to share in the light of God.  Just think about it: of all God’s creatures, we are the only ones in whom the spark of divine light and love has always shone and can always shine.

The difficulty so many of us face day in and day out as we traipse through our lives year in and year out—and most especially as all of our responsibilities and obligations press in and weigh heavily upon us—is to see the light of God shining in the darkness.  For some reason, we tend to focus upon the darkness—all of the gloom and doom we celebrate at our candlelight pity parties—rather than God’s light.  And, as the darkness gradually comes to envelop us, a frown gradually displaces a smile.  A cold and steely demeanor then displaces a warm and friendly bearing.  And, too, harsh and negative, perhaps even extremely critical and hurtful words resound from our mouths like the siren of an ambulance or fire truck in the dead of night as we announce “bad news” to the people God has placed around us, people desperately in need of hearing some “good news.”

That image—to herald the “good news” to people who are so desperately in need of it—is at the heart of today’s gospel which started, “This is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about,” Matthew says.  Thinking about those words, Fr. Shea invites his reader to enter anew into the story of Christ’s birth not as we already have heard it time and again, but that we might once again see the light of God in our own lives.

Unfortunately, our minds are all too quick to listen not to what Matthew relates in his announcement of what is truly good news—a story about a righteous man named Joseph—but instead what Luke relates in his announcement of what is truly good news—a story about a virgin named Mary.  We hear nothing in Matthew about the Visitation.  The truth is that we need to be more attentive to the gospel, to “know what we hear,” because we all too often only “hear what we know.”  Matthew’s unique perspective and focus upon that gives us insight not only into how we should react to the birth of Jesus but also, and perhaps more importantly, what this means in terms of changing how we must live our lives.  That is, if we are to be as God has created each and every one of us, namely, people of the light.

It’s a “guys” story not a “gals” story as Matthew constructs his complex narrative of the birth of Jesus Christ around Joseph, painting Joseph as a spiritual hero not to be admired but imitated.  Living and working in a very small, rural village where practically everybody knew everyone else’s business—there were absolutely no secrets in Nazareth—Matthew tells us Joseph was an “upright” man, meaning Joseph was not only honorable and noble but also religious.

Those are important characteristics Matthew wants us to consider.  Honorable…Joseph was known to be a man who, in his dealings with others, was truthful and fair.  Noble…Joseph was illustrious, distinguished, and worthy of honor and respect as well as possessing a lofty character revealing high moral virtue.  Religious…Joseph’s conduct indicated his belief in a divine power, his respect for the sacred, and his conscious awareness of the bond uniting God and His human creatures.  These weren’t “Sabbath behaviors”—lived on Saturday—but who Joseph was in his day-to-day life and work.

Honorable, noble, and religious convey the depth at strength of Joseph’s character.  In Matthew’s estimation, these provided rock solid foundation upon which Joseph constructed his life in Nazareth.  As important as this was, these traits also strengthened Joseph to be able to see the light of God shining forth in the darkness of his life.  These characteristics, then, are the solid bedrock upon which Matthew reveals Joseph’s true spiritual heroism.

One day (and Matthew doesn’t tell us what day it was), Joseph—probably around 14 years of age—made a promise to a young woman named Mary—who at the time was about twelve years old.  Joseph told Mary he would love, honor, and be faithful to her for all the days of his life.  While Matthew is silent about Mary’s response to Joseph’s promise, Matthew tells us immediately that before Joseph and Mary lived together, she became pregnant.  And, as we can infer from Matthew’s next statement, “but before they lived together,” Joseph had nothing to do with Mary’s pregnancy.  Instead, Mary told Joseph she was with child through the power of the Holy Spirit.

I always thought of the argument Joseph and Mary must have had when Mary broached the subject of her pregnancy.  As difficult as this had to be, there is a sense of irony inherent in the argument:

Mary:       Joseph, I love you very much and I have some difficult news to share with you.

Joseph:   Mary, you know that I love you, too.  There’s nothing that can come between you and my love for you.  What’s the problem?

Mary:       (sobbing) Joseph, I’m pregnant…

Joseph:   (outraged) How can this be, Mary?  We haven’t been together!  Who’s the father?

Mary:       God.

Joseph:   (mocking and sarcastic) God?  As in the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob?  The God who anointed David King of the Jews?  What do you take me for, Mary, some ignorant fool?  I’ll tell you what: go and tell that one to your parents!  I can’t wait to hear what your father, Joachim, has to say!  No, let me tell him.  “Hey Joachim, guess what?  You’re going to be a grandfather!  And, guess what else, Joachim: the baby’s father is God!  The baby was conceived through the power of the Holy Spirit.”  I can’t wait to see the look on his face.  How could you do this to me, Mary?  You’ve betrayed me and, on top of that, now you’re lying to me?  What do you take me for?  I’m outta here, right now!

 

In those days, young people—as early as age 13 for a boy and age 12 for a girl—were betrothed to each other in a ceremony in the home of the bride.  The parents selected mates for their children and the period of betrothal lasted for about one year.  It had the force of marriage with the one exception, namely, the couple didn’t live together.  Instead, the husband would visit his wife in her parent’s home.  Jewish law didn’t allow for divorce unless the woman was caught in adultery (in Greek, πορνη).  So, with Mary’s announcement, Joseph had a choice: since the law stipulated that Mary should be executed by stoning, should he take out revenge on her?

Think of all of the questions that must have been running through Joseph’s mind.  Betrayal…“Why did Mary break her promise to me?”  Anger….“How could Mary have done this to me?” Embarrassment…“What are other people going to think?”  Loss…“Will I ever find a woman who will love me as I love her?”  And, perhaps even, blame-finding: “God, everything seemed so perfect.  Why did you let this to happen to me?”

Despite feeling betrayed, angry, embarrassed, and looking to assign blame, Joseph admitted to himself that he truly loved Mary and wished no harm to come her way.  So, it seems likely, Joseph sought out and found a good and reputable Jewish divorce lawyer who worked out an amicable divorce that would spare Mary’s life as well as that of her baby.  Then, with that done, Joseph probably went home, had a pint of good Egyptian beer, and went to bed.  “Now, I can put this whole darned thing behind me and get on with my life,” Joseph must certainly have been thinking when he fell asleep that fateful night when he was to become a true spiritual hero.

We’ve all been told, “God’s ways aren’t our ways,” and God certainly had different plans for Joseph.  Matthew tells us God sent an angel who appeared in a dream, announcing to Joseph:

Don’t be afraid to take Mary your wife into your home.  For it is through the Holy Spirit that this child has been conceived in her.  She will bear a son and you are to name him Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.

 

As Joseph’s life unravels and the darkness was enveloping him, the light of God suddenly shines.  Because Joseph was an “upright” man—honorable, noble, and religious—he did something many of us would find it extremely difficult to do in the darkness of our lives.  Joseph took notice of the light, listened to God’s word, and allowed its power to transform Joseph’s quite understandable feelings of betrayal, anger, embarrassment, and blame-finding into obedience to God’s will.  “Don’t be afraid.  Take Mary your wife into your home.”  Unfortunately, for many of us, we turn and run away as soon as the word “obedience” alights on the horizon.

Indeed, while Joseph may have felt alone in his anguish, he certainly wasn’t alone.  No, God was with Joseph as he made the heroic decision to take Mary to be his wife despite the scandal and knowing that her child was not his.  But, that wasn’t the supremely heroic part of his decision; no, what ultimately was supremely heroic was Joseph’s decision to entrust himself obediently to the light shining brightly in the darkness of his life.  And, in this way, Joseph has become a sign of the hope and power that are won through obedience to God’s will.  Think about what this meant for Mary, for Jesus, for the Jewish community, and for all humanity.  At that fateful moment when everything seemed so bleak, Joseph realized that “God is with us” (Emmanuel, in Hebrew)—the light shining in the darkness of our lives.

Christmas didn’t just happen.  In his narrative about how the birth of Jesus Christ took place, Matthew reminds us of how it took a courageous act of obedience on the part of Joseph for Mary to bear God’s only begotten Son.  The challenge today’s gospel places before us, then, is to “know what we hear” in the reading of Matthew’s gospel because it is all too easy for us to “hear what we know” and to miss entirely the point Matthew is making.  As Fr. Shea reminds us in Starlight, on Christmas day, we can also rediscover the light that is God—the light Jesus came to bring into the darkness of our lives and world—the light that is and has always been with each and every one of us because we have been uniquely created to share in the light of God.  According to Matthew, the truly amazing and astounding good news—the gospel—is Emmanuel, which means “God is with us.”

 

 

 

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