The Holy Family 2019 (A)

Sirach3:2-6; 12-14

Psalm 128

Colossians 3:12-21

“As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.”     – Col 3:12-13

We are gathered here around the altar of Our Lord on the Feast Day of the Holy Family. As I settled into prayer in preparation for this homily I remembered my daughter who years ago, at three years of age, loved to go to the corner store, just two doors away from our family home. She referred to the corner store as the “liquorice store” for obvious reasons. She loved to buy liquorice. I can still see the quarter in her little hand as she joyfully handed it over to the storekeeper. I also remember the passing months and how she didn’t want me to go into the store with her, because she knew what she wanted. She was becoming a big girl, and her fourth birthday was just around the corner so she didn’t need the supervision of her dad to buy liquorice. Soon, she didn’t want me waiting outside the store because she could walk there herself. I, of course, would be waiting outside our house as she walked the 80 ft down the sidewalk.

Raising a family is a process of letting go…in trust that enough seeds have been planted and have taken root to help them navigate life in this wonderful but deeply wounded world.

I also remember when my son was about three years of age. He and I witnessed a couple of dogs viciously fighting near the Halifax Common. I remember him crying and asking me to, “Make them stop, daddy!” My thoughts were focused on protecting my son as the dog owners yelled and tried to regain control of their pets. My son’s thoughts, however, were focused on his father seemingly being capable of fixing this scary situation.

At that age, of course he would reach out to me to “make it stop”. Like most parents in most situations we have a good track record in our child’s limited experience of carrying out our role as protector and make-it-go-away guru. We brush dust off small scrapes and administer the loving medicine of a kiss and an ‘all better”. For the most part, we make problems go away. That’s what we do. It’s a function that comes with the territory but it doesn’t last and, really, never truly existed anyway.

The only truth active throughout these early day of parenting is the truth of self-giving love; everything else is a deception of control which will be unveiled by the child through the healthy blossoming into maturity.

We don't control very much in reality...so, how do we let go in trust? For this, let's turn to the Holy Family.

In Scripture there is not a great deal written about the Holy Family, Mary, Joseph and Jesus, but here are a few things we do know:

-       They were very poor.

-       They lived in a time when their people were under persecution.

-       They were faithful and kept the religious observances

-       They suffered persecution  – they became refugees.

Here we are in the midst of the Christmas season. A season when we celebrate God coming in the flesh as a vulnerable little child, born into a poor family, under the thumb of a coercive empire. And we cannot reduce this truth to sentimentalism because on the heels of this great celebration of God coming in the flesh we are thrust into the madness of the world, the martyrdom of Stephen, the mayhem of the slaughter of the Holy Innocents and Mary, Joseph and Jesus fleeing to a foreign land.

Sometimes life is tough.

According to the United Nations, there are currently 71 million displaced people worldwide. Nearly 60% of them are from Syria, Afghanistan and South Sudan. Venezuela is the fastest growing. There are 26 million people living in refugee camps.

We live in a wonderful world but it is deeply wounded. And yet our faith teaches us that God has not abandoned us, God is with us and that we have to carry one another’s burdens.

At risk of oversimplifying important concepts, let me say that religious organizations like the main square, the big gatherings, important people and pomp and ceremony. Faith, however, is worked out in the alleys, with the people, with the poor and the lonely, the sick and the suffering. Faith brings us alive in our humanity. We may go into the square to celebrate it, that's good, but it is truly lived out in the humility of our own lives; among the contours and challenges of life.

Faith adores the child in the manger, stands in awe of the Magi and shepherds who, like us, see something special in this child and who follow him to the cross. Faith leads us to weep with the widow, to grieve with parents and grandparents, to show compassion to the weak, kindness to the separated and divorced, meekness to the single mom, humility to the refugee…

Like my experience of parenting, we learn to let go a little more to ourselves, to enjoy the sentimental moments but to know they are fleeting throughout the pilgrimage of life. Here we grow into our beautiful reliance on one another in fidelity to the Holy Spirit so our gifts can blossom and we can deepen in our own freedom as we encourage others to be free to be the person they were created to be.

To the political, reflecting on the Holy Family is inconvenient. To the spiritual, it is the deep well of joy which carries us through the beautiful, arduous pilgrimage of life where we become fully alive in the complex mix of where vulnerability confronts the fear of the unknown and finds its rest in deep intimacy with Christ, Our Risen Lord, and sacramentally through the Eucharist.

The Holy Family represents faith, hope and love that satisfies the soul. It brings us alive in hope beyond all hope. It is grounded in faith and clothed in love for every one of us.

May we take comfort in knowing that God is indeed with us and let the words written to the Colossians wash over our souls as we navigate the challenges of life in this wounded world, and our own wounds: “As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.”

Amen.

Advent 3 2019(A) - Joy

Advent 3 2019

Gaudate Sunday

Isaiah 35:1-6a;10
Psalm 146
James 5:7-10
Luke 4:18

“The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom.”

Dear brothers and sisters, Isaiah wrote these words to a people in exile. Their temple in Jerusalem had been destroyed, they were a defeated people deported to a foreign land. And Isaiah prophesied these words of new blossoms and joy sprouting up in the wilderness.

And, here we are, gathered around the altar of Our Lord on the third Sunday of Advent. The third Sunday is known as Gaudate Sunday (Rejoice Sunday). So, today I want to reflect on the Christian understanding of joy?

What is joy?

Firstly, joy is often conflated with happiness. But happiness is a feeling that comes and goes based on our particular circumstances. Joy is closer to a deep sense of peace rather than a short-lived happiness. Joy comes from a deep understanding of true identity, which grounds us in good times and in bad. Joy is grounded in truth.

To state it simply, joy, comes from the truth of knowing that God is with us. One of the central mysteries of our faith is the incarnation; that God became flesh; that the eternal entered time; that the perfect came into our imperfection; that the just came into the injustice of the world. God is with us. In the midst of our pain, our hurt, our fear, our loneliness, our sin, our suffering...God is with us. His still calm voice gently calls us deeper into him; into his loving, gentle embrace. This is a staggering allegation, and that we know it to be true it should cause our hearts to leap with joy because of the nearness of God. God is with us; God is in us and we are called more deeply into the freedom of the divine life.

God who gently and humbly came in the form of an infant; not a coercive strongman.

This is why the prophet Isaiah can write about “strengthen the weak hands...say to those who are fearful of heart, be strong, do not fear.”

It is why the psalmist shouts with joy that God delivers justice to the oppressed, gives food to the hungry, sets the prisoners free, opens the eyes of the blind, upholds the widow and the orphan.

Joy springs from understanding our true identity and being set free for all that binds us.

We can know this truth in our heads, but do know it in our souls?

I am not interested in naiveté, and I understand that a more difficult aspect of Christian joy to consider is that after 2000 years we live in a post-Christian, slipping toward an anti-Christian society. We are quite understandably repulsed by the actions of some in the church and we are disoriented in how to understand the faith, hope and love that sustains our souls and many are lured into the notion that human reason and empirical investigation will get us the truth, and the problems and mysteries of life will be solved.

How do we evaluate this? How are we doing? Are we as a society more joyful than we were 40 years ago? 100 years ago? 1500 years ago? Are we more cynical than previous generations? More stressed? More anxious? More angry? More addicted?

I am very grateful that modern science has improved our quality of life in many realms. Hip replacements, knee replacements, and complicated heart surgery is routine in today’s hospitals. Many sources of social inequalities have waned. Gratitude for science and technological advances is good. Materially, those of us who live in Canada are better off than most of humanity throughout most of human history. This is good.

But, are we more joyful? We are more materially rich than ever, but are we more joyful?

Isaiah’s images of dry land are an important key to a Christian understanding of joy and a Christian journey into the heart of the gospel because our journey starts with confronting the wilderness of our own inner life. We need to confront the barren-ness of our own lives. The pain of broken relationships, lost dreams, past hurts, crippling injustices and past sins. Where is the barren-ness in our own lives and how do we bring new life to it?

I chuckle from time-to-time when I think of a navy buddy of mine who when I told him I was leaving the navy to go to seminary he said, “Rob, if there is a God, and if He chose you, there’s hope for all of us!” His statement could not be more true; there is hope for all of us. I have spoken with people who spent time in prison, police officers and paramedics who dealt with too much trauma, wealthy people crippled in pain and addictions, broken families, stressed out children and homelessness in our wealthy cities. The list of our needs goes on and on…there is so much barrenness in our lives. And we sometimes struggle to see how to turn things around. This is why the gospel has always been balm for the soul; the outsider, the lonely and the lost. We rejoice that we are not write-offs but beloved children of God; forgiven, redeemed, renewed.

And what about beyond ourselves…where is the barrenness in our parish life? We are in the very early stages of a very difficult period of uniting four parishes into one parish. Where is the barrenness in our own parish and how to we bring new life to it? How to be joy to a world in need of joy?

It all starts in our own inner lives. We cannot share anything we don’t possess.

Here we confront the words of Jesus from the gospel today: “What did you go out into the wilderness to see?” And Jesus confirms that John the Baptist was indeed the one sent to prepare the way for the One who meets us in our own wilderness and renews our souls.

In a few minutes I will pour a drop of water in the chalice and say, “By the mystery of this water and wine, may we share in the divinity of Christ who humbled himself and shared in our humanity.”

On Thursday we celebrated the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Our Blessed Mother appeared to a poor, marginalized indigenous man in Mexico and spoke words of his true identity as a beloved child of God into his life. Will we allow these same words to pour over our own souls?

Likewise, we will all say before approaching the altar, “Lord, I am not worthy to enter under your roof but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.”

God has spoken that word; our souls have been healed. New life is growing in the wilderness; our sense of unworthiness is overshadowed by the healing presence of Jesus in our lives who calls us into himself, into the barren places in our lives to bring new life.

As Paul wrote to the Philippians:

“Rejoice in the Lord always, I say it again, rejoice! Let your gentleness be known to all. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, by in everything by prayer and surrender, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God which surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.”

Let us humbly, prayerfully invite our gracious Lord Jesus into the wilderness of our lives. From there we will have front-row seats of the blossoming of new life within and watch this joy spread.

“The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom.”