Holy Family: Growing in Strength and Wisdom

Holy Family: Growing in Strength and Wisdom

We all come from somewhere and the “where” we come from and the people that brought us up affect us by shaping our world view.  My mother and father shaped my world view. My father was very adamant that whatever I would do with my life, it would have to be about giving back. He hoped that I would find work in the government - to help others.  My mom was more of what went on in my “insides.”  She would ask questions and if she didn’t get what she wanted to know, she’d ask my friends and put “2 and 2 together.”  I think early on that I realized that I couldn’t really fool my parents and so rather than fighting them, I decided to do good things for others. They encouraged me in my music, swimming, drama, academics and other things.  Looking back my household was nourishing and affirming…although I confess that as a young person the one thing I wanted to do was to ESCAPE my home. I went off to grad school and thought I was going to go on my own path but eventually the world view that my parents impressed upon me got me thinking about what I really wanted to do with my life. Much to their surprise, I decided to prepare for priesthood…but that’s another story. I’m making this point to say that our history - that is to say, our culture, home traditions, and most importantly our relationships have a hand in shaping our lives.  Of course we will have other influences or will have something big that might change our lives forever, but mostly, as we get older we naturally integrate other people’s experiences into our own experiences, and as a consequence, our world grows bigger and our horizons are expanded and we become more self-aware. We grow in strength and wisdom.

In today’s gospel we hear the prophet Simeon say that Jesus would grow in strength and wisdom when he returned to Nazareth. He said that whatever this child will be, he will be a sign of contradiction to the world around him.  So in the spirit of the Feast of the Holy Family, I want to explore more deeply the process of Jesus’ world view as shaped by his family and society.

The doctrine of the Incarnation does not stop at the birth of the savior. Implicated in the doctrine of the Incarnation is the concept of human maturity. So…yes, God took on human form being born in our likeness, equal to us in all things but sin. And yes, Jesus grew in strength and wisdom when he returned to Nazareth with his parents. This leads us to ask, what could have been in Jesus’ experience in growing up that led him to be who the man we know from the Gospels? Let’s look at Jesus’ neighborhood and what might have set him in his ministerial trajectory.

Nazareth was a small agricultural village in the heart of the Galilee region.  Nazareth was a trades village as there were no trade routes and other than workers themselves, the town had no economic importance.  Jesus grew up in this village loosely networked to other villages who had similar populations ranging from 200 people to 1,200 people. What Galileans treasured above all things were relationships and kinship. The people needed to connect with each other out of survival. Multiple families typically lived together under one roof. People didn’t live independently from each other. Everyone had to work together to make it. 

Galilee was a part of the Palestinian territory that had been captured under the Roman flag and was now a part of the Roman Empire.  This empire was held together by the Roman sense of social order, the “Pax Romana” or “Roman Peace.” People living in Roman territories were far more interested in maintaining peace through order than they were for maintaining liberty and justice for all. People did not rebel but rather put up with the constant state of vigilance and the threat of violence when anything threatened the order. 

We have a slight sense that Jesus was not going to go along with Pax Romana. Simeon’s prophecy, “Behold, this child is destined  for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted…” indicates that the Christ will eventually initiate a new movement critical of Pax Romana. Christ would effect in all those who surround him a new way of seeing the world and a new way of seeking solutions to maintain order.  Pax Romana was grounded in violence: invasion, colonialism, paternalism, bribery, extortion and execution of enemies.  The peace of Christ contradicts Pax Romana.  Pax Romana results in locking people up - even if they didn’t do anything because they MIGHT commit a crime. Pax Romana silences voices of dissent through discrediting anyone who might disagree with the status quo or even disappearing rabble rousers. Pax Romana imposes curfews and restricts movements. Pax Romana can be a government or a cartel or a police force. Whenever and wherever people are oppressed and are not free, you will see the banner of Pax Romana.    

Unlike Pax Romana that reveals nothing other than strength and force, the movement of the Messiah, reveals the human heart.  Those who will follow the Messiah will be those who are willing to disclose their hearts to others.  We who follow the Messiah are willing to resolve our conflicts with love, not force.  We will be willing to forgive and let go rather than being driven by a desire to prove someone wrong. When we pursue justice we do it because we cannot bear the suffering of others because when our neighbor suffers and when we do nothing, our humanity is diminished.  We must confront the sorrowful and correct the conditions that led to such pain.

On this feast of Holy Family, let’s look at the family of Jesus…starting with Mary. In the previous chapter Mary says, “(God) has shown might with his arm, dispersed the arrogant of mind and heart. He has thrown down the rulers from their thrones but lifted up the lowly. The hungry he has filled with good things; the rich he has sent away empty…”  If this is Mary praising God with such a powerful prophetic vision, one can only imagine the types of conversations that Mary, Joseph and Jesus had around their meals!  Mary’s preaching clearly formed her child’s growth and wisdom.

We have an incredible opportunity to reflect on the power of community and family today.  Like Abraham, we are an immigrant community that walks by faith.  We like the Jesus live in a society in which 1% own over one-half of all the wealth in the country. Like families in Galilee who lived together under one roof with other family members - cousins - with each of the children calling each other “sister” or “brother,” our communities live in similar if not identical arrangements.  Jesus emerged from this world and from his family to eventually preach about community, reconciliation and working for the common good. We too have the potential of raising up many prophetic people in our midst. Change can happen…change WILL happen here!  So let this feast of the Holy Family be a feast of EMPOWERMENT for us to continue our walk guided by the vision of the Christ who leads us to the Promised Land of Justice and Equality.  

Fourth Sunday of Advent: “I have been with you wherever you went…”

The Theme of the posada is evident throughout the liturgy today. I want to start our Posada reflection first with King David. David was looking for a dignified space for the Ark of the Covenant.  “Here I am living in a house of cedar, while the ark of God dwells in a tent!” God said to David,  “I have been with you wherever you went…” The Ark was kept in a tent because the Hebrew people were largely a nomadic people.  As the centuries came and wars were waged, the nomadic people began to define their presence through permanent settlements that eventually became cities. In nomadic times the Ark the Ark traveled where ever the people traveled. Where they were, the Ark was present in a typical mobile structure: a tent.  When people settled in more permanent arrangements, there needed to be a place in which God's covenant could be honored and revered. Now that David had been established as king and he established a place for himself after all the wars and violence, David realized that the Ark itself deserved a permanent place as well.  In return for David creating a place for the Ark, God granted David an eternal place in history.

Returning to the posada metaphor: David gave posada for the Ark and God gave David a posada in history in an enduring relationship with God’s people.  “Your house and your kingdom shall endure forever before me; your throne shall stand firm forever.”  This passage means that God promised that the lineage of David would continue in his people and in their struggle.  The people’s struggle would result in the conditions of justice. “I will fix a place for my people Israel; I will plant them so that they may dwell in their place without further disturbance.” Posada, then, for those in the struggle for justice isn’t necessarily real estate, but the condition of justice.

So let’s look at the ongoing journey of God’s people. God accompanied his people when they were slaves in Egypt. God followed them as they fought to establish their territory in the Promised Land. God comforted them in the midst of foreign invasions and forced deportations to Babylon. God strengthened the resolve of the rabbis who helped their people during the Roman conquest and subsequent expulsion from their own homeland.  God held the Jewish people strong enough to survive the Spanish Inquisition, pogroms and the Nazi genocide.  No matter how much the Jewish people suffered, their resilience through history is an example to all of us that no matter how much rejection we suffer, we must remember what God said to David, “I have been with you wherever you went…” As a community that is largely migrant or sons and daughters of migrants, we know that we live the Posada.  From a small ranchito in the sierras of Michoacan from poverty and violence to where we stand today, God has been with us along our journey. Our lives are one long posada.

Our immigrant posada journey, like that of Mary and Joseph, includes birth and death, sickness, well being, heart break and love.  Our posadas are also sorrowful. Our grief is never really settled because we can’t be there at the funerals of our parents. Our joy is never complete because our parents can’t walk us into the church for marriage. Our unsettled grief and incomplete joy drive us toward wanting a place that we can call our own - without fear and worry. In a sense, we as an immigrant community, are asking for posada in the place that is in effect already our own home. We work and raise families here, but ironically we find ourselves knocking on our own front door for posada!

The image of posada we have on the screen is from the annual Catholic Migrant Posada.  The first station was at Nogales. The border wall had a quote from Pope Francis, “Wherever there’s a wall, there’s a closure of the heart.”  “…donde hay un muro hay cerrazón del corazón”.  Those were the words spoken by Pope Francis on the 25th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. Ironically, the Nogales border wall was built in 1994 right after President Clinton spoke in Berlin celebrating the destruction of that wall.

The traditional words of the Posada were changed. The people representing the Mexican side of the wall sang, “In the name of justice, I ask you to let me in.  I will not cause you harm, I just want to work.” Those representing the American side sang,  “We have thousands of agents that protect our borders, and you won’t get across even through the cracks.” The second posada the people sang, “In the name of justice, I ask for your support and solidarity.  Separated from my children, my heart is broken.” The American representatives sang,  “I don’t care about what you’re going through, stop you’re crying.  The children that you left behind, you are not going to see again.”

At the third station, the people held silence to remember the thousands of people who died in the desert trying to unify with their families.  They sang, “We’re half a family, deported without pity. The children are left crying, lamenting that they are orphans.”  Representing the American side sang, “We don’t want you to come here, stay over there.  The purity of the race could become contaminated.”   

The pilgrims playing Mary and Joseph were finally welcomed at the last place, the Kino Border Initiative dining hall. The Kino Border Initiative is a place (founded by the Jesuits) that welcomes deportees and and helps them reorient themselves back to their families or gives them a rest before people decide to cross back to their families in the US.  So when Mary and Joseph entered the dinging hall, everyone sang, “Let’s celebrate without borders or barriers, people who thirst for justice.  Today we will work and struggle together for justice and dignity.” 

On a spiritual level we have Mary and Joseph looking for posada not only for themselves but most significantly, they looked for posada for the Ark within her.  They found posada in an animal shelter. They were kept warm by each other and by having barn animals surround them.  A stable, straw in a manger, and farm animals: this is the posada that humanity offered their Savior! On the other hand, were it not for this humble posada, would Jesus be able to relate to our daily posada?  Mary and Joseph’s struggle through the desert of the unknown as they journeyed to Bethlehem and the unavailability of housing once they arrived at their destination, gave Jesus the experience of understanding the struggle of others. Jesus gets what it means for a family to live together in a garage or, if they’re lucky, stay inside a house in a single room.  Jesus gets how frustrating it is to knock on the doors of agencies and public officials only to have those doors slam our our faces.  Jesus gets this because his Posada is here.

Jesus made his home with the human race and CHOOSES this humble and poor community as his posada. So…we know that in our posada of life, God does walk with us - as one of us: Emmanuel.  And so, let us too make a journey to Bethlehem and honor the one who has found his place in us: Emmanuel, GOD-with-us.

Third Sunday of Advent

Third  Sunday of Advent

Jesus quotes the Isaiah passage in the beginning of his ministry.  Isaiah provided the scope of Jesus’ work:

“…the LORD has anointed me; he has sent me to bring glad tidings to the poor, to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners, to announce a year of favor from the LORD and a day of vindication by our God.”

Jesus did the big things - like changing water into wine, healing a young child from  a distance, feeding the 5,000, walking on water, and raising Lazarus - but what I find the most moving is the part about Jesus’ emotional connection with the people around him. While Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, the line that strikes me is, “Jesus wept.”  It was a total human reaction. Some interpret his weeping as that of shared grief, other’s interpret it as Jesus weeping over the tragedy of the state of unbelief.  Perhaps it’s both.

Jesus’ presence in sharing the sorrow over the loss of his friend Lazarus was enough for Martha and Mary, but the raising of Lazarus from the dead was for unbelievers. They needed a sign. For those of us who believe, it’s enough that Jesus walks with and among us. It’s enough that he shares in our struggles, it’s enough that he would sit and drink with sinners rather than judging them. It’s enough that he would feel the desperation of a group of friends who would lower their paralyzed man down from the roof into a room of crowded people.  But for those who don’t believe, they need Jesus to change the circumstance of struggle and sorrow.

I am convinced that Jesus isn’t about making things better for me or changing the world around me to fit my need for comfort or control.  With the deaths of my brother, then father and now my mother - I have come to know that Jesus isn’t going to change the circumstances around me. Jesus interest is about how I will change given the circumstances that I myself cannot control. 

Jesus doesn’t point to the past, but toward the future. The gospel from today, for instance, points to the future. John says, “but there is one among you whom you do not recognize, the one who is coming after me, whose sandal strap I am not worthy to untie.”  John the Baptist points to the one who is to come. People were trying to keep John tied to the past, by asking him who he was.  They’re trying to control John and control the growing excitement in people’s interest in a coming Messiah because were fearful and they couldn’t control what John the Baptist was saying or how people were reacting to his preaching.

We must do better than those who opposed John. Moving toward the future means that we cannot be caught up in fear otherwise we’d be stuck.  If we’re fearful, we cannot retreat and go backwards.  If we’re uncomfortable, we cannot hide until things around us get better.  We won’t move forward if we’re grasping to hold onto the past or trying to control the outcome.  There’s a way that we can overcome our fear: joy

In 1 Thessalonians Paul bids us to rejoice and pray without ceasing.  This means that our every waking moment isn’t defined by fear, regret, shame, or any thoughts that would leave us immobile, paralyzed or unmotivated. Living in joy allows us to push the boundaries and be bold.  Paul says, “Test everything; retain what is good.”  Living in joy means that we’re ready to take that chance, step up and step out.

For me, joy doesn’t mean an exuberant emotional release, but rather deepening the knowledge of God’s love.  Monasteries are one of the most joyful places but you won’t see them singing “alabanzas” or dancing. You will; however, meet monks who are joyful in their hearts. Their disposition toward the world is love, not condemnation.  It’s a resolute confidence in God’s presence, not a fear that they are under attack by an unseen enemy.  Joy is something that is worn on the inside, not on the sleeve.  When Isaiah says, “like a bridegroom adorned with a diadem (and a) bride bedecked with her jewels.”  This line refers to the interior spiritual disposition of the believer. Joy gives a certain confidence so that we can face the unknown with a sense that things will be okay and that whatever happens won’t destroy us forever. 

Am I there at that point of joyful confidence? To be honest, no.  But that’s okay. I’m a work in progress.  I believe that God will continue to work on me and that though his loving hand will not change the circumstances, God will shape who I am in the midst of what’s happening around me. Letting go of all the stuff around me is freedom. I look to the day when I can be free to live in the joy of the present moment without being anxious about a future that is yet to be realized.

Look at these roses: they’re given by the broken hearted, depressed, weary, those held in captivity by either an addiction or a bad and abusive relationship, given by those who had been profiled by police, and those who received deportation orders.  These roses tell me that you are already free even though you have suffered a lot in your life.

On this weekend we are reminded that Juan Diego’s journey wasn’t easy. His journey began when he encountered the Divine in the Apparition of Guadalupe. Mary’s tenderness and affection for Juan Diego changed him. She could relate to his oppression, for she too spoke Nahuatl and had dark skin. She wore the clothes of the indigenous people, not the flowing robes of Spanish nobility. Guadalupe de Tepeyac, Maria Tonatzín, like Jesus, simply wept at the plight of her people.

La Morenita’s loving tenderness awaked Juan Diego’s inner-being, his cultura - his identidad. He was at last free. Juan Diego’s freedom didn’t come because the Spanish retreated from the land or that the system of exploitation and misery was vanquished, but rather, Juan Diego was left with a more important gift: joy. That no matter what the Spanish tried to do in terms of military might - they couldn’t take his soul, his alma. Maria Tonatzín gave Juan Diego the ganas to be free and in his freedom he dared to be resistant. He stood up to ridicule from his peers, prejudice and hostility from the Spanish clergy, and, most importantly, he stood up to his own inward fears.  Juan Diego wasn’t held back being the messenger of God’s love manifested at Tepeyac in the appearance of the Virgen de Guadalupe. And that is the very definition of what it means to be free.

So let us move forward together - sons and daughters of Our Lady as free people with a joy that is deep within us and that no one and no thing can ever take from us.

Second Sunday of Advent:

Second Sunday of Advent

One of the things that we miss about the people we love is how they have physically held us - how they lovingly held us. My mom would touch my face and give me a gentle kiss when I would get home and one when I would leave. I’ll miss a lot of things about my mother, but that simple touch I will miss the most. Just thinking about it, triggers a bunch of memories of love. Change is inevitable and to be honest, unwelcome. But in spite of change, I still feel connected to my mother. The healing process or as some call, “the grieving process” will take time.

I’ve met with widows and widowers who have lost loved ones over years and they speak of the memories and many of them shared their own memories.  There are mementos that they keep around the house that trigger a connection with their husband or wife. It’s interesting because these things, these small seemingly inconsequential things are actually tokens of remembrance that keep those who have been separated by death somehow connected.  The desire to keep connected through tactile objects is unique to our species. It’s part and parcel of our humanity to want to remain connected with people whom we’ve loved.  But those of us who have lived with grief also recognize that we cannot isolate ourselves and look backwards. We must also look around to those who are present to us today.

God made us to be in relationship with others. When a relationship is severed, our species has a tendency to move toward a repair or healing mode. Isaiah the prophet spoke about “speaking tender to Jerusalem.” Isaiah called his people to restore the landscape to what God intended: to fill in valleys, to level mountains and hills, to make rugged lands fertile.  Restoration for Isaiah is about reshaping the landscape. Restoration won’t happen through violent means, but by a gentle touch.  When we have gentleness, we have transformation.

Our emotional landscape is transformed in gentle ways by gradual increments.  Our resistance to change is because we fear we will lose something. Fear keeps us from transformation.  What we have to realize is that even as our mountains are made low and our valleys are filled, we have a constant, unchanging center: the Christ.  Jesus Christ is the unchanging reality in our life, even as things move around.  With Christ, we’re ready to accept the change in our own interior landscape.

John the Baptist’s task was to sensitize the people to repent of sin and be reconciled to God. He called for the people’s interior landscape to change. His was  a baptism of repentance and liberation.  By entering the River, the people admitted that their actions had damaged others. By entering the water they also recognized that their sins weren’t just harming a single person, but that their actions had a social impact - sinfulness unraveled the bonds that held people together which eroded trust in the community. Sin disconnected people and as a result, evil thrived because no one was there to put an end to evil.

Jesus’ baptism goes beyond John’s. Jesus’ baptism of the Spirit gives new life to us. It promises not only forgiveness, but fulfillment. With Christ, we are never really alone. Things around us may change - and some of these changes may be unwelcome and inevitable - but what remains constant and unchanging is the Christ we find in one another.  When we see Christ in others, we will forever be connected to that other person, that will be a bond that won’t be broken no matter how much the landscape changes.

So let mountains be made low. Let the valleys be filled.  Make the crooked ways straight and make fertile the lands that are rugged. Advent is the interior change in landscape that will manifest itself in real change in the world. With ourselves as being changed on the inside - emerging - as it were - from the River Jordan, we rise out of the river and go out into the world. Rising from a river of grief, I will find ways to reconnect and find new meanings in a changed landscape of my life.  Jesus will gather all of us into his arms as the shepherd gathers his lambs and will lead the fragile and vulnerable with care. He will lead us to find a way to connect with others and create a place where forgiveness is lived out between peoples and nations, where all are fed.  And until that day, let this meal remind us of the precious love that he has promised us.