an advent search for meaning

 

 

Introduction

The busyness of Christmas

Just like all of us these days, the characters of the first Christmas drama are busy with last minute preparations.  Gabriel, the Christmas angel, speeds off to the home of a virgin named Mary to announce that her soul is filled with God’s favor and her body is filled with an infant born not of man but of God.  As soon as the angel’s business is finished, Mary grabs her bonnet and basket and flies out of the door.  St. Luke says, “She took off with haste into the hill country, to a city of Judah, and she entered the house of Zechariah and her cousin Elizabeth.”  For she had just learned that startling news from Gabriel that the old woman, barren all her life, had conceived and was already in her third month.  She flew in haste to help an old lady in need (Lk 1:38-39). We read this story of the annunciation to Mary today on this fourth and last Sunday before Christmas.

 

But the busyness in preparation for that first Christmas doesn’t die down with the annunciation to Mary. It revs up for even more Christmas business. The angel now has to fly off in haste to the home of Joseph, the man betrothed to Mary.  He has to announce the virginal conception of Jesus not only to Mary but also to Joseph, because it takes two for a virgin birth. We read this story of the annunciation to Joseph at mass on the 24th of December, the vigil of Christmas.

 

 

The ears of children

We said last week that the second part of Advent begins on the 17th of December with the novena of Christmas. The gaze now is backward to the past, to a moment of history when Jesus was born in Bethlehem.  And the scripture readings at mass these days tell us one story after another, for that’s what history is—it’s one story after another. Last week we promised that when you came back to mass this week that the gospel would be telling you a story. We’ve just kept that promise.

 

When we are young we listen to our Christmas story with the ears of a child. It is uncomplicated then. It requires no effort from us as kids. We take it at face value. But as we grow older we start to listen to the Christmas story with the ears of an adult. That’s natural. That’s the way it should be. But adult ears don’t take things at face value. They work hard at things.  They go in search of meaning.  St. Paul put it this way: “When I was a child, I talked and felt and thought like a little child.  But now that I am a man, I’m finished with the things of a child” (I Cor 13: 11).

 

The ears of adults

The Book of Ecclesiastes utters that famous and favorite litany about there being a time for everything under God’s sun:

 

“A time to be born and a time to die.

 A time to plant and a time to harvest.

  A time to weep and a time to laugh.

 A time to embrace and a time to abstain.

A time for war and a time for peace."                       

  (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8)

Ecclesiastes would now also add:

“There is a time to listen to our Christmas story

with the ears of a child

and a time also to listen to it with the ears of an adult.

There is a time to be simple about things

and take things at face value,

and there is a time also to work hard at things

and go in search of meaning.”

 

This morning for a moment we are going to work hard  at our Christmas story and go in search of meaning.  This morning for a moment we are going to listen to our Christmas story with the ears of an adult, not because the ears of an adult are any better than the ears of a child, but simply because sooner or later that’s what growing up asks of us. (“When  I was a child, I talked and felt and thought like a little child.  But now that I am a man, I’m finished with the things of a child.”)

 

Not only does our age asks this of us, but also our culture forces this task upon us.  Our culture with its mighty mass media slops us up a steady menu of flippant sex, wiggling its hips in our face 24 hours a day.  That poses a problem.  It challenges our Christmas story of virgin birth.  It dismisses it as incomprehensible, as “not with it,” as “out of touch.”  It even dismisses the story as “offensive.” We say their flippant sex is offensive; they say our virgin birth is offensive to human nature. How, we ask, can such a culture listen to a story of virgin birth without tongue in cheek?  How, we ask, can one proclaim that story to such a culture with a straight face?  Let’s try.

 

Not a statement about sex

Strange as it might sound, Gabriel’s annunciation of virgin birth is not a statement about sex. For a good part of my life, even as a priest, I thought it was a statement about sex. What a relief it was to finally discover that it is not a statement about sex. It doesn’t say that sex is bad.  It doesn’t say that when the Son of God comes into the world, it is below his dignity to be conceived and born in the very same way that every other baby is conceived and born. What an affront that would be to every mother and father, and to every child born into the world!  The Angel Gabriel isn't announcing that God, who created the world male and female in the first place, repents now of such "indecency,” and intends now to correct creation and do things the right way (“virginally”) at least in this one very special case.

 

It’s almost impossible to stamp out the idea that sex in itself is evil.  If it is evil it is never because it is sex, but always because it is something else: either because it is breaking a promise you’ve made to someone, or because it is endangering human life by spreading disease, or because it is bringing a human life into the world, which you can’t take care of or which you don’t want, or because it is the abuse of someone, or simply because your approach is way too casual to have even a speck of sacramental meaning to it.

 

Neither the Church nor society nor the media nor even the porn industry seems to be able to stamp out the idea that sex is bad. Some might say that it is not bad, but they really don’t mean it. Some can’t really celebrate sex; they can only steal it when no one is looking. We talk about taking the criminality out of drugs. I wonder what this world would be like if we managed finally to take the evil out of sex?  Just as decriminalizing drugs might do away with the drug industry, so taking the evil out of sex might do away with the prurient and the porn in us.  It certainly would take the heart out of scandal.

 

A statement about God and Jesus

If Gabriel’s annunciation of a virgin birth isn’t a statement about sex, what is it a statement of?  It is a statement about God and God’s son, Jesus. The story is not bad news about sex; it’s good news about God and Jesus.  Gabriel’s announces that the most momentous event in human history (at least for Christians), dividing time into B.C. and A.D, is in no way the result of human transaction or intercourse.  The Word became flesh not because human beings (Joseph and Mary) "by the will of their flesh (Jn 1:13)," fashioned his body, and set the date (nine months from today), and brought on the "fullness of time." The religious meaning of the story is that Jesus is not the gift of Mary and Joseph to the human race. Jesus is the gift of the Father in heaven to the human race.  Or to state the same religious meaning but in different words:  The human race can’t save itself. It can’t pull itself up by its bootstraps. It can only be saved by something from on high.  That statement resonates in the hearts of many of us who are in despair of ourselves at this very moment in this post September Eleventh Era.

 

You can save the virgin birth as miracle with all your might, as indeed some try to do, but if you haven’t saved the virgin birth also as meaning, you haven’t saved very much at all. 

 

A statement about woman

We continue listening to our Christmas story with adult ears. We continue our search for meaning.  Gabriel’s annunciation of a virgin birth makes a meaningful statement not only about God and Jesus but also about women. When the second part of Advent begins on the 17th with the novena of Christmas, the gospel reading that day at mass is the long male-ridden genealogy from Matthew.  "Abraham begot Isaac. And Isaac begot Jacob. And Jacob begot Judah and his brothers.  And Judah begot Perez and Zerah.  And Perez begot Hezron.  And Hezron begot Ram. And Ram begot Amminadab.”

 

The endless list carries on like that through forty-two generations of "men begetting sons," and no one these days has the courage to read the whole genealogy in its entirety at mass. ” It finally comes to “Achim who begot Eliud, and  Eliud begot Eleazar, and Eleazar begot Matthan, and Matthan begot Jacob.” Then suddenly the long list comes to a screeching halt with these words:  "And Jacob begot Joseph, the husband of Mary and it was of Mary (not of Joseph) that Jesus, who is called the Christ, was born”(Mt 1:1-16).

 

By one powerful stroke of her virginal conception of Jesus, Mary puts an end to the old list.  It was of Mary (not of Joseph) that Jesus, who is called the Christ, was born”(Mt 1:1-16). That puts the records straight at long last: It is women who beget children not men. Mary’s virginal conception of Jesus puts an end to the quiet lie that lines up only men behind the great events of history. Behind the most momentous event of all history, dividing time for many of us into B.C. and A.D., there stands no man at all--only a woman. Upon the finest page of Christian history, a woman (and not a man) has put her signature. Call that a feminist statement, if you will. I call it a Christmas statement. I call it a human statement—a statement which convicts, challenges, and calls to action--a statement which church and society must in time own up to.

 

A statement about man and fatherhood

We are listening to our story with adult ears. We are searching for meaning. The Christmas story of a virgin birth makes a meaningful statement not only about woman but also about man and fatherhood. We always speak about Mary’s virginal conception of Jesus, but no one ever speaks about Joseph’s virginal conception of the child.   Just as it takes two to tango, so it takes two for a virgin birth.  In the whole drama of Jesus’ birth, the role that the man Joseph plays is to step down, resign, remove himself from the picture, abdicate his sexual prowess, get out of the way, if you will, and let the plan of God take over.  That’s a big order for men who are used to center stage. That’s a big order for men, who like senators and cardinals and even popes, are not very famous for resigning. That’s a big order for men who are very threatened by a threat to their power.  That’s why women never get ordained. 

 

 Joseph’s stepping down and abdicating his sexual prowess in the conception of Jesus is an especially big order for men, upon whom culture places a heavy expectation to be studs. That’s an unjust burden to place upon a young man, for it forces a him to concentrate on sex in his developing years, while there are other areas in his development, which are equally important and which also call for his attention and energy.  It’s also an unjust burden to place upon a young girl, who feels there’s something wrong with her if she can’t elicit the stud in the guys around her, and who feels she has to compete with the other girls in this matter.

 

Our story makes a meaningful statement also about fatherhood. Though the pregnancy is not his, Joseph protects the budding life in Mary by rescuing her from the cruel Law of Moses that would have stoned her to death for adultery. Though the babe is not his, he protects it from King Herod by fleeing with Mary into Egypt. Though the infant is not his, he provides for it by taking a job as carpenter. And because of all this, Joseph, though he is not the father, is declared to be the father of Jesus.  Even heaven knows, though perhaps Milwaukee does not know, that every kid needs a father, just as every woman needs a partner to help her bring a new-born life to full bloom. Even heaven knows, though perhaps Milwaukee does not know, that there’s more to fatherhood than just physically generating a kid.

 

Conclusion

Return to the original story

There is a time for everything: a time to listen to our Christmas story with the ears of a child, and time to listen to it with the ears of an adult. There is a time to take things at face value, and a time also to work hard at things. There is a time to be a simple believer, and a time to be a complex theologian. Sometimes the one rests while the other takes over.

 

We’ve been working hard searching for meaning. We’ve been working hard at a theologian’s story of the first Christmas. Now at this late date, with Christmas on the horizon, we can give that all a rest, and let the gospel’s story of the first Christmas, just as it stands, take over and speak for itself. That’s the story we heard as kids—the story which required no effort and delighted us. That’s the story which was heard by innocent ears—ears which hear something grownups don’t hear. And if we are obedient to the Lord’s commandment to become as little children, that’s the story we never abandon but always return to, especially when we want to hear again with the uncluttered ears of a child that something which grownups don’t hear.