Simon and Andrew were casting a net into the sea for they were fishermen. Day after day it was the same thing; the same sea, the same net, the same boat. Day after day it was wind, water, fish, sore muscles, tired bodies. They probably grew up watching their dad and granddad fishing, watching their future life, watching how they too would spend their time.

Cast the net, pull it in. Cast the net, pull it in. If you are not casting the net, then you sit in the boat mending the net. That’s what James and John were doing. Casting and mending. Casting and mending. You know about those days, right?

We may not fish for a living but we know about casting and mending nets. Days that all seem the same. One looks like another. Life is routine, lived on autopilot. Nothing changes. We don’t expect much to happen. This is our life. We cast the nets. We mend the nets. Casting and mending to make a living, to feed our family, to pay the bills. Casting and mending to gain security and get to retirement. Casting and mending to hold our family together, to make our marriage work, to grow up our children. Casting and mending to gain the things we want; a house, a car, books, clothes, a vacation. Casting and mending to earn a reputation, gain approval, establish status. Casting and mending our way through another day of loneliness, sadness, or illness.

Casting and mending are realities of life. They are also the circumstances in which Jesus comes to us, the context in which we hear the call to new life, and the place where we are changed and the ordinary becomes the extraordinary.

These would be disciples, Simon and Andrew, James and John, are not looking for Jesus. They are too busy with the nets. It is another day of casting and mending. They may not have even noticed Jesus but he not only sees them he speaks to them. Jesus has a way of showing up in the ordinary places of life and interrupting the daily routines of casting and mending nets. That’s what he did to the lives of Simon and Andrew, James and John. That’s what he does to your life and my life.

“Follow me” is Jesus’ invitation to a new life. If these four fishermen accept the invitation, their lives will forever be different. They will be different. They will no longer catch just fish. They will fish for people.

When Jesus says, “I will make you fish for people,” he is describing the transformation of their lives, not simply a job catching new members or followers. He could just as easily have said to the carpenters, “Follow me, and you will build the kingdom of heaven.” To the farmers, “Follow me, and you will grow God’s people. To the doctors, “Follow me, and you will heal the brokenness of the world.” To the teachers, “Follow me, and you will open minds and hearts to the presence of God.” To the parents, “Follow me, and you will nurture new life.”

Whatever your life is, however you spend your time, there is in that life Jesus’ call to “Follow me.” “Follow me” is the call to participate with God in God’s own saving work. It’s the work of change and growth. That work is always about moving to a larger vision, orienting our life in a new direction, and experiencing that our little story of life is connected to and a part of a much larger story of life, God’s life.

As Jesus walked by the Sea of Galilee he saw Simon, Andrew, James, and John. Jesus called them. Mark records no discussions, no questions, no good byes. They simply “left… and followed him.”

I’m afraid that if Mark were writing about me – when he gets to the part when Jesus says, “Follow me” – Mark would write, “and immediately the questions followed.” “Where are we going? What will we do? How long will we be gone? What do I need to take? Where will we stay?”

But this conversation doesn’t take place in today’s gospel. Jesus does not offer a map, an itinerary, or a destination, only an invitation. This is not the type of journey you can prepare for. This is the inner journey, a journey into the deepest part of our being, the place where God resides. It’s not about planning and organizing, making lists, or packing supplies. It’s not that easy. If anything this journey is about leaving things behind. Listen to what Mark says:

• “Immediately they left their nets and followed him.”
• “They left their father Zebedee in the boat…, and followed him.”

The invitation, “follow me,” is also the invitation to leave behind; to leave behind our nets, our boats, and even our fathers.

That’s the hard part for most of us. We’re pretty good at accumulating and clinging but not so good at letting go. More often than not our spiritual growth involves some kind of letting go. We never get anywhere new as long as we’re unwilling to leave where we are. We accept Jesus’ invitation to follow, not by packing up, but by letting go.

“Follow me” is both the invitation to and the promise of new life. So what are the nets that entangle us? What are the little boats that contain our life? Who are the fathers from whom we seek identity, value, or approval? What do we need to let go of and leave behind so that we might follow him?

Please don’t think this is simply about changing careers, disowning our family, or moving to a new town. It is about the freedom to be fully human and in so being discover God’s divinity within us. We let go so that our life may be reoriented, so that we can now travel in new direction, so that we may be open to receive the life of God anew. When we let go, everything is transformed – including our nets, boats, and fathers. That’s why Jesus could tell them they would still be fishermen. But now they would fish for people. They wouldn’t become something they weren’t already, but they would be changed. They would become transformed fishermen. They would more authentically be who they already were.

Ultimately, it’s about letting go of our own little life so that we can receive God’s life. This letting go happens in the context of our everyday activities; work, school, families, paying the bills, running errands, fixing dinner, relationships, and trying to do the right thing. It happens in the casting and mending of our nets. These are the times and places Jesus shows up and calls into a new way of being and our world changes. It happened for Simon, Andrew, James, and John. It can happen for you and me.

Jesus Calling Simon and Andrew

Jesus Calling Philip and Nathanael

“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Nathanael has some opinions, some assumptions, about Nazareth. You ever make any assumptions?

“I’ve seen his type before; he’ll never change.” “She’s always so negative; I know what she will say.” “He won’t understand; he never does.” “It’s always been like that; it will never get any better.” “Nothing good can come of that situation.”

People of faith, people like Nathanael, people like you and me, make these and all sorts of other assumptions everyday. Sometimes our assumptions are about other people; how they will behave, what they will say, what we can expect, what they think or believe. Other times we look at particular situations, our marriage, the state of the middle east or the church, a teenager trying to grow up and we declare it hopeless. We are sure nothing good can come out of that situation. Then there are those times we look at our selves or a part of our life; maybe it is a secret we have carried for years, the illness we face each day, the addiction we hide, the hurts we have caused other, the loneliness and lostness of grief, and we say it will never get any better. How can anything good come out of this? We may or may not speak our assumptions out loud but they rattle through our heads and influence what we do.

You know what happens we when we assume, right? The old saying has some truth to it but I am thinking of something else. The assumptions we make destroy relationships, love, and life. We think we know more than really do. Assumptions act as limitations. They narrow our vision. They close off the possibility of change and growth. Our assumptions deny the possibility of reconciliation, healing, a different way of being, or a new life. Ultimately, they impoverish our faith and proclaim there is no room for God to show up and act.

It is no coincidence that Nathanael is sitting under the fig tree when he makes his comment. It is the fig tree that gave Adam and Eve the leaves behind which they hid from God and themselves. It is the fig tree that Jesus will later curse for producing no fruit, no signs of life. Assumptions become our hiding places. They are not fruitful. They keep us from engaging life, ourselves, each other, and God at a deeper level.

Nathanael doesn’t doubt that God will fulfill the Old Testament promises. He isn’t surprised by and doesn’t even question that Philip could have found the one about “whom Moses in the law and the prophets spoke.” His shock and disbelief are that this could come out of Nazareth. Nathanael has as much faith as the next guy, but Nazareth? No way. Not there. Can anything good come out of Nazareth?

We all have our Nazareths. We think they are about other people, particular circumstances, or even pieces of our lives. Mostly, though, our assumptions are about us; our fears, our prejudices, our guilt, our losses, our wounds. We take our past experiences, real or imagined, and project them onto another person or situation. Assumptions keep life shallow and superficial. If we assume, then we do not have to risk a deeper knowing and being known.

At the deepest level our Nazareths are about our understanding of God. We just can’t see how anything good can come out of Nazareth. We cannot believe that God could be present, active, and revealed in Nazareth whether it be another person, a relationship or situation, or our own life. It’s so hard to see life in the midst of death, hope in places of despair, and the good and beautiful in what looks like the bad and ugly. It’s sometimes easier to assume. For us Nazareth is a blind spot. For God, however, Nazareth is the place of God’s manifestation and self-revelation.

It just seems so unGod-like to show up in Nazareth. Whether it is the town, a person, or a situation, Nazareth is too common and ordinary, even mundane. Shouldn’t the person or place of God’s coming be more deserving, special, acceptable, holy, better behaved, likable, more regular at church, someone who prays more, better dressed? The Nathanael in us has a particular set of conditions or prerequisites that must be met before God will appear and act. That says more about us than it does about God.

God does not allow himself to be limited by our assumptions. For every Nazareth there is an invitation to “come and see.” For every assumption we make there is a deeper truth to be discovered, a new relationship to be experienced, and a new life to be lived. Our Nazareths become the place of God’s epiphany.

Over and over Jesus shows up from the Nazareths of our life and calls us out from under the fig tree. Whenever we leave the fig tree we open ourselves to see God present and at work in the most unexpected places and people. As the assumptions fall a new life and a new world arise.  The fulfillment of God’s promises and earthly life happen in Nazareth. The last place we would have thought that possible is the first place God chooses. Come and see. Our salvation and healing happen where we thought nothing good could happen. Reconciliation and love are revealed in relationships we were certain nothing good could come from. The seemingly hopeless situations of life begin to bear fruit. Words of forgiveness and compassion are spoken by people we were sure could never say such things. God puts lives back together in Nazareth.

There is more happening in Nazareth than we ever thought possible. You see, not just “anything good” comes out of Nazareth. The One who is Good comes out of Nazareth.

Seeing you, O Christ our God, drawing near to him in the river Jordan, John said Why are You who are without defilement come to your servant, O Lord? In whose name shall I baptize you? Of the Father? But you bear him in yourself. Of the Son? But you are yourself the Son made flesh. Of the Holy Spirit? But you know that from your own lips you give him to the faithful. O God who has appeared, have mercy on us.

- by Anatolius. From the Great Service for the Sanctification of the Water.

Icon of the Theophany: The Baptism of Jesus

Icon of the Theophany - the Baptism of Jesus

Have you ever had one of those days when wanted a do-over? A day when you wanted to take a mulligan and start again? I remember a guy telling me, one time, “You know, I’ve had a bad decade. There are so many things I wish I could go back and do differently.”

Whether it is a day or a decade there are times when we wish we could back up and do things differently. Choose different words to speak. Act in a differently way. Handle a relationship better. Sometimes we just want to do life differently. I think the wishing goes deeper than just doing differently. More than anything we want to be different. Our doing arises out of and reveals our being, who we are, how we see ourselves, one another, and the world. Being and doing are intimately connected.

Wishing we could do things differently, and the deeper wish to be a different creation, is really the wish for the first day. Think about some of your first days. The first day as a married person. The first day as a parent. The first day of that job or vocation you had been waiting for and working toward. The first day you took seriously, as a matter of life and death, your faith. First days are filled with light. They hold the promise of all that might be. There is an excitement, newness, and innocence to first days. First days are vibrant, alive, full of dreams and possibilities. I imagine that is how God looked at the first day, in the beginning. No harsh words had been spoken. No feelings had been hurt. No relationships had been broken. There was no guilt or regret. There was only light; the light of life, the light of love, the light of promise and hope; the light of God. And it was good. The first day is always a day of creation.

Sometimes in my work with people someone will say, “Oh, I wish I could go back and ….” Often a married couple will say, “We want to go back to the day when our marriage was….” They are all looking for the first day. We cannot go back to the way it was. First day wishing, however, is not really about turning back time. It is about becoming a new creation, a new being. Ultimately, it is about returning to the waters of Jesus’ baptisms.

Every time we return to the baptismal waters we return to the first day. Creation and baptism cannot be separated. They are intimately connected and mirror each other. Listen to what Genesis says and how St. Mark describes Jesus’ baptism.

• In the beginning a wind (or breath, or spirit) of God swept over the face of the waters.
• At Jesus’ baptism the spirit (or breath or wind) of God descended on Jesus as he is coming up out of the water.

• In the beginning God said, “Let there be light.”
• At Jesus’ baptism God said, “You are my Son, the Beloved.”

• In the beginning “God saw that the light was good.”
• At Jesus’ baptism God was “well pleased.”

Creation and Jesus baptism are God’s gifts to humanity. Everything God does God does for humanity. Jesus did not need to be baptized. We needed him to be baptized. The baptismal water did not sanctify Jesus; he sanctified the baptismal water. His baptism is not the means by which we identify with him, but the means by which he identifies with us. Our baptism allows us to participate in his baptism.

Through Jesus our humanity was present and baptized in his baptism. Our humanity was the humanity upon which the spirit descended. Our humanity was the humanity to whom the Father spoke and with whom he was well pleased. Our humanity was recreated in Jesus’ baptism. It is the first day. In baptism we are a new creation, a new being.

Every time we return to the baptismal waters we claim our identity in Jesus as beloved sons and daughters. Every time we return to the baptism waters God again manifests and reveals himself in humanity. Every time we return to the baptismal waters we return to that first day of light, love, life, and the promise of all that might be.

Whatever your life has been or might now be, the baptismal waters await you. So return to the water. Let the waters of God’s life wash and rid you of fear, resentment, and despair. Cannonball into the mercy of God. Immerse yourself in the water of God’s love. Splash in the waves of God’s forgiveness. Backstroke through the pool of God’s grace. Dive deep into the gift of having been created in the image and likeness of God. Drift in the stillness of God’s peace. These are the waters of new birth.

So come on, the water’s fine!

Magi Following the Star

When our sons were young they often wanted a light left on when they went to bed. There was the nightly reminder, “Dad, don’t forget the nightlight.” Sometimes it was “Dad, would you leave the light on and crack the door.” They wanted a light that made sure the darkness would not overtake them. They wanted a light that would guide them through the night to the dawn of a new day. They wanted a light to remind then that everything was okay.

I always turned on the light because I understood. I still do. I know what it is like to want a light to guide me through the darkness of life, a light that offers peace in the midst of anxiety, a light that will shine in the night times of life. I’ll bet you know about that too. Regardless of our age we are all looking for the light that shines in the darkness of our world, a light that will lead us beyond the borders of our life to a new country, a light that illumines the night skies of our life with hope, peace, and union with God. That is, I think what kept the wise men in tonight’s gospel watching the night sky. They were seeking the transcendent.

They did not just happen to see the star in the sky one night. They “observed [the] star at its rising.” They were watching, searching. They saw it rise and in its rising their heard its call to follow. These astrologers teach us something about faithfulness. Often faithfulness in the night means simply watching and waiting, looking and searching, trusting and knowing that the darkness is not the final reality, light will shine in the darkness, and the darkness can never overcome the light.

If the created light of human ingenuity, electric light, can comfort and guide two little boys through the night, imagine what the uncreated light of Christ does in our lives. The paradox is that the epiphanies of life, the manifestation of Christ’s light, happen in the night skies of our lives.

Sometimes those night skies are the difficulties and sorrows of life. Other times they are the great mysteries that we cannot comprehend; the miracle of life revealed in the birth of our child or grandchild, the love of husband and wife, a peaceful and holy death. Sometimes the night sky is when we trust beyond what we can see with physical eyes or understand with logic, when we travel a path of unknowing, not sure of where we are going or how we will get there. The night sky is always about faith. Regardless of what your night sky is, it is the background, the context, the life in which Jesus’ presence, his life, his light, and his love illumine your way and change your life. It is the one light that makes all the difference in the world; not because the world is changed but because we are changed.

On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. (Mt. 2:11)

When we experience the epiphany light we can do nothing but open up the treasure chest of our lives. Nothing is held in reserve. We give to Christ all that we are and all that we have. We have been “epiphanized.” God has appeared in humanity. The treasure chest of humanity is now filled with divinity and it’s time to return to our “own country.”

Epiphanies are not an escape from home. They always take back to where we came from. But like the wise men we leave for our “own country by another road.” The old road can’t get us there. We can no longer speak, act, or think in the same old ways because we are not the same old person. We have seen the glory of God face to face. We have become epiphany.

“Dad, don’t forget the nightlight.” The words echo throughout the world, our lives, our night sky. And the Father always responds, “Oh, my child. The light has never been turned off. It’s Epiphany!”

]]> http://interruptingthesilence.com/2012/01/06/the-nightlight-of-gods-presence-jesus-a-sermon-for-the-feast-of-the-epiphany-matthew-21-12/feed/ 1 Mike magi http://interruptingthesilence.com/2012/01/06/epiphany-proclamation-2012/ http://interruptingthesilence.com/2012/01/06/epiphany-proclamation-2012/#comments Fri, 06 Jan 2012 19:14:48 +0000 marshmk http://interruptingthesilence.com/?p=3357 Continue reading →]]> The Epiphany Proclamation is an ancient practice of the Church. On the Feast of Epiphany the date of Easter as well as other feast and fast dates are proclaimed. The Proclamation proclaims not only dates but the reality that our lives are to be lived in rhythm with and according to Jesus’ life.  Here is  the proclamation for this year.

Dear brothers and sisters, the glory of the Lord has shone upon us, and shall ever be manifest among us, until the day of His return.

Through the rhythms of times and seasons let us celebrate the mysteries of salvation.

Let us recall the year’s culmination, the Easter Triduum of the Lord: His Last Supper, His Crucifixion and Death, His Burial, and His Rising, celebrated between the evening of the 5^th day of April and the evening of the 7^th day of April, Easter Sunday being on the 8^th day of April.

Each Easter—as on each Sunday—the Holy Church makes present the great and saving deed by which Christ has forever conquered sin and death. From Easter are reckoned all the days we keep holy.

Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, will occur on the 22^nd day of February.

The Ascension of the Lord will be commemorated on the 17^th day of May.

Pentecost, the joyful conclusion of the season of Easter, will be celebrated on the 27^th day of May.

And this year the First Sunday of Advent will be on the 2^nd day of December.

Likewise the pilgrim Church proclaims the Passover of Christ in the feasts of the holy Mother of God, in the feasts of the Apostles and Saints, and in the commemoration of the faithful departed.

To Jesus Christ, who was, who is, and who is to come, Lord of time and history, be endless praise, for ever and ever. Amen

After eight days had passed, it was time to circumcise the child; and he was called Jesus, the name given by the angel before he was conceived in the womb (Lk. 2:21)

My wife and spent some time last week with a couple of her friends and their husbands. One of the men is a former Marine pilot. The other spoke about his father who had been a pilot in World War II. His call sign was “Salty.” The Marine pilot’s call sign was “Doo Doo.” I have never met Salty and I don’t know Doo Doo all that well but I now have some ideas and a clearer picture of who they are.

Names are more than just labels. In some way names capture and express the essence of the person. They reveal qualities and characteristics. Try these out. See what they reveal.

• Tricky Dick
• Hussein
• Gandhi
• Martin Luther King, Jr.

These names are about a life and a way of being. Within these names are particular actions, values, and beliefs of the person. Sometimes names reveal experiences and relationships. Think about these names: “Daddy,” “Darling,” “Sweetie pie.” My younger son somehow picked up the nickname “Okamo.” I don’t know where it came from but it was more than just something I called him. Within that name was a relationship of love and the experiences of a young boy and his dad.

Names can identify and reveal our personhood. That’s why it sometimes hurts when we are anonymous and our name forgotten. That’s why we also sometimes prefer and hide in anonymity. Names disclose who we are, how we are, where we come from, where we are going. That seems to be at least one of the purposes of all the genealogies in holy scripture.

God uses names and name changes to establish relationship, identity, and belonging. Think about God inviting Adam to name the animals and then giving Adam dominion over creation. Adam named Eve for having come from his side. Moses was so named because he was drawn from the water. Abram and Sarai were renamed Abraham and Sarah for their new relationship to God. Jacob wrestled the angel and was named Israel. Saul’s life was transformed and he became Paul.

Today, January 1, the world is concerned about a new year, resolutions, football, and black-eyed peas. The Church, however, is focused on a name, Jesus. It is the name that reveals God’s life and purpose, claims us as God’s people, and changes our lives. Today is the fulfillment of Gabriel’s annunciation to Mary. Everything the Archangel said would happen has now happened.

We gathered on March 25, nine months and eight days ago, to celebrate the Feast of the Annunciation. Gabriel came to Mary announcing that she would conceive in her womb, she would give birth to a son, and she would name him Jesus. And so it was. She conceived. Nine months to the day later, December 25, we gathered with joy to greet the newborn child. Today, eight days after the birth, we gather to hear the name given him by the angel before he was conceived in the womb, Jesus.

Jesus. Yeshua in Hebrew. It means the Lord saves, salvation. Within the name is Jesus’ vocation, a relationship to humanity, and a desire of God. The name “Jesus” says that God cares about us; God knows what is happening to and with us; God is not indifferent; God is present, acting in the world and in our lives; and that God loves us.

Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. The name is, contains, and reveals the fullness of God’s life, love, and longing.

So maybe we ought to consider our relationship to the name “Jesus.” When do we say that name? Where? How often? Under what circumstances? In whose company? Is it only a name we read in the Bible? A name we speak only in church? How have we misused or even desecrated the name? Do we say it as our prayer? What do we believe about that name, Jesus?

“What’s in a name?” Juliet asks Romeo.
“That which we call a rose,
by any other name would smell as sweet.”

Is she really correct? I think she has mistaken a name for a label. What if you said the word “rose” and you were filled with its fragrance? I don’t mean you remembered what a rose smelled like but you actually smelled the rose. What if every time you said the name “rose” you were immersed in a garden of life, beauty, and color? What if every time you said the name “rose” you could actually feel the softness of its petals? I suspect you would not want to call it anything but a rose and you would never cease calling, “rose.” That is how the Holy Name of Jesus works.

Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Say it with me. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus…. Let that holy name fill our every thought, echo through our every word, occupy our heart, guide and direct our every step. We take that name into every circumstance of our life, into every relationship we have, to everything we do, to all whom we meet. Let it begin, fill, and end our day. Jesus before us. Jesus behind us. Jesus beside us. Jesus above us. Jesus below us. Jesus around us. Jesus within us. The name “Jesus” is our unceasing prayer. All that needs to be said is said in that one name.

Every time we say “Jesus,” we claim God’s salvation. Every time we say “Jesus,” we acknowledge our need of God and salvation. Every time we say “Jesus,” we open ourselves to God’s mercy, forgiveness, and healing. Every time we say “Jesus,” we remember that God is with us. Every time we say “Jesus,” we renew our relationship with him. Every time we say “Jesus,” his response is always the same, “Here I am.”

And seeing that you yearn to be God’s lover, I appeal to you to love this name, Jesus, and meditate on it in your heart so that you never forget it wherever you are. And, assuredly, I promise you that you will find great joy and strength in it; and because of the love with which you love Jesus so tenderly and as such an intimate friend, you will be filled with grace on this earth and be Christ’s beloved maiden and wife in heaven. This is because nothing pleases God so much as true devotion to [his] name of Jesus.

- Richard Rolle, “Ego Dormio” in Richard Rolle, The English Writings, p. 137.

I’ll give you one piece of advice: don’t neglect his name, “Jesus.” Meditate on it in your heart night and day as your personal and precious treasure. Love it more than your life. Root it in your mind. Love Jesus, because he made you and bought you at a very high price. Give your heart to him, because it is the debt you owe him. Therefore devote your love to this name “Jesus,” which means “salvation.” No evil thing can have any living-space in that heart where “Jesus” is faithfully kept in mind, because it chases out devils and destroys temptations and turns out all wrongful anxieties and defects, and purifies the mind. Whoever really loves it is full of God’s grace and full of virtues, receives spiritual strength in this life; and when such people die, they are adopted into the order of angels above, to behold in unending joy him whom they have loved.

 - Richard Rolle, “Ego Dormio” in Richard Rolle, The English Writings, p. 150-51.

Richard Rolle, The English Writings (Classics of Western Spirituality)

The sweet Name of Jesus produces in us holy thoughts, fills the soul with noble sentiments, strengthens virtue, begets good works, and nourishes pure affections. All spiritual food leaves the soul dry, if it contain not that penetrating oil, the Name Jesus. When you take your pen, write the Name Jesus: if you write books, let the Name of Jesus be contained in them, else they will possess no charm or attraction for me; you may speak, or you may reply, but if the Name of Jesus sounds not from your lips, you are without unction and without charm. Jesus to me is honey in the mouth, light in the eyes, a flame in our heart. This name is the cure for all diseases of the soul. Are you troubled? Think but of Jesus, speak but the Name of Jesus, the clouds disperse, and peace descends anew from heaven. Have you fallen into sin? So that you fear death? Invoke the Name of Jesus, and you will soon feel life returning. No obduracy of the soul, no weakness, no coldness of heart can resist this holy Name; there is no heart which will not soften and open in tears at this holy name. Are you surrounded by sorrow and danger? Invoke the Name of Jesus, and your fears will vanish.

Never yet was human being in urgent need, and on the point of perishing, who invoked this help-giving Name, and was not powerfully sustained. It was given us for the cure of all our ills; to soften the impetuosity of anger, to quench the fire of concupiscence, to conquer pride, to mitigate the pain of our wounds, to overcome the thirst of avarice, to quiet sensual passions, and the desires of low pleasures. If we call to our minds the Name of Jesus, it brings before us His most meek and humble heart, and gives us a new knowledge of His most loving and tender compassion. The Name of Jesus is the purest, and holiest, the noblest and most indulgent of names, the Name of all blessings and of all virtues; it is the Name of the God-Man, of sanctity itself. To think of Jesus is to think of the great, infinite God Who, having given us His life as an example, has also bestowed the necessary understanding, energy and assistance to enable us to follow and imitate Him, in our thoughts, inclinations, words and actions. If the Name of Jesus reaches the depths of our heart, it leaves heavenly virtue there. We say, therefore, with our great master, St. Paul the Apostle: If any man love not our Lord Jesus Christ, let him be anathema.

The Lament of Rachel

Just a few days into Christmas and the liturgical calendar confronts us with the Feast of the Holy Innocents. “When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under” (Mt. 2:16).

The hymn, Salvete flores Martyrum, reminds us that the Church views the slaughtered children as the first martyrs for Jesus.

All hail! Ye infant martyr flowers,
Cut off in life’s first dawning hours:
As rosebuds snapt in tempest strife
When Herod sought your Saviour’s life.

You, tender flock of Christ, we sing,
First victims slain for Christ your King:
Beneath the Altar’s heavenly ray
With Martyr-palms and crowns ye play.

I wonder if Jesus was remembering these children “when he called a child, whom he put among [the disciples,] and said,”

Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me. If any of you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were fastened around your neck and you were drowned in the depth of the sea. (Mt. 18:2-6)

It seems that the innocent and innocence are always in danger of being slaughtered by the tyrants of this world. Whether we call it Herod, Archelaus, fear, poverty, war, hunger, injustice, violence, addiction, despair, sorrow, death, indifference, or any one of a thousand other names there is always a tyrant that seeks to destroy the divine life, a tyrant that wants to kill the holiness in this world, a tyrant that proclaims itself as ruler and denies God is with us. I suspect each of us can name times when our innocence was slaughtered and times when we slaughtered the innocence of another.

Yet all is not lost, hopeless. Herod is not the only actor in this story. There are others who show us a different way. There is St. Joseph, spouse of Mary and guardian of Jesus. There are the wise men from the East. Herod destroys, Joseph protects, and the wise men adore.

The Feast of the Holy Innocents sets before us a harsh truth. “In the face of the Ultimate, one must either destroy or [protect and] adore” (adapted from Erasmo Leiva-Merikakis, Fire of Mercy, p. 91). Within that truth is a question each of us must answer.