A Considerable Person

 

Neh 8:2-4a, 5-6,8-10

1 Cor 12:12-30

Lk 1:1-4; 4:14-21

 

 

I’m a great lover of the epic films of the 50s and 60s. One of my favorites is Ben Hur. Apart from the great battle scenes and the chariot race, another, less dramatic scene has always struck me. When Judah Ben Hur returns home to Jerusalem after years in the galleys and then in Rome, he finds his trusted steward, Simonides, can no longer walk due to the torture he received at the hands of the Romans. Through all his suffering, he remained loyal to his master and never disclosed the whereabouts of his fortune. Though he is crippled, the small, frail Simonides had befriended another released prisoner, a giant of a man who was mute. Simonides says to his master, “He has no tongue and I have no legs. For the past three years I have been his tongue and he has been my legs. Together we make a considerable man!”

 

It’s a lot like that with the Body of Christ.

 

Paul’s analogy of the body is an especially strong one. The human body is the most complex, sophisticated mechanism ever devised, and when it is healthy, every cell, organ and system works in complete harmony. When even the smallest part is sick, that harmony is broken. Not so with the Body of Christ.

 

The Body of Christ is made up of incomplete parts - broken parts - none of which can function well without the others. But together we make a considerable person. Individually we may be weak, but together we are strong, because our stronger parts support the weaker, and the weaker parts soften the stronger ones. And all parts are necessary.

 

What would the body be without a head to keep everything working in harmony? A central organizing force that uses faith and reason to help discern God’s will for the body? But just because we aren’t all the head doesn’t mean we aren’t necessary for the survival of the body.

 

What would the body be without eyes?  Eyes open to the reality of others’ lives. Eyes weeping along with a person in pain. Not just seeing Jesus in others but seeing others as Jesus sees them. Who are the eyes of the Body of Christ?

 

Who are the ears? Listening actively. Communicating to the body what others are saying. Hearing the world. Experiencing the music and joy of life.

 

Who are the hands? Touching lives, holding other hands; building, giving, reaching out to others. Hands that are calloused from hard work yet soft from tender touch. 

 

Who are the feet? Walking along with others. Supporting the body, carrying it forward on our journey.

 

I really find it interesting how Paul treats the less presentable parts. The parts we’re a bit embarrassed to show off to the world. The most vulnerable parts, those that cannot protect themselves. Do we ignore them and treat them with less respect? No, we give them more honor. We protect them. We shroud them in mystery. Who are the less presentable parts in this parish, in this world?

 

Some parts of the body are rarely felt and seen, yet without them the body would die. These are the quiet people who pray for the church, who do great deeds in secret. Who offer up their suffering for the salvation of the body. These are the heart of the body.

 

But even the missing parts are felt. Like an amputee who still feels the phantom limb, when parts are missing, we’re incomplete. Some parts are like my good friend Dave, who has been missing lately because of a painful divorce. He doesn’t feel comfortable in the church these days.

 

Some are like Chris, missing because her son died over two years ago, and she still can’t face questions about him from her well-meaning friends. These parts may be missing but we are weakened by their absence. They are still part of the body.

 

And finally, there are parts of the body that are useful, yet unfeeling. They go through the motions on autopilot, showing up every once in awhile, not really knowing why, or following along blindly wherever the rest of the body wants to go. Until they can fill their proper role, we’ll carry them along.

 

Diversity is a big focus these days. We celebrate and honor our differences. They’re what give us our richness and fullness. Each one of us brings something special to the body. Our own unique talents and gifts, all given to us by our creator. But to us, diversity isn’t a new idea. St. Paul taught diversity two thousand years before it was the popular thing to do.

 

But diversity without unity is empty and selfish. Without unity the body cannot function. What if each foot wanted to walk in a different direction? What if one ear only heard this belief and the other a contradictory one? Being different doesn’t mean we each do our own thing without considering the good of the whole. Jesus calls us all to be united in purpose, united in him through faith. There must be a balance between diversity and unity.

 

Some people get so hung up on what they cannot do in the body that they lose sight of the things they can do. Paul says that not everyone is called to be the head, not everyone can be the eyes, or the ears, or the feet. That doesn’t make any of them more or less important to the body. There is no room for ambition in the Body of Christ.

 

And, interestingly, rarely is someone just acting as one part of the Body. We all serve as eyes and ears, hands and feet, heart and soul, oftentimes moving effortlessly from one role to another without thinking as the needs arise. It’s a lot like in other areas of our lives. We all have so many roles to play, and somehow or other we keep them all straight and they all combine in one single person. But all roles are not equally important, and some are more definitively laid out, as Paul describes today.

 

What is your role?

 

Are you an apostle, one who is sent to witness to Christ because you know him personally?

 

Are you a prophet, one who speaks the truth against great opposition, even if it’s just from your own children?

 

Are you a teacher, either by training or as a parent or mentor?

 

Do you do mighty deeds? Just keeping the faith in today’s society is a mighty deed.

 

Are you a healer of the body, or even just a good listener?

 

Do you feed the body by giving assistance to the poor and the hungry?

 

Are you an administrator, doing the thousands of thankless tasks that make the body run smoothly?

 

Do you speak in tongues, praising God in your own unique way?

 

Do you take care of the body? Do you keep it clean and healthy? Give it regular check ups to make sure all the parts are operating as they should. Do you feed it with healthy spiritual food?

 

Do you build it up or do you abuse it? Do you tear it down, always complaining about what you feel is wrong with it instead of looking for solutions to our problems? Do you put down other members, cutting them off from the rest, making them feel unwanted?

 

Just like our physical bodies, the Body of Christ requires constant care and nourishment in order to remain healthy and strong. Every part must be aware not only of what it individually needs but how it affects the entire body. Sometimes that requires individuals to humbly suppress their own desires for the good of the whole. And just as the stronger parts support the weaker ones, the weakest should do everything they can to become stronger.

 

It is through our physical bodies that we experience the good and the bad, joys and sorrows of life. They are the vehicles that God has given us to make our way through life here on earth to eternal life in heaven. Our bodies enable us to join together in relationship with others, so we can journey together. That unity is what gives life purpose and meaning.

 

That unity is the Body of Christ. We’re all in this together, and it's together that we do make a considerable person.

The Holy Family

 

Christmas Day has ended, and many of you spent it with family. Your own nuclear families and often extended family and those close friends we consider to be part of our families. I see many of them here today. The media often portray families this season as clean, happy, affluent, laughing and smiling around the tree or the table. And why not? That’s what we all long for, isn’t it? That’s what we all strive for. But families are messy, they are broken, and imperfect. They are often far from holy. Our families can be, at the same time, our greatest joy and our deepest sorrow.

 

Jesus’ family was also messy. Not his nuclear family but his extended family. On Christmas Eve we heard the beginning of Matthew’s gospel rolling out the genealogy of Jesus, and it was far from perfect. Liars and cheats, murderers and adulterers, faithful and unfaithful kings. And there was that crazy cousin John running around the desert yelling at people. But if we go through the scriptures and read about the lives of the people in that family tree, we find that the one thing that is constant is that even in the midst of their sinfulness and lack of faith in God, even at their worst, God was always faithful to them.

 

The ultimate sign of that faithfulness is that at the end of that long genealogy is Jesus. God incarnate on the earth in order to reconcile the world to himself. And God chose to begin that reconciliation within a family. It is through the family that we have the best chance for eternal life.

 

Our families exist to help us get to heaven. We are shown the way to do so in the first two readings today. Sirach lays out God’s plan for the structure of the family, with each person having their proper role. And while there is a hierarchy, there is no power struggle. Sirach uses words like honor, reverence, kindness, prayer, justice and comfort. It is in the home that these virtues are first and best nurtured and lived. And it is from the family that these virtues spread out into the world first through the extended family, then to the community.

 

Paul speaks today about how the community of faith is to live. He adds to Sirach’s list of virtues heartfelt compassion, humility, gentleness and patience, gratitude, and above all forgiveness. We are to put on love, which is the bond of perfection that holds all relationships together. We are to submit to one another out of love, because that’s what love is – diminishing ourselves for the benefit of others. The Church is called to serve, and not to be served. If we do these things, the peace of Christ will dwell in our hearts, and we will bring that peace to the world.

 

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if each of our families lived these virtues and experienced that peace? What would the world be like if every family strived to live this way? But in reality, we are often the most unforgiving, cruel and judgmental to those closest to us. Many of us have experienced unhealthy, even violent relationships in our families, and it is sometimes difficult to relate to the images of father, mother and child we hear today. That might be the ideal, but reality is so often different.

 

The Holy Family lived those virtues. Mary and Joseph actually lived with Jesus at the center of their lives. Everything was focused on him. The Kingdom of God that Jesus preached began in their household. But that didn’t mean they had it easy, that they lived in a warm little bubble, unaffected by the world. On the contrary. Mary still heard the snickers of her neighbors behind her back, gossiping about the dubious circumstances of her son’s conception. Joseph had to deal with keeping Jesus safe from a king who wanted to kill him. And Jesus, well, his neighbors even tried to throw him off a cliff when he preached the gospel to them.

 

Just because Jesus, Mary and Joseph were holy does not mean they were not affected by sin and death. Their faithfulness to God did not preclude the threat of death against them. Mary’s soul was still pierced by the sword of sorrow. And Jesus, God himself, was tortured and killed. To be holy is to be like God, and if God allowed these things to happen to himself, why would things be different for us? We are each called to take up our cross and follow him.

 

What each member of the holy family had was hope. Just like us, they were given the choice to remain faithful to the promises God had made to them. Mary had the choice to accept her role as the angel had foretold for her. Joseph had the choice to believe the dreams he had and accept his role, even though of the three he probably understood it the least. And Jesus himself had a choice to submit his will to that of his Father’s. Father, if it is possible let this cup pass me by, but not my will but yours be done.

 

And they had each other to lean on as they faced the struggles and evil of the world that sought to destroy them. They had been given a promise by angels that if they trusted in God not only would they be blessed, but the world would be changed forever.

 

In so many ways the Holy Family is just like ours. And just as they were like us, we can become like them. We too have choices to make. We can choose to love or to hate. We can choose bitterness or forgiveness. We can choose discord or reconciliation. We cut deepest those closest to us, and so the best place to begin healing is within the family.

 

Emmanuel, God with Us, they called him. God was truly and literally a part of the Holy Family, and his presence allowed them to withstand the onslaught of the forces of hell itself and yet experience his peace. God is present in your family and you too can live in His peace. When you pray to Him around your dinner table, at bedtime and throughout the day, He is the center of your life. When you live a life of charity and hospitality, you are modeling the savior. When you forgive one another you are showing the greatest love of all.

 

For Mary and Joseph, Jesus was right there, a constant reminder of the promise God had given them. Jesus is right here, in your family, and He has made the same promise to you.

 

 

 

Christmas is for Children

 

There’s a saying that Christmas is for children, and I guess in many ways it is. There’s something about children at Christmastime that makes it what it is. If we adults were in charge it would lose a lot. To us older folks Christmastime is often full of stress, with so many things to do and plan. We have parties to host and attend, presents – and not just any presents, but just the right ones – to buy, wrap and give. And we have so many responsibilities around Christmas that we have to weave in and around the whirlwind of our everyday lives. Many of us dread Christmas because of this. We have so many expectations of what the perfect Christmas should be that we get all wound up in the stuff of Christmas while forgetting what Christmas was for us when we were children.

For children, especially little children, Christmas is so much simpler, so much easier, so much more wonderful. Little children have not yet been spoiled with the expectation of presents. For them it’s not about what they expect to receive that is so wonderful. It is all the sights and sounds and smells, especially around the baby Jesus. There’s something about a newborn baby that captivates us all, but especially for the little children.

I love to see parents each year bringing their little ones up to see the holy family statues here. You see it at every creche. Moms and dads clutching little hands, bringing them up close to see the manger scene, pointing out the baby Jesus. Telling them the story of that first Christmas. When I was young my job was to set up the creche in our home. I would carefully unwrap each porcelain figurine and gently place it in its particular place in the creche.

After everything was just right we would then as a family read the story from the gospels of that Christmas night. Many of you have similar traditions, or I hope you do.  That is one of the first lessons in faith many children receive from their parents, the reality of the baby Jesus. Silent night, holy night. Calmness, heavenly peace, shepherds and angels on high. Peace on earth, goodwill towards men. Isn’t that what Christmas is all about? For one shining moment, the entire world is focused on one single event in history, on one single person, on one single baby.

 

Children understand what Christmas is really all about. That is, until we spoil it for them. They understand the reality of what a baby truly is. A baby is hope. A baby is the ultimate proof that God exists, with its perfect little fingers and toes, in its wonderful complexity and simplicity. We don’t remember what we were like as babies, we must see in our children what we once were.

 

Jesus was once like that. Have you ever stopped to think about just how radical the Christ child is? The very thought that this little baby, so vulnerable and innocent and perilous, is God himself? The most radical and cataclysmic event in all of human history, the incarnation, God becoming man, started out in such a simple way? God chose to become one of us in the same way he chooses to have each of us enter the world. And the result of that is peace on earth, goodwill towards men, glory to God in the highest. In a newborn baby we see the goodness of the world, the rightness of creation, even for a brief moment. That’s how we all started and how we should all view ourselves, as goodness and right. As persons of hope.

 

Jesus said that unless we become like little children we cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven. Unless we become like the perfect child, Jesus Christ, we will not and cannot be one with him forever in heaven. Because that child, who started out so innocent and calm, shook the world to its core and set up a choice that has divided the world for 2000 years.

 

You see, the entrance of God into history as man demands a choice for every human being. We have no choice in how and when and why we are born. But we are all ultimately confronted with a choice. Will we follow that perfect child? Will we model our lives after His? Will we submit to the will of the Father has he did, and can we live with the consequences of that choice?

 

That child grew up and lived an unconventional life, a radical life. He cured the sick, raised the dead, admonished sinners, set the existing religious order upside down, challenged the status quo in every individual heart, and had a simple message. Come, follow me. He demanded of us no less than what he himself did. Feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the sick and the prisoners, care for the poor and the marginalized, go out and make disciples of all the nations, spread the good news that God himself has become one of us so that we can become one with Him.

 

Do you see that man in the creche before you? Do you see the choice before you tonight? Can you see that beyond all the sentimentality of the scene and the season is the awesome reality that that child was born to die? His very reason for living was to die…for you. The quiet and peace and innocence of the baby’s nativity was to end in the horrible violence of the cross. Do you see that just as we enter into the remembrance of his birth we must also enter into the reality of his death and what that means for each of us? The hope that began with Jesus’ birth continues in the hope of his resurrection and his promise of eternal life.

 

It is good that we become like little children at Christmas. It is good that we enter into the sights and sounds of the season in order to reconnect ourselves with the simplicity and innocence of the manger scene. It is good that we, for one brief moment every year, look upon the baby Jesus and see ourselves, what we can become, what we are called to become.

 

The message of Christmas is one of renewal. Our children are our hope for the future and each newborn baby is a sign that things will continue. Each newborn baby is a regeneration, a renewal for our families and for our world. I think that is one reason we are all drawn to them, wonder at them, and make such a fuss about them. And I think that is why Christmas is for the children. Because it is about the children. It’s about the children we once were, and about the children we can become again.

 

It’s all about the children.  It’s all about the child.