Fr. Longenecker: Angels, Shepherds and Sheer Joy

The following comes from Fr. Longenecker:

Angels crowd the Advent story, and their presence culminates in the throng of angels who appear to the shepherds on the hill outside Bethlehem. The angelic presences pushing in on the ordinary world come first to the priest Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist, and then to the Virgin Mary and Joseph. Finally, they appear with the message that God’s son has been born to the humble shepherds.

The story is told in the classic words of the King James Version:

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men.”

The presence of the angels in Advent is the presence of the supernatural pressing in on the natural. At the coming of Christ the veil between the seen and the unseen worlds is tissue thin. That which is invisible presses in upon those who can only see the visible. As God takes human flesh it is as if the whole divine realm becomes more present in this physical dimension.

Have you ever wondered why messengers from heaven so often appear to shepherds? Not only did the Christmas angels come to shepherds, but the Hebrew people were a nomadic herding tribe. Moses was a shepherd when God appeared at the burning bush. The great king David was a shepherd boy, and at Laus, La Salette, Lourdes and Fatima Mary appeared to shepherd children. The supernatural appearances come to humble peasants for a good reason. Humble workers are, on the one hand, likely to accept a supernatural appearance, and on the other hand, they are unlikely to fabricate a wild story. They’re down to earth, simple, honest and straightforward people — likely to believe in the supernatural but also unlikely to deceive.

The combination of angels and shepherds brings alive the wonder of Christ’s birth, and the symbolism of the shepherds and the wise men add to the levels of meaning and mystery. As his ancestor David was the shepherd king, the child in the stable will prove to be both the Good Shepherd and the King in God’s kingdom. So the angels herald his birth to the shepherds, and through the guiding star the kings make their way to pay him homage. As princes and peasants come together, they prove that the child is the Lord of both the highest and the lowest of humanity.

The angels of Christmas night also remind us of the role of the angels. They are God’s messengers and bring the message of Christ’s birth to the shepherds, and through them to the whole human race, but they are also agents of praise. The angelic role is to give everlasting praise, honor and glory to God. When the shepherds see the angels, they hear a hint of heaven and get a glimpse of glory. Their hearts lift in praise and wonder as they experience the stupendous sight of heaven being opened for a moment as God comes down to dwell among mankind.

As the shepherds take action and hurry to worship the newborn king, they remind us of an important takeaway from the story. Every glimpse of glory and spiritual uplift brings with it the call to action. The angels praise God, but they also serve God. They worship him, but they also render him service. They glorify him and they bear his message to the world. Likewise, following their example, at this Christmas season we turn out hearts in worship and praise, but we rise from Christmas Mass with an even greater determination to bring the angelic message of peace and goodwill to the world through both our lips and our lives.

Emmanuel: by Loreena McKennitt

Preparing for Christmas

The following comes from the Catholic Exchange:

Have We Made Room for Christ in the Inn of Our Hearts?

The time leading up to, and the birth of Christ, is a time full of expectancy, hope, joy, and sorrow. Everything that occurred from the Fall to His birth in a dingy stable was in preparation of our Redemption. The Annunciation turned Eve into Ave and her “no” into a hope and trust filled “let it be done to me according to thy word”. Saint Joseph, a humble carpenter from Nazareth, became the adoptive father of the Son of God and walked the rest of his days in the company of the Immaculata as his wife. It is an awe-inspiring journey that Catholics walk each year in faith, hope, and charity, but it begins in darkness. A darkness that we contemplate throughout the hope filled season of Advent. It is an arduous path that these players, as well as we, are asked to walk. The beginning of the joyous end began when a census was called:

Caesar Augustus, the master bookkeeper of the world, sat in his palace by the Tiber. Before him stretched a map labeled Orbis Terrarum, Imperium Romanum. He was about to issue an order for a census of the world; for all the nations of the civilized world were subject to Rome. There was only one capital in this world: Rome; only one official language: Latin; only one ruler: Caesar. To every outpost, to every satrap and governor, the order went out: every Roman subject must be enrolled in his own city. On the fringe of the Empire, in the little village of Nazareth, soldiers tacked up on walls the order for all citizens to register in towns of their family origin.

Venerable Fulton Sheen, Life of Christ, page 26

It was this order that sent Mary and St. Joseph to Bethlehem for the birth of the Savior of the World. The most powerful man in the world had his part to play, even though he would never consciously know it. He ordered the journey so that Jesus Christ would be born in the city of David. Caesar had no idea that he was fulfilling the will of the Triune God by his decree.

Bethlehem in the land of Judah, you are far from least in the eyes of the rulers of Judah; for out of you shall come a leader to be the shepherd of my people Israel.

Matthew 2:6

Mary and Joseph began the journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem while she was nearly full term. It would have taken days to arrive. It never occurred to them that there would be no room for them, especially in her condition.

Joseph was full of expectancy as he entered the city of his family, and was quite convinced that he would have no difficulty finding lodgings for Mary, particularly on account of her condition. Joseph went from house to house only to find each one crowded. He searched in vain for a place where He, to Whom heaven and earth belonged, might be born. Could it be that the Creator would not find a home in creation? Up a steep hill Joseph climbed to a faint light which swung on a rope across a doorway. This would be the village inn. There above all other places, he would surely find shelter. There was room in the inn for the soldiers of Rome who had brutally subjugated the Jewish people; there was room for the daughters of the rich merchants of the East: there was room for those clothed in soft garments, who lived in the houses of the king; in fact, there was room for anyone who had a coin to give the innkeeper; but there was no room for Him Who came to be the Inn of every homeless heart in the world. When finally, the scrolls of history are completed down to the last words in time, the saddest line of all will be: “There was no room in the inn.”

Sheen, page 27

Have we taken time to consider these words in our own hearts? Do we have room at the inn of our hearts for the infant Jesus who is to be born? Do our lives reflect the dwelling place of God within us? This sad reminder of the denial of Christ by the powers of the world serves as a reminder to each one of us that the world has always denied Christ. It may shock us and break our hearts to look at the barbarism, suffering, and brutality of the world. It cuts us deeply when we are denied because of our love of Christ, but what else can we expect? Our Lord and Savior was denied from the very moment He was to come into the world. “There was no room in the inn” are words that continue down the ages and words we must hold close in the midst our own persecutions.

Out to the hillside to a stable cave, where shepherds sometimes drove their flocks in time of storm, Joseph and Mary went at last for shelter. There, in a place of peace in the lonely abandonment of a cold windswept cave; there, under the floor of the world, He Who is born without a mother in heaven, is born without a father on earth.

Sheen, Ibid

So it was that the Savior of all would be born in the darkness of a cave in the depths of the earth He created.

Read the rest here.

Rough Ways Made Smooth

Advent's Intention

"Advent is concerned with that very connection between memory and hope which is so necessary to man. Advent’s intention is to awaken the most profound and basic emotional memory within us, namely, the memory of the God who became a child. This is a healing memory; it brings hope. The purpose of the Church’s year is continually to rehearse her great history of memories, to awaken the heart’s memory so that it can discern the star of hope.…

     It is the beautiful task of Advent to awaken in all of us memories of goodness and thus to open doors of hope."

-Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger

Why Advent Should Terrify You

The following comes from the Catholic Exchange:

Every year since I was a little girl, my mother and I go to a sing-along of Handel’s incredible masterpiece, the Messiah, during Advent. We bundle up, grab our music scores, find a seat with our fellow altos, and sing our hearts out. If you’ve never really listened to the Messiah you must do it this Advent.

It begins with the words of the biblical prophets foretelling the coming of Our Lord. Then it draws from St. Luke’s Gospel and shares the joy of the Nativity. It masterfully weaves Scripture together to carry the listener to Calvary and on to the Resurrection. It’s beautiful. And if you can sit through a performance with dry eyes, you’re not paying enough attention.

Each year I notice something that’s never struck me before and last year, it was the words of the prophets. These were the words that surprised me:

Thus saith the Lord, the Lord of hosts: Yet once a little while and I will shake the heavens and the earth, the sea and the dry land. And I will shake all nations; and the desire of all nations shall come. (Haggai 2: 6-7)

Well that sounds…..scary. The desire of all nations is, of course, Jesus. But what is this about shaking the heavens and the earth? That image didn’t seem to fit in with the room full of sing-alongers wearing Christmas sweaters and looking forward to snacking on cookies and punch after the performance.

I don’t enjoy being shaken up. I like to be in control. I like predictability. I like security. But that’s not what the Incarnation offers us! God himself wasn’t born of a woman to share in our humanity so that I could be comfortable. He came to shake us up. Shake us out of our apathy. Shake us out of our false security. Shake us out of our sin.

And it gets worse! As the music of the Messiah continues, a soloist stands up to sing the words of Malachi 3:2:

But who may abide the day of His coming, and who shall stand when He appeareth? For He is like a refiner’s fire.

It’s gone from scary to terrifying! When He comes, no one can stand before him. Advent, “the coming,” is not just a heart-warming event for Christmas cards–instead, we’re asked who can abide the day of His coming? For He is like a refiner’s fire, the heat that purifies precious metals, removing all that’s flawed. If He is the refiner’s fire, then we are the metal being purified. And that sounds more than uncomfortable, it sounds excruciating.

We’ve made a huge mistake. We’ve made the Incarnation safe and comfortable. We like it warm and fuzzy with soft lambs bleating as they rest on clean hay. And, yes, it is beautiful and joyful and splendid. But we’ve sanitized it and we’ve forgotten how terrifying it is that God shares our humanity and comes like a earthquake, like a fire. To shake us up, and to purify us.

So how do we move from abject terror at the idea of the Incarnation to the Joy of Christmas? I think it has to do with letting go of the sin we cling to. We have to submit. We have to lay down our false security, our desire for control, and let Him shake us up. We have to offer our hearts to Him so that He can consume all our sin with the fire of his immeasurable love until we are stripped of all impurity. And it won’t happen in just one Advent season. We’re looking at a lifetime.

And who can stand when he appeareth?

As I meditated on this verse, I considered the image of Our Lady at the Annunciation, kneeling and saying “be it unto me according to thy word.” Who can stand? We certainly cannot. But we can kneel like Mary, giving our own “fiat” and offering our hearts to be shaken up and our sin to be burned away.

The first Sunday of Advent is called Stir Up Sunday as the opening collect of the Mass is “Stir up Thy might, we beg Thee, and come.” Are we ready to say that prayer? May we be prepared to desire His coming, be shaken, and be consumed by the fire of his love. May He stir up our hearts this Advent and mold us into what he desires us to be.

Stepping Deeper into Advent with Our Lady

The following comes from the Catholic Exchange:

Advent is a largely ignored season of the Church’s liturgical calendar. The main reason is that many of us live in cultures where the Christmas season begins on Thanksgiving, or even on Halloween. The stores and streets are decorated for Christmas earlier and earlier each year. Unfortunately, this means that a great many Catholics miss out on the motions of the liturgical year, including the beginning of a new year within the Church. It is no surprise that the Church begins the year in waiting. Advent is a season filled with meditations on the Christian life.

Advent is multi-faceted. We are waiting for the great Parousia, the Second Coming of Christ. The readings that begin the Advent season conjure up the images of Christ coming on the clouds as the Son of Man as seen in Daniel’s vision. This past Sunday we heard St. John the Baptist preparing the way for Christ. We are in a time of preparation; a time we need in our busy lives. Christmas is not something we check off our list each year. It is a holy season that goes well past the Christmas Eve Vigil which marks the beginning of the Christmas season. It is still Christmas Day on December 26, 27, 28 and on until the Octave ends. Then comes Epiphany and the Church still lives in the liturgical color of white until the Feast of the Baptism of Our Lord, at least in the Latin Rite.

Advent is the time we acknowledge that we are constantly waiting upon the Lord. We are waiting for him to return in His glory and wipe away every tear. We are waiting for the day we stand before the Beatific Vision upon our own death. We wait in the darkness of December for the tiny baby who is the Incarnate Word of God. Waiting is a part of the Christian journey, in fact, it is a critical part of the Christian life. We are not called to skip over Advent and jump right into Christmas. Instead the Church reminds us of the deep longing of our hearts, which is to dwell with Christ. We are reminded of the long wait of the Israelites as they awaited the Messiah. We too wait for Him to come as we watch the bloodshed, suffering, and pain of this mortal coil.

How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me? Look on me and answer, O LORD my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death; my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,” and my foes will rejoice when I fall. But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the LORD, for he has been good to me.

Psalm 13:1-6

The best guide in this period of waiting is Our Heavenly Mother. She quietly carried and waited upon Our Lord for the 40 weeks as she held him in her womb. From the moment of her fiat at St. Gabriel’s announcement, she waited patiently to see the face of her Savior and ours. It is through her that we can contemplate the joy and sorrow of our waiting and learn what is required of us on this journey to holiness.

Humility

The great sin of Lucifer and the other fallen angels was pride. The Fall of Mankind was also mitigated by pride and a desire to be God. Humility is not self-deprecation, rather it is a proper ordering of ourselves before the Most Holy Trinity. We ask, who am I before God? Mary is the example par excellence of humility.

The angel begins with these words of humble greeting: “Hail, Mary, full of grace.” Hail, that is, most agreeable to God and full of his gifts, “the Lord is with you, and you are blessed above all women” (cf. Luke 1:28). This discourse is in a much loftier tone than the one that was addressed to Zechariah. To him the angel said, “Do not be afraid,” as to a man who has something to fear; and “your prayers have been heard.” Yet what is announced to Mary is something so sublime and excellent that she could not have asked for it in her prayers. Mary, humble, hidden, small in his eyes, could not have begun to think that an angel would greet her, especially not with such noble words. It is humility that made her heart troubled.

Jacques-Benigne Bossuet, Mediations for Advent, page 41-42

When the Annunciation occurs, Mary is stunned that God has chosen her. She knows the greatness of God and her place in relation to Him, but she does not allow that knowledge to stop her from serving Him. She understands that humility also requires an acceptance of what God wants in our own lives. Humility is the beginning of the virtues of obedience and charity. In knowing our place, we are better suited to accept the mission God gives us in our own lives.

Humility should be at the forefront of our minds during this Advent season. How strange, glorious, and unexpected it is that the God of the Universe would lower Himself and become a babe in a human mother’s arms. This is not some story we accept as quaint, but true. The Incarnation is deeply disconcerting and a complete reversal of the power structures human beings have put in place since the Fall. We should fall on our faces in humility before the babe who is the Son of God and marvel at the wonderful things He has done for us. Advent is the time we prepare for this incredible mystery and we do so resting in the care of the Mother who bore Him.

Read the rest here.

Veni Veni Emmanuel

Hat tip to Lead Kindly Light.

Bishop Barron: What's Unique About Advent?

Fr. Robert Barron on The Spirituality of Advent

The Road Home: Scott Hahn Reflects on the Second Sunday of Advent

The following comes from Scott Hahn:

Today's Psalm paints a dream-like scene - a road filled with liberated captives heading home to Zion (Jerusalem), mouths filled with laughter, tongues rejoicing.

It's a glorious picture from Israel's past, a "new exodus," the deliverance from exile in Babylon. It's being recalled in a moment of obvious uncertainty and anxiety. But the psalmist isn't waxing nostalgic.

Remembering "the Lord has done great things" in the past, he is making an act of faith and hope - that God will come to Israel in its present need, that He'll do even greater things in the future.

This is what the Advent readings are all about: We recall God's saving deeds - in the history of Israel and in the coming of Jesus. Our remembrance is meant to stir our faith, to fill us with confidence that, as today's Epistle puts it, "the One who began a good work in [us] will continue to complete it" until He comes again in glory.

Each of us, the Liturgy teaches, is like Israel in her exile - led into captivity by our sinfulness, in need of restoration, conversion by the Word of the Holy One (see Baruch 5:5). The lessons of salvation history should teach us that, as God again and again delivered Israel, in His mercy He will free us from our attachments to sin, if we turn to Him in repentance.

That's the message of John, introduced in today's Gospel as the last of the great prophets (compare Jeremiah 1:1-4,11). But John is greater than the prophets (see Luke 7:27). He's preparing the way, not only for a new redemption of Israel, but for the salvation of "all flesh" (see also Acts 28:28).

John quotes Isaiah (40:3) to tell us he's come to build a road home for us, a way out of the wilderness of sin and alienation from God. It's a road we'll follow Jesus down, a journey we'll make, as today's First Reading puts it, "rejoicing that [we're] remembered by God." 

Fr. George Rutler on Advent

The following comes from Fr. Rutler:

The four weeks of Advent are a test of how profoundly or superficially we understand the meaning of life. In these weeks, the Church reveals the deepest mysteries: Death, Judgment, Heaven and Hell. Christ saves us from the banality of skimming life on the surface:  eating, working, shopping, sleeping, waking up and doing it all over again. He created us for great glory, and that is why people become frustrated when they ignore these great mysteries. “Angst” is a kind of neurosis, stemming from an unwillingness to listen to the voice of Christ.  He may be drowned out temporarily by idle chatter and amusements, but as St. Augustine said, “Our hearts are restless, O Lord, until they find their rest in Thee.”  

Rushing Christmas, and not thinking about what Christ wants us to be, are signs of a culture absorbed in itself, so that it becomes no greater than itself. That old maxim is poignant no matter how many times we repeat it: “A man wrapped up in himself becomes a very small package.” More important than wrapping gifts in this season, is the obligation to unwrap ourselves:  to confess to Christ our failings and our desire to live life as He wants it, so that we might rejoice with Him forever and never be separated from Him.

Our culture is enduring a severe test of itself. If Christ does not rule our minds and hearts, mere humans will try to do it, and they will do it badly. When the Judges of Israel wanted a merely human king, Samuel warned them:  “He will take the best of your fields, vineyards, and olive groves and give them to his officials. He will tithe your flocks, and you yourselves will become slaves” (1 Samuel 8:14, 17). 

Our Lord promises that the truth will set us free. His word is truth. That is what He told Pontius Pilate, whose life was a dreary routine mired in cynicism. But even Pilate was amazed that Christ's own people had “handed Him over” to the government. By their own declaration, the crowd wanted “no king but Caesar.” Had they obeyed Christ’s truth, things would have been different for them. Each generation is tempted to hand Christ over to cynics. We do it when we barter our conscience for comfort and our freedom for frivolity.

If Catholics behaved as Catholics, our culture would be not be satisfied with getting little things from elected officials in exchange for our moral dignity. If we only want things, we shall only be things. Christ looks at us, as He looked at the crowds when He walked on this earth. And amid the passing fashions of mindless men, He says: “Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice” (John 18:37). 

Heads Up: Scott Hahn Reflects on the First Sunday of Advent

The following comes from Scott Hahn:

Readings:

Jeremiah 33:14-16

Psalm 25:4-5,8-10,14

1 Thessalonians 3:12-4:2

Luke 21:25-28, 34-36

---

Every Advent, the Liturgy of the Word gives our sense of time a reorientation. There’s a deliberate tension in the next four weeks’ readings - between promise and fulfillment, expectation and deliverance, between looking forward and looking back.

In today’s First Reading, the prophet Jeremiah focuses our gaze on the promise God made to David, some 1,000 years before Christ. God says through the prophet that He will fulfill this promise by raising up a “just shoot,” a righteous offspring of David, who will rule Israel in justice (see 2 Samuel 7:16; Jeremiah 33:17; Psalm 89:4-5; 27-38).

Today’s Psalm, too, sounds the theme of Israel’s ancient expectation: “Guide me in Your truth and teach Me. For You are God my Savior and for You I will wait all day.”

We look back on Israel’s desire and anticipation knowing that God has already made good on those promises by sending His only Son into the world. Jesus is the “just shoot,” the God and Savior for Whom Israel was waiting.

Knowing that He is a God who keeps His promises lends grave urgency to the words of Jesus in today’s Gospel.

Urging us to keep watch for His return in glory, He draws on Old Testament images of chaos and instability – turmoil in the heavens (see Isaiah 13:11,13;Ezekiel 32:7-8; Joel 2:10); roaring seas (see Isaiah 5:30; 17:12); distress among the nations (see Isaiah 8:22/14:25) and terrified people (see Isaiah 13:6-11).

He evokes the prophet Daniel’s image of the Son of Man coming on a cloud of glory to describe His return as a “theophany,” a manifestation of God (see Daniel 7:13-14).

Many will cower and be literally scared to death. But Jesus says we should greet the end-times with heads raised high, confident that God keeps His promises, that our “redemption is at hand,” that ‘the kingdom of God is near” (see Luke 21:31)

A Prayer for Advent

An Advent Prayer by Henri J.M. Nouwen

Lord Jesus,

Master of both the light and the darkness, send your Holy Spirit upon our preparations for Christmas.

We who have so much to do seek quiet spaces to hear your voice each day.

We who are anxious over many things look forward to your coming among us.

We who are blessed in so many ways long for the complete joy of your kingdom.

We whose hearts are heavy seek the joy of your presence.

We are your people, walking in darkness, yet seeking the light.

To you we say, "Come Lord Jesus!"

In the Bleak Midwinter by Gloucester Cathedral Choir

I found this great Advent classic at the Anchoress site!

O Come, O Come Emmanuel by Mary Anne Muglia

Pope John XXIII on Advent

An Advent Concert from the Benedictine Monastery at Melk

Fr. Robert Barron on the Advent Revolution

Mary, Did You Know? by Pentatonix