Tell Me the Stories of (Baby) Jesus

Have you ever heard the term “Infancy Narratives”?  The Infancy Narratives are the stories in the Gospels about the conception, birth and childhood of Jesus.  These stories make up a very small part of the Gospels, so we actually know very little about Jesus’ infancy and childhood. 

Here are a few interesting facts about the Infancy Narratives:

  • Only Matthew and Luke include Infancy Narratives in their Gospels (Matt. 1-2; Lk. 1-2). 

  • Matthew’s account and Luke’s account are very different from each other.  For example, in Luke’s account, the annunciation (announcement of the conception of Jesus) is made to Mary, but in Matthew’s account, it is made to Joseph.

  • Our traditional nativity scenes or creches are usually a combination of the stories from Luke and Matthew.  For example, in Luke’s Gospel, the first visitors to see Jesus are shepherds.  In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus’ first visitors are the magi.

  • Although there are many differences among the two Infancy Narratives, they agree in essential content:  Mary has conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit, and her son will be a savior, the Son of God. 

If you are interested in learning more about the Infancy Narratives and want the opportunity to retreat with these texts and reflect on their meaning in your own life, I’m giving an Advent Retreat entitled “Reflecting on the Birth of Jesus in Scripture and in Our Lives at St. Thomas Beckett Church on Sat., December 3, from 9:00 a.m.-12:00 p.m.  All are welcome!  Registration information can be found here:  Upcoming Programs.

The Sacred Art Pilgrim

As you all know, I choose the artwork that goes along with my blog posts very carefully and deliberately.  In fact, sometimes it takes me longer to find the art than to write the post!  It is my hope that the art I select resonates with the words you read and that your mind is filled with beauty, understanding and ideas.  Above all, I want to communicate to you in both word and image that there is something mysterious, powerful and transformative happening in our lives all the time.  I want to believe this myself, and art (like words) helps me believe it and, hopefully, communicate it. 

Last week I discovered a treasure trove of sacred art, and I thought many of you would like to explore this treasure for yourselves.  John Kohan, an international journalist by trade (over 20 years with TIME magazine) and a sacred artist by nature, has set out to gather and display – on his website – beautiful, modern, sacred art.  His collection includes religious art from all over the world in a variety of media and styles. 

You can visit John’s website here:  The Sacred Art Pilgrim.  If you click on “sacred art meditations” (at the top right of his homepage), you can select moments from the life of Christ, themes of faith, or other bible stories, and can view relevant art along with Bible readings, meditations and explanations.  Or you can click on “sacred artists” and view a variety of gorgeous art collected there, along with interesting information about the artists.

John’s own first piece of sacred art was a pencil drawing of the sower and the seed that he drew at six years old (which I would like to see, but it does not yet appear on the site!).  His lifelong journey through sacred art is ours to behold.  

Homily Gem #2

I heard this on Sunday and thought it was a beautiful idea:

When praying for someone who is sick, you can use the words of Lazarus’ sisters, who said to Jesus: ‘Lord, the one you love is ill.’
— Fr. Declan Creighton

Fr. Declan was referring to the story of the raising of Lazarus (John 11:1-44). 

How did Jesus respond to Mary and Martha, when they sent word that their brother was ill?  He said, “This illness is not to end in death.”  Of course, several verses later, we find out that Lazarus has indeed died.  And yet with Mary and Martha, we believe the words of Jesus, “Your brother will rise.”

Do you have a loved one or a friend who is facing a serious illness?  This story from John’s Gospel is fertile ground for prayer and reflection:  the delay of Jesus in coming to Lazarus’ side, the faith of the sisters, the tears of Jesus, the power of his voice that raised Lazarus from the tomb, the unbinding of death’s trappings, the foreshadowing of Jesus’ own death and triumph.

Lord, the one you love is ill.  I trust you.  You know what is best.  In your time, raise him, untie him and let him go free.

"This is not to end in death."  The death and raising of Lazarus foreshadows the death and resurrection of Jesus.  Botticelli, Pieta (detail).

"This is not to end in death."  The death and raising of Lazarus foreshadows the death and resurrection of Jesus.  Botticelli, Pieta (detail).

Still

The changing of the seasons means it’s time for one of Scott Eagan’s poems.  For those of you who are new to the blog, Scott is a member of the Madonna House Community in Combermere, Ontario.  He is what you might call a contemplative farmer.  Scott shares his poems with me, and I’m so pleased to share them with you.  His gentle imagery and heartfelt prose makes me feel like I am in Combermere too, living the simple spirituality of Madonna House and basking in the bounty of God’s creation.

Enjoy this season's window made with words, a glimpse into Scott’s beautiful, prayerful world.

STILL

In the small hours of the morning
on the pillow of night’s awakening
all is still, all suspended.

The singing lake loons quieted
forest’s leaves forgetting to shed dewy tears
all the world so beautifully still.

As I poke my head outside my little tent
a gracious gift covers me
a transient thin treasure.

Just to breathe it in and let it go, breathe it in again…
- creations prayer -
can it be absorbed?

And the day begins.
— Scott Eagan
Van Gogh, The Sower with Setting Sun, 1888.

Van Gogh, The Sower with Setting Sun, 1888.

Sunday's Gospel: The Rich Man and Lazarus

The following is re-published with permission from my column in Catechist magazine:  "Lessons for the Sunday Gospels."  For subscription information, visit Catechist.com.

September 25, 2016

26th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Gospel Reading:  Luke 16:19-31

Our last Gospel reading for the month continues the trend of unique parables from Luke. We also have a continuation of the themes of repentance and the dan­gers of wealth.

A first thing to notice is that Jesus is once again speaking to the Pharisees. We may be tempted to vilify the Pharisees and see them as the archenemies of Jesus who are nothing like us. But the great error of the Pharisees is the error of us all—an inability to think outside the box of our own minds and an unwillingness to hold ourselves to the same standards to which we hold everyone else. The parables of Jesus urge his audience—including and especially the Pharisees—to reassess themselves in light of his challenging message. When we read and study the Gospels, we must understand that we are not only the disciples of Jesus; we are also the Pharisees.

It is hard to imagine a man who would daily walk past a starving man covered in sores on his door­step. Once again the master story­teller has provided us with a strong and unforgettable image to convey his equally strong and unforget­table message. The rich man was likely not guilty of evil and hatred toward Lazarus. Instead, he was guilty of the insidious condition of desensitization. Lazarus was like a fixture outside the doors of his home; the rich man had stopped seeing him, even though he was there. He went on about his com­fortable life with no regard for the suffering on his own doorstep.

This is a message we contempo­rary Christians can relate to. There is so much suffering in the world that we feel helpless to improve. But if we give up, if we give in to our own comforts and stop seeing the suffering, we fall short. Indeed, Jesus calls us to repent—change our minds, change our ways, do an “about face.” Once again, Jesus calls us to look at life with new clarity, to see the suffering even on our own doorsteps, to stop and take care of the Lazarus that we encounter.

The consequences of desensi­tization and inaction are extreme, not only in terms of judgment and eternity, but in terms of our failure to develop into the compassionate human beings God created us and Jesus calls us to be. The words of Pope Francis come to mind:

"Sometimes we are tempted to be that kind of Christian who keeps the Lord’s wounds at arm’s length. Yet Jesus wants us to touch human misery, to touch the suffering flesh of others. He hopes that we will stop looking for those personal or com­munal niches which shelter us from the maelstrom of human misfortune and instead enter into the reality of other people’s lives and know the power of tenderness. Whenever we do so, our lives become wonderfully complicated and we experience intensely what it is to be a people, to be part of a people" (Evangelii Gaud­ium, 270). 

ASK YOURSELF: What human suffering in my life has become so familiar that I tend to ignore it? How can I deliberately take time to stop, touch, and serve the Lazarus on my own doorstep?

ASK YOUR STUDENTS: Why do you think Jesus made a point to tell us that the man who ignored Lazarus was rich? Is it bad to have money and material things? What is “dan­gerous” about having these things?

PRAY: Jesus, your teachings call me to a new way of seeing the familiar world around me. Please give me clarity and energy to see and serve those who suffer.

LIVE THE GOSPEL: Pick someone you have accidentally or intention­ally ignored recently. Reconnect with them this week. 

A series of drawings of the parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus by Eugene Burnand (1850-1921).  

A series of drawings of the parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus by Eugene Burnand (1850-1921).  

Eugene Burnand (1850-1921)

Eugene Burnand (1850-1921)

Eugene Burnand (1850-1921)

Eugene Burnand (1850-1921)