REJOICE!

Thus saith the Lord: A voice was heard on high of lamentation, of mourning, and weeping, of Rachel weeping for her children, and refusing to be comforted for them, because they are not. Thus saith the Lord: Let thy voice cease from weeping, and thy eyes from tears: for there is a reward for thy work, saith the Lord: and they shall return out of the land of the enemy.

(Jer 31:15-16)

And all that sat in the council, looking on him, saw his face as if it had been the face of an angel.

(Acts 6:15)

Matthew points us to Jeremiah for a prophecy of the Holy Innocents. We needed the pointer, because most people would have thought that he was referring to the Assyrian slaughter of the Kingdom of Israel. That is where most of her children, and those of her maidservant, resided. Save the tiny tribe of Benjamin, the tribal family structure of all her children all but ceased. The surviving dominant tribe of Judah and the priestly tribe of Levi would better be described as the children of her older sister Leah.

But Matthew reminds us that the Word of God is not limited in meaning. The children of Bethlehem are hers, as this is the location of her tomb. Thus we can proceed to the words of comfort that dilute the sorrow of story. "Let thy voice cease from weeping, and thy eyes from tears: for there is a reward for thy work, saith the Lord: and they shall return out of the land of the enemy."

Two years ago today, my family was in our parish chapel for Mass. My son, Jack II, a joyful boy that would give Saint Stephen a run for his money in the most angelic face category, was just a tad over two years old. His language was at a stage where he knew very few words of his own, but could do a manageable job of parroting what he's heard. Even before his birth, we thought this boy would one day be a priest. This day of two years ago, he would provide yet another confirmation.

After communion, as the celebrant was finishing with the purification of the sacred vessels, the chapel was silent as can be. My son took advantage of the silence. He had quietly observed Mass from start to finish. He was too young to be bored. His older sister, Jackie I, was at that stage, and she was working her way through that boredom. Jack III wasn't yet a year old.

The priest made his way to the chair to be seated for a moment. At this particular parish chapel, the congregation universally remains kneeling until the closing prayer. As the priest sat down, Jack 2, for no reason we can figure out, shouted twice, "Re-joice!"

This brings to mind the words of Saint Paul from a little over two short weeks previous, "Rejoice in the Lord always! I say it again, rejoice." It's Christmas, of course. This day of Christmas, though, reminds us that the Lord is a sign of contradiction (Luke 2:34, Acts 28:22).

I am come to cast fire on the earth; and what will I, but that it be kindled? And I have a baptism wherewith I am to be baptized: and how am I straitened until it be accomplished? Think ye, that I am come to give peace on earth? I tell you, no; but separation. For there shall be from henceforth five in one house divided: three against two, and two against three. The father shall be divided against the son, and the son against his father, the mother against the daughter, and the daughter against the mother, the mother in law against her daughter in law, and the daughter in law against her mother in law. (Luke 12:49-53)

Since our first miscarriage, we've had a special connection to this Feast of the Holy Innocents. It's a sad connection, still in the back of our mind wondering what person was lost. Was it a boy or girl? What would he or she have looked like or been like? And try as I do, it is hard to understand why some die before baptism. I certainly have no claim to any merit for my baptism.

It's hard. Any family that's been through it knows that, though the grief is handled in different ways. Most friends of ours are certain that they have saints in Heaven interceding for them. We do pray to our departed children, now three in number. As far as their status, all I have to say is that I don't know and the Church doesn't know. The news is primarily good, though:

As regards children who have died without Baptism, the Church can only entrust them to the mercy of God, as she does in her funeral rites for them. Indeed, the great mercy of God who desires that all men should be saved, and Jesus' tenderness toward children which caused him to say: "Let the children come to me, do not hinder them,"allow us to hope that there is a way of salvation for children who have died without Baptism. (CCC, 1261)

I guess Limbo could be looked at as their worst possible fate, and that should be enough for my peace. Still, there is a pain that we carry. There is a desire that can't be fulfilled. And that's the way it will remain until the day that He fixes the mess that we make.

This day two years ago, we were just two to three weeks from laying to rest our second miscarriage. The death of innocents read in the liturgy was a reminder of the innocents that the Lord himself took, by his own accord, from our joy. Quite appropriately, we often are reminded on this day in the homily that abortion is our modern day equivalent of this biblical slaughter, only on a much higher scale.

But at least the abortionists can't see the face of the children!

How could Herod's thugs have slaughtered children in their mother's arms? This kind of depravity is unimaginable. Certainly not unprecedented - from Genghis Khan to Hitler to Saddam Hussein, we have plenty of examples to show that this kind of depravity is possible. But still beyond imagination.

Similarly, we celebrated the martyrdom of Saint Stephen just two days ago. They stoned him, even though they knew he was innocent. The Sanhedrin saw that he had the face of an angel, the face of innocence, and they still had him stoned.

How could they? How?

Early in Christmas, we commemorate two great acts of murder. It seems so distant from the tranquil adoration of the shepherds just a few days ago. Yet my son had it right. Rejoice! As one man with the blood of Stephen on his hands said, "Rejoice in the Lord always!" These days of Christmas should shock us out of our sentimental picture of an idealistic Nativity scene. The contradiction should not be blurred. If it is blurred, then we'll always be at the whim of apparent fortune.

We must trust in the Lord, as the man with Stephen's blood on his hands once said, "We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose." That means abortion, miscarriage, terrorism, despotism, genocide, starvation, etc., etc. Our challenge is to stay in the fight for good, but not be scandalized by the bad. Never get discouraged.

Sorrow is as certain as death and taxes. If rejoicing is a certain reaction for us as well, we'll be much further along. How many of us have looked into the face of Jesus and sinned? We have the blood of God on our hands, yet that same blood can cover our sins. How's that for a contradiction?

As we commemorate the death of innocents this Christmas, let us rejoice. Because to us was born the most innocent of the innocents, who will turn his own murder into our redemption. If the urge hits you, remind the somber that today is a day of Christmas - God came down to us -us in our depravity. No matter what happens, no act of evil will overcome that. Rejoice!

And when I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw everyone to myself. (John 12:32)

Thou must leave thy lowly dwelling,
The humble crib, the stable bare.
Babe, all mortal babes excelling,
Content our earthly lot to share.
Loving father, Loving mother,
Shelter thee with tender care!
Loving father, Loving mother,
Shelter thee with tender care!
Shelter thee with tender care!

Blessed Jesus, we implore thee
With humble love and holy fear.
In the land that lies before thee,
Forget not us who linger here!
May the shepherd's lowly calling,
Ever to thy heart be dear!
May the shepherd's lowly calling,
Ever to thy heart be dear!
Ever to thy heart be dear!

Blest are ye beyond all measure,
Thou happy father, mother mild!
Guard ye well your heav'nly treasure,
The Prince of Peace, The Holy Child!
God go with you, God protect you,
Guide you safely through the wild!
God go with you, God protect you,
Guide you safely through the wild!
Guide you safely through the wild!

Light Number Four

Rise up in splendor! Your light has come, the glory of the Lord shines upon you. See, darkness covers the earth, and thick clouds cover the peoples; But upon you the LORD shines, and over you appears his glory. Nations shall walk by your light, and kings by your shining radiance. (Isaiah 60:1-2)

I was asked last year to write an article on the Advent Wreath for a parish newsletter. It was never published. But, here you go:

The Spirit and the bride say, "Come.” Let the hearer say, "Come.” [Rev 22:17a]

Please ask yourself, “Can I genuinely pray from the heart, ‘Amen! Come Lord Jesus!’ as John the Apostle did?” It can be difficult. For many of us, our lives are comfortable. We all have times of stress, anguish, and unhappiness, but most of us are not ready to trade the life we know for the tribulation of the Second Coming. Fear of this is understandable. But that fear can be replaced with “joyful hope” through the pious observance of Advent.

What would Easter be to us were it not preceded by the journey of Lent, walking with our Lord to the Cross? So too, Advent is the key to the preparation for and appreciation of the Incarnation, manifested by a birth in the poverty of refugee lodging. God the Son condescended to become man. Imitate Him during this much-neglected penitential season.

A simple, traditional devotion to aid your family’s liturgical focus is the Advent wreath. Place the blessed wreath at the center of your dinner table. After the family has gathered for the meal, turn off ALL the lights. Before the meal blessing, light the candles, one each for that particular week of Advent. The lighting should be accompanied by prayers, Advent hymns, or readings (made more challenging by the dark, of course), customized by your family’s preferences.

From our faith, we know that we live in a world of darkness and Christ is our only light [Jn 1:3-5]. But our eyes adjust to the darkness, and we can fail to recognize our need for the Uncreated Light. This nightly devotion provides us a perspective on reality. The burning candles become for us, “…a symbol of the prophetic light gradually illuminating the long night prior to the rising of the Sun of justice.” [Directory on Popular Piety, 98]. The subdued light draws the family together and reminds them of Whom is at their center, and that they too are refugees until the day they behold the Eternal Light, gathered with their true family for a feast beyond imagination. After four weeks, even children will anticipate the Infant Jesus more than Santa Claus.

Whether He’s descending the clouds, placed in a manger, or lifted by the hands of a priest, you and your family will welcome the Divine Guest in your heart, and pray with grateful longing, “Come, Lord Jesus!”

For resources on this and other family Advent devotions, visit our Gift Center and view the Advent Workshop at www.catholicculture.org.

The Home Nativity Scene

Let thy thoughts be upon the precepts of God, and meditate continually on his commandments: and he will give thee a heart, and the desire of wisdom shall be given to thee. (Wis 6:37)

Ah, yes. Nothing marks the approach of Christmas like the home Nativity scene. This little addition to the home is the most popular and most explicit image of the event we celebrate. What is key, though, in this season of Advent, is not to write off the centuries-old tradition as a mere decoration to enhance the jolly tiding, but to spend time gazing on this scene. Use it for Advent meditation to invite the Baby Jesus into your home and heart. That's it's true purpose.

Unfortunately, not everyone gets this. As in years past, I took an interested role in the Nativity display this year. We have a little hearth grill in our dinette, a grill that's never been used for its intended purpose. This happens to be one of those vacuum spots in the home. I think all homes have these spots located in various places. Although we use the space to house fruit bowls and potato baskets, it inevitably vacuums in all those things that we don't want to put away. Junk mail, cell phones, bills to pay, tools from the garage, prayer cards, recipe books, various pieces from toy sets, refrigerator magnets, etc.

Come Advent, we make it our Nativity location. It has a handy overhead light, and it really stands out as we eat our meals, particularly those meals lighted by the Advent candles. It also keeps the figurines out of reach of the really young ones. The only problem is, old habits die hard.

This year, I took on the Nativity setting on my own. I carefully relocated the potatoes, onions, and the huge fruit platter. All those alien objects also were given a new home. Then the trusty Costco Nativity set was laid out on our added drop cloth and with a homemade backdrop. I resolved to make it a top priority to keep this scene clear in order to facilitate unobscured meditation.

Well, my resolve was not up to the task. And, hey, I have to admit, when we got into the major task of stocking our pantry with yummy homemade Christmas treats (some of which did get sampled early for quality control), even I, Mr. Resolve, resorted to using the hearth grill to gain the needed counter space, being too lazy to clean as we go.

That's okay, I told myself. A momentary laps won't do too much damage. I re-resolved myself. I re-instructed the family. This was to be holy ground, and we shan't desecrate it with profane objects like grocery coupons!

After repeated requests and relocations, I came into the dinette to see tomatoes, fresh from, of all places, Costco, removed from their box and set neatly upon a platter, right there with our other Costco product. Well, no problem. Just pick up the platter, move it, and move on. Hours later, the tomatoes are back, this time without the platter.

Resolve is officially spent. In fact, I think it is easier to change the story than it is to keep foreign objects out of the Nativity scene. So I've decided to just go with it.

So with some slight editing, my favorite hymn, one of the first to rise out of the shadows of Cromwell's England (can you believe they banned Christmas Carols? Those Calvinists were serious killjoys) will need some slight editing.

While farmers watched

their crops by night
All seated on the ground

The angel of the Lord came down

And glory shone around

"Fear not," said he,

For trembling

Had seized their tomato-stained hands

"Glad tidings of great joy I bring

To you and all of man,"

"To you in David's

Farm this day

Is born of David's line

The Savior who is Christ the Lord

And this shall be the sign."

"The heavenly Babe

You there shall find

Near ripe tomatoes displayed

And meanly wrapped in swathing bands

And in a havestbasket laid"

Thus spake the seraph,

And forthwith

Appeared among the vines

Of angels praising God, who thus

On gaspacho they did dine

"All glory be to

God on high

And to the earth be peace;

Ketchup henceforth from heaven to men

Begin and never cease!"

I wonder what Cromwell would think of that one? Not that it matters. He never had to worry about keeping a manger scene pristine, that despot.