Month: December 2021

Today’s readings are full of hope and promise, as is fitting for the Third Week of Advent.  In the First Reading, the prophet Jeremiah promises a king who will “reign and govern wisely, [and] do what is just and right in the land.” The Responsorial Psalm repeats the message: “Justice shall flourish in his time, and fullness of peace forever.” Then comes the twist: the Gospel tells us how these promises were fulfilled, by the birth of a baby. 

The Israelites, we know, were expecting a worldly king, described as a “shoot to David,” and who would be like David: a mighty soldier who would defeat their enemies once and for all. Instead, God sent Jesus with his message of justice, yes, but not through violence and conquest: rather by forgiveness, love, and mercy. And instead of immediately establishing his just and righteous kingdom, Jesus accepted an unjust condemnation and death. Is it any wonder that his friends despaired at first and went into hiding? 

We all long for justice. Children are born with this innate desire—they are obsessed with fairness until their parents tell them enough times that the world is not fair.  Well, it is a fallen world so that is unfortunately true. But I have never said this to my own children. Instead, I say this: “The world is not fair but we have to try to be.” We must not fall prey to the temptation to think that there is no hope for any justice here on earth. While perfect justice may be only attainable in God’s Kingdom, we cannot just stand around, staring at the sky, waiting for Jesus to show up. We are called to do our best to bring about his justice here, acting as God’s hands on Earth.  Jesus showed us the way over and over, perhaps most notably when he said “Whatsoever you do to the least of these you do unto me.” We are not meant to sit passively by and wait for him. Rather, he calls us to be a people of action and to act on his example. 

Working for justice is demanding and difficult. People of good will in our society often disagree about what justice means and how to achieve it. But the Christian life is not supposed to be easy nor is it supposed to be all about ourselves and our comfort. So let today’s readings make us hopeful, but never complacent.  We can never achieve perfect justice on Earth, only a shadow of what it will look like in the Kingdom of God, but that does not free us from the responsibility of trying.

“But unto you that fear my name, the Sun of justice shall arise, and health in his wings: and you shall go forth, and shall leap like calves of the herd” (Malachi 4:2).

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O Wisdom of our God Most High,
guiding creation with power and love:
come to teach us the path of knowledge!

I never knew my maternal grandfather; he died a year and a half before I was born. But I have learned the stories about him: how he lied about his age so he could join a brother in coming to America; how he drove an ambulance in France for the U.S. Army during World War I; how he, just like the usual Greek stereotype, owned a “greasy spoon” restaurant; how he was an older man when he married the feisty Sicilian woman who was my grandmother. It’s a little funny how, my whole life, I’ve been asked, “So, you’re Greek?” and I’ve always said, “Why, yes, on my mother’s side.”

Yes, people make assumptions (for example, “Can anything good come from Nazareth?”), and seeing that my last name is a Greek word — which means “fruit,” by the way — they assume. And so I have to explain that I’m Polish on my father’s side, but I have no idea how a Polish family took a Greek word for their surname. I did know my grandfather on that side, perhaps the kindest and most generous man I’ve ever known. But he was also opinionated, opportunistic, and an alcoholic.

We can’t choose our ancestry, and yet it is very important in our lives because we are the culmination of it; it is the foundation of who we fundamentally are. Both Matthew and Luke use a genealogy of Jesus to show the importance of ancestry, especially how Jesus was the culmination of Old Testament prophecies and covenants, putting him in direct line with Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Judah and King David. No, we can’t choose our ancestors, but today’s Gospel shows that God can and does do that choosing. And for Jesus, as well as for us, that ancestry chosen by God contains both the faithful and the sinner. Judah, as the First Reading tells us, may have been destined for greatness, with kings as descendants; and he may have saved his brother Joseph from their other brothers’ wrath, but he also sold Joseph into slavery. Jesus is considered a descendant of David, but he’s also a descendant of Ahaz, the guy who wouldn’t listen to Isaiah about asking the Lord for a sign. And God, in his infinite wisdom, used them all to fulfill his plan. His promises to Abraham, to Jacob, to David, even to Ahaz, are fulfilled in the birth of Jesus, the Messiah.

I began this reflection with today’s “O antiphon,” the ancient exhortations the Church has used since the eighth century to accompany the Magnificat canticle of Evening Prayer from December 17-23. As the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops says on its website, the antiphons are “a magnificent theology that uses ancient biblical imagery drawn from the messianic hopes of the Old Testament to proclaim the coming Christ as the fulfillment not only of Old Testament hopes, but present ones as well.” And today, when we say Come, O Wisdom, we know that that Wisdom is Jesus Christ, our very Lord and Savior. Christmas is just a week away: Come, Lord Jesus, Come!

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