FOURTH SUNDAY OF ADVENT
2 S 7:1-5, 8-11, 16 -- Rm
Our Duty to Be Prophets
By Harold A. Buetow, PhD, JD
These days, everywhere you go you meet people who profess to be speaking for God. You see them on the street corners, often sandwich signing the need for repentance. You meet them at social gatherings, prophesying the possibility of the technology of our age leading to the last things. But what is true prophecy? Today's liturgy on this last Sunday before Christmas, recapitulating all salvation history, speaks to that.
When St. Luke pictured God's announcement to Mary of the coming birth of the Savior, much of what he wrote had to do with prophecy. Luke's narrative is a study in contrasts between the angel's message to Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist, and his appearance to Mary. When Luke describes the message to Zechariah, he gives many details; in the announcement to Mary, simply the time and the place. When the angel came to Zechariah, it was within the gold-plated walls of the Temple at Jerusalem; when within six months he came to Mary, it was to a humble dwelling in Nazareth (v. 26). The angel's appearance to Zechariah involved a large crowd, his appearance to Mary was private.
To Zechariah, the angel had delivered his pronouncement without first addressing any greeting; in Mary's case, he greeted her beautifully. In fact Mary, more than any human being in the Bible, is the recipient of the most impressive salutations. The Church has added to them. We call Mary not only the mother of Jesus, but the "mother" of divine grace, most pure, inviolate, and undefiled. We call her amiable, admirable, counselor, prudent, venerable, most powerful, merciful, and faithful. She's the mirror of justice, seat of wisdom, singular vessel of devotion, the tower of David. She's the house of gold, a gate of heaven, healer of the sick, a refuge of sinners, and comforter of the afflicted.
When the angel came to Mary, she wasn't much more than a young girl. How much was she like other girls? Poets have written about girls, and their observations are heart-warming as well as humorous. They've called them the nicest things that happen to people. They're born with a little bit of angel-shine about them and, though it wears thin sometimes, there's always enough left to lasso your heart. A little girl can be sweeter (and badder) more often than anyone else in the world. A girl is Innocence playing in the mud, Beauty standing on its head. God borrows from many creatures to make a little girl. He uses the song of a bird, the squeal of a pig, the antics of a monkey, the spryness of a grasshopper, the curiosity of a cat, the slyness of a fox, the softness of a kitten.
A little girl likes new shoes, party dresses, small animals, make-believe, make-up, and tea parties. She doesn't care so much for large dogs, hand-me-downs, or vegetables. She's prettiest when she's provoked you, busiest at bedtime, quietest when you want to show her off, and most flirtatious when she absolutely mustn't get the best of you again. But when your dreams tumble down and the world is a mess, she can make you a king when she climbs on your knee and whispers, "I love you best of all!" Was Mary ever like that?
With Mary, the angel's greeting began by calling her God's favored one (v.28). Honoring God with her whole being, Mary displayed what it meant for a human being to be "full of grace." The angel's statement that the Lord was with Mary, when it comes from God, implies a special prerogative. Much more intimate than God's presence to David, the Lord is literally with her. She's the new Ark, beyond all our reasonable expectations. She was to be the first human being who could say of Jesus, "This is my body, this is my blood." It's no wonder, then, that this simple girl was greatly troubled (v. 29). Unlike Zechariah, however, who was afraid at the sight of an angel, Mary was only troubled by his words. Gabriel understood Mary's perplexity, and spoke her name (v. 30) for reassurance.
He then proceeded with the promise that Mary would conceive and bear a son (v. 31). Mindful that the very first command given to people was to be fertile and multiply (Gn 1:28), Jews knew in addition that the whole purpose of their nation was to hand down their belief in one God until the Messiah would come: This meant rearing children. The childless man had his name struck out of family registers. And men wanted to have sons to pray the Mourner's Kaddish for them at death.
Mary was full of questions. "How can this be?" (v. 34), she asked. How was she to know that the child she was to conceive would be the Son of the Most High -- because, as she said, she had no relations with a man, actual or intended. The angel's answer was, in short, that everything would be accomplished by the Holy Spirit coming upon her (v. 35). This pictured the brooding Spirit sweeping over the waters of creation (Gn 1:2). It recalled also the cloud signifying God's presence that covered with glory the Meeting Tent and the Temple, and that would be present at Jesus' Baptism and Transfiguration. The same Spirit coming upon Mary brought about a new creation. By speaking of the Spirit coming upon Mary, Luke draws attention to the warmth and life of God present in this new creation as it was in the first.
When the angel added that the holy offspring to be born would be called Son of God, did Mary understand him to be announcing that her son would be divine? The First Testament was familiar with the idea of divine fatherhood. The prophets had declared Israel to be God's firstborn son, and King David, the shepherd, for one, was an embodiment of this sonship. But it would have been blasphemy for Jews to consider that God would be born of a woman, and Mary, as a Semite, wasn't in the habit of thinking in abstract terms like two natures in one person, a habit of the Western mind that would take hold later.
Indeed, there are indications that before Pentecost Mary didn't fully understand the divine nature of her son's mission (Lk 2:48-50). So she pondered him ever anew. Presently Mary, in an agreement that's a magnificent lesson to us in affirming God's plan even when we don't fully understand, assented (v. 38). Her prayer wasn't the usual one -- "May God's will be changed" -- but the greatest prayer in the world: "May God's will be done." If God wanted it, with faith and hope she would live with her uncertainties and fear. Would that all baptized persons, in spite of fear and doubts and uncertainties, were willing, with similar faith and hope, to let Christ be born and show the world God's love and compassion and joy!
As soon as she pronounced her words, the Son of God took upon himself our human nature. At once the good tidings were known in heaven, and little by little they were spread on earth. God's intention to express himself in the terms of humanity began to be fulfilled. Through the Incarnation, people were to know of the salvation, love, truth, justice, mercy, and other qualities of God.
Today's reading from the Second Book of Samuel and today's Gospel echo each other. The passage in the Jewish Scriptures is a famous messianic prophecy, written long after David lived. With the objective hind-sight of history, it shows David to have been Israel's ideal king, his age the golden age of Israel. He was wise and, despite his failings, loyal to God. Joseph, who was thought to be Jesus' father, belonged to the house of David. Just as Mary's relationship to Elizabeth, who was descended from Aaron the priest, showed Jesus' priestly character, so Joseph's membership in the house of David was intended to show Jesus' kingly character.
Today's passage tells of David's resolve to build a house to the Lord. He was disturbed to be living in a cedar palace while God's ark was confined in a tent. There was peace: With God's help David had defeated the Philistines, captured Jerusalem, and brought the Ark of God to the city. That Ark, which according to tradition contained the two tablets of the commandments given to Moses on Mt. Sinai, symbolized the presence of God with the Jewish people. The Ark had accompanied them on their journeys, even being carried into battle.
But God opposed the temple-palace David was proposing, and the class distinctions it would bring. So the prophet Nathan brought God's promise to build David a better house -- not a house made of wood or stone or gold, but a royal house, a lineage, that would last forever. What Nathan was talking about was the establishment of a New Covenant between God and the Israelites; it's the first mention of the promise that became a basic part of Jewish hope and expectancy. This prophecy to David -- this time a prophecy in the sense of foretelling the future -- formed the basis for Jewish expectations of a messiah. Jesus, of David's family and town, would fulfill this prophecy. The offspring of the virgin, as promised, restored David's dynasty, which by then hadn't existed for 600 years.
St. Paul, in today's portion of his letter to the Romans, uses the work "prophecy" in both of its senses: the foretelling of the future and the duty of speaking up on God's behalf -- a forthteller. Paul here brings his letter to an end in a song of praise that's also a summary of the Gospel. The Gospel is the revelation of the mystery kept secret for long ages (v. 25). That mystery has to do with the identity of Jesus.
Paul's idea is that God is present in history, whose central person is Jesus. Jesus is the one in whom all God's promises are fulfilled, the one to whom all nations must look for salvation. Through God's command Paul has made Jesus known not only to the Jews, but to the Gentiles as well. Jews and Gentiles hated each other. Strict Jews saw Gentiles as being immoral, unloved by God, and condemned. Gentiles saw Jews as snobbish, fanatic, pushy, and constant trouble-makers. Jews wouldn't eat with Gentiles, visit their homes, or even use money coined by them. That Paul, the strict Pharisaical rabbi, would become the apostle of the Gentiles, reconcile Jew and Gentile, and bring Jesus to the world is a lesson for all of us.
God has done the unexpected throughout salvation history. He took an obscure shepherd boy, David, built from him a royal house, and promised that his dynasty would last forever. Jesus, of that royal line, became man in order to save us. In Jesus, God reconciled Jew and Gentile. In our time, Jesus is there to help reconcile us all. These days, we contemplate the unexpected spectacle of Jesus' birth at Christmas. Every new birth is a wonder, but the newness of this one is an especial marvel. On this last Sunday before Christmas, it makes us straighten up, square our shoulders, and face our responsibility to let this newness enter and open ourselves to the possibilities of growth through God's creative action. Let's create the wonder of Christmas anew by saying "yes" to God at all times and bringing Jesus to the world.
When St. Luke pictured God's announcement to Mary of the coming birth of the Savior, much of what he wrote had to do with prophecy. Luke's narrative is a study in contrasts between the angel's message to Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist, and his appearance to Mary. When Luke describes the message to Zechariah, he gives many details; in the announcement to Mary, simply the time and the place. When the angel came to Zechariah, it was within the gold-plated walls of the Temple at Jerusalem; when within six months he came to Mary, it was to a humble dwelling in Nazareth (v. 26). The angel's appearance to Zechariah involved a large crowd, his appearance to Mary was private.
To Zechariah, the angel had delivered his pronouncement without first addressing any greeting; in Mary's case, he greeted her beautifully. In fact Mary, more than any human being in the Bible, is the recipient of the most impressive salutations. The Church has added to them. We call Mary not only the mother of Jesus, but the "mother" of divine grace, most pure, inviolate, and undefiled. We call her amiable, admirable, counselor, prudent, venerable, most powerful, merciful, and faithful. She's the mirror of justice, seat of wisdom, singular vessel of devotion, the tower of David. She's the house of gold, a gate of heaven, healer of the sick, a refuge of sinners, and comforter of the afflicted.
When the angel came to Mary, she wasn't much more than a young girl. How much was she like other girls? Poets have written about girls, and their observations are heart-warming as well as humorous. They've called them the nicest things that happen to people. They're born with a little bit of angel-shine about them and, though it wears thin sometimes, there's always enough left to lasso your heart. A little girl can be sweeter (and badder) more often than anyone else in the world. A girl is Innocence playing in the mud, Beauty standing on its head. God borrows from many creatures to make a little girl. He uses the song of a bird, the squeal of a pig, the antics of a monkey, the spryness of a grasshopper, the curiosity of a cat, the slyness of a fox, the softness of a kitten.
A little girl likes new shoes, party dresses, small animals, make-believe, make-up, and tea parties. She doesn't care so much for large dogs, hand-me-downs, or vegetables. She's prettiest when she's provoked you, busiest at bedtime, quietest when you want to show her off, and most flirtatious when she absolutely mustn't get the best of you again. But when your dreams tumble down and the world is a mess, she can make you a king when she climbs on your knee and whispers, "I love you best of all!" Was Mary ever like that?
With Mary, the angel's greeting began by calling her God's favored one (v.28). Honoring God with her whole being, Mary displayed what it meant for a human being to be "full of grace." The angel's statement that the Lord was with Mary, when it comes from God, implies a special prerogative. Much more intimate than God's presence to David, the Lord is literally with her. She's the new Ark, beyond all our reasonable expectations. She was to be the first human being who could say of Jesus, "This is my body, this is my blood." It's no wonder, then, that this simple girl was greatly troubled (v. 29). Unlike Zechariah, however, who was afraid at the sight of an angel, Mary was only troubled by his words. Gabriel understood Mary's perplexity, and spoke her name (v. 30) for reassurance.
He then proceeded with the promise that Mary would conceive and bear a son (v. 31). Mindful that the very first command given to people was to be fertile and multiply (Gn 1:28), Jews knew in addition that the whole purpose of their nation was to hand down their belief in one God until the Messiah would come: This meant rearing children. The childless man had his name struck out of family registers. And men wanted to have sons to pray the Mourner's Kaddish for them at death.
Mary was full of questions. "How can this be?" (v. 34), she asked. How was she to know that the child she was to conceive would be the Son of the Most High -- because, as she said, she had no relations with a man, actual or intended. The angel's answer was, in short, that everything would be accomplished by the Holy Spirit coming upon her (v. 35). This pictured the brooding Spirit sweeping over the waters of creation (Gn 1:2). It recalled also the cloud signifying God's presence that covered with glory the Meeting Tent and the Temple, and that would be present at Jesus' Baptism and Transfiguration. The same Spirit coming upon Mary brought about a new creation. By speaking of the Spirit coming upon Mary, Luke draws attention to the warmth and life of God present in this new creation as it was in the first.
When the angel added that the holy offspring to be born would be called Son of God, did Mary understand him to be announcing that her son would be divine? The First Testament was familiar with the idea of divine fatherhood. The prophets had declared Israel to be God's firstborn son, and King David, the shepherd, for one, was an embodiment of this sonship. But it would have been blasphemy for Jews to consider that God would be born of a woman, and Mary, as a Semite, wasn't in the habit of thinking in abstract terms like two natures in one person, a habit of the Western mind that would take hold later.
Indeed, there are indications that before Pentecost Mary didn't fully understand the divine nature of her son's mission (Lk 2:48-50). So she pondered him ever anew. Presently Mary, in an agreement that's a magnificent lesson to us in affirming God's plan even when we don't fully understand, assented (v. 38). Her prayer wasn't the usual one -- "May God's will be changed" -- but the greatest prayer in the world: "May God's will be done." If God wanted it, with faith and hope she would live with her uncertainties and fear. Would that all baptized persons, in spite of fear and doubts and uncertainties, were willing, with similar faith and hope, to let Christ be born and show the world God's love and compassion and joy!
As soon as she pronounced her words, the Son of God took upon himself our human nature. At once the good tidings were known in heaven, and little by little they were spread on earth. God's intention to express himself in the terms of humanity began to be fulfilled. Through the Incarnation, people were to know of the salvation, love, truth, justice, mercy, and other qualities of God.
Today's reading from the Second Book of Samuel and today's Gospel echo each other. The passage in the Jewish Scriptures is a famous messianic prophecy, written long after David lived. With the objective hind-sight of history, it shows David to have been Israel's ideal king, his age the golden age of Israel. He was wise and, despite his failings, loyal to God. Joseph, who was thought to be Jesus' father, belonged to the house of David. Just as Mary's relationship to Elizabeth, who was descended from Aaron the priest, showed Jesus' priestly character, so Joseph's membership in the house of David was intended to show Jesus' kingly character.
Today's passage tells of David's resolve to build a house to the Lord. He was disturbed to be living in a cedar palace while God's ark was confined in a tent. There was peace: With God's help David had defeated the Philistines, captured Jerusalem, and brought the Ark of God to the city. That Ark, which according to tradition contained the two tablets of the commandments given to Moses on Mt. Sinai, symbolized the presence of God with the Jewish people. The Ark had accompanied them on their journeys, even being carried into battle.
But God opposed the temple-palace David was proposing, and the class distinctions it would bring. So the prophet Nathan brought God's promise to build David a better house -- not a house made of wood or stone or gold, but a royal house, a lineage, that would last forever. What Nathan was talking about was the establishment of a New Covenant between God and the Israelites; it's the first mention of the promise that became a basic part of Jewish hope and expectancy. This prophecy to David -- this time a prophecy in the sense of foretelling the future -- formed the basis for Jewish expectations of a messiah. Jesus, of David's family and town, would fulfill this prophecy. The offspring of the virgin, as promised, restored David's dynasty, which by then hadn't existed for 600 years.
St. Paul, in today's portion of his letter to the Romans, uses the work "prophecy" in both of its senses: the foretelling of the future and the duty of speaking up on God's behalf -- a forthteller. Paul here brings his letter to an end in a song of praise that's also a summary of the Gospel. The Gospel is the revelation of the mystery kept secret for long ages (v. 25). That mystery has to do with the identity of Jesus.
Paul's idea is that God is present in history, whose central person is Jesus. Jesus is the one in whom all God's promises are fulfilled, the one to whom all nations must look for salvation. Through God's command Paul has made Jesus known not only to the Jews, but to the Gentiles as well. Jews and Gentiles hated each other. Strict Jews saw Gentiles as being immoral, unloved by God, and condemned. Gentiles saw Jews as snobbish, fanatic, pushy, and constant trouble-makers. Jews wouldn't eat with Gentiles, visit their homes, or even use money coined by them. That Paul, the strict Pharisaical rabbi, would become the apostle of the Gentiles, reconcile Jew and Gentile, and bring Jesus to the world is a lesson for all of us.
God has done the unexpected throughout salvation history. He took an obscure shepherd boy, David, built from him a royal house, and promised that his dynasty would last forever. Jesus, of that royal line, became man in order to save us. In Jesus, God reconciled Jew and Gentile. In our time, Jesus is there to help reconcile us all. These days, we contemplate the unexpected spectacle of Jesus' birth at Christmas. Every new birth is a wonder, but the newness of this one is an especial marvel. On this last Sunday before Christmas, it makes us straighten up, square our shoulders, and face our responsibility to let this newness enter and open ourselves to the possibilities of growth through God's creative action. Let's create the wonder of Christmas anew by saying "yes" to God at all times and bringing Jesus to the world.
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