Bethlehem: thank goodness it's not Hollywood

I was thinking about Christmas the other day, and it occurred to me what a fantastic, beautiful, unique story God created when He was born in a manger. The smell of the manger, the shepherds coming at night, Mary wrapping Jesus in swaddling clothes: all of these elements combine to create a beautiful synthesis of peace, joy, and love. It's a story that almost everyone in the world knows, and for millions of Christians it's a story that inspires us to love God through His Son, Jesus Christ.

However, sometimes familiarity causes us to overlook exactly how extraordinary something can be. As I thought more about Christmas, I realized how extraordinary the story of Bethlehem really is. Quite literally, it is out of the ordinary. The story of Bethlehem, after all, is not simply the story of a little baby boy who would grow up to become a rather famous moral teacher. No, it is the story of the Creator of the universe, the Infinite Being who stands as the source of all creation, coming into that creation so as to banish all darkness and bring about a new creation. Looked at in this light, I don't think any of us, or for that matter any of the highly paid story writers in Hollywood, would have come up with Bethlehem as the setting for God's coming.

It's interesting to think what Hollywood might have done with the story of the Incarnation. Try this mental experiment: picture a group of Hollywood script writers trying to come up with a movie about an infinitely powerful Being coming to our planet so as to conquer His enemies and liberate the people He has loved since the beginning of time. What sort of plots would the writers come up with? How would such an event have occurred if human beings had been in charge of bringing it about? Personally, if Hollywood had been in charge, I think we would have ended up with the Christ riding some sort of fiery asteroid down to earth, wearing brilliantly white enchanted armor, waving a thousand foot sword over his head, and flinging lightning at all who opposed him. Oh, and if Michael Bay were in charge, the angels would have probably been mutating alien robots (see the "Transformers" movies for this reference. On second thought, don't see them.)

Had man been in charge of this whole Christmas phenomenon, it probably would have looked a lot different. The people of Jesus's time surely thought the coming of the Messiah would be something akin to what I described above (though perhaps less dramatic). They were hoping that the Messiah would come as a glorious king who would abolish Roman rule and reinstitute the Jewish state. They hoped for grandiose fireworks of a temporal and political nature. Instead, they got a baby boy born in a manger who lived in Nazareth until He was 30. In response to this plan of God's, many responded "Where did this man get this wisdom and these mighty works? Is not this the carpenter's son? Is not his mother called Mary?" Mt 13: 54-55. They held so dearly to their view of the Messiah's temporal glory that  in the end they would cynically mock Him while still looking for miracles: "He is the King of Israel; let him come down now from the cross, and we will believe in him." Mt 27: 42.

Even today, many Christians hope and look for the establishment of the Kingdom of God on earth, even though Christ teaches us His "kingship is not of this world." Indeed, there are many Christians who wish Jesus was a conquering hero smiting his enemies wherever they appear. However, this is not the story that God wrote. Instead of coming as the conquering king, He came as a Babe in Mary's arms. Rather than ascending a throne of glory, He ascended onto the cross. Instead of rising to the apex of political power, He rose from the dead on the Third day.

And this version of the story, God's version, is much more incredible than anything man had, or could have, envisioned. Had He come in splendor and glory He would have taken away man's ability to freely choose Him. After all, who would possibly turn away from a king riding a flaming asteroid, flinging lightning around? All would have been impressed with him and would have submitted to his rule. But He didn't come to submit mankind to Himself; He came "that they may have life, and have it abundantly" Jn 10:10. Rather than making us citizens of a heavenly temporal politic, He wished to make us members of His Body. He came to draw us into a relationship with Himself, and He knew that the best way to do this was to come in humility, teaching us how to empty out ourselves so the He could fill us with love.

The story of Bethlehem was the beginning of God's grandest concerto, and it was certainly an unexpected beginning. It set the tone for the rest of His story, and in turn the stories of every Christian life thereafter. Coming in the quiet of night to a carpenter and his wife, with angels singing "Gloria" to shepherds and not kings, God told man "I have come to love you, not to dominate you. I want to fill you to the brim with my love and bring you close to My Heart. Only thus will you find true happiness." Even though we're familiar with the story of Bethlehem, we should always try to remember why it is such an amazing story. It is the story of a God who loved us, and who knew us better than we knew ourselves. He knew what we needed, and He knew how He had to give it to us. As it turned out, what we needed was different than what we expected. Thankfully, God was creative enough to come up with the story of Bethlehem.

This Christmas, may God come into your heart and the hearts of all men as He came that Bethlehem night: quietly and with great love. May we who seek Him like those mysterious magi not be afraid to look amongst the mangers and poor of this world. From my family to yours, Merry Christmas, and God Bless.

Christmas - the story of His parents

I've come to a surprising realization about myself over the past couple of weeks, a realization that has really caused me to sit back and reorient my priorities. Fittingly, I would even call it an epiphany of sorts. Since Thanksgiving, I have realized that I am most definitely a Christmas person. Sure, Christmas is a special holiday for most Christians, and many non-Christians as well, but I have come to the conclusion that the importance of the holiday for me goes beyond many others. For me, Advent and Christmas have always been this mystical time of the year where reality truly becomes fantastic, where the ordinary world becomes extraordinary. Simply put, it's a time when the Incarnation bursts forth into daily life with the splendor and vigor it truly deserves.

The colors. The music. The lights. The trees. The presents. The wrapping paper. The cookies and treats. Since I was a little boy, all of these things have captured my imagination. All the beautiful trappings and pleasures of this time of the year stand as a reminder of the generosity and love of the Father. And, since my senses play perhaps an all too important part of my life, the pleasures of Christmas captivate me. I'm sure my wife Liz will tell you how different I've become. Normally, I'm the one to say "well, we have to think of the budget." However, during the past few weeks, my dear wife has found herself in that unexpected role, trying to rein in the Christmas-fueled frenzy of her husband. Now I say, "Are you sure we got him enough toys for Christmas?" To which my wife responds, "Honey, he's seven months old, he'll be happy with anything."

So, for the last few weeks we've been running hither, thither, and yon enjoying all the glories this time of year brings with itself. We've gone Christmas shopping together and stopped and gotten Starbucks holiday drinks. We've gone and picked out a Christmas tree and gotten it set up in the apartment. Liz has been to several Christmas parties, and I spent last Saturday attending the Army-Navy game with my aunt and cousins. We've had friends over and gone out with friends. We've been running, running, running in an attempt to enjoy all that Christmas has to offer.

And, in the process of criss-crossing the town of Front Royal a dozen times, I also realized that all this hustle and bustle could make me miss the story of Christmas, a tragedy that goes against being a Christmas person. The consistent sensational nature of Christmas can make us miss out on the most beautiful part of Christmas: the Person who laid in a manger, and then hung upon a Cross. All the pleasures and beauties of the season are there to remind us of this Person; they are meant to be a means by which our minds contemplate the Goodness that became man. Often, though, they become distractions because of our own weakness and unwillingness to transcend the material world.

It occurred to me, then, that if I'm going to celebrate Christmas properly I have to find a way to focus on the story that's being told, and what better way to take interest in a Child's birth than to ask the parents about it. One of the most unique and beautiful things about Christmas is that the actors in this story are all people we can know. With a fictional story, we are merely third party observers looking down on a world that will never see us, but with Christmas, we are continually told the story by those who were there.

Mary and Joseph can tell us of the trepidation of being refused at the door of the inn. They can share with us the hope and trust they had in God as they wandered through the dark night searching for a place to bring this Child into the world. They can describe to us the humbling experience of finally settling down next to animals in a manger, recognizing that God had already humbled Himself far greater in taking on human nature. And finally they can relate to us the joy of hearing that Babe cry, seeing His eyes for the first time, holding Love Himself in their arms as angels sang and shepherds watched. Most importantly, we can be sure that Mary and Joseph want to tell us these things. Like many parents I've met, they are eager to share the story of when their lives became so enriched, and they are only waiting for ears willing to listen.

As we run around during the next week and prepare for the big day, let us recognize all the opportunities we have to listen to these paradigms of motherhood and fatherhood. As we search for those perfect presents, which are opportunities to show our love, let us think of the parents of Jesus lovingly searching for a place in which their son could be born. As we travel to be with family, let us think of Joseph and Mary traveling for the census. And as we enjoy all the presents and treats that will greet us as the time draws near, let us think of the joy Mary and Joseph experienced upon receiving God's Present to them and to ourselves. No matter what happens, let's not forget to listen to the story these holy parents have to share.

When God says "No"

Last week I wrote about the need for trust in God. I spoke about how we should confidently ask God for what we want, trusting that He will grant our prayers. Of course, I skirted around the issue of God saying "no," the issue of not always getting what we want. For us prideful men, this is the main stumbling block to trusting in God. How do we trust God when we ask Him for something and we don't receive it? Of course, this often happens, and it's often a sticking point for those outside of Christianity. They see followers of Christ asking for this and that, and it seems that fate often treats Christians the same way as other people.

So, how do we deal with this dilemma? Well, first Jesus's promise of "Ask, and it will be given you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you" (Mt. 7:7) is not an unconditional promise in the sense that He always gives us exactly what we ask for. If it were, Jesus would be bound to give us things that would harm us. What if we prayed for a nuclear bomb so that we could blow up a city? Or, what if we prayed that someone we hate undergo torture? Evil things are not what Christ promises to us. He promises us good things. He goes on to say, "what man of you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!" Mt. 7:9-11

However, sometimes we ask for truly good things, and the answer is still no. Similarly, children often ask for things that are good in themselves, but not necessarily good for them. For instance, when Liz and I sit at the dinner table, Alan sometimes sits on our laps. When he does this, he is very close to our food, and so he does what he does when he sees anything - he reaches for it and tries to put it in his mouth. However, right now he can't really handle Chicken Parmigiana; he's too young. He can do crackers, rice cereal, bananas but not unprocessed meat. He only has 5 teeth; it's just not going to work. When he grows, when he gets more teeth, we'll give him Chick Parmigiana, but not now.

Of course, this is the position we often find ourselves in with regards to God's will. Like my son Alan, we believe we are far more capable of receiving good things than we actually are. We reach for things we are not yet ready for. And, like Alan, when we are told no we often become upset that we didn't get what we want. We believe we know what's good for us, and yet we cannot see that we only have 5 teeth. To trust in God, though, depends on realizing how little we are. We must recognize that we have only 5 teeth, and if God says we are not ready for something, then we are not ready for it. He loves us; He's guiding us, and when we are told "no" it is because He knows how to "give good things to those who ask him."

But what about asking God for things in confidence? How can we confidently ask Him for something and yet recognize that what we're asking for may not be good for us? This strikes at the heart of the dilemma and is the single hardest thing about prayer. Recognizing our finitude leads us to trust in God, and yet it can also cause us to distrust our own vision.

The only way to do this is to trust in God so completely that we become like little children who ask confidently and yet trust their parents implicitly. "Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." Mt 18: 3. To do this requires great humility. We have to let go of the idea that we are in control. We have to let things happen to us, instead of trying to constantly make things happen the way we see fit. To put simply, we have to go with the flow the way a child does. The more we do this, the more God will draw us closer to Himself and show us His will. And the more we know His will, the more we can watch it be accomplished in the world. "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is heaven."

Don't trust me, trust Him

Throughout our lives, there are so many instances where we are called to trust God, and to trust that He really does know what He's doing. Whether it be in the smallest details of the everyday or the momentous life-defining occasions, He asks us to place our trust in Him. Strictly speaking, this should be easy. We are often confronted by how small and powerless we are. Circumstances arise in our lives that remind us that we don't have the ability to control everything. Though it seems like we can do so much for ourselves, in reality we can do very little.

These concrete encounters with our finitude should remind us of who is in control, but interestingly, they often don't. Rather than calling our mind to God's divine providence, unforeseen trials often cause us to turn in on ourselves. It seems to be human instinct to try to control everything on your own. When we're suffering, we just want to have that one thing we can control, that one area of our lives where we're in charge. Instead of turning outward to God, we turn inwards, trusting in our own powers of control. Part of the reason for this is that it's easier for us to see those things that we control, but more difficult to acknowledge God's control over things. We see how we work, play, sleep, plan with our own senses, but we can only see God's planning with the aid of our intellect. It's so easy for fallen man to never move beyond his senses.

The instinct to seize control is not necessarily a bad thing. Indeed, God does not ask us to simply throw our hands in the air and say "Alright, I'm going to sit on the couch, you take care of it." That isn't what He asks of His disciples. Trusting in God does not imply or require inaction on our part. It would not benefit man if God simply did everything for him, for what truly benefits man is what brings him closer to God, and what truly brings him closer to God is working in unison with God. We grow closer to God by working with Him actively, but always understanding that He sees everything, where as we see only a small part of things.

The type of work I'm talking about, though, is often not understood in the world of assembly lines and cubicles. Today, working "together" means having a meeting so that everybody can then go off and do their own jobs. So many jobs today are focused on allowing each person to work relatively alone for most of the day, only coming together occasionally to talk about the work being done separately. To work with God, though, is more similar to the way people used to work together. People used to work side by side with their family, their neighbors, trusting them to carry the load. Trust was a huge part of the work, trusting that each person would help the others not out of a sense of "duty" but out of loyalty to the others. Similarly, we must work side by side with God, trusting that he will help us, and seeking to perform acts of love for Him out of devotion and loyalty.

A necessary part of this trusting "work" relationship is that we must be comfortable and confident when asking God for things, and we must also remember when we've asked Him for something. So often I find in my prayer life that I am only halfheartedly asking God for something. I will ask Him for something, and then I'll sort of sit to wait to see if it happens. St. Therese, though, says that we should be so confident when petitioning God that we should immediately thank Him for granting our prayers. Every petition to God should include a thanksgiving to Him. Every time we ask God to help us, we must have confidence that He will help us. We must have confidence that He is listening.

To help us with this confidence, we must also remember what we ask for from God. Often times we have a short memory span when it comes to our petitions. We ask God for something, and when we receive it, we are so excited that we forget that we asked for it. We must begin to recognize when our prayers our answered, for then we will see that He really is worthy of our meager trust. If we are on the lookout for His answers, we will discover how truly generous He is. Ultimately, this process of trust, confidence, and thanksgiving will increase our love for God. We'll begin to see that before we ever trusted Him, He loved us.

Distractions, Advent and fire: No this isn't about altar servering

The goodness of this world can be a very alluring thing. As Catholics, we believe that creation and its Creator are both good, and they should both be loved in an ordered fashion. It's that "ordered fashion" part that's the tricky thing. That means we're supposed to love God, whom we know through the eyes of faith, greater than the goodness of created things we directly experience with our eyes, ears, noses, mouths and hands.

Of course, we were made to do this. We were designed so that we'd experience the goodness of created things and through this experience ascend to knowledge of Uncreated Goodness. And then that whole original sin thing happened, and now it's become much more difficult than it ought to be. Rather than submitting to our intellect, the senses and the passions now vie for our attention and try to distract us from God and His Love. We've become disorderly inclined to focus on creation, on the pleasures that surround us. 

Because of this disorder in creation, the "world" has traditionally been listed as a source of temptation. Throughout man's history, the culture around him has always provided sources of pleasure that are promised to be the source of true fulfillment (see those famous Egyptian fleshpots). These pleasures have been promoted as ultimate so as to replace God as man's end. Today, through TV and internet, the world makes it very easy for man to become distracted. It makes it so that man can now just sit down and be "entertained" at any time of the day or night and so be distracted from God and those things that truly matter. However, even the higher goods in life, such as providing for a family, can become distractions. 

One of the many beauties of Christianity, though, is that we need not be distracted from God for very long. He is always there waiting for us, beckoning us to come closer to Him. At every moment of every day we have the ability to love and serve Him. We can turn our minds away from the distractions and He will run out to us like the father in the story of the prodigal son. All we have to do is turn His direction; or in a word, we must convert.

God, in turn, has given us ways to subdue the senses through acts of penance. By giving up some of the pleasures we are used to, or by turning away from those things that distract us most, we become more able to turn our attention and our heart to love of Jesus. And, providentially, the Church gives us times of the year that are devoted to such efforts. While penances should have a permanent place in our spiritual lives, she gives us the times of Advent and Lent to particularly focus on mortifying our senses so as to turn towards God. This mortification of the senses, though, does not requires us to scourge ourselves or anything of the like. We don't have to go all The Scarlet Letter in order to do penance. Rather, we can simply give up small things. Thirsty at work and want a coke? How about a water instead. Looking for that late night snack of candy? Why not have a simple peace of bread. Don't get me wrong, coke and candy are both goods. But, by giving up these goods, we gain a mastery over the senses that will allow us to turn ourselves more thoroughly to God.

Of course, once we start doing these things, Jesus will pour out his love on us in even greater amounts. St. Therese of Lisieux once compared this process to a small child building a fire with his or her father. In the story, the small child is us, the fire is our love of Jesus, and the father is God. She said that when a child and its father build a fire, it's not uncommon to see the child bring in twigs and very small branches to put in the fire. The child thinks it is helping quite a bit, but of course its twigs are very quickly consumed and don't produce that much heat. However, upon seeing the child bring in twigs, the father, wishing to please the child, heaps large pieces of wood on the fire so that the flames grow large, and the heat is great. He does this out of love for the child, wishing to do more for the child than the child can do for itself. 

This Advent, let's gather twigs for the fire.