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allaboutjoseph · 3 years ago

Text

Patris Corde - Apostolic Letter of Pope Francis

https://www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/apost_letters/documents/papa-francesco-lettera-ap_20201208_patris-corde.html

APOSTOLIC LETTER - PATRIS CORDE

OF THE HOLY FATHER, FRANCIS

ON THE 150th ANNIVERSARY OF THE PROCLAMATION OF SAINT JOSEPH AS PATRON OF THE UNIVERSAL CHURCH

WITH A FATHER’S HEART: that is how Joseph loved Jesus, whom all four Gospels refer to as “the son of Joseph”.[1]

Matthew and Luke, the two Evangelists who speak most of Joseph, tell us very little, yet enough for us to appreciate what sort of father he was, and the mission entrusted to him by God’s providence.

We know that Joseph was a lowly carpenter (cf. Mt 13:55), betrothed to Mary (cf. Mt 1:18; Lk 1:27). He was a “just man” (Mt 1:19), ever ready to carry out God’s will as revealed to him in the Law (cf. Lk 2:22.27.39) and through four dreams (cf. Mt 1:20; 2:13.19.22). After a long and tiring journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem, he beheld the birth of the Messiah in a stable, since “there was no place for them” elsewhere (cf. Lk 2:7). He witnessed the adoration of the shepherds (cf. Lk 2:8-20) and the Magi (cf. Mt 2:1-12), who represented respectively the people of Israel and the pagan peoples.

Joseph had the courage to become the legal father of Jesus, to whom he gave the name revealed by the angel: “You shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins” (Mt 1:21). As we know, for ancient peoples, to give a name to a person or to a thing, as Adam did in the account in the Book of Genesis (cf. 2:19-20), was to establish a relationship.

In the Temple, forty days after Jesus’ birth, Joseph and Mary offered their child to the Lord and listened with amazement to Simeon’s prophecy concerning Jesus and his Mother (cf. Lk 2:22-35). To protect Jesus from Herod, Joseph dwelt as a foreigner in Egypt (cf. Mt 2:13-18). After returning to his own country, he led a hidden life in the tiny and obscure village of Nazareth in Galilee, far from Bethlehem, his ancestral town, and from Jerusalem and the Temple. Of Nazareth it was said, “No prophet is to rise” (cf. Jn 7:52) and indeed, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” (cf. Jn 1:46). When, during a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, Joseph and Mary lost track of the twelve-year-old Jesus, they anxiously sought him out and they found him in the Temple, in discussion with the doctors of the Law (cf. Lk 2:41-50).

After Mary, the Mother of God, no saint is mentioned more frequently in the papal magisterium than Joseph, her spouse. My Predecessors reflected on the message contained in the limited information handed down by the Gospels in order to appreciate more fully his central role in the history of salvation. Blessed Pius IX declared him “Patron of the Catholic Church”,[2] Venerable Pius XII proposed him as “Patron of Workers”[3] and Saint John Paul II as “Guardian of the Redeemer”.[4] Saint Joseph is universally invoked as the “patron of a happy death”.[5]

Now, one hundred and fifty years after his proclamation as Patron of the Catholic Church by Blessed Pius IX (8 December 1870), I would like to share some personal reflections on this extraordinary figure, so close to our own human experience. For, as Jesus says, “out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks” (Mt 12:34). My desire to do so increased during these months of pandemic, when we experienced, amid the crisis, how “our lives are woven together and sustained by ordinary people, people often overlooked. People who do not appear in newspaper and magazine headlines, or on the latest television show, yet in these very days are surely shaping the decisive events of our history. Doctors, nurses, storekeepers and supermarket workers, cleaning personnel, caregivers, transport workers, men and women working to provide essential services and public safety, volunteers, priests, men and women religious, and so very many others. They understood that no one is saved alone… How many people daily exercise patience and offer hope, taking care to spread not panic, but shared responsibility. How many fathers, mothers, grandparents and teachers are showing our children, in small everyday ways, how to accept and deal with a crisis by adjusting their routines, looking ahead and encouraging the practice of prayer. How many are praying, making sacrifices and interceding for the good of all”.[6] Each of us can discover in Joseph – the man who goes unnoticed, a daily, discreet and hidden presence – an intercessor, a support and a guide in times of trouble. Saint Joseph reminds us that those who appear hidden or in the shadows can play an incomparable role in the history of salvation. A word of recognition and of gratitude is due to them all.

1. A beloved father

The greatness of Saint Joseph is that he was the spouse of Mary and the father of Jesus. In this way, he placed himself, in the words of Saint John Chrysostom, “at the service of the entire plan of salvation”.[7]

Saint Paul VI pointed out that Joseph concretely expressed his fatherhood “by making his life a sacrificial service to the mystery of the incarnation and its redemptive purpose. He employed his legal authority over the Holy Family to devote himself completely to them in his life and work. He turned his human vocation to domestic love into a superhuman oblation of himself, his heart and all his abilities, a love placed at the service of the Messiah who was growing to maturity in his home”.[8]

Thanks to his role in salvation history, Saint Joseph has always been venerated as a father by the Christian people. This is shown by the countless churches dedicated to him worldwide, the numerous religious Institutes, Confraternities and ecclesial groups inspired by his spirituality and bearing his name, and the many traditional expressions of piety in his honour. Innumerable holy men and women were passionately devoted to him. Among them was Teresa of Avila, who chose him as her advocate and intercessor, had frequent recourse to him and received whatever graces she asked of him. Encouraged by her own experience, Teresa persuaded others to cultivate devotion to Joseph.[9]

Every prayer book contains prayers to Saint Joseph. Special prayers are offered to him each Wednesday and especially during the month of March, which is traditionally dedicated to him.[10]

Popular trust in Saint Joseph is seen in the expression “Go to Joseph”, which evokes the famine in Egypt, when the Egyptians begged Pharaoh for bread. He in turn replied: “Go to Joseph; what he says to you, do” (Gen 41:55). Pharaoh was referring to Joseph the son of Jacob, who was sold into slavery because of the jealousy of his brothers (cf. Gen 37:11-28) and who – according to the biblical account – subsequently became viceroy of Egypt (cf. Gen 41:41-44).

As a descendant of David (cf. Mt 1:16-20), from whose stock Jesus was to spring according to the promise made to David by the prophet Nathan (cf. 2 Sam 7), and as the spouse of Mary of Nazareth, Saint Joseph stands at the crossroads between the Old and New Testaments.

2. A tender and loving father

Joseph saw Jesus grow daily “in wisdom and in years and in divine and human favour” (Lk 2:52). As the Lord had done with Israel, so Joseph did with Jesus: he taught him to walk, taking him by the hand; he was for him like a father who raises an infant to his cheeks, bending down to him and feeding him (cf. Hos 11:3-4).

In Joseph, Jesus saw the tender love of God: “As a father has compassion for his children, so the Lord has compassion for those who fear him” (Ps 103:13).

In the synagogue, during the praying of the Psalms, Joseph would surely have heard again and again that the God of Israel is a God of tender love,[11] who is good to all, whose “compassion is over all that he has made” (Ps 145:9).

The history of salvation is worked out “in hope against hope” (Rom 4:18), through our weaknesses. All too often, we think that God works only through our better parts, yet most of his plans are realized in and despite our frailty. Thus Saint Paul could say: “To keep me from being too elated, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to torment me, to keep me from being too elated. Three times I appealed to the Lord about this, that it would leave me, but he said to me: ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness’” (2 Cor 12:7-9).

Since this is part of the entire economy of salvation, we must learn to look upon our weaknesses with tender mercy.[12]

The evil one makes us see and condemn our frailty, whereas the Spirit brings it to light with tender love. Tenderness is the best way to touch the frailty within us. Pointing fingers and judging others are frequently signs of an inability to accept our own weaknesses, our own frailty. Only tender love will save us from the snares of the accuser (cf. Rev 12:10). That is why it is so important to encounter God’s mercy, especially in the Sacrament of Reconciliation, where we experience his truth and tenderness. Paradoxically, the evil one can also speak the truth to us, yet he does so only to condemn us. We know that God’s truth does not condemn, but instead welcomes, embraces, sustains and forgives us. That truth always presents itself to us like the merciful father in Jesus’ parable (cf. Lk 15:11-32). It comes out to meet us, restores our dignity, sets us back on our feet and rejoices for us, for, as the father says: “This my son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found” (v. 24).

Even through Joseph’s fears, God’s will, his history and his plan were at work. Joseph, then, teaches us that faith in God includes believing that he can work even through our fears, our frailties and our weaknesses. He also teaches us that amid the tempests of life, we must never be afraid to let the Lord steer our course. At times, we want to be in complete control, yet God always sees the bigger picture.

3. An obedient father

As he had done with Mary, God revealed his saving plan to Joseph. He did so by using dreams, which in the Bible and among all ancient peoples, were considered a way for him to make his will known.[13]

Joseph was deeply troubled by Mary’s mysterious pregnancy. He did not want to “expose her to public disgrace”,[14] so he decided to “dismiss her quietly” (Mt 1:19).

In the first dream, an angel helps him resolve his grave dilemma: “Do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins” (Mt 1:20-21). Joseph’s response was immediate: “When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him” (Mt 1:24). Obedience made it possible for him to surmount his difficulties and spare Mary.

In the second dream, the angel tells Joseph: “Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him” (Mt 2:13). Joseph did not hesitate to obey, regardless of the hardship involved: “He got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt, and remained there until the death of Herod” (Mt 2:14-15).

In Egypt, Joseph awaited with patient trust the angel’s notice that he could safely return home. In a third dream, the angel told him that those who sought to kill the child were dead and ordered him to rise, take the child and his mother, and return to the land of Israel (cf. Mt 2:19-20). Once again, Joseph promptly obeyed. “He got up, took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel” (Mt 2:21).

During the return journey, “when Joseph heard that Archelaus was ruling over Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. After being warned in a dream” – now for the fourth time – “he went away to the district of Galilee. There he made his home in a town called Nazareth” (Mt 2:22-23).

The evangelist Luke, for his part, tells us that Joseph undertook the long and difficult journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem to be registered in his family’s town of origin in the census of the Emperor Caesar Augustus. There Jesus was born (cf. Lk 2:7) and his birth, like that of every other child, was recorded in the registry of the Empire. Saint Luke is especially concerned to tell us that Jesus’ parents observed all the prescriptions of the Law: the rites of the circumcision of Jesus, the purification of Mary after childbirth, the offering of the firstborn to God (cf. 2:21-24).[15]

In every situation, Joseph declared his own “fiat”, like those of Mary at the Annunciation and Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane.

In his role as the head of a family, Joseph taught Jesus to be obedient to his parents (cf. Lk 2:51), in accordance with God’s command (cf. Ex 20:12).

During the hidden years in Nazareth, Jesus learned at the school of Joseph to do the will of the Father. That will was to be his daily food (cf. Jn 4:34). Even at the most difficult moment of his life, in Gethsemane, Jesus chose to do the Father’s will rather than his own,[16] becoming “obedient unto death, even death on a cross” (Phil 2:8). The author of the Letter to the Hebrews thus concludes that Jesus “learned obedience through what he suffered” (5:8).

All this makes it clear that “Saint Joseph was called by God to serve the person and mission of Jesus directly through the exercise of his fatherhood” and that in this way, “he cooperated in the fullness of time in the great mystery of salvation and is truly a minister of salvation.”[17]

4. An accepting father

Joseph accepted Mary unconditionally. He trusted in the angel’s words. “The nobility of Joseph’s heart is such that what he learned from the law he made dependent on charity. Today, in our world where psychological, verbal and physical violence towards women is so evident, Joseph appears as the figure of a respectful and sensitive man. Even though he does not understand the bigger picture, he makes a decision to protect Mary’s good name, her dignity and her life. In his hesitation about how best to act, God helped him by enlightening his judgment”.[18]

Often in life, things happen whose meaning we do not understand. Our first reaction is frequently one of disappointment and rebellion. Joseph set aside his own ideas in order to accept the course of events and, mysterious as they seemed, to embrace them, take responsibility for them and make them part of his own history. Unless we are reconciled with our own history, we will be unable to take a single step forward, for we will always remain hostage to our expectations and the disappointments that follow.

The spiritual path that Joseph traces for us is not one that explains, but accepts. Only as a result of this acceptance, this reconciliation, can we begin to glimpse a broader history, a deeper meaning. We can almost hear an echo of the impassioned reply of Job to his wife, who had urged him to rebel against the evil he endured: “Shall we receive the good at the hand of God, and not receive the bad?” (Job 2:10).

Joseph is certainly not passively resigned, but courageously and firmly proactive. In our own lives, acceptance and welcome can be an expression of the Holy Spirit’s gift of fortitude. Only the Lord can give us the strength needed to accept life as it is, with all its contradictions, frustrations and disappointments.

Jesus’ appearance in our midst is a gift from the Father, which makes it possible for each of us to be reconciled to the flesh of our own history, even when we fail to understand it completely.

Just as God told Joseph: “Son of David, do not be afraid!” (Mt 1:20), so he seems to tell us: “Do not be afraid!” We need to set aside all anger and disappointment, and to embrace the way things are, even when they do not turn out as we wish. Not with mere resignation but with hope and courage. In this way, we become open to a deeper meaning. Our lives can be miraculously reborn if we find the courage to live them in accordance with the Gospel. It does not matter if everything seems to have gone wrong or some things can no longer be fixed. God can make flowers spring up from stony ground. Even if our heart condemns us, “God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything” (1 Jn 3:20).

Here, once again, we encounter that Christian realism which rejects nothing that exists. Reality, in its mysterious and irreducible complexity, is the bearer of existential meaning, with all its lights and shadows. Thus, the Apostle Paul can say: “We know that all things work together for good, for those who love God” (Rom 8:28). To which Saint Augustine adds, “even that which is called evil (etiam illud quod malum dicitur)”.[19] In this greater perspective, faith gives meaning to every event, however happy or sad.

Nor should we ever think that believing means finding facile and comforting solutions. The faith Christ taught us is what we see in Saint Joseph. He did not look for shortcuts, but confronted reality with open eyes and accepted personal responsibility for it.

Joseph’s attitude encourages us to accept and welcome others as they are, without exception, and to show special concern for the weak, for God chooses what is weak (cf. 1 Cor 1:27). He is the “Father of orphans and protector of widows” (Ps 68:6), who commands us to love the stranger in our midst.[20] I like to think that it was from Saint Joseph that Jesus drew inspiration for the parable of the prodigal son and the merciful father (cf. Lk 15:11-32).

5. A creatively courageous father

If the first stage of all true interior healing is to accept our personal history and embrace even the things in life that we did not choose, we must now add another important element: creative courage. This emerges especially in the way we deal with difficulties. In the face of difficulty, we can either give up and walk away, or somehow engage with it. At times, difficulties bring out resources we did not even think we had.

As we read the infancy narratives, we may often wonder why God did not act in a more direct and clear way. Yet God acts through events and people. Joseph was the man chosen by God to guide the beginnings of the history of redemption. He was the true “miracle” by which God saves the child and his mother. God acted by trusting in Joseph’s creative courage. Arriving in Bethlehem and finding no lodging where Mary could give birth, Joseph took a stable and, as best he could, turned it into a welcoming home for the Son of God come into the world (cf. Lk 2:6-7). Faced with imminent danger from Herod, who wanted to kill the child, Joseph was warned once again in a dream to protect the child, and rose in the middle of the night to prepare the flight into Egypt (cf. Mt 2:13-14).

A superficial reading of these stories can often give the impression that the world is at the mercy of the strong and mighty, but the “good news” of the Gospel consists in showing that, for all the arrogance and violence of worldly powers, God always finds a way to carry out his saving plan. So too, our lives may at times seem to be at the mercy of the powerful, but the Gospel shows us what counts. God always finds a way to save us, provided we show the same creative courage as the carpenter of Nazareth, who was able to turn a problem into a possibility by trusting always in divine providence.

If at times God seems not to help us, surely this does not mean that we have been abandoned, but instead are being trusted to plan, to be creative, and to find solutions ourselves.

That kind of creative courage was shown by the friends of the paralytic, who lowered him from the roof in order to bring him to Jesus (cf. Lk 5:17-26). Difficulties did not stand in the way of those friends’ boldness and persistence. They were convinced that Jesus could heal the man, and “finding no way to bring him in because of the crowd, they went up on the roof and let him down with his bed through the tiles into the middle of the crowd in front of Jesus. When he saw their faith, he said, ‘Friend, your sins are forgiven you’” (vv. 19-20). Jesus recognized the creative faith with which they sought to bring their sick friend to him.

The Gospel does not tell us how long Mary, Joseph and the child remained in Egypt. Yet they certainly needed to eat, to find a home and employment. It does not take much imagination to fill in those details. The Holy Family had to face concrete problems like every other family, like so many of our migrant brothers and sisters who, today too, risk their lives to escape misfortune and hunger. In this regard, I consider Saint Joseph the special patron of all those forced to leave their native lands because of war, hatred, persecution and poverty.

At the end of every account in which Joseph plays a role, the Gospel tells us that he gets up, takes the child and his mother, and does what God commanded him (cf. Mt 1:24; 2:14.21). Indeed, Jesus and Mary his Mother are the most precious treasure of our faith.[21]

In the divine plan of salvation, the Son is inseparable from his Mother, from Mary, who “advanced in her pilgrimage of faith, and faithfully persevered in her union with her Son until she stood at the cross”.[22]

We should always consider whether we ourselves are protecting Jesus and Mary, for they are also mysteriously entrusted to our own responsibility, care and safekeeping. The Son of the Almighty came into our world in a state of great vulnerability. He needed to be defended, protected, cared for and raised by Joseph. God trusted Joseph, as did Mary, who found in him someone who would not only save her life, but would always provide for her and her child. In this sense, Saint Joseph could not be other than the Guardian of the Church, for the Church is the continuation of the Body of Christ in history, even as Mary’s motherhood is reflected in the motherhood of the Church.[23] In his continued protection of the Church, Joseph continues to protect the child and his mother, and we too, by our love for the Church, continue to love the child and his mother.

That child would go on to say: “As you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me” (Mt 25:40). Consequently, every poor, needy, suffering or dying person, every stranger, every prisoner, every infirm person is “the child” whom Joseph continues to protect. For this reason, Saint Joseph is invoked as protector of the unfortunate, the needy, exiles, the afflicted, the poor and the dying. Consequently, the Church cannot fail to show a special love for the least of our brothers and sisters, for Jesus showed a particular concern for them and personally identified with them. From Saint Joseph, we must learn that same care and responsibility. We must learn to love the child and his mother, to love the sacraments and charity, to love the Church and the poor. Each of these realities is always the child and his mother.

6. A working father

An aspect of Saint Joseph that has been emphasized from the time of the first social Encyclical, Pope Leo XIII’s Rerum Novarum, is his relation to work. Saint Joseph was a carpenter who earned an honest living to provide for his family. From him, Jesus learned the value, the dignity and the joy of what it means to eat bread that is the fruit of one’s own labour.

In our own day, when employment has once more become a burning social issue, and unemployment at times reaches record levels even in nations that for decades have enjoyed a certain degree of prosperity, there is a renewed need to appreciate the importance of dignified work, of which Saint Joseph is an exemplary patron.

Work is a means of participating in the work of salvation, an opportunity to hasten the coming of the Kingdom, to develop our talents and abilities, and to put them at the service of society and fraternal communion. It becomes an opportunity for the fulfilment not only of oneself, but also of that primary cell of society which is the family. A family without work is particularly vulnerable to difficulties, tensions, estrangement and even break-up. How can we speak of human dignity without working to ensure that everyone is able to earn a decent living?

Working persons, whatever their job may be, are cooperating with God himself, and in some way become creators of the world around us. The crisis of our time, which is economic, social, cultural and spiritual, can serve as a summons for all of us to rediscover the value, the importance and necessity of work for bringing about a new “normal” from which no one is excluded. Saint Joseph’s work reminds us that God himself, in becoming man, did not disdain work. The loss of employment that affects so many of our brothers and sisters, and has increased as a result of the Covid-19 pandemic, should serve as a summons to review our priorities. Let us implore Saint Joseph the Worker to help us find ways to express our firm conviction that no young person, no person at all, no family should be without work!

7. A father in the shadows

The Polish writer Jan Dobraczyński, in his book The Shadow of the Father,[24] tells the story of Saint Joseph’s life in the form of a novel. He uses the evocative image of a shadow to define Joseph. In his relationship to Jesus, Joseph was the earthly shadow of the heavenly Father: he watched over him and protected him, never leaving him to go his own way. We can think of Moses’ words to Israel: “In the wilderness… you saw how the Lord your God carried you, just as one carries a child, all the way that you travelled” (Deut 1:31). In a similar way, Joseph acted as a father for his whole life.[25]

Fathers are not born, but made. A man does not become a father simply by bringing a child into the world, but by taking up the responsibility to care for that child. Whenever a man accepts responsibility for the life of another, in some way he becomes a father to that person.

Children today often seem orphans, lacking fathers. The Church too needs fathers. Saint Paul’s words to the Corinthians remain timely: “Though you have countless guides in Christ, you do not have many fathers” (1 Cor 4:15). Every priest or bishop should be able to add, with the Apostle: “I became your father in Christ Jesus through the Gospel” (ibid.). Paul likewise calls the Galatians: “My little children, with whom I am again in travail until Christ be formed in you!” (4:19).

Being a father entails introducing children to life and reality. Not holding them back, being overprotective or possessive, but rather making them capable of deciding for themselves, enjoying freedom and exploring new possibilities. Perhaps for this reason, Joseph is traditionally called a “most chaste” father. That title is not simply a sign of affection, but the summation of an attitude that is the opposite of possessiveness. Chastity is freedom from possessiveness in every sphere of one’s life. Only when love is chaste, is it truly love. A possessive love ultimately becomes dangerous: it imprisons, constricts and makes for misery. God himself loved humanity with a chaste love; he left us free even to go astray and set ourselves against him. The logic of love is always the logic of freedom, and Joseph knew how to love with extraordinary freedom. He never made himself the centre of things. He did not think of himself, but focused instead on the lives of Mary and Jesus.

Joseph found happiness not in mere self-sacrifice but in self-gift. In him, we never see frustration but only trust. His patient silence was the prelude to concrete expressions of trust. Our world today needs fathers. It has no use for tyrants who would domineer others as a means of compensating for their own needs. It rejects those who confuse authority with authoritarianism, service with servility, discussion with oppression, charity with a welfare mentality, power with destruction. Every true vocation is born of the gift of oneself, which is the fruit of mature sacrifice. The priesthood and consecrated life likewise require this kind of maturity. Whatever our vocation, whether to marriage, celibacy or virginity, our gift of self will not come to fulfilment if it stops at sacrifice; were that the case, instead of becoming a sign of the beauty and joy of love, the gift of self would risk being an expression of unhappiness, sadness and frustration.

When fathers refuse to live the lives of their children for them, new and unexpected vistas open up. Every child is the bearer of a unique mystery that can only be brought to light with the help of a father who respects that child’s freedom. A father who realizes that he is most a father and educator at the point when he becomes “useless”, when he sees that his child has become independent and can walk the paths of life unaccompanied. When he becomes like Joseph, who always knew that his child was not his own but had merely been entrusted to his care. In the end, this is what Jesus would have us understand when he says: “Call no man your father on earth, for you have one Father, who is in heaven” (Mt 23:9).

In every exercise of our fatherhood, we should always keep in mind that it has nothing to do with possession, but is rather a “sign” pointing to a greater fatherhood. In a way, we are all like Joseph: a shadow of the heavenly Father, who “makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust” (Mt 5:45). And a shadow that follows his Son.

* * *

“Get up, take the child and his mother” (Mt 2:13), God told Saint Joseph.

The aim of this Apostolic Letter is to increase our love for this great saint, to encourage us to implore his intercession and to imitate his virtues and his zeal.

Indeed, the proper mission of the saints is not only to obtain miracles and graces, but to intercede for us before God, like Abraham[26] and Moses[27], and like Jesus, the “one mediator” (1 Tim 2:5), who is our “advocate” with the Father (1 Jn 2:1) and who “always lives to make intercession for [us]” (Heb 7:25; cf. Rom 8:34).

The saints help all the faithful “to strive for the holiness and the perfection of their particular state of life”.[28] Their lives are concrete proof that it is possible to put the Gospel into practice.

Jesus told us: “Learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart” (Mt 11:29). The lives of the saints too are examples to be imitated. Saint Paul explicitly says this: “Be imitators of me!” (1 Cor 4:16).[29] By his eloquent silence, Saint Joseph says the same.

Before the example of so many holy men and women, Saint Augustine asked himself: “What they could do, can you not also do?” And so he drew closer to his definitive conversion, when he could exclaim: “Late have I loved you, Beauty ever ancient, ever new!”[30]

We need only ask Saint Joseph for the grace of graces: our conversion.

Let us now make our prayer to him:

Hail, Guardian of the Redeemer, Spouse of the Blessed Virgin Mary. To you God entrusted his only Son; in you Mary placed her trust; with you Christ became man.

Blessed Joseph, to us too, show yourself a father and guide us in the path of life. Obtain for us grace, mercy and courage, and defend us from every evil. Amen.

Given in Rome, at Saint John Lateran, on 8 December, Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary, in the year 2020, the eighth of my Pontificate.

Franciscus

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romancatholicreflections · 6 years ago

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6th January >> Fr, Martin's Gospel Reflections / Homilies on Matthew 2:1-12 for the Feast of the Epiphany of the Lord: 'Falling to their knees they did him homage'.

Feast of the Epiphany of the Lord.

Gospel (Europe, Africa, New Zealand, Australia & Canada)

Matthew 2:1-12

The visit of the Magi

After Jesus had been born at Bethlehem in Judaea during the reign of King Herod, some wise men came to Jerusalem from the east. ‘Where is the infant king of the Jews?’ they asked. ‘We saw his star as it rose and have come to do him homage.’ When King Herod heard this he was perturbed, and so was the whole of Jerusalem. He called together all the chief priests and the scribes of the people, and enquired of them where the Christ was to be born. ‘At Bethlehem in Judaea,’ they told him ‘for this is what the prophet wrote:

And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,

you are by no means least among the leaders of Judah,

for out of you will come a leader

who will shepherd my people Israel.’

Then Herod summoned the wise men to see him privately. He asked them the exact date on which the star had appeared, and sent them on to Bethlehem. ‘Go and find out all about the child,’ he said ‘and when you have found him, let me know, so that I too may go and do him homage.’ Having listened to what the king had to say, they set out. And there in front of them was the star they had seen rising; it went forward, and halted over the place where the child was. The sight of the star filled them with delight, and going into the house they saw the child with his mother Mary, and falling to their knees they did him homage. Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts of gold and frankincense and myrrh. But they were warned in a dream not to go back to Herod, and returned to their own country by a different way.

Gospel (USA)

Matthew 2:1–12

We saw his star at its rising and have come to do him homage.

When Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, in the days of King Herod, behold, magi from the east arrived in Jerusalem, saying, “Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star at its rising and have come to do him homage.” When King Herod heard this, he was greatly troubled, and all Jerusalem with him. Assembling all the chief priests and the scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Christ was to be born. They said to him, “In Bethlehem of Judea, for thus it has been written through the prophet:

And you, Bethlehem, land of Judah,

are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;

since from you shall come a ruler,

who is to shepherd my people Israel. ”

Then Herod called the magi secretly and ascertained from them the time of the star’s appearance. He sent them to Bethlehem and said, “Go and search diligently for the child. When you have found him, bring me word, that I too may go and do him homage.” After their audience with the king they set out. And behold, the star that they had seen at its rising preceded them, until it came and stopped over the place where the child was. They were overjoyed at seeing the star, and on entering the house they saw the child with Mary his mother. They prostrated themselves and did him homage. Then they opened their treasures and offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed for their country by another way.

Reflections (5)

(i) Feast of the Epiphany

In Italy children are very fortunate because they receive gifts not only on the feast of Christmas but also on the feast of the Epiphany. Whereas Santa Claus brings gifts on Christmas day, an old woman on a broomstick, called La Befana, brings gifts on the night of 5th January. According to an ancient tradition, the wise men on their way to Bethlehem stopped at an old woman’s cottage and asked her for directions to where the King of the Jews was to be born. She couldn’t help them but she offered them hospitality. The next morning the magi asked her if she would like to join them. She declined because she said she was too busy. However, later on she had a change of mind and she went looking for the child herself. However, after much searching, she never found the child. Every year on the evening of 5th January she brings gifts to children hoping that one of them will be the child Jesus. It is a story that captures well the deeper meaning of this feast. The wise men from the East, like La Befana, were searchers. They are the ancestors of all who seek after light and truth. Guided by the draw of the mysterious, an unusual star, they set out in search of God’s truth. They speak to that searching spirit which resides in each one of us. Saint Augustine said that our hearts are restless until they rest in God. We have a restlessness for more than this life alone has to offer and it keeps us searching after the One who alone can fully respond to our restless spirit.

We will only rest in God fully beyond this earthly life. Yet, already in this earthly life we can begin to experience something of that eternal rest. In the course of the gospels, Jesus calls out to the restless, ‘Come to me all you who labour and are overburdened and I will give you rest’. Jesus was speaking here of a present experience of rest and not just one for the eternal future. As people of faith we are on a journey towards that eternal rest for which we long. Yet, along the way, we can get a foretaste of that rest. The Lord who calls out to us to ‘Come’ is also drawing us to himself, so that we can experience something of his own rest, peace and joy. The Lord drew the magi from the east towards himself by means of a humble star. One small explosion of light in the darkness drew them to the one whom they wanted to worship. The Lord provides a star of Bethlehem for all of us in response to our search for him. Such a star can take different forms at different times in our lives. God’s love that draws us will find different ways of bursting forth like a light that pierces the darkness and demands our attention. Who or what is that star from the Lord in my life? We can all give our own personal answer to that question. For some, it might be some element of nature, as it was for the magi. For others, it might be a wonderful artistic portrayal of the mystery of God. For others again, it might be a piece of literature. One evening Edith Stein picked up an autobiography of St. Teresa of Avila and read it all night. She subsequently wrote, “When I had finished the book, I said to myself: ‘This is the truth’.” A few months later she was baptized into the Catholic Church. For many, the star will take the form of a person of faith through whom the Lord touches their lives in some way. Once the Lord draws us to himself, he sends us out to be the star of Bethlehem for others who are seeking. As we encounter the Lord for ourselves, we are changed, and we become carriers of his light to others. It is said of the magi that after they finally encountered the infant king of the Jews and worshipped him, they returned home by a different way. They were changed.

The Lord does not hide himself from us; he does not play hide and seek with us. He seeks us out in his love and draws us to himself. The word ‘Epiphany’ means a manifestation, a laying open. The Lord lays himself open to everyone. As Jesus says in one of the gospels, ‘I have spoken openly to the world… I have said nothing in secret’. To use a contemporary term, there is a wonderful transparency about the Lord. Epiphany is the feast of the Lord’s transparency. In contrast, there was nothing transparent about King Herod in today’s gospel reading. He asked the magi to let him know when they had found the child, so that he could come and worship him also. In reality, he wanted to kill the child. Herod is not simply a figure of the past. Like the magi, we can all find ourselves having to deal with forceful people who are hostile to our search for the Lord’s light and truth. Yet, the story of the journey of the magi teaches us that the drawing power of the Lord’s loving presence is stronger than all the obstacles we might encounter. In the words of Saint Paul. ‘God is faithful, and he will not let you be tested beyond your strength’.

And/Or

(ii) Feast of the Epiphany

Today’s gospel reading puts before us two very contrasting responses to the news that the long-awaited Jewish Messiah had just been born. Astrologers from the East were so excited by this news that they set out on a long journey to find the child so as to pay him homage. King Herod in Jerusalem was so perturbed by the same news that he sought to kill the child.

Today on this feast of the Epiphany we are asked to identify with the response of the astrologers, the wise men, from the East. They were people who were very observant of God’s natural world, in particular that part of God’s natural world that came into view when darkness descended. They observed and studied the stars. They were fascinated by the stars. Yet, they recognized that the stars, for all their splendour, pointed beyond themselves to some more wonderful reality, to God. So, when they heard that God was visiting our world in a new way through a child who had just been born, they set out in search of that child. These exotic figures from the East show us how being attentive to God’s natural world can draw us closer to God. This can happen in different ways for different people. For the wise men it was their fascination with the stars that led them to the true light of the world. For others, the sea can have a similar impact, revealing in some mysterious way the depth and power of God. The redness of a rose spoke to Joseph Mary Plunket of the redeeming death of Christ. God can speak to us in a variety of ways through the world of nature. The wise men teach us to be attentive and observant of God’s world, so that in and through it we may experience the presence of the living God.

There came a point on the journey of the wise men when they needed more that the signs of nature to find the child whom they were seeking. When they came to Jerusalem they had to ask, ‘Where is the infant king of the Jews?’ To make the last short step on their long journey, they needed more than the light of a star. They needed the light of the Scriptures. The chief priests and the scribes who knew the Scriptures were able to point them in the direction of Bethlehem. On our own journey towards the Lord, we too need the light of the Scriptures as well as the light of nature. The Scriptures are a fuller revelation of God than the natural world. It is in and through the Scriptures that we meet God and his Son in a special way. Through the Scriptures God speaks to us in a privileged way. He asks us to listen and to allow our lives to be shaped by what we hear. The wise men allowed themselves to be guided by the Scriptures, as well as by the star. They showed something of that responsiveness to God’s word to which we are all called.

Having been moved by the presence of God in nature and in the Scriptures, the wise men came face to face with God in a child. They did not worship the star; they did not even worship the Scriptures. But they did worship the child, because they recognized that here was Emmanuel, God-with-us. We too worship Emmanuel, and we do so in a special way every time we celebrate the Eucharist. As the wise men expressed their worship by offering the child their precious gifts, we express our own worship of the Lord in the Eucharist by offering him gifts, and our most precious gift is the gift of our lives. In the Eucharist we give ourselves to the Lord, in response to his giving of himself to us as bread of life, saying ‘Here I am’ in response to his ‘Take and eat’.

The gospel reading tells us that, after worshipping the child, the wise men returned home by a different way. Their meeting with the infant king of the Jews somehow changed them. Our own worship of the Lord in the Eucharist will often prompt us to take a different path too. We come to the Eucharist open to being changed by our meeting with the Lord. We are sent forth from the Eucharist to follow the way of the Lord more closely. We pray on this feast of the Epiphany that we would be as open to the Lord’s path as the wise men were.

And/Or

(iii) Feast of the Epiphany

The planet Mars has been in the news in recent weeks, both for the apparent failure of the European mission to land a probe there and, in contrast, the great success of the American mission. You may have seen on the TV some of the pictures of the Martian surface that the American craft has started to send back. One of the scientists at NASA commented that it is remarkable to look up into the night sky at the planet Mars and to realize that we have now landed a craft on the planet that is sending back pictures from its surface. Men and women have always been fascinated by the night sky with its myriads of stars and planets. Once the Wright brothers took to the air a hundred years ago this year, it was only a matter of time before we succeed in landing on some of these planets.

The wise men in our gospel reading today were star gazers. They were closer to modern-day astrologers than modern-day astronomers. It is difficult to look up at a brilliantly lit starry sky and not to be overawed by the wonder, the beauty and the mystery of the universe. That sense of awe in the face of our ever expanding universe can touch what is deepest and most spiritual in us. We can be opened up to the wonder, not only of creation, but of the creator. As one of the psalms puts it, ‘the heavens proclaim the glory of God’. According to our gospel reading, the star gazing of the wise men from the east launched them on a spiritual quest, a search for God’s anointed one, a king in whom God was present in a unique way. Their fascination with one particular star brought them west to Jerusalem and eventually to Bethlehem, where they found the one for whom they were searching. Having found him, they worshipped him and left him their gifts, before returning home by another way.

There is something of the searcher in all of us. There is a restlessness in us for what is ultimate and absolute, for what is good and beautiful and true. The busyness of our lives can sometimes cut us off from that restlessness within. We can loose touch with the searcher within ourselves. It often takes a period of enforced inactivity to help us make contact again with the deeper longings within us that get silenced by the pace of life. It was while recovering from the wounds of battle that Ignatius of Loyola began to notice his deepest desires for God, his longing to serve God and to do God’s will. When he recovered from his wounds, he set out, like the wise men, by a different way. Sometimes an opportunity for quiet retreat can do the same for us. We take an opportunity that comes our way to step back from our usual comings and goings, and to focus on those deeper voices within us that can so easily get silenced. In a prayerful atmosphere, perhaps with some guidance, we get in touch with the searcher within ourselves again. We begin to attend to the Lord and his call. Having met the Lord anew, we return home again by a different way, somehow changed. A pilgrimage can have the same effect on us. We find ourselves joining a group that are travelling together to some holy place, some place that has been touched in some way by God, by people of God. There, in this special place, something deep within us is touched. We are helped to see ourselves and others in a different light, in God’s light. We are helped to take a different way, a better way.

Today’s feast speaks to the searcher in all of us. We are invited to identify with these wise men from the East who invested time, energy and resources in seeking out the one whom God sent to us. Their search was very much in response to God’s initiative. They came to Bethlehem because God had already visited that place. God had spoken a word which they were alert enough to hear. Our search is always a response to God’s initiative towards us. God seeks us out before we seek out God. Over the Christmas period we have been celebrating the wonderful way God has sought us out in the person of his Son, who became flesh, taking on a human life like yours and mine. God sent his Son to seek out and to save the lost, and that includes all of us. We are already the objects of God’s search. God’s searching love continues to call out to us, and to draw us. Our search is always only a response to that greater search, the search of a love that is greater than any human love.

Today’s feast invites us to pause and allow ourselves to be touched by God’s searching love, so that, like the wise men, we can set out on our own search for the Lord who seeks us out. As we set out on that journey, the Lord will provide us with stars to guide us. Those stars will often take the form of people who themselves have been true to their own deepest longings and whose lives are pointing towards God. We need to be alert to the signals the Lord gives us to guide our way towards his great light. As we enter that light and allow that light to shine on us, we too will find ourselves setting out by a different way, one that corresponds more to the Lord’s way.

And/Or

(iv) Feast of the Epiphany

There is a tradition in certain parts of Latin America that on the feast of the Epiphany a small plastic baby Jesus is hidden in a cake baked specially for the feast day. The hiding of the plastic figure signifies the efforts to hide the child Jesus from the evil intentions of King Herod. As the cake is cut, the slicing knife represents the danger posed to the infant Jesus by the cruel king. In some places the tradition is that whoever gets the piece of cake with the small figure of Jesus is obliged to host the next family gathering on February 2, the feast of the Presentation of the Lord. In other places, the one who finds the plastic figure in his or her portion receives gifts from those present. These traditions make tangible both the dangers that threatened the child Jesus as soon as he was born and the excitement of discovering the child Jesus, the son of Mary and Joseph, to be Emmanuel, God-with-us. If the danger posed to the child Jesus is represented by King Herod the excitement of discovering the child Jesus is expressed by the magi from the East who, on arriving to Bethlehem, fell to their knees to worship the infant king of the Jews and then offered him their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. Charles Dickens wrote a book entitled ‘A Tale of Two Cities’, based on the French revolution. One commentator has entitled the story we have just heard in the gospel reading, ‘A Tale of Three Cities’. There is Jerusalem, the city of Herod; there is Bethlehem, the city, or more the town, of David, where Jesus was born, and then the unnamed city in the East from where the visitors who sought the infant king of the Jews hailed.

The word ‘Epiphany’ means a showing forth, a setting in the light. Today we celebrate the good news that God showed forth his Son to all the nations, Jews and pagans alike. It is the pagan visitors from the unnamed city of the East who reveal to us how to respond to God’s showing forth of his Son, God’s gift of his Son. Jesus was born into a Jewish world and these visitors from the East were strangers in that world; they were outsiders. It often takes strangers, outsiders, to show us how to respond to God’s gift of his Son, how to appreciate the great riches of our faith, the presence of Christ in the Eucharist and in the other sacraments, the life-giving message of the Scriptures, in particular, the gospels. In recent years there has been a huge increase in the number of people coming to live among us from abroad, many of them from the East, from Eastern Europe and from much further East, the Far East, others from the South, from Africa. They often bring an enthusiasm and appreciation for the treasures of the faith, that, perhaps, we have lost somewhat. They have enriched the church by their readiness to share their gifts and energies with the church here in their adopted homeland.

Although in the emerging tradition of the church the visitors from the East have become kings and are portrayed as kings in our traditional cribs, they are not called kings in the gospel reading. They are called ‘magi’, translated as ‘wise men’. The term ‘magi’ referred to people who had special knowledge, experts in some field or other, and in the case of our magi, it would appear, experts in astronomy or astrology. The rising of a new star suggested to these ‘magi’ the birth of a new Jewish king, to whom they wished to do homage. They saw a new light and they chose to follow the light, wherever it led them. They represent all those, of whatever creed or persuasion, who seek to follow the light, the light of truth. The magi are the ancestors of all of us who seek the truth. It was their own natural skills of searching and interpreting the skies - their own natural knowledge and wisdom - that launched them on their search. Those natural gifts brought them to Jerusalem, but the gospel reading suggests that they needed the guidance of the Jewish Scriptures to direct them to Bethlehem where the infant king of the Jews would be found. Reason and the revelation of Scripture worked together to bring them to the Lord. Their profile in the gospels reminds us that our natural gifts of mind and reason need never be an obstacle to faith. The magi came to recognize that the brightest star of all was Christ the Lord; he was ‘light from light’, in the words of the Creed.

Jesus is God’s gift to all who seek the truth; he is not a gift for a select few. The figure of Herod in the gospel reading can symbolize the forces that work to prevent us finding the one for whom we long. We can encounter many obstacles on our journey towards the Lord of light and truth. Yet, the gospel reading also suggests that the obstacles will not ultimately prevail if we are faithful to our search for the true light. We are about to witness the baptism of John. The light of Christ will shine upon him through this sacrament and the flame of faith will be kindled in his young life.

And/Or

(v) Feast of the Epiphany

The gospel story behind this feast is has inspired artists, story tellers, poets and musicians down the centuries. In Mater Dei Institute of Education the music department used to put on a musical event once a year. One year they put on an operetta called ‘Amahl and the night visitors’. It was composed by Gian Carlo Menotti. He was born and reared in Italy but had been living in the United States, in New York for some years. Amahl is a disabled boy who needs a crutch to walk. He lives with his mother in very poor circumstances. One night the three kings stop off at their house to rest the night on their way to Bethlehem. When the boy hears that they are going to visit this special child to bring him their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh, he asks them to take his crutch as his gift to the child. When he gave his crutch to the kings to give to the child of Bethlehem, he was miraculously cured. He then begged his mother to allow him to travel to Bethlehem with the kings to give thanks to this child for his healing. The composer said he was inspired to write this operetta by his own experience as a child in Italy. In his childhood there was no Santa Claus who brought gifts at Christmas time. Instead, the three kings brought gifts to children on the 6th of January. In the booklet for the opening performance of the operetta he wrote, ‘I actually never met the Three Kings—it didn't matter how hard my little brother and I tried to keep awake at night to catch a glimpse of the Three Royal Visitors, we would always fall asleep just before they arrived. But I do remember hearing them. I remember the weird cadence of their song in the dark distance; I remember the brittle sound of the camel's hooves crushing the frozen snow; and I remember the mysterious tinkling of their silver bridles... To these Three Kings I mainly owe the happy Christmas seasons of my childhood’. When he came to live in the United States the presence of Santa Claus everywhere at Christmas time led him to forget about the three kings. In November 1951 he had been commissioned by the National Broadcasting Company to write an operetta for television for Christmas. He wrote in that booklet that he didn’t have an idea in his head. As he walked through the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City one gloomy November afternoon in 1951, he came across the wonderful painting of the Adoration of the Magi by Hieronymus Bosch. He wrote ‘as I was looking at it, suddenly I heard again, coming from the distant blue hills, the weird song of the Three Kings. I then realized they had come back to me and had brought me a gift’. Their gift was the inspiration he needed to write his operetta, ‘Amahl and the night visitors’.

Perhaps we could ask ourselves, ‘What gift are the magi bringing us this feast of the Epiphany?’ How might their story speak to ours? The gospel story suggests that the magi were prompted to journey westward by the appearance of a bright star they had never seen before. The evangelist Matthew wants us to think of them as people who were used to studying the heavens. They looked upwards in amazement at the wonder of the star filled sky. There was a real contemplative dimension to their lives. They were absorbed by the beauty of the starry sky in all its radiance. Because they were attentive to this powerful and absorbing phenomenon, they noticed a new star when it appeared and were prompted to follow it. One of the gifts of the magi to us is perhaps that contemplative spirit which allows us to step back and really see what is before us. We can look without really seeing, just as we can hear without really listening. It is that contemplative spirit, that attentive looking and listening to the world around us, that can open us up to the signs of the Lord’s presence to us, those stars that leads us to the Lord. The Lord is always drawing us to himself. He is the light who enlightens everyone who comes into the world. We just need to be attentive to the presence of his light or the light of his presence. His light can shine upon us through a whole range of human experiences. For the magi, it took the form of the mysterious star, which launched them on a new journey. For Gian Carlo Menotti, it took the form of that painting in the Art Gallery in New York. His contemplative stance before this painting opened him up to the Lord’s light, launching him on the journey of creating his own work of art that would inspire many others. The Lord can also speak to us and inspire us to take some step through the people that cross our path in life, be it a close friend or even a stranger. The magi in the gospel reading teach us to be attentive to these signals from the Lord. The star that leads us to the Lord is there for all of us if we seek for it with an open heart, and with open ears and eyes.

Fr. Martin Hogan, Saint John the Baptist Parish, Clontarf, Dublin, D03 AO62, Ireland.

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