God’s gift of peace in uncertainty

Archbishop Aquila

We are shortly approaching two events that this year stand in contrast to one another – the birth of Jesus at Christmas and the end of 2017. Christmas brings with it the peace and good news of our Savior’s birth, while a review of this past year reveals a time of uncertainty and cultural disarray.

This same reality was present when Jesus was born more than 2,000 years ago. Most scholars believe that Jesus was born roughly around the year 4 B.C., which was a particularly turbulent time in the Holy Land.

The ruthless King Herod the Great, who died soon after Jesus was born, contributed significantly to this upheaval. The historian Philip Jenkins described Herod as having “a long career that was bloody and paranoid even by the standards of Hellenistic monarchies. He ruled through tactics of mass terror and widespread surveillance that sometimes sound like a foretaste of the Stalin years.”

In the aftermath of his death, the historian Josephus recounts how various Jewish activists rallied in the streets of Jerusalem and the surrounding parts of Judea. This movement included three separate men being proclaimed kings in different cities by popular approval. One of these upstart kings was Judas, the son of Hezekiah, who took over the town of Sepphoris, which was located a mere four miles from Nazareth. The Roman governor of nearby Syria was alerted and he arrived with two legions, which burned Sepphoris to the ground and enslaved its inhabitants.

As Jenkins points out, “Some four miles away, there would have been living at this time a young couple named Joseph and Mary, who must have heard of these developments with terror. Just possibly, they had a newborn. Did those invading troops plunder Nazareth?” We don’t know if the Holy Family experienced this violent suppression, but we do know that the Prince of Peace was born into a time of upheaval and political tension.

This fact is worth reflecting on as we celebrate Christmas and bring 2017 to a close. This year has been one of political uncertainty, not only in the U.S. but around the world. We have also endured tragedies like the mass shooting in Las Vegas, the war in Syria and the resulting displacement of millions of people, a violent rise in racial tensions, the devastation caused by Hurricanes Harvey, Irma and Maria, and the implementation of assisted suicide in Colorado, just to name some of the major events.

In the humble settings of a stable in Bethlehem, the Son of God brought hope, first to the lowly and then to kings. We live in a time of great spiritual poverty, despite our material wealth, and we need the lasting peace that Jesus brings to the lowly. The peace he offers is the restoration of our relationship with God the Father, the gift of a new identity as his adopted sons and daughters, and the healing of our entire person. This takes place through personally encountering God in the sacraments, in reading his Word, in silent prayer and in others.

No matter what your circumstances are, God the Father longs to bring you, your family and the world back into right relationship with him. And at Christmas he shows us that he always chooses to reach out to us in a humble and hidden way, calling us to himself when we are weak.

Mary and Joseph are perfect examples of God’s way of saving us. He chose an unknown but holy virgin in the small, insignificant town of Nazareth to bring his son into the world.

St. Joseph, a carpenter, was also humble. In his book, Theotokos: Preparing for Christmas with the Mother of God, Father Mark Toups proposes that St. Joseph might have resolved to quietly divorce Mary precisely because he realized she was carrying the Son of God in her womb and he felt unworthy. But God “knew exactly how Joseph felt and said, ‘do not be afraid,’” Father Toups adds. This same message is one that he speaks to us now at Christmas and at any moment we are willing to listen. It is worth repeating: do not be afraid, God is with us.

As we prepare for 2018, I encourage you to open your hearts to receive the peace and healing of Jesus as the firm foundation for your plans. Approach Jesus in prayer and ask him what he is inviting you to do in the coming year to bring his light into our confused and chaotic times. May God bless each one of you in the coming year and give you his peace!

COMING UP: Finding renewal in a grumbling stomach

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Finding renewal in a grumbling stomach

Lent and the art of fasting

Aaron Lambert

One interesting thing about liturgical seasons in the Church is that despite the fact they happen at roughly the same time every year, they still manage to sneak up on us.

Lent begins in just a few days, on Ash Wednesday, which falls on Feb. 26 this year. Never mind that most of us are probably just now fully recovered from the craziness of the Christmas season; it’s now time to enter what is arguably the most important season in the liturgical year. Oh, and we’re supposed to be extremely prayerful, reverent and intentional in how we approach Lent. Given all the other things happening in each of our lives, no big deal, right?

Don’t worry — you’re not alone in feeling just a bit overwhelmed at the thought. But let’s take it a step even further and add some icing to that cake in the form of fasting (no pun intended). Fasting is an ancient practice that pre-dates even Christianity and is common to nearly all religions of the world. In fact, the act of fasting is mentioned more times in the Bible than baptism. In recent times, much has been said about the physical benefits of fasting — weight loss, stronger immune system, more effective cell regeneration — but it’s important for us to remember that fasting is first and foremost a spiritual discipline, one that’s meant to spool the thread which connects us to our loving Creator.

Admittedly, the rules for fasting during Lent have loosened up over the centuries; it’s not a stretch to say that in the time of the apostles, fasting was a hardcore thing for disciples of Jesus Christ to do. You see, back then, fasting during Lent meant fasting for all 40 of those days leading up to the feast of Easter. While many of us may tremble at the thought of not eating anything of true sustenance for over five weeks, there is something to be said in the spirit of denying ourselves our usual pleasures during the Lenten season as a way to draw nearer to he who can provide true nourishment and satisfaction.

The act of fasting can help foster in us three characteristics that ultimately make Lent not only a penitential season, but also one of renewal.

Asceticism
The word “asceticism” comes from the Greek askesis, which means practice, bodily exercise and most especially athletic training. Essentially, it is the act of rigorous self-discipline and avoidance of overindulgence, with the aim of instilling in oneself a sense of self-control and virtue. In its most basic form, fasting is a type of asceticism; willingly denying ourselves the everyday comforts of life in an effort to unite our spirits more closely with that of Christ.

Of course, the practice of asceticism is counter-cultural in almost every way. We live in a world where our needs and desires are met on-demand, and to voluntarily abstain from one of these seems a preposterous proposition to the outsider. But it’s interesting, to bring back the Greek root of this word, to think of how the world’s best athletes implement this practice. Think of the intense training, strict dietary restrictions and long hours of work they put in the be the absolute best at what they do. Yes, it’s likely unbearably difficult at times, but they know deep down that their discomfort has a purpose.

Society tells us that suffering and discomfort are bad things to be avoided at all costs. But we as Christians look to the example of our Lord, who was willingly led to his death on Calvary, undertook unspeakable suffering and was made to feel like less than a man. Through his suffering mankind was redeemed, and because of his victory, we, too, can find redemption and renewal in our own trials. By practicing asceticism during Lent and giving up those things we find comfort in — sugar, Netflix, technology, or any other vice — we are not only reminded of the sacrifice Christ made for us, but we are strengthening the muscles of willpower and virtue that lead us closer to the Lord, and ultimately, true joy and peace.

Humility
“Humility is to the various virtues what the chain is in a rosary. Take away the chain and the beads are scattered; remove humility and all virtues vanish.”

St. John Vianney is quoted as saying this, and it’s a simple yet effective illustration of how all virtue flows from humility. To use a metaphor, if asceticism is what it is to, say, learn a new instrument, then humility is the marked improvement and mastery of that instrument over time.

By observing the Lenten fast, we are humbled rather quickly. Nothing makes us reflect on our own mortality and brokenness quite like the low grumble of a hungry stomach. And yet, by offering up this minute suffering during Lent and allowing the Lord to take it, it becomes apparent just how much we rely on him to not only provide the various provisions of our life, but also to provide meaning in our various sufferings. Mankind, for all its wonders and brilliance, cannot be sustained without the provisions of God.

From a more practical angle, there’s also no harm in fasting from food and technology to remind us of the many different walks of life people come from. It’s easy to take all the conveniences of our cozy lives for granted but Lent especially presents a great opportunity to remember those “least of us” who live in third-world countries, or even just down the street. Instead of buying two Big Macs for yourself for lunch, why not give one to the woman holding a sign at that intersection?

By maintaining a disposition of humility, we tap into the very core of what it means to be made in the image and likeness of God.

Freedom
So, through fasting, you have committed to a practice of asceticism for Lent, are reaping the benefits of staying humble, and you’re feeling pretty good about yourself. Now what?

Ultimately, there is a profound freedom that comes from fasting. Father Richard Simon of Relevant Radio said in a May 2019 episode of his show Father Simon Says, “Fasting is an exercise in freedom. The purpose of it is to train your will to do God’s will. To train your will to obey the Lord. Freedom is the absolute requirement for the Christian life. Most people think that freedom is getting what they want, but they don’t understand that they don’t want what they want, it is their passions controlling them.

“It is their desires, their hungers, their preferences that want what they want when they want it,” he continued. “The self is not free. The self is subject to this sort of barrage off weakened human nature, but fasting is about freedom.”

True freedom, as defined by God, isn’t the ability to say “yes” to your own desires whenever you want — it is the discipline to say yes to the Lord’s desires for you. Therefore, as we go through the Lenten season and prepare ourselves for the celebration of Easter, we fast in remembrance of the perfect image of true freedom: Christ crucified on the Cross.

One of the lessons of the Lenten season is that we, too, are capable of achieving this freedom. By strengthening our will through the practice of fasting, we can grow in humility, from which all other virtue flows. In our humility, we find freedom to do the Lord’s will for our lives. And in that freedom, waiting with open arms, is the sweet renewal that our souls yearn for — renewal in the self-denying, humble and freely-given love of Christ.