PRAYER TO THE HOLY FAMILY

PRAYER TO THE HOLY FAMILY

Jesus, Mary and Joseph,in you we contemplate

the splendour of true love,to you we turn with trust.

Holy Family of Nazareth,grant that our families too

may be places of communion and prayer, authentic schools of the Gospel

and small domestic Churches.

Holy Family of Nazareth,

may families never again experience violence, rejection and division:

may all who have been hurt or scandalized find ready comfort and healing.

Holy Family of Nazareth, may the approaching Synod of Bishops

make us once more mindful of the sacredness and inviolability of the family,

and its beauty in God’s plan.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph,

graciously hear our prayer.

Celebrating the Feast of the Holy Family on this first Sunday after Christmas, the Pope entrusted the work of the bishops to Jesus, Mary and Joseph and recited this prayer.

Midnight Mass Homily of Pope Francis

“The light that shatters the darkness reveals to us that God is Father and that his patient fidelity is stronger than darkness and corruption.”

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined” (Is 9:1). “An angel of the Lord appeared to [the shepherds] and the glory of the Lord shone around them” (Lk2:9). This is how the liturgy of this holy Christmas night presents to us the birth of the Saviour: as the light which pierces and dispels the deepest darkness. The presence of the Lord in the midst of his people cancels the sorrow of defeat and the misery of slavery, and ushers in joy and happiness.

We too, in this blessed night, have come to the house of God. We have passed through the darkness which envelops the earth, guided by the flame of faith which illuminates our steps, and enlivened by the hope of finding the “great light”. By opening our hearts, we also can contemplate the miracle of that child-sun who, arising from on high, illuminates the horizon.

The origin of the darkness which envelops the world is lost in the night of the ages. Let us think back to that dark moment when the first crime of humanity was committed, when the hand of Cain, blinded by envy, killed his brother Abel (cf. Gen 4:8). As a result, the unfolding of the centuries has been marked by violence, wars, hatred, and oppression. But God, who placed a sense of expectation within man made in his image and likeness, was waiting. God was waiting. He waited for so long that perhaps at a certain point it seemed he should have given up. But he could not give up because he could not deny himself (cf. 2 Tim 2:13). Therefore he continued to wait patiently in the face of the corruption of man and peoples. The patience of God. How difficult it is to comprehend this: God’s patience towards us.

Through the course of history, the light that shatters the darkness reveals to us that God is Father and that his patient fidelity is stronger than darkness and corruption. This is the message of Christmas night. God does not know outbursts of anger or impatience; he is always there, like the father in the parable of the prodigal son, waiting to catch from afar a glimpse of the lost son as he returns; and every day, with patience. The patience of God.

Isaiah’s prophecy announces the rising of a great light which breaks through the night. This light is born in Bethlehem and is welcomed by the loving arms of Mary, by the love of Joseph, by the wonder of the shepherds. When the angels announced the birth of the Redeemer to the shepherds, they did so with these words: “This will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger” ( Lk 2:12). The “sign” is in fact the humility of God, the humility of God taken to the extreme; it is the love with which, that night, he assumed our frailty, our suffering, our anxieties, our desires, and our limitations. The message that everyone was expecting, that everyone was searching for in the depths of their souls, was none other than the tenderness of God: God who looks upon us with eyes full of love, who accepts our poverty, God who is in love with our smallness.

On this holy night, while we contemplate the Infant Jesus just born and placed in the manger, we are invited to reflect. How do we welcome the tenderness of God? Do I allow myself to be taken up by God, to be embraced by him, or do I prevent him from drawing close? “But I am searching for the Lord” – we could respond. Nevertheless, what is most important is not seeking him, but rather allowing him to seek me, find me and caress me with tenderness. The question put to us simply by the Infant’s presence is: do I allow God to love me?

More so, do we have the courage to welcome with tenderness the difficulties and problems of those who are near to us, or do we prefer impersonal solutions, perhaps effective but devoid of the warmth of the Gospel? How much the world needs tenderness today! The patience of God, the closeness of God, the tenderness of God.

The Christian response cannot be different from God’s response to our smallness. Life must be met with goodness, with meekness. When we realize that God is in love with our smallness, that he made himself small in order to better encounter us, we cannot help but open our hearts to him, and beseech him: “Lord, help me to be like you, give me the grace of tenderness in the most difficult circumstances of life, give me the grace of closeness in the face of every need, of meekness in every conflict”.

Dear brothers and sisters, on this holy night we contemplate the Nativity scene: there “the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light” (Is 9:1). People who were unassuming, people open to receiving the gift of God, were the ones who saw this light. This light was not seen, however, by the arrogant, the proud, by those who made laws according to their own personal measures, who were closed off to others. Let us look to the crib and pray, asking the Blessed Mother: “O Mary, show us Jesus!”

Let what You have said be done to me

4th Sunday of Advent, Year B
2 Samuel 7:1-5, 8-12, 14, 16 Romans 16:25-27
Luke 1:26-38

Today, our Advent liturgy takes on a new focus. In the past Sundays, the theme of the Saviour’s ‘coming’ has made us aware of the unfolding of God’s plan for creation. Luke’s gospel of the Annunciation – emphasising the fact that the coming of the Saviour depended upon Mary’s consent – reminds us of the mystery that is basic to our existence as persons, that we must all play our part in the realisation of God’s final plan. Our life ‘in Christ’ is at once gift and task. All that we do, leading to eternal life, begins with the unmerited gifts of God’s ‘grace’, but these gifts bring with them the tasks whereby we realise our true personhood, as followers of Christ.

Our first reading from 2 Samuel is chosen because it contains the prophecy that the sovereignty of the House of David will last forever. This prophecy, the angel tells Mary, will be fulfilled in the Son she is to conceive, who will be given ‘the throne of his ancestor, David’, and will exercise a ‘reign that will never end’. This fascinating Old Testament text, however, reflects the ambiguities of the mystery of divine/human collaboration through which God’s designs are realised. Though David became, in retrospect, a symbolic figure in the messianic expectations of old Israel, there was much in his life that does not bear close scrutiny. And many of the kings who were his descendents were oppressors of the people, for whom the Jerusalem temple was a symbol of their centralised political power. The prophecy of Nathan, in the tradition that has developed over the intervening centuries, subtly hints at these ambiguities. God will fulfil the messianic expectations that have come to be associated with David’s name, but the prophecy distances itself from the selfish politics of the House of David - David will not build God’s ‘house’; he is reminded that he was only a shepherd boy when God made him great; when God builds up his house, and gives it a reign that will never end, the whole world will know that it is all God’s doing.

What a contrast between this history, marked by human inadequacies, and the consent of Mary, opening the way to the glorious fulfilment of old Israel’s hopes. The gospel account of Mary’s encounter with God’s messenger, we should note, is not a visual description – as suggested by familiar paintings. Taking the form of a dialogue, it spells out the decision in which Mary – putting aside her puzzlement and the uncertainties associated with the future into which she was being invited – gave her wholehearted consent. This consent, it is clear, is possible through God’s ‘grace’ and favour: ‘Rejoice so highly favoured’, is the greeting brought by God’s messenger. The narrative makes it clear that this beginning owes nothing to human standing or achievement. By human standards, Mary is an insignificant slip of a girl – fourteen or fifteen was the usual age of betrothal. She comes from Nazareth, an obscure village of about 150 souls, not even mentioned in the Old Testament. But the passing of time will bring to light how great were God’s gifts, and how total was Mary’s heroic response – making her the mother of the Saviour, the model of discipleship – indeed the Mother of the whole family of discipleship.

The reading from St Paul, the concluding passage of Romans, calls us back to awareness of the place of Mary’s response - and our personal responses - in a total plan shaped by God’s gifts, and our carrying out of the tasks these gifts have brought – a ‘mystery kept secret for endless ages ... the way the eternal God wants things to be’, revealed in Jesus Christ, and to be made known to the whole human family. 

He has Sent me to bring Good News to the Poor

3rd Sunday of Advent Year B

Genuine Christian faith does not make us long-faced; it should make us enthusiastic and happy. Even in Lent, the most serious season of the Church’s year, the Sunday at the midpoint of the journey to Easter has a theme of rejoicing. In the same way, on this third Sunday of Advent, our liturgy takes up a joyous theme.

In our first reading, from Isaiah, the prophet is filled with joy. He has the anointing of the Spirit to bring, in the name of God, ‘good news’ of encouragement, healing, freedom, and an outpouring of God’s special favour. This message is especially for ‘the poor’ – those who have no security except in God. Originally addressed to God’s people in their exile – this proclamation was read by Jesus in the synagogue of Nazareth. And he added, ‘This text is being fulfilled today, even as you listen’. As the text continues, the prophet ‘exults for joy’, using marriage themes to express the covenant bond of love between the chosen people and their God; and he looks forward to their renewed life becoming an inspiration to all the nations of the world.

The second reading from 1 Thessalonians – the earliest writing of the Christian Scriptures – is chosen for our Advent liturgy, no doubt, because it rises to a climax with its reference to ‘the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ’. But it is a good choice, because it takes up today’s theme of joy. Paul’s reference to those things that unite that early Christian community provides a useful check list as we evaluate the life of our own communities: ‘constant prayer’, thankfulness to the Father, offered in and through Christ; an openness to the promptings of the Spirit that comes through members who are in tune with God’s ways (‘the gift of prophecy’); and the ‘peace’ that is the fruit of all these shared blessings. True joy comes with the experience of what we are made for; the joy brought by Christian faith, the joy all true believers have experienced, the joy that only God can give, comes through the things Paul speaks of.

John the Baptist is again our Advent guide, in today’s gospel reading from John. Because he has revived the ways of Israel’s prophets he has caused quite a stir, and the authorities of Jerusalem send interrogators who ask him to give an account of himself. His selfless response is disarmingly frank: he is not the messiah; he is not one of the old prophets come back to life; he is not the New Moses of Israel’s expectations. His role is that of a herald, ‘a voice crying in the wilderness’, that announces one who stands among the crowd, still ‘unknown’ to them. The description of his witness in this passage leaves his hearers hungry to know more of the one to whom this great figure shows such reverence – a prelude to a great theme of John’s gospel, ‘the true light’ that is going to transform a darkened world.

Today’s liturgy can serve to remind us of today’s call to a ‘New Evangelisation’ – bringing the true joy of the light of Christ to a world in which there is so much darkness and pain. When the task seems beyond us, let us remember with the old prophet, that we are working for God’s future; let us understand with Paul that it is first and foremost the quality of our lives together that will bring people to share our faith; and let us learn from the Baptist that the effectiveness of our outreach will depend upon the unselfish commitment we have made to the Saviour and what he stands for. John Thornhill

Live a Life of Mary

Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception

(During the Marist Asia-Pacific (MAP) Spirituality and Lifestyle Program at Sydney, Australia)

What makes us Marists? Our constitution made us who we are and it is modeled in the life of Mary. It means that we are called to live her life - breathing in and breathing out her spirit.

Mary is our first and perpetual Superior. God have made her the Immaculate Conception, pure and no stain of any sin. As a woman of Israel, she is, first of all, a human like us. She lived her life with human experience. She experienced fear and even doubt. We hear in the gospel today that she is deeply disturbed, deeply troubled when she hears the message of the angel. Through her deep listening to the Word of God she is consoled, assured and strengthened. How could she say 'no' to God? She surrendered completely to the will of God, with trust and love. Her 'yes' is a total openness to let God works in her life and to fulfill God's plan of salvation.

This is our invitation for us - to be truly like Mary - to follow in her footstep and generously open ourselves to let that grace of God working in us. Be filled with joy! Our celebration today is an affirmation for all as we live a life of Mary. We are graciously called and chosen by God. Let us live it out.

Prayer Intentions:

• For the Philippines especially for the people affected by Typhoon Hagupit.
• For the Souls of our Oceanian Marist confreres who died recently: Rafa and Cornellius
• For the souls of Nerio Mendez and Eduardo del Rosario

Prepare a way for the Lord

2nd Sunday of Advent, Year B

As we prepare to celebrate the Lord’s ‘coming’ at Christmas, our Advent liturgies invite us to a fuller appreciation of the great plan of God – a plan that will reach its climax with the inauguration of God’s final Kingdom, in the ‘second coming’ of the Saviour.

We read again from the final chapters of the Book of Isaiah. This amazing passage helps us to understand the wonder and joy with which the apostolic generation read the texts of the Old Testament, and recognised that they had been fulfilled in Jesus Christ. Their faith in Christ, they proclaimed, was ‘according to the Scriptures’ (Lk 24:27; 1 Cor 15:4 etc.) In this passage, the message of God’s generous ways already finds a sublime and inspiring expression: ‘Console my people, console them, speak to their hearts’; let the ‘joyful messenger’ proclaim God’s presence in their midst; God will lead the exiled people home through the wilderness, in a new Exodus; Israel’s God will be ‘like a shepherd feeding his flock, gathering the lambs in his arms’.

This Old Testament text provides the background for the gospel reading, which is the opening passage of Mark’s gospel – ‘the beginning of the Good News about Jesus Christ the Son of God’. It is echoed by Mark, in his quotation from ‘the book of the prophet Isaiah’ (His quotation, in fact, combines two other Old Testament texts with the words from Isaiah). John the Baptist appears as the ‘messenger’ foretold. He ‘prepares a way’ for the Saviour, who – in his Paschal Mystery – will lead God’s people in the final Exodus of God’s great plan. He will prove himself a ‘Good Shepherd’ to a people ‘harassed and dejected, like sheep without a shepherd’ (Mt 9:36). Mark’s description of the Baptist – wearing ‘a garment of camel skin’ and living on ‘locusts and wild honey’ – presents him as another Elijah: the old prophet whose witness to the unique divinity of the God of Israel made him a legendary model of the prophet’s role. John’s ‘baptism of repentance’ prepared for the coming of the Saviour; and all generations of Christians have been inspired by his humble ‘Advent’ witness to the one would ‘baptise with the Holy Spirit’ – ‘I am not fit to kneel down and undo the strap of his sandals’.

2 Peter, from which our other reading comes – with its reference to the ‘Second Coming’ of the Saviour – is one of the last texts of the New Testament to be written. It reflects the mood of the early Church, as it comes to terms with the fact that they faced an indefinite wait before the Lord’s promised return. Like them we must bow before the mystery of God’s ways, maintaining an alert faith in the certain, but unknowable, final return of the Saviour. If we must look forward to our familiar world coming to an end – as foretold in the dramatic imagery of the prophets – we should not be frightened, because creation will be transformed in a ‘new heaven and new earth’, in which all the things we hold dear will be filled with the ‘righteousness’, or incomparable goodness, of God’s ways. (John Thornhill sm)