Songs of the Spirit

Benedictus

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.


There are three monologues in the early Gospel of Luke, each of incredibly dense content with respect to the vast story arc of Salvation History, and each of breathtaking beauty, which became singularly prominent from early centuries in the Liturgy of the Hours. As such, each is known traditionally with two titles: First, in Latin, the first word(s) of the monologue, and second, as the “song” or “canticle” of the person pronouncing it.

Hence, we have the queen of them all–the Magnificat, or the Canticle of Mary pronounced upon her visit to her cousin Elizabeth, and the Nunc Dimittis, or the Song of Simeon, pronounced at the Presentation of the Lord in the Temple.

And then, we have today’s monologue: the Benedictus, or the Song of Zechariah, pronounced in an outpouring of the Holy Spirit at the circumcision of his son, John the Baptist.

As so often is the case, this incredible utterance ties back beautifully to the first reading chosen for the day.

With apparently no effort, Zechariah narrates as a seamless story the wonders God has worked for His People, and shows with great clarity how they all build to the climax of the coming of the Messiah, of whom Zechariah’s son is to be the prophet.

A particularly marked element in Zechariah’s story is the Messiah as the promised great Heir to the House of David. And in the first reading, we see the full development and context of that original promise.

That context is a correction of God to David, who thinks his job is to build something for God. God kindly but clearly corrects him through the prophet Nathan: God, in His omnipotent Providence, is actually the great Protagonist, the One In Charge, the One Who Builds. He doesn’t need a human to take care of Him. His great promise to David is contained within this correction.

The application of the lesson of this context, and the whole coherent Song of Zechariah, is of such palpable relevance to our own attitudes, that it almost produces goosebumps.

Does it make sense that God curated history and prepared for the Christmas event so carefully, and then after Jesus’ Ascension, left everything to chaos and randomness? Or is there a historical, providential story arc written by the very hand of God in the history of the Church following Pentecost as well?

And what about the story arc of our own lives? Random string of unrelated events? Or key brick in the building of salvation that God continues to construct?

As we look at eras in history, the closer we look to our own time, the more difficult it is to identify the story arc God is weaving as Lord of History–as He who makes all human history into Salvation History.

Which is why we should take a page out of Zechariah’s book, and draw very near to God in our relationship with Him, asking Him to fill us to overflowing with the Holy Spirit. Only then can we fulfill, like Zechariah, our particular prophetic role within God’s plan.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: On the eve of Christmas, ask God the Father, in giving you His Son this Christmas, to fill your heart with the Holy Spirit like never before, so that you can perceive throughout the story arc of your own life and your own time the unmistakable marks of God’s loving, governing, sovereign Providence.

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Get Up

Wheelchair

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.


Advent readings these days are full of prophecy-fulfillment dynamics.

Today’s first reading speaks of the lame leaping like a stag, and in the Gospel reading we see Jesus, the Messiah of prophecy, curing a paralyzed man and bidding him get up.

As we turn our hearts back in time this Advent and await with the pre-Christian world the coming of the Messiah, we do so with an advantage: We know how the story progresses when the Messiah comes. We know that He is indeed the complete fulfillment of the prophecies.

We know, for example, that as we develop a life of grace–that is, a life of prayer and the sacraments–He fulfills the prophecy of the first reading. The blind eyes of our hearts are opened through the wisdom and understanding that Jesus gradually confers on us as gifts of His Holy Spirit. The parched steppe of our hearts rejoices and blooms as it is watered with the blood of the lamb, and filled with fruitful grace.

But we can empathize deeply with the pre-Christian world, immersed in darkness and bereft of grace, as we consider how Jesus’ work in us is not yet complete, and will not be until He comes again: We are still in so many ways broken, in need of His continuing work of transformation.

Still, ultimately, the Advent message is one of hope–immense hope like that of the paralytic as he rose and picked up his stretcher, full of joy not only at having been cured of his paralysis, but also completely freed from the burden of sin.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Consider what forms of “paralysis” Jesus has already healed in you, and what remains to be healed. Give Him the consolation that He is thirsting for: The consolation of your trust. Tell Him that as you celebrate His coming again this Christmas, you know that He will continue to come into your life and work His transformation. And ask Him to do so in abundance.

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Status: Flux

Flux

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.


It feels like we live in a time characterized by cycles and repeats: One of periodic conflicts and catastrophes, interspersed with beautiful life experiences. An ebb and flow that goes on through the ages.

In reality, we live right in the heart of a time of radical transition and transformation, depicted by today’s first reading.

That which is described in the first reading has already started, and is not yet complete. The great Messiah has come, but the wolf is not yet the guest of the lamb. Jesus came to our world, justice was the band around His waist, and He won the definitive transformation of the universe where all returns to harmony–but we are in the interim period, when the weeds and wheat must “grow together until harvest” (cf. Mt. 13:30). It feels long to us. It does not, to God.

As today’s gospel tells us, blessed were the apostles to see what they saw…and blessed are we to have access to one hundred percent of the benefits won by Jesus through His suffering, death, and Resurrection–right at our fingertips.

Although the calf does not yet browse with the young lion, we can enjoy the first fruits of this transformation Christ brings within ourselves. The more time we spend with Him in prayer and in regular reception of the sacraments, the more He aligns all our faculties (will, intellect, emotions, etc.) to the fullness of the glorious transformation He has won for us through His redemptive act, and which finds its definitive fulfillment in Heaven.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: In this Advent time, imagine yourself at the time of the prophets awaiting the Messiah, in a dark, broken world that knows little specific about how God will come to save. Imagine being transported from there to our present time, with the grace of Christ available not only to the original chosen people, but to the gentiles as well, in overwhelming abundance. Speak with Jesus about how He wants you to take advantage of the means at your disposal, and ask Him to help you not to be distracted by the noise of a world that wants to pull you away from those means.

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