A Polyvalent Prophecy

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

    In one scene in the “Star Wars” prequel movie “Revenge of the Sith” (Episode III, for those keeping track), there is an interaction between Obi Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu, and Yoda, all Jedi masters as they talk about Anakin’s assignment to spy on Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, due to a concern about how much power he is holding for himself.  Master Windu doesn’t trust Anakin (which turns out to be a good intuition, as Anakin, turned Darth Vader, will kill Master Windu).  Obi Wan asks, “With all due respect, Master, is he not the chosen one?  Is he not to destroy the Sith and bring balance to the force?”  Mace responds, “So the prophecy says.”  Yoda then chimes in, “A prophecy that misread could have been.”  Of course, for Star Wars fans, we know that Anakin’s son, Luke, will turn his father back to the light, and Darth Vader will kill Emperor Palpatine and bring balance to the force.
    We hear the prophecy of Isaiah today in our first reading, and we likely immediately direct that prophecy to Jesus.  And that is a fair reading.  Jesus is the servant who reveals the glory of God, who brings back Israel to her God, and is the light to the nations, as Simeon will say almost verbatim at the Presentation of the Lord, “A light to reveal you to the nations and the glory of your people Israel.”
    But while this prophecy is not misread, when prophecies talk about Christ, they can also refer to us.  And this makes sense, since through Holy Baptism God unites us to Christ and makes us members of Christ’s Mystical Body, the Church.  With the power of the Holy Spirit, given to us in Baptism and poured out afresh into us through Confirmation, God calls us to show His glory, and gather all His lost children back to Him.  God makes us a light to the nations to proclaim His salvation, a light that we should not hide under a bushel basket, but let shine so that others may come to know Christ and His salvation.

An icon of St. John the Baptist

    We do this by living like St. John the Baptist.  Yes, God called the Precursor to point out the Lamb of God on the banks of the River Jordan, and to call people to repentance because the Kingdom of God is at hand.  But that is our call, too.  God calls us to prepare the way for the Lord.  God calls us to point out Jesus, the Lamb of God, wherever we see Him.  As disciples of the Lord, we should recognize the way that He works, both from our knowledge of Scripture and the teachings of the Church, but also through our own experiences of how God has worked in and through us.  For someone who is not Catholic or maybe not even Christian, our understanding of Christ and how He works can help others believe in Him.  
    But God does not only call us to be like St. John the Baptist.  He calls us to be like St. Paul the Apostle, called by Christ Jesus by the will of God.  God may not call us to travel around as much as St. Paul, or even to write letters like St. Paul (though sometimes God can call us to communicate what God is saying through writing), but through Confirmation we have all been called to be an apostle.  An apostle in the ancient Greek world was like an emissary or ambassador, one who spoke for a person with authority, from the combination of the Greek words 𝛼𝜋𝜊, meaning off or forth, and 𝜎𝜏𝜀𝜆𝜆𝜀𝜄𝜈, meaning to send.  We should see ourselves as emissaries of the grace and peace of God, bringing it to those we meet by what we say and by what we do.  
    Too often, I think we can fall into the trap of thinking that all those holy things happened a long time ago.  St. John the Baptist was just a particular guy for his particular time.  St. Paul was just a particular guy for his particular time.  Or even that Jesus was so unique that no one can be like Him.  True, God does call people for particular times, and Jesus, as the Son of God, uniquely fulfills God’s prophecies about how He would save His people.  But God has made us for these times.  And God calls us to continue to complete the work of Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit.  The world is not yet how it should be.  The Kingdom of God has not finished installing in our world.  Can we do it ourselves?  No.  But with the foundation of the power of the Holy Spirit, and armed with the Gospel of Christ and the teachings Christ has made clear through His Mystical Body, the Church, we can cooperate in the work of salvation and bring Christ to full stature, as St. Paul says.
    It is as St. Teresa of Avila says:
 

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.
 

Will we continue the mission of Christ?  Will we, also, fulfill the prophecies of old so that the glory of God can be revealed and His salvation can reach the ends of the earth?

Doctor Gratiae and Darth Vader

Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  One of the things that can easily frustrate Catholics is when they are striving to live a holy life, but they aren’t quite getting there.  They go to Mass on Sundays; they go to confession on a regular basis; they pray the Rosary and/or the Divine Mercy chaplet; they have a crucifix and holy water in their home; etc.  And yet, they are still struggling with sin, be it venial or mortal.  They want to walk according to the spirit, but they all too often find themselves giving in to the flesh.  They desire the fruits of the Spirit, but they at least occasionally give in to the works of the flesh.
    This tug of war is because there are two still two masters in our hearts and souls, and we’re oscillating between the two.  We may be primarily for Christ, but we leave some part of ourselves, however small, open to the mastery of the evil one, and so he takes whatever opportunities he can to steal us away from our Lord.
    We know in our minds that we want to serve God and that our happiness lies in Him.  We know, as St. Paul teaches, that the wages of sin is death.  We know that sin distracts or even derails us from our final destination of heaven.  And yet, we choose to sin time and time again.

    St. Augustine of Hippo, the great Doctor of Grace, provides us with a stark example of this inner turmoil.  Though he became a catechumen at a young age, he writes in his Confessions that he did not live the faith as a young boy or young man.  He writes how, around the age of 16, he gave himself entirely over to lustful actions.  This terrorized his mother, but his father, also not yet a Catholic, seems to have figured it a normal part of life.  Things didn’t get better as 18-year-old Augustine moved to Carthage.  He writes, “desire had grown, and when desire is given satisfaction, habit is forged; and when habit passes unresisted, a compulsive urge sets in.  He took one mistress, with whom he had his son, Adeodatus (whose name means “gift given from God”), and then took a different mistress.  
    Through his studies, though, even while he meandered through various heresies, he began to see the truths of the faith as truth, and his mind grew convicted to join the Catholic Church through baptism.  Still, his will resisted what his mind longed to grasp, such that his prayer became, “Give me chastity…but not yet.”  
    This struggle between the two masters–Christ and his sin-driven will–frustrated him more and more each day.  It finally led to what appears to be a kind of mental breakdown, bringing him to tears over his dilemma.  But it was in that moment, in his utter brokenness, that he heard the voice of a small child say, “Tolle, lege,” “Take and read.”  He did what no good spiritual director would ever recommend: he played Biblical roulette, trying to turn to a random page to see what it would say, and read Romans 13:13-14.  The Apostle wrote, “let us conduct ourselves properly as in the day, not in orgies and drunkenness, not in promiscuity and licentiousness, not in rivalry and jealousy.  But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the desires of the flesh.”  The grace that had been building in him in his search for the truth finally broke the dam of his will, and he found the freedom he desired, and the gentle yoke of Christ under which he was glad to bind himself.
    Perhaps our sins are not so grave.  Perhaps the conversion of our fallen wills will not be so dramatic.  But that same back and forth happens in so many Catholics, dealing with many types of sin, not just lust.  So many struggle with patience, or gossip, or judgement.  They want to do better, but they keep finding themselves in similar situations and confessing the same faults when they seek out the Sacrament of Penance.
    The example of St. Augustine reminds us that part of committing ourselves to the master we know we want to serve, Christ, is to persevere in fighting our temptations, no matter how strong, no matter how persistent.  The great bishop of North Africa, in his days before baptism, never fully acquiesced to the realities he knew to be false: that true freedom and happiness could be found in sin.  Sometimes all he had was his mind to tell him that sin did not lead to joy and hope, but he never abandoned that mind that guided him closer and closer to the truth.  

    In a very secular example, it’s like Darth Vader.  In the original three movies, especially episodes V and VI, George Lucas makes clear that there is good in Vader, and Luke Skywalker, his hidden son, senses it.  Even while Vader seems to resist that goodness; even while he attacks Luke, Luke knows that there is still a battle going on in Vader’s soul between light and darkness.  Even as Emperor Palpatine tortures Luke while Darth Vader looks on, the battle rages until (spoiler alert), Vader stops the torture and kills Emperor Palpatine (or at least, that’s what happened until they made the latest three movies, where being thrown down a shaft that explodes no longer kills a person).  Vader apologizes to Luke, and becomes, once again, the Jedi he should have been in his final breaths.
    Whether it’s a fourth and fifth century saint, or a fictional character that demonstrates the point to us better, our life is a choice between two masters.  Not just God and mammon, the pagan god of riches and greed, but between God and whatever sin we leave room for in our hearts.  May we persevere in continuing to fight for the mastery of Christ, the mastery that does not enslave us like sin does, but grants us the true freedom to choose the good and to live in the happiness that is desired for each of us by God: the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

Connecting to the Force of the Eucharist

 Solemnity of Corpus Christi
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  A few weeks back I was super excited to see that a new Star Wars series had started that detailed what happened to Obi-Wan Kenobi between Episode III, when he delivers baby Luke Skywalker to Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru, and Episode IV, where Luke, now an adult, finds “Ben” Kenobi and asks him for help with a message that the droid R2-D2 had delivered.

    I won’t give a lot away of the new series for anyone who’s interested, but I do want to focus on Obi-Wan for a second.  Obi-Wan was one of the greatest Jedi, along with Yoda and Mace Windu.  He bested Anakin Skywalker, who was also a great Jedi (though failed to actually kill him).  But the series begins with him lost, making his way through a quotidian, hum-drum life.  The few Jedi that remain are still being hunted, so he’s trying to lay low on Tatooine, while still watching over Luke, as Yoda ordered Obi-Wan to do.  In the beginning of the series (no spoilers, don’t worry), Obi-Wan shows a real lack of being able to use the force, a Jedi’s source of power, because he has lost practice and been separated from using it for so long.
    Star Wars is quite gnostic, and filled with some far-eastern religion influences, so it’s not quite a great analogy to Christianity.  But, as I prepared my homily for Corpus Christi, and knowing how few Catholics believe in the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist and how many Catholics have left the faith, I was struck by the real danger, not of being separated from the force, but being separated from the Eucharist.
    The Eucharist is our force.  It is what gives us power to live as disciples of Christ.  No, we generally are not able to suspend people in the air, or wave our hand and effect suggestions on the weak-minded, nor are we given swords that can pulse through bodies and metal and block blasters.  But we are given the Body and Blood of Christ to strengthen us to live as the saints we are called to be.  
    I think about baptized Catholics I know and, I can’t give a number, but suffice it to say a lot, they have left the Mass for ecclesial communities (non-Catholic groups, often Evangelicals) that have rock bands for music, or screens with amazing videos and presentations.  Some leave after a short while; others stick with it for a long time, or even the rest of their lives.  They often say that they’re getting more out of their worship, or feel better about going to church, or are learning more about the Scriptures.
    Before I continue, I do want to warn us (myself included) against smugness and a superiority complex.  And, while I’m not accusing anyone here, I will say it can be a very strong and particular temptation for those who attend the Extraordinary Form.  It can be very easy to say that, because we appreciate the older liturgy, which does tend to have a greater sense of transcendence, we are better than others.  It is very easy to be Pharisaical and thank God that we’re not like those other Catholics who attend a Novus Ordo Mass, and our superiority is borne out by how many kids we have, or that we go to Mass every Sunday, or that we tend to believe what the Church teaches on the faith and morals.  Don’t get me wrong, large families are great blessings, you should go to Mass every Sunday and holyday, and staying faithful to the Church’s teaching on faith and morals is a sign that one is walking with Christ.  But when those things are used as weapons against others, or used to make us seem better than others, then what could be a strength can easily become a downfall.
    Back to my point: as Catholics leave the practice of their faith, they are leaving the Eucharist.  Only if a Catholic left for an Orthodox church or a schismatic Catholic church could we say that they would still receive the Eucharist, even if those other communities offer “communion.”  But as a person separates themself from the Eucharist, they lose connection to that which gives them power to live as a disciples, as Christ has revealed through His Church.  Even if a Catholic simply stops going to Mass on a regular basis, and doesn’t even join another community, he or she is losing the nourishment that Christ wants to provide us so that we can follow Him faithfully.  Is it a wonder, then, as Catholics have stopped going to Mass or have left the faith altogether that more and more Catholics or ex-Catholics start supporting things which are contrary to the faith?  
    Again, we may say, “Well, thank God that’s not me!”  But, as the saying goes, “But for the grace of God go I.”  Part of the beauty of these annual celebrations is that we remind ourselves of the treasures that we have, not to grasp on to them and hoard them, but to utilize them and share the graces we receive from them with others.  Catholics used to go to Mass weekly in greater numbers, north of 70 or 80 percent!  But perhaps they forgot the beauty of what they had, and so they didn’t go as frequently, or didn’t pass on that greatness of the gift of the faith to their children, because it wasn’t fully appreciated.  Other, secular realities grew in importance, even though it didn’t give them the power to fight the good fight on earth, in preparation for being welcomed into heaven.  
    And so we need to remind ourselves that the Eucharist is our strength!  Without it, we are lost, and cannot be the people God wants us to be.  Without the Eucharist, marriage becomes so much more difficult, because the Eucharist is sacrifice, and marriage always calls for that sacrificial love.  Without the Eucharist the virtue of chastity is so much more difficult, because we are disconnected from the source of every virtue.  Without the Eucharist, we cannot love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us, because we no longer receive the one who gave Himself up for His enemies and persecutors inside us in the same way.  Without the Eucharist, our care for the poor makes no sense, because we are not taking in the God who made Himself poor so that we might become rich.  In other words, to be the Catholic disciples God wants us to be without the Eucharist is impossible.  And that even impels us to walk in the streets as we will today, to bring our Eucharistic Lord into the public, so that others can remember how much they need him!
    And the difficulty to live the faith without the Eucharist should keep us coming back, even if the prayers don’t always make sense to us; or the music isn’t what we like (Gregorian chant is beautiful, don’t get me wrong, and properly Catholic, but it often doesn’t cause an emotive response that so many desire); even if we struggle in those long moments of silence to keep our attention on the sacrifice being offered.  
    Obi-Wan struggled after his fight with Anakin because Obi-Wan became disconnected from the force.  We will struggle to live a holy life if we disconnect ourselves from the Eucharist (we may struggle with the Eucharist, but it would be even harder without it!).  Use the force that God has given us for living as His disciples.  Stay connected through the Eucharist to Jesus Christ, who with the Father and the Son reign for ever and ever.  Amen. 

A Surprise Every Time

Easter Sunday

The sections in brackets [] are for the Extraordinary Form Mass only.
    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.]. In Episode III of Star Wars (the sixth Star Wars movie made) there is a scene that takes place toward the end of the movie, a scene that I always wish would change.  Spoiler alert, for those who haven’t seen it yet.  Emperor Palpatine, the Sith Lord, is lying at the edge of a window that has been shattered, and Jedi Master Mace Windu is about to kill him.  Young Jedi Anakin Skywalker is looking on, having alerted Master Windu that the emperor was the Sith Lord the Jedi had been searching for during the past two movies.  Emperor Palpatine pleads with Anakin to save him, so that the Sith can help Anakin save his wife, Padmé.   Right before Master Windu is about to dispatch the Sith Lord, Anakin intervenes, and Emperor Palpatine is able to disarm and then kill Master Windu.  It’s at this point that Anakin pledges his allegiance to Emperor Palpatine, and becomes Darth Vader.

Palpatine killing Mace Windu

    No matter how many times I have seen that movie, I always want Anakin to simply allow Mace Windu to kill Emperor Palpatine, and stop all the horrors that Darth Vader would cause from that point on.  It’s not a surprise when the scene plays out as it always does, but I’m always in suspense in case somehow, against all odds and all reason, good triumphs in that moment.  Most other movies that I have seen before I am resigned to watch what I know will happen, but with this movie, for some reason, I’m always a little shocked that it follows as it does.
    When it comes to the Resurrection, it’s a movie we’ve seen before.  We know Christ rises from the dead.  We know, when we hear the Gospel that the tomb will be empty.  But what is our response?  Is it a blasé acceptance of facts, or does it hit us fresh each time?  Are we pleasantly surprised that good actually triumphed over evil, and that sin and death were conquered?

An image of the Resurrection from where it happened

    Those first disciples were certainly surprised.  The Evangelists makes clear that no one expected Jesus to rise from the dead (though the Blessed Mother may be an exception to that general rule).  But when they realized it was true, it changed the way they lived their lives.  It gave them hope in the midst of doubt, light in times of darkness, and courage when their enemies pressed all around them. 
    The first disciples lived with the new yeast, leavening their entire lives.  They lived in sincerity and truth, knowing that if the worst that the world could throw at God couldn’t conquer Him, then nothing could.  And if they were with Him, then they couldn’t be conquered, either.  They lived as those utterly convinced that if God was for them, who could be against them?  Especially in the first centuries of the Church, but even continuing into the bloodiest century for Christians ever–the twentieth century, which produced more martyrs than every other century combined–Christians were under regular attack, and not simply with words, or shutting down social media accounts, but pouring oil on them, attaching them to posts, and lighting them on fire to provide lamps through the streets of Rome; crucifying them in mockery of their Lord; sending wild and starving beasts after them in circuses around the Roman world; or, if they were a Roman citizen, executing the more humane sentence of beheading. 
    They gathered in secret in those first few centuries, in various centuries since, and this still continues today in certain places in the Middle East, in China, and in parts of Africa.  They didn’t mind that Mass might not be at a time they wanted, or as often as they wanted, but were happy to be able to gather and be strengthened by God’s Word and the Body and Blood of Christ.  
    So, do we live differently because of the Resurrection?  Are we casting out the old yeast malice and wickedness?  Does coming to this altar of God restore the joy of our youth?  Does it affect the way that we treat each other on the road, in our families, at our job?  Do we want to share the joy of our relationship with Christ, or are we happy to keep it to ourselves?  St. Mark describes the disciples as “utterly amazed.”  You can imagine the thoughts running through Peter and John’s head when they found the empty tomb and the burial cloths off to the side.  When people see the difference that the Resurrection makes in our life, are they utterly amazed?  What thoughts run through other people’s minds as they see us living in the light of the Resurrection?  Do they even see a difference?
    This story, this real-life story of the Resurrection, does not have to be humdrum.  It can feel new every time we watch it, like that scene from Star Wars is to me.  If it doesn’t strike us that way, pray to God to make it new in your life.  Spend time in front of the Blessed Sacrament and ask the Lord to remind you how powerful the Resurrection is, to stir into faith the realization that Christ has conquered sin and death, and if sin and death cannot find victory over Christ, then nothing can gain the victory over us if we’re connected to Christ.  Today makes everything different.  Make sure that others know the difference of the Resurrection by witnessing you!  [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Sprit.  Amen.]

Becoming Like Obi-Wan Kenobi

Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time
    While the Star Wars purists here might lose some respect for me, I’m actually a fan of Episodes II and III, which deal with Anakin Skywalker, and his transition to Darth Vader.  Every time I watch the movies I am drawn in by how good Anakin was, how he was driven by good motives, but then those motives get twisted when he sees a vision of his wife, Padmé, dying in childbirth (which, ironically, he helps cause to happen).  I particularly enjoy Episode III and a final battle between Anakin and his mentor, Obi-Wan

Kenobi.  Obi-Wan is trying, however futilely, to show Anakin the error of his ways, and mentions the great hope that Obi-Wan had for Anakin.  But Anakin is set in his dark path, so Obi-Wan has to kill Anakin to prevent future evil from thriving.  Obi-Wan still cares for Anakin, and so bemoans that Anakin turned to the dark side, despite his potential to do so much good.  As Anakin, his legs amputated by Obi-Wan’s light saber and the rest of his body slowly burning from lava-laced ground, looks at Obi-Wan leaving him to die, he yells out, “I hate you!”
    The people of Israel, and we, the members of the Church, can sometimes be like Anakin Skywalker: we have such great potential to do good and bring light, but so often we turn to the dark.  Rather than continuing as Anakin Skywalker, a great Jedi who can accomplish so much good, our desires and our hearts are twisted and perverted to become Darth Vader, a Sith who sews darkness.
    The prophets are like Obi-Wan Kenobi.  They are meant to train us in goodness and holiness, and remind us of the will of God.  Jeremiah, in our first reading, spoke to the people of Judah, the southern kingdom of Israel, to tell them that they had wandered away from God.  They no longer walked in the light, but caused darkness by their oppression of the poor, widows, and orphans, their worship of foreign gods, and their trust in the building of the temple, rather than trusting in the One who made the temple holy: God.  For this, Jeremiah eventually is arrested and thrown into a cistern, until what Jeremiah prophesied comes to pass, and the temple is destroyed and the people are exiled to Babylon.  
    Jesus, too, is a prophet, but not just a prophet, but the Prophet, and the source of all prophecy.  He speaks for God, which is the role of every prophet, and while some are drawn to that proclamation, others are enraged by it.  The members of his hometown wonder how He could claim to speak with such authority, as He had just proclaimed that the passage from Isaiah was fulfilled in their hearing, which we heard last week.  So Jesus calls them out, and for this they drive Him out of town, and try to push Him off the brow of the hill, but He passes through them without any harm.
    Last week I mentioned how our mission is the same as Jesus’ mission.  We are called to be prophets.  But as we proclaim God’s Word (and we should make sure that we’re spreading God’s word, not our own), we should not fool ourselves and think that everyone will warmly accept our message.  As we challenge people to live according to God’s plan, people may start yelling at us, “I hate you!”
    Part of proclaiming that message is doing so with love.  So often we operate out the philosophy that what is loving is what people will readily embrace.  But St. Paul reminds us that love is not a feeling, but is actions.  In fact, in the English we say “Love is patient,” and basically use descriptors for love.  But in the original Greek, when St. Paul describes love, the word that we consider describing love is actually a verb.  Instead of saying, “Love is patient,” we might say, “Love patients.”  Importantly, too, love “does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices in the truth.”  Anything that God has revealed is wrong, or anything that God has revealed as false is not loving.  
    This is where most people get upset, because there are many things in today’s culture that people think are loving, but because they are contrary to what God has revealed in Sacred Scripture or through the Church, they are not truly loving.  Like Anakin, there is the desire to do good, but it easily gets twisted and changes to evil because a person’s emotions or desires get the better of him or her.  
    What is obvious in the Scriptures is that people, even well-intentioned people, prefer doing evil to good, because evil often feels so much better and gives quicker gratification.  Doing good sometimes doesn’t feel good, and sometimes you don’t feel gratified immediately.  Or sometimes we convince ourselves, contrary to the ancient maxim, that we can do this evil thing because it will achieve a good result.  Evil never leads to good; it only perpetuates evil.
    We are all called to be prophets through our baptism, which means that we are all called to proclaim God’s message by word and by deed.  As prophets, though, we should prepare ourselves that not everyone will always be open to God’s message, no matter how we package it, and that it may, like Jeremiah and Jesus, lead to real struggles.  But, if we speak the message in the love of God, we know that we, grounded in love, can bear all things, hope all things, and endure all things.

Family Issues A Long Time Ago in a Galaxy Far, Far Away

Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph
    There’s a new Star Wars movie out, and I saw it opening night a little over a week ago.  I won’t give anything away, but it seemed familiar to the original three Star Wars movies.  In all the Star Wars movies there are certainly some family problems going on.  In the original three episodes (numbers 4-6), Luke is being raised by his uncle and aunt, who are murdered, and it’s later discovered that Darth Vader is Luke’s father, whom he hates as working for the Empire, but also wants to save, as the Emperor wants Luke to take over for his father.    The next three episodes (number 1-3; it is a little confusing) is about young Darth Vader, or Anakin, as he was then known, who also has family issues, as he has no father (he was conceived by the Force), and ends up really messing his life up by taking vengeance on those who hurt his mother.  He also falls in love with a princess, and even though, as a Jedi, he’s supposed to be celibate, marries her, and they conceive twins (Luke and Leia).  While I won’t go into detail, even the new movies (numbers 7-9) continue the family drama storyline.  But what is common to all the episodes is that the family drama has to do with power and abuses of it.
    I bring that up because, as we heard our second reading, our minds probably went immediately to power.  Maybe they didn’t go there at first, but as soon as we heard, “Wives, be subordinate to your husbands,” I’m sure we all probably bristled a little bit, for one reason or another.  Maybe some felt like that shouldn’t even be a part of Scripture anymore, since, so some think, we’ve moved beyond the “backward” culture in which it was written.  Maybe some of us were trying hard how to understand it, since it is a part of Scripture, which is the infallible Word of God.  But all of us likely heard that passage in the same context of power on which all the Star Wars interfamilial drama is based.
    If this feast of the Holy Family teaches us anything, it’s that the family is not about a power struggle.  It’s not about who has the most power, or who is the boss.  Instead, the Holy Family was all about obedience to God and protecting one another.
    If the Holy Family was about power, then Jesus would have come out of the womb telling Mary and Joseph what to do.  After all, Jesus is the co-eternal Son of God.  Jesus is God, who created all things out of nothing.  He even created, with the help of their parents, Mary and Joseph.  No human could ever be God’s equal, and so, if family life was about power, Jesus would have been the one in charge.  But Jesus came as an infant, with no power, totally reliant and dependent on the love of his mother, Mary, and his foster-father, Joseph.
    After Jesus, Mary comes next in the power hierarchy, as a woman who never sinned.  She was conceived without original sin, and always said yes to God.  So with Jesus as an infant, not able to talk or care for Himself, if the choice was for Mary or Joseph to be in charge, to have all the power, it certainly would have fallen to Mary, based upon her holiness alone.  But, the first time that Mary really issues a command in the Gospel is after Joseph is dead, at the wedding at Cana, when she tells the servants to do whatever Jesus tells them.
    Poor Joseph.  In the midst of the Holy Family, he’s the only one who could be at fault.  His foster-Son is the Son of God, and his wife is sinless.  If anything goes wrong in the household, everyone knows whose fault it is.  Joseph is just, but he wasn’t perfect, and in the midst of such holiness, his sins must have stood out like a sore thumb.  And yet, to whom do the dreams come, where God advises how to proceed?  To Joseph!  In today’s Gospel, the angel appears to Joseph twice, once to tell him to leave for Egypt, and then to tell Joseph it’s safe to return to Israel.  This is backwards from how it should be, if power were the motivating factor in the family.  But that should tell us something: power is not the motivating factor.
    So as we read the passage from our second reading, we have to read it in the light of the model of holiness demonstrated by the Holy Family.  Their concern was not power, but about obedience to the will of God, as it was known to them, and protecting each other.  Sometimes the will of God will have wives obeying their husband; sometimes the will of God will have husbands obeying their wives (many wives will tell you that their greatest skill is letting the husband think that he is being obeyed, when it’s really her decision).  But it’s not about any human will that is being expressed, but what is in the will of God.  And as long as the family is seeking to be obedient to that will, then that family is well on the way to holiness.
    If Star Wars teaches us anything, it’s that viewing the family through the lens of power and control is a recipe for disaster.  And that message, whether intended or not, is based upon the Word of God, which reminds us that, for a family to be holy, it need not be concerned with who has power over whom, but how all the members of the family can be obedient to the will of God.

Statues of the Holy Family fleeing to Egypt at the Milk Grotto