It took place only a couple of days after I was ordained auxiliary bishop of my home archdiocese of St. Louis, back in 2001. De Smet Jesuit High School had invited me to offer the opening Mass of the school year, and I was very much looking forward to it.

Until, that is, the president of the student body rose to welcome me: “Bishop Dolan, we’re glad you’re here … even though you are a big loser!”

There were gasps! Saddened, concerned faces of the faculty and sweat from me. Then, he went on: “Yes, you are a loser. But, you’re in good company. So am I; so are all of us students here. The world thinks we’re all nerds, filled with stupid ideals about faith, morality, the church, prayer, virtue, love, and eternal life. And they can’t understand why we would follow the biggest loser of them all, Jesus, rejected and ridiculed on a cross, a big flop. It’s good to welcome another loser, Bishop Dolan. You remind us that, in reality, we are all winners, that Jesus is our victor, that the church is our first-place team.”

As is obvious, I’ve never forgotten that stunning welcome.

That comes to mind as our country has decided that our advocacy for the life of the innocent, fragile baby in the womb is a lost cause. Our exhilaration at the long-fought-for-and-awaited overturning of the calamitous Roe vs. Wade decision of January 22, 1973, has turned into depression as we watch state after state consider protection for the extremes of abortion on demand.

“You’re losers,” the well-oiled abortionists snicker, applauded by those who consider themselves “winners” — much of Hollywood, corporate millionaires, academics, the news media, and poll-reading politicians.

They have a point. It can seem pretty bleak. True, there are encouraging facts as well, like the strong preference of most Americans for limits on abortion, and support for lifegiving alternative measures such as adoption, and help for moms with a crisis pregnancy.

Still, it doesn’t look good. It actually kind of looks like Good Friday afternoon, with many passionate pro-lifers worried and frustrated, and well-intentioned allies wondering if we should give-up and just accept the reality that we’ve lost this noble cause.

It’s time for us “losers” to buck-up. In Nativity scenes all around us, we see the Holy Infant come into less than ideal circumstances and are reminded that our cause – – protection of innocent, fragile human life, the tiny infant in the womb – – remains the most pressing issue of justice and civil rights in our beloved country.

We “losers” know that abortion on demand — protected by law, for any reason or none at all — up to the actual birth of the baby, financed by our taxes (and forced upon the majority of physicians and nurses deeply opposed to it) is nothing less than a national shame and tragedy and it must be changed if civilization is to endure.

Why are we shocked when we read that the rate of suicides is so high; that high school students brag about using assault weapons on their classmates; that so many risk their health, and even their life, with illegal drugs; that aggression, weapons, slaughter, and war is commonplace, the convenient answer to any problem.

Why are we surprised? If, as Pope Francis reminds us, we can “throw away” the little baby in the sanctuary of the womb, or “hire a hitman to remove that life deemed inconvenient,” how can we shudder at the other examples — suicide, mass shootings, drugs, war, violence — of the “culture of death.”

Those who push abortion on demand are the actual losers. The baby aborted always loses; the mom — and dad — suffer a sense of loss, even when they deny or suppress it; countries lose as we enter a demographic winter; and culture is defeated as the sacredness of human life is jackbooted.

Ask no more why our society has become coarse, raw, vitriolic, violent, callous.

As Mother Teresa observed, “A nation that allows and promotes the killing of innocent pre-born babies is the poorest in the world.”

A new year is before us; in 2024 let us “losers” move from the grief of Good Friday to the resurrected Truth of Easter Sunday. Life wins. It’s time for the baby to win.
– – –
Cardinal Timothy M. Dolan is the archbishop of New York.

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By Russell Shaw

Have you ever wondered about those weekday feasts between Christmas and New Year’s Day?

They include two martyrs — St. Stephen and St. Thomas Becket — and the Holy Infants who lost their lives to Herod’s vicious pursuit of Christ. They also include the Apostle John, who wasn’t even born at the time of Jesus’ Nativity. What is the church trying to tell us by situating these particular feasts just after the joyful celebration of the Savior’s birth?

I was puzzling over this question when I came across something that suggests the answer. In St. Paul’s Second Letter to the Corinthians, he writes: “For you know the gracious act of our Lord Jesus Christ, that for your sake he became poor although he was rich, so that by his poverty you might become rich” (2 Cor 8:9).

In his inimitable fashion, St. Paul is here summing up the significance of Christ’s Incarnation, which we celebrate at Christmas. The Second Person of the Trinity took on human nature and entered into history (“he became poor”) for the precise purpose of redeeming us from sin (“so that … you might become rich”). This took place through the maternity of the Blessed Virgin — she who said yes to the angel — the chosen instrument by which the God-Man began his redemptive mission (as the solemnity of Mary, the Holy Mother of God, reminds us on New Year’s Day).

Those seemingly out-of-place feasts between Christmas and New Year fit perfectly in this framework.

• Participating in redemption

Like Jesus himself, St. Stephen and St. Thomas Becket “became poor” — they gave up their lives and thereby joined the company of those who participate, by martyrdom, in the redemptive work of Christ. St. Stephen, the first martyr, whose death is recounted in the Acts of the Apostles, died proclaiming Christ. St. Thomas, a 12th-century archbishop of Canterbury, was slain at the king’s behest on Dec. 29, 1170, for upholding the rights of Christ’s church.
As for the Holy Infants, they died in place of Jesus as a counterpart to the chorus of angels who sang, on Christmas night, “Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rest” (Lk 2:14).

St. John the Apostle? The magnificent prologue of his Gospel celebrates the Incarnation (“the Word became flesh and dwelt among us”) while recalling Christ’s passion and its result: “He came to what was his own, but his own people did not accept him … he gave power to become children of God” (Jn 1:11-12).

• ‘We rejoice and mourn at once’

In their own ways, then, these post-Christmas feasts belong where they are. T. S. Eliot understood that when writing his verse drama, “Murder in the Cathedral,” based (loosely) on the martyrdom of St. Thomas a Becket. In a Christmas sermon, Becket notes that Christmas is followed immediately by the feast of the first martyr, St. Stephen. An accident? “By no means,” the soon-to-be martyred archbishop declares, adding:

“Just as we rejoice and mourn at once, in the Birth and in the Passion of Our Lord, so also, in a smaller figure, we both rejoice and mourn in the death of martyrs. A martyr, a saint, is always made by the design of God, for His love of men, to warn them and to lead them, to bring them back to His ways. The true martyr is he who has become the instrument of God, who has lost his will in the will of God.”

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year — and note those martyrs’ feasts that the church wisely situates in between.
– – –
Russell Shaw, a veteran journalist and writer, is the author of more than 20 books, including three novels. His latest book is “Revitalizing Catholicism in America: Nine Tasks for Every Catholic.” (OSV)

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As in all too many Christmases past, sobriety blankets the city of Bethlehem, where Christ’s birth is jubilantly celebrated each year. The joyous preparations that typically mark the approach of the feast of the Nativity have taken on a different hue. The Israel-Hamas war has cast a shadow of sadness and pain on the small city, halting the usual festivities and inflicting further suffering on innocent lives.

While as of this writing Bethlehem hasn’t yet seen fighting, the Christian community there has been severely affected by the war. Residents depend on tourists and pilgrims to sustain the local economy. Because of the war, Bethlehem’s typically bustling streets — in recent years hosting more than 150,000 visitors during the Advent and Christmas seasons — are quiet.

• A sober observance

The Patriarchs and Heads of Churches in Jerusalem issued a powerful statement on Nov. 10, calling for Christians to observe this year’s Christmas feast soberly. “We, the Patriarchs and Heads of the Churches in Jerusalem, call upon our congregations to stand strong with those facing such afflictions by this year foregoing any unnecessarily festive activities,” they wrote.

In times like these, when the weight of loss, displacement and economic hardship bears down heavily, the call to stand in support of those afflicted reverberates deeply. It’s a call not just to observe but to engage in advocating, praying and generously contributing to alleviate the suffering of the victims of war.

Their plea for solidarity and a return to the essence of Christmas urges us, too, amid the grim realities of conflict, to forgo extravagant celebrations and instead focus on the spiritual significance of this holy season. In fact, it captures something of that first Christmas in Bethlehem. After a long journey, Mary and Joseph witnessed the birth of Jesus Christ among the animals, without even a room in an inn. Jesus, in his Incarnation, took on our humanity in its trials and tribulations, offering solace and hope. Similarly, this call by the Patriarchs and Heads of Churches encourages us to stand shoulder to shoulder with our suffering brethren, mirroring Christ’s compassion and solidarity.

• Prayer, support and sacrifice

First, we must pray for peace. May Almighty God see fit to swiftly end this conflict. We must pray for our fellow Christians, for the protection of innocent life and for an end to fighting.

We must not only pray, however. We must channel the spirit of giving by extending our support. We must support those families who choose to remain the stewards of these sacred places. We should support them by purchasing rosaries and crucifixes and Nativities from their woodshops (often offered in many parishes here in the United States during Advent). We should donate to the Franciscan Custody of the Holy Land and the Latin Patriarchate of Jerusalem to contribute to the upkeep of the irreplaceable shrines in their care and to support their humanitarian work.

Finally, we should offer small fasts or make other choices to go without this year to express our solidarity with those who lack basic needs. Christians suffer not only in Bethlehem but in Gaza, where urgent humanitarian needs abound. The Council of the Heads of Churches in Jordan has canceled all Christmas festivities this year out of respect for those who have died in the recent fighting. Celebrations will be restricted to liturgies and quiet gatherings.

The significance of standing in solidarity is illuminated by the hope it offers. It embodies the vision of a New Jerusalem, not only as a physical place but as a state of being — a realm where suffering is alleviated and peace reigns supreme.

As we prepare our own Christmas celebrations, let us heed this call for a profound shift in focus. Let us turn our gaze toward empathy, prayer and tangible support for our brothers and sisters in the Holy Land.

May this Christmas be a testament to our collective commitment to walk alongside those in need, just as Christ walked among us. Let our actions reflect the true message of Christmas — a message of love, compassion, and unwavering solidarity with the afflicted. This Christmas, may healing flourish in the land where the Prince of Peace was born.

– – –
Our Sunday Visitor Editorial Board: Father Patrick Briscoe, O.P., Gretchen R. Crowe, Scott P. Richert, York Young

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There are countless persons, basilicas, churches, shrines, seminaries, convents, towns, and cities named after St. Joseph. My native country, Canada, has him as its patron.

Who exactly is this Joseph? He is that quiet figure named in the Christmas story as the husband of Mary and the stepfather of Jesus, and then basically is never mentioned again. The pious conception we have of him is that of an older man, a safe protector to Mary, a carpenter by trade, chaste, holy, humble, quiet, the perfect patron for manual laborers and anonymous virtue, humility incarnate.

What do we really know about him?

In the Gospel of Matthew, the annunciation of Jesus’ conception is given to Joseph rather than to Mary: Before they came together, Mary was found to be with child by the Holy Spirit. Joseph, her husband, being an upright man and unwilling to shame her, had decided to divorce her quietly, when an angel appeared to him in a dream and told him not to be afraid to take Mary as his wife, that the child in her had been conceived through the Holy Spirit.

What’s in this text?

Partly it’s symbolic. The Joseph of the Christmas story is clearly reminiscent of the Joseph of the Exodus story; he too has a dream; he too goes to Egypt; he too saves the family. Likewise, King Herod is clearly the counterpart of the Egyptian Pharaoh; both feel threatened, and both kill the Hebrew male children only to have God protect the life of the one who is to save the people.

But, after that important symbolism, the Joseph of the Christmas story has his own story. He is presented as an “upright man”, a designation that scholars say implies that he had conformed himself to the Law of God, the supreme Jewish standard of holiness. In every way he was blameless, a paradigm of goodness, which he demonstrates by refusing to expose Mary to shame, even as he decides to divorce her quietly.

What would have happened here historically?

In so far as we can reconstruct it, the background to the relationship between Joseph and Mary would have been this. The marriage custom at the time was that a young woman, essentially at the age of puberty, would be given to a man, usually several years her senior, in an arranged marriage by her parents. They would be betrothed, technically married, but would not yet live together or begin sexual relations for several more years. The Jewish law was especially strict as to the couple remaining celibate while in the betrothal period. During this time, the young woman would continue to live with her parents and the young man would go about setting up a house and an occupation to be able to support his wife once they began to live together.

Joseph and Mary were at this stage of their relationship, legally married but not yet living together when Mary became pregnant. Joseph, knowing that the child was not his, had a problem. If he wasn’t the father, who was? In order to save his own reputation, he could have demanded a public inquiry and, indeed, had Mary been accused of adultery, it might have meant her death. However, he decided to “divorce her quietly”, that is, to avoid a public inquiry which would leave her in an awkward and vulnerable situation.

Then, after receiving a revelation in a dream, he agrees to take her home as his wife and to name the child as his own, thus claiming that he is the father. By doing this, he spares Mary embarrassment, perhaps even saves her life, and he provides an accepted physical, social, and religious place for the child to be born and raised. But he does something else that is not as evident. He shows how a person can be a committed believer, deeply faithful to everything within his religious tradition, and yet at the same time be open to a mystery beyond both his human and religious understanding.

And this was exactly the problem for many Christians, including Matthew himself, at the time the Gospels were written. They were committed Jews who did not know how to integrate Christ into their religious framework. What does one do when God breaks into one’s life in new, previously unimaginable ways? How does one deal with an impossible conception? Joseph is the paradigm. As Raymond Brown puts it: “The hero of Matthew’s infancy story is Joseph, a very sensitive Jewish observer of the Law. In Joseph, the evangelist was portraying what he thought a Jew [a true pious believer] should be and probably what he himself was.”

In essence, Joseph teaches us how to live in loving fidelity to all that we cling to humanly and religiously, even as we are open to a mystery of God that takes us beyond all the categories of our religious practice and imagination.

And isn’t that one of the real challenges of Christmas?

—

Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser is a theologian, teacher, and award-winning author.  

He can be contacted through his website  www.ronrolheiser.com.  
Now on Facebook www.facebook.com/ronrolheiser

Feature photo courtesy of OSV News.

The post Father Ron Rolheiser: Joseph and the Christmas Story appeared first on The Central Minnesota Catholic.

It’s no longer as simple as a sleigh ride through the woods to join the whole family at grandma’s for Christmas Day. Nevertheless, many of us make a trek, sometimes several times annually, to celebrate our holidays together. These days, we battle traffic, hectic work schedules, kids’ commitments, crowded airports and icy freeways to get there.

Although we love our large gatherings and longtime traditions, leaving home for special occasions demands plenty of planning and desire. Here’s how to pull off a holiday away from home with grace — and only a few frazzled nerves.

Since you’re not the host/hostess, it’s easy to get complacent about preparations — and then run out of time at the end. So start early. You’ll need to shift gears and think about getting ready in a new way. Instead of cleaning the guest bedroom or planning your Christmas centerpiece, begin by prepping the car (or, as the case may be, making the airline reservations). Several weeks ahead of time, get the oil changed. If your area promises snow, put the snow tires on. Install the luggage rack. Find a few new kids’ travel trinkets to hide under your seat. Pack snacks and drinks to avoid extra costs en route.

Call your hostess to find out about your share of the cooking, but be careful what dishes you sign up for. Choose foods that travel well. If you’ve a long way to go, perishable items are out. Avoid disasters like sloshing cranberries on your dashboard (and floor mats), leafy salads that freeze in the trunk of the car — and then thaw to a limp green glop — cakes that lose the top layer in transit. Select instead easily transported Christmas breads, holiday bars and cookies, or the makings for a spectacular veggie tray. Or take the ingredients for your famous pecan-cornbread stuffing and assemble it when you arrive.

Buy and wrap gifts early, but don’t add bows and ribbons yet. Instead, pack presents snugly into boxes or an extra suitcase for protected travel. Take along bows to add later so they won’t be flattened beyond recognition when you arrive.

If Santa is part of your tradition, the kids will be wondering how St. Nick will find them if they’re gone on Christmas morning. Let them write to him with their away-from-home Christmas address. While you’re at it, tell them about other things to expect, like attending church in a new place and greeting relatives they might not remember who want to give them bear hugs.

With all the excitement and buildup, kids are bound to feel hyper. The holidays are joyous — and almost unbearably exciting — for children, and, of course, you want them to have a storybook Christmas they’ll remember forever. But having a great time and running wild are two different things.

Let the kids know what behavior you will expect of them as guests. Start talking early, so they have time to listen — several times if necessary. Let them know that grandma (or whoever the host is) will be upset if they fly their new spaceship amid her crystal lamps, or play keep away in the living room. Laughing at Uncle Albert’s warts, using the beds as trampolines, bullying younger cousins and juggling dinner rolls will all cause problems. Try to anticipate potential disasters and let everyone know the limits beforehand.

A special note about presents: Be careful what you bring. A toy fire engine with a real screeching siren seems like a fun idea at the store, but in a small house packed with relatives, it will make everyone climb the walls. Likewise, new gliders and footballs are too tempting not to be thrown, at least a few times, through the sitting room filled with gray heads. New paint sets don’t mix with your hostess’ pastel carpeting. Don’t expect kids to be angels. And don’t bring potential problems to the gathering.

Plan an afternoon activity for the kids. Make sure they have the opportunity to go to the sledding hill, build a huge snowman or pile in the van for the nearest movie theater. That way they’ll have a chance to burn off some energy and have some long-remembered fun. And they’ll leave behind a little peace and quiet for those who need it.

When you’ve done all you can, simply enjoy the holiday. Remember to put your “candle” on a candlestick, not under a bushel, so it will “giveth light unto all that are in the house.” You’ve done your work well (or at least you’ve tried your best), and now you’re ready for a day of fun, family and faith.

– – –

SIDEBAR 1: Holding on to traditions

There’s a hidden danger in always leaving home for the holidays. In the hustle and bustle of preparations, there’s a real possibility that your own family’s special holiday traditions will gradually fade away or get lost in the shuffle. Don’t let it happen.

First of all, make sure you and your spouse and children celebrate the entire season — not just the day itself — by creating your own customs at home before and after your trip. Put up a Christmas tree, go caroling with friends, open Advent calendars, bake sugar cookies together and attend Mass, even if the rest of the family doesn’t.

Second, take some of your traditions with you. Holiday travel can actually enhance and enliven your rituals, bringing a deeper sense of roots to your children. Loved ones at the gathering will come to appreciate the traditional carols you play on Christmas morning, or the stuffing you bake using great-grandma’s old family recipe. Attending church away from home means you’ll soon have a whole new church family to welcome you when you visit.

So go ahead and stop by a homeless shelter on Christmas Eve with your usual extra mince pie. Light a special candle in memory of someone no longer with you. Read your favorite Bible verses aloud before the stockings are hung.

Just because you’re in a different place doesn’t mean you can’t continue your customs. And you will have the satisfaction of knowing you’ve created the best of both worlds: memorable holiday traditions at home and cherished rituals that can travel with you to enhance the holiday with your larger circle of family and friends.
– – –
SIDEBAR 2: A spoonful of sugar

Sibling squabbles. Mother-in-law friction. Blaring TVs and raucous kids. Uncle Ted’s off-color jokes. Buried hatchets that surface again. All the things that strain our nerves and ruin our composure can be present at family holiday gatherings. Here’s how to rise above them.

Try to take care of yourself, despite the hustle and bustle. If you’re a frazzled, exhausted wreck, you’re bound to have a short fuse and tears lurking near the surface. Even though it seems impossible, an extra hour of sleep, a good breakfast and quiet moments of prayer will make your holiday brighter.

Pay attention to details that can avert problems. A prime example is dinner-table seating where strategic placement of relatives will help ensure good times and harmony for everyone. Seat your patient-as-a-saint brother beside your long-winded uncle.

Separate the two loud aunts. Let kids who are best friends sit together. Make sure that grandpa, who’s hard of hearing, is in the middle of things.

Remind yourself that even at the best of family gatherings there are bound to be moments of conflict. Decide in advance what your response will be to minor irritations, and then stick to it. If Aunt Maude says your turkey stuffing is too dry, will you tell her off in a thousand ways — or turn the other cheek? Plan how you want to handle Cousin Bill’s in-your-face cigarette smoke, or your wild little niece who grinds mashed potatoes into the carpet. As annoying as someone’s habits can be, there are times when family good will is worth more than correcting a small and temporary situation.

Refuse to ruin the day. Save squabbles and business discussions for another time.

Vow to be happy. Your good cheer, patience and love will set an unforgettable example for your children — and you will know that you’ve done your best to create a happy, holy holiday for all.

—

Mary B. O’Brien and her family have regularly traveled to relatives for the holidays.

Feature photo courtesy of OSV News.

The post Making spirits bright when you won’t be home for the holidays appeared first on The Central Minnesota Catholic.

By Laura Kelly Fanucci

What if the best thing for us to do during Advent is not more, but less?

When faced with the coming of Christ — in the most visceral way any human could experience another’s arrival, as a mother welcoming new life — Mary did not say “Let me do it!” or “Let me do all the things!” or “Let me do it better than anyone else!”

She said, “Let it be done to me.” Then she waited, for a long time.

Mary’s famous fiat — her affirmation to the angel Gabriel who announced the arrival of Jesus — reminds us what Advent means. Many of us adore this slow, simple season of holy waiting. The sacred resistance to consumerist Christmas (that now seems to starts in September). The liturgical time of preparation for God’s coming among us again, always Emmanuel in our midst.

But we can get caught up in the “doing” of Advent, even with best intentions, forgetting the truth that no practice we take on can come close to the power of God at work in our lives.

Advent is not about devotionals, novenas, Jesse Trees or Christmas calendar countdowns. It is about the Incarnation: the wild, wondrous love of God to come so close to us, to become human like us, to save us. We don’t need to do, read, buy or make anything extra to welcome this wonder.

Believe me, I love Advent more than most. This is the anniversary of when I first learned I would become a mother, after infertility’s agonizing wait. This is my sweet spot in the liturgical year as an introvert (especially now as a mom of many): a time for calm, quiet and waiting in sacred silence. I can be tempted to gather all the Advent books, prayers and practices — eager to eke out the last drops of goodness from this favorite season.

For the first time in many years, I have made exact zero plans for Advent. Health complications have made me realize I cannot do anything extra this December. But in a strange way, this Advent-I-never-wanted has drawn me closer to the original coming of Christ.

I picture Mary, startled by news she did not expect, hearing that a sword will pierce her heart. I realize how the fiat that made her a mother also meant deepest suffering. Yet she loved God and trusted that whatever part she was called to play would be guided by the Holy Spirit.

When Mary pronounced her fiat — the most powerful prayer a human could utter, a resounding yes to God’s incredible, life-changing plan — the impossible became possible. When we become overwhelmed by Christmas chaos or holiday expectations, may we trust that offering a simple surrender to God can turn everything upside down, too.

Mary’s words can become our prayer. Not “let me do it all” but “let it be done to me.”

On whatever list you make for this holiday season — decorating, shopping, wrapping, baking — what to-do might you cross off to clear a corner for stillness? Even as you enjoy the bright music of festivity and the happy gatherings of family and friends, where can you keep space for silence, to listen to God’s word in the quiet of your heart?

If you do not carve out any space in this sacred season for emptiness, how will you be filled by what comes next?
– – –
Laura Kelly Fanucci is an author, speaker, and founder of Mothering Spirit, an online gathering place on parenting and spirituality.

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