Tell Me the Stories of (Baby) Jesus

November 11, 2016

Have you ever heard the term “Infancy Narratives”? The Infancy Narratives are the stories in the Gospels about the conception, birth and childhood of Jesus. These stories make up a very small part of the Gospels, so we actually know very little about Jesus’ infancy and childhood.

Here are a few interesting facts about the Infancy Narratives:

Only Matthew and Luke include Infancy Narratives in their Gospels (Matt. 1-2; Lk. 1-2).
Matthew’s account and Luke’s account are very different from each other. For example, in Luke’s account, the annunciation (announcement of the conception of Jesus) is made to Mary, but in Matthew’s account, it is made to Joseph.
Our traditional nativity scenes or creches are usually a combination of the stories from Luke and Matthew. For example, in Luke’s Gospel, the first visitors to see Jesus are shepherds. In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus’ first visitors are the magi.
Although there are many differences among the two Infancy Narratives, they agree in essential content: Mary has conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit, and her son will be a savior, the Son of God.

If you are interested in learning more about the Infancy Narratives and want the opportunity to retreat with these texts and reflect on their meaning in your own life, I’m giving an Advent Retreat entitled “Reflecting on the Birth of Jesus in Scripture and in Our Lives” at St. Thomas Beckett Church on Sat., December 3, from 9:00 a.m.-12:00 p.m. All are welcome! Registration information can be found here: Upcoming Programs.

How Nicholas Really Became Santa

January 1, 2016

In an effort to keep my 5 year old son informed about who Santa Claus really is, I asked him to watch a video my daughters enjoyed when they were his age: Nicholas: The Boy Who Became Santa. Of course, this was his last choice behind Ninjago, Miles from Tomorrowland, and Peppa Pig. But he did watch the video. When he wandered into the kitchen after it ended, I asked, “So how did Nicholas become Santa?” With a little shrug, Julian said, “He grew a beard.”

One might say that Julian had missed the entire point. Or perhaps he summed it all up with a keen observation. To grow a beard is to grow up. Nicholas grew up. He grew a beard. He grew older. It turned white. And indeed, somewhere in this living, growing, and aging process, he became “Santa” – holy, a saint.

So how did Nicholas become Santa? He grew up. Too simplistic? Maybe.

Whether you grow a beard this year, or maybe just a few new wrinkles, I’m sure you will all grow wiser and hopefully a little more “santa.” I’m happy to be journeying and growing and, yes, aging with all of you. Happy, joyous, prosperous and transformative New Year, friends!

Merry Christmas

December 23, 2015

“No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known” (Jn. 1:18).

With a heart full of gratitude, I wish each of you and your families a very merry Christmas.

With prayers in this holy season,

Amy

The Right Gift for a Savior

December 16, 2015

The iconic image of wise men breaking open their treasure chests before the child Jesus is a powerful one (Mt. 2:11). The magi travelled a great distance to bring gifts of wealth and luxury, gifts fit for a king. This is how they paid him homage.

The beautiful story of the magi may lead us to ask what gifts we will bring Jesus. What does he want from us?

To understand what Jesus wants, we must first ask why he has come into our hearts and into our world. The Gospels answer clearly: “He will save his people” (Mt. 1:21). This is not just a King but a Savior! Can the gifts we bring acknowledge this even more magnificent mission?

Yes, they can and they should. We must bring him the things a Savior wants most – the things within us that need saving. We need not travel from east to west but only deep within our own hearts, to bring out the things that lie hidden. These are the gifts Jesus wants. This is how we worship a Savior.

Lord Jesus, I lay before you the gold of my sins and weaknesses, the incense of my painful memories and relationships, and the myrrh of my fears and anxieties. These do not seem like gifts fit for a King, and yet I know they are gifts worthy of a Savior. I offer them to you from the treasure-chest of my heart, knowing that you can transform and redeem them. I come to you open, empty and vulnerable; be a quiet, loving, saving presence in me. Amen.

Then Time Is Always Ours

December 7, 2015

For the past year or so, I have enjoyed a “creative correspondence” with a gifted poet named Scott Eagan. I was delighted to discover that Scott lives and farms at Madonna House, the ongoing apostolate of one of my heroes, Servant of God Catherine Doherty. Within the Madonna House community, Scott lives the simplicity and quiet of the Holy Family of Nazareth. He works the land, he prays and writes.

Scott’s poems reveal the heart of a farmer, one who is close to the land. In a time when so many of us are somewhat disconnected from nature, Scott’s poems provide an intimate window into the beauty of rural Canada, the changing seasons, farm animals, wild animals, harvests and crops, sun, moon and stars. My own world is broadened by the images he shares and his interpretations of life and nature.

As the longest, darkest days of winter approach, and as we wait with both patience and impatience for the birth of our Savior, I wanted to share with you one of Scott’s poems: “Winter Time.” If we learn to appreciate the gift of each season, the rhythm of life that God has prescribed, then no time is ever fallow, no season wasted.

And so before we look forward to spring, may we pay winter our respects, and find in her darkest night the Gift that, like nature herself, can never be rushed – the unity between God and human beings.

Thank you, Scott.

Winter Time

Times change

what once was our summer

warm sun and rains

almost as if God had smiled on

every solid working day

and every blessed night of rest …

then autumn passed

crimson and gold washed away

by cold, grey rains

through gusty winds ofpassage