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Feast of the Holy Family Cycle B, 12.31.17

Sirach 3:2-6,12-14/Colossians 3:12-21/ Luke 2:22-40

THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  AGES  AND  OF  THE  AGED  

Of  all  the  Christmas  cards  we  sent  or  received  this  season,  I’m  sure  none  of  them  depicted   the  scene  we   just  heard   from  the  gospel   of   Luke;   the   lovely   scene   in   which  Mary   and   Joseph   bring   the   Christ   Child   to  the  Temple  eight  days   after  his   birth.   It’s   a  wonderful   depiction  of   love   and  praise,   no  less   than   the   tenderness   of   Mary   and  Joseph,  the  joy  of  the  angels  or  the  awe  and  wonder  of  the  shepherds  and  magi.  Did  you  listen   to   it   closely?   Did   you   see   how   an  elderly  woman  named  Anna  emerges,  slow  and   arthritic,   from   some   dark   aisle   in   the  recesses   of   the   Temple?   Did   you   notice  how,   suddenly,   her   tired   face   is   filled  with  delight  at   the   site   of   baby,   that   newborn  baby   nestled   in   the   arms   of   Mary?   Anna  turns   her   watery   eyes   and   gazes   into   the  young   face   of   Mary   and   Anna   begins   to  speak,  boldly,  of  the  grace  and  goodness  of  the  Lord.  

 And   then   there   is   the   old   man  

named   Simeon,   reaching   for   the   child   to  take   him   into   his   shaking   arms.   In   a   voice  trembling  with  both  age  and   reverence  we  hear   old   Simeon   speak   to   the   parents  

solemn  words  about  the  faithfulness  of   the  God  of  Israel.  This  is  a  wonderful  portion  of  the   Christmas   story   according   to   St.   Luke,  but   often   a   forgotten   piece.   Yet,   it’s  necessary   to   complete   the   Christmas  picture  because  it  brings  into  our  awareness  another  group  of  people  who  share  the  joy  of  Christmas  -­‐-­‐  the  elderly,  or  senior  citizens  or,  as  a  new  designation  I  read  yesterday  in  an   article   about   the   elderly   –   “perennials”.  They   too   are   a   crucial   part   of  what  makes  up  the  Holy  Family.  

Doesn’t   the   delight   playing   on   the  face   of   the   prophetess   Anna,   for   example,  mirror   the   delight   and   joy   of   every  grandparent   when   they   see,   for   the   first  time,   a   newborn   grandchild?   I   opened   a  Christmas   card   from   some   friends   in  Colorado.   There   was   an   insert   with   three  pictures   –   of  my   friend’s   son,   his  wife   and  new   baby   and   two   more   photos   of   the  baby.     Debi   wrote   in   the   margin:  Grandparenting   is  a  blast!   I   recall  watching  an   elderly   grandfather   at   a   baptism  reception.   He   was   walking   around   holding  the   baby   in   her   long   flowing   white  baptismal   gown.   No   one   could   have   taken  that   baby   away   from  him.   I   thought  of   old  Simeon  in  today’s  gospel  -­‐-­‐  his  arms  aching  to   embrace   the   child   of   his   children?   This  grandfather’s   face  was  beaming  with  pride  as   he   showed   the   baby   off   at   every   table.  His   face   echoed   Simeon’s   sense   of  fulfillment:  Now,   Master,   you   can   let   your  servant  go   in  peace,   for  my  eyes  have  seen  your  salvation.     Near   the   end   of   his   27-­‐year  confinement  on  Robben  Island  as  a  political  prisoner,   Nelson   Mandela,   the   South  African   revolutionary   who   was   to   become  that  country’s  first  freely  elected  black  head  of   state,   received   a   surprise   visit   from   his  daughter.  For  the  first  time,  he  was  able  to  hold   his   "vulnerable   and   soft"  

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granddaughter   in   his   calloused   hands.  Mandela  wrote  of  that  encounter:  "It  was  a  profound   joy,   I   don't   think  a  man  was  ever  happier  to  hold  a  baby  than  I  was  that  day.”  It's   the   custom   in   some   African   tribes   for  the   grandfather   to   select   a   child's   name.  Mandela   named   the   child   Zaziwe,   which  means  "Hope."  Mandela  said  of  that  choice:  "The  name  had  special  meaning  for  me,  for  during  my  years  in  prison  hope  never  left  me  -­‐   and   now   it   never  would.   I  was   convinced  that   this   child   would   be   part   of   a   new  generation   of   South   Africans   for   whom  apartheid  would  be  a  distant  memory  -­‐  that  was  my  dream."  

    In   today's   Gospel,   the   prophet  Simeon   holds   "hope"   in   his   hands;   in   the  child  of  Mary  and  Joseph,  Anna  realizes  that  God's   promise   of   redemption   has   been  fulfilled.   Such   hope   is   the   heart   of   the  mystery   of   the   Incarnation:   Out   of  compassion   for  his   created,  out  of   love   for  all   his   sons   and   daughters,   God   becomes  one  of  us.  He   reduces  himself,  he  humbles  himself,  he  "empties"  himself,  as  Saint  Paul  so   beautifully   writes   in   his   letter   to   the  Philippians,   in   order   to   take   on   our  humanity   and,   in   doing   so,   sanctifies   our  humanity.   Christ's   birth   manifests   the  constant   and   inexplicable   love   of   God   for  us;  his  ministry  as  Messiah  teaches  us  how  we  can  transform  our  dark  nights  of  despair  and  sin  into  the  eternal  day  of  God's  peace  

and  wholeness;   his   embracing   of   the   cross  is  the  ultimate  victory  of   life  over  death,  of  good   over   evil,   of   hope   over   despair.   God  takes  on  our   life  so   that  one  day  we  might  take   on   God's   life   -­‐   and   that   is   reason   for  hope   -­‐   "zaziwe"   -­‐   in   every   season   of   every  year  and  in  every  generation.    

I   think   those   among   us   who   are  younger   tend   to   take   the   elderly   for  granted,  especially  in  our  American  culture  -­‐-­‐   so   fast-­‐paced   and   aggressive,   task-­‐oriented  and  pushy.  Being  with   the  elderly  forces   us   to   slow   down   a   bit   -­‐-­‐   something  that’s   not   easy   for   many   of   us   to   do.   The  elderly   are   the   links   on   the   continuum   of  human  history.  Their   life  stories  reach  back  into   previous   generations   and   stretch  forward   into   the  next  generation.  They  are  the  ones  who  bear  the  tradition  of  faith  and  pass   it   on   to   us.   They   are   the   great  storytellers  of  our  society.  Having  gained  so  much  from  the  experience  of  their  own  life  histories,   they   are   able   to   speak   in   ways  that  are  comprehensive  and  far-­‐reaching.  

Unfortunately,  the  experience  of  the  elderly  can  be  overlooked.   I‘ve  often  heard  people  say:  “We  better  not  tell  Mom  about  this;  she  wouldn’t  be  able  to  handle  it.”  We  think  that  the  old  are  “fragile.   It’s  true  that  their   physical   agility,   stamina   and   general  health   may   have   been   compromised   over  the   years,   but   I   think   we   make   a   mistake  when   we   generalize   in   calling   the   elderly  “fragile.”    

 

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They   have   the   strength   of   being   that   only  the   crucible   of   living   produces.   They   have  known  and  felt  the  many  changes  in  human  existence   with   its   joys   and   sorrows,   and  many  have  discovered  meaning  in  all  of  it.  

In  our  conversations  with  seniors  we  tend   to   tiptoe   around   issues   that  we   think  “will  upset  them,”  especially  when  it  comes  to  sickness  and  death.  When  we  do  that,  we  may   be   reflecting   our   own  denial   of   death  rather   than   the   elderly’s   fears.   Seniors   live  with   their   finitude   every   moment   of   the  day.  They  know  their   lives   in   this  existence  are  tending  toward  the  end,  even  if  they  are  in  relatively  good  health.  Yet  we  don’t  allow  them  to  talk  about  what  they  know  and  feel  at  this  moment  of  their  lives.  In  the  temple,  Anna  and  Simeon  spoke  profound  words  of  wisdom.  In  speaking  their  faith  and  feelings  they   revealed  what   they   treasured   in   their  lives,  what  truly  mattered  to  them.  By  being  able   to   speak   their   prophecies,   their  unfinished   business   was   concluded:   Now,  Master,   you   can   let   your   servant   go   in  peace.  

Someone   once   wrote:   Life   is   a  country  that  the  old  have  seen  and  lived  in.  Those   who   have   to   travel   through   it   can  only   learn   from   them.  We   should   receive  today’s   gospel   as   a   wonderful   gift   of   the  Christmas   season,   It   reminds   us   of   that  important  branch  of  the  family  who  are  too  often   overlooked   -­‐-­‐   the   aged   and   the  elderly,   who   can   be   among   the   strongest  and   greatest   witnesses   to   our   faith   -­‐-­‐  sacraments  of  God’s  love.    

 The  presence  of  the  elderly  reminds  

us   so   clearly   of   the   promise   of   God:   a  steadfast   love,   an   ageless   love,   a   love   that  extends   from   generation   to   generation.  Isn’t   that   what   we   see   when   an   elderly  woman   holds   a   newborn   baby?   Isn’t   that  what   we   experience   when   a   grandchild  clings   to   his   grandfather’s   hand?   Isn’t   that  part   of   the   mystery   we   all   live?   The   deep  mystery   of   God’s   love,   steadfast   and  faithful,  from  one  generation  to  the  next.  

John Kasper, OSFS