Monday, January 1, 2018

GOLD, FRANKICENSE, MYRRH


Homily for January 7th, 2018: Epiphany, Year B. Mt.2:1-12
AIM:  To show how Jesus’ roles as king, priest, and sacrifice, prefigured in the Magi’s gifts, are the model for our lives.
         
          Who were these Magi? Where did they come from? We do not know. On the level of history, the story we have just heard is shrouded in mystery. When we move to the spiritual level, however, the mystery falls away. The gifts which the Magi offered tell us a great deal about Mary’s child. The Magi offered him:
          gold for a king —  incense for a priest — and myrrh for his burial.
Jesus was a king. 
          Yet Jesus was different from all other kings known to history. Asked by Pilate whether he was “King of the Jews,” Jesus was reluctant to claim the title (Jn. 18:33-8). Unlike all other kings, Jesus was never interested in amassing possessions and wealth. He had no palace, not even a fixed abode (cf. Lk 9:58).  He never lorded it over people. Jesus was a shepherd-king who came, he said, “not to be served, but to serve” (Mk 10:45), even to the extent of laying down his life for his sheep (cf. Jn. 10:11).  Yet —
Jesus was also a priest. 
          A priest is a man for others; someone set apart to offer God prayer, praise, and sacrifice on behalf of others. From antiquity the smoke of incense, curling heavenward, has symbolized this priestly activity. From a purely utilitarian point of view, judged by results, burning incense is a sheer waste. So is prayer, if we judge it by measurable, visible results. A skeptic, seeing a priest praying the Breviary, the Church’s daily offering of prayer and praise to God, asked: “How do you know anyone is listening?” Without faith, that question is unanswerable. You cannot prove that anyone is listening. With faith, however, no proof is necessary. 
          Jesus exercised his priesthood in those nights of solitary prayer which we
read about in the gospels. He was no less a priest, however, when he healed the sick, consoled the sorrowing, and comforted people weighed down by suffering and sin. The supreme example of Jesus’ priesthood came, however —
On the cross 
          where Jesus offered his heavenly Father not merely the prayer of his lips and his heart, but his very life. To anyone without faith the cross is a scandalous waste and utter defeat. For those with faith, however, the cross is the place of ultimate victory. The most eloquent symbol of this victory is the empty tomb of Easter morning, which shows that the power of death and evil has been broken.  Because of the sacrifice offered on Calvary by Jesus, our shepherd-king and priest, evil cannot control or master us, unless we consent.  
          The Magi’s gifts foretold all this: gold for a king, incense for a priest, myrrh for his burial. Jesus shares these three functions with us. Paul says that Jesus is “the first-born of many brothers” (Rom 8:29). In baptism we became members of his family, his sisters, his brothers. We share with Jesus, our elder brother, the functions of king, priest, and sacrifice.  
          Like Christ, our shepherd-king, we too are called to serve others. That was Jesus’ explicit command to his disciples when, at the Last Supper, they argued about “who should be regarded as the greatest” (Lk 22:24-26). The noblest of the Pope’s many titles is “Servant of the servants of God.” Whenever popes have lived that title, and inspired others to similar lives of service, the Church has enjoyed spiritual health. Whenever popes and the Church have neglected the servant role, the Church has become weak, flabby, and sick — no matter how much wealth, privilege and power it may have amassed.
          We younger sisters and brothers of Jesus share also in his priestly role.  Like him, we are called to be people of prayer. Prayer is the soul’s breath and food. I was only a schoolboy when I discovered that when I neglected prayer, my grades suffered and my life began to fall apart. I’ve never forgotten that. As sharers of Christ’s priesthood, we are called to bring the love, healing, and power of God to others. We do so not by so much by words — for words are cheap, and our world is inundated by words — as by the force of our example. “Your light must shine before others,” Jesus says, “so that they may see goodness in your acts and give praise to your heavenly Father” (Mt. 5:16).
          Finally, we are called to share in Jesus’ death. God asks us to die daily to the selfishness and self-centeredness that lurk within each of us. And one day God will ask us to give back to him the precious gift of life itself, so that he can raise us to enjoy with Jesus, our elder brother, new, eternal life with God: a life without suffering, without sorrow, without frustration and disappointment, without loneliness, and without sin.  
          The Magi offered Jesus gold, frankincense and myrrh: the best and most costly gifts they had. Somewhere in this church right now there is someone who is longing to do the same. And yet, when you look at your life, you seem to have so little to offer. When you look within, you see so many broken resolutions; good that you might have done and yet failed to do; evil that you could have avoided and did not. You wanted to give Jesus so much. What you have given him up to now is so little. You ask yourself: What can I give him?
          Over a century ago an English poet with an Italian name, Christina Georgina Rosetti, asked that question.  Her answer is beautiful.  Listen.
          What can I give him, poor as I am?
          If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
          If I were a wise man, I would do my part;
          Yet what I can I give him — give my heart.

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