The learned, old sage was highly regarded by the villagers because his admonitions led to improvements in the quality of life for just about everyone. At the height of his popularity, however, the sage suddenly stopped making public appearances in the village square. At first, most did not seem to miss the man and his messages. Eventually, though, a few of the villagers became curious and made their way to the sage’s humble abode. The managed to gain entry to the sparse dwelling and came upon the scene they hoped they would not find. The sage was slumped in a chair, a copy of The Earth in Balance open on the table near his body.

Before it could be buried, the sage’s body was examined by the county coroner. The coroner’s report revealed that the sage had a cancerous tumor which had metastasized. Had the tumor been detected early, the coroner said, the sage may have had a chance.

Word quickly spread among the villagers. A great man, they rued, had been worrying about the wrong thing. Would that he were more wise about himself, they wistfully opined.

In today’s gospel, Jesus has already entered Jerusalem but has not yet undergone his passion. Conscious of his mission in the city of the prophets, the Lord warns his disciples about God’s judgment. At this juncture, the purpose of Christ’s preaching is to call the attention of the disciples to the coming of the Son of Man.

In the course of preparing the disciples for the day of judgment, Jesus refers to two different kinds of signs. The first kind of sign is found in the sun, the moon, and the stars (Luke 21:25). On earth, there will be the roaring of the sea and the waves (Luke 21:25). The second kind of sign is found in the heart—one which has become drowsy from carousing and drunkenness (Luke 21:34). The first kind of sign is external, it’s centered on the cosmos, the world, the environment. The second kind of sign is internal, it’s centered on the spirit, on realities harder to quantify.

The last ecumenical council called our attention to signs. In Gaudium et Spes, we were bid to read the signs of the times (GS, 4). Two things happened though as time passed and we sought to apply the teachings of the Second Vatican Council to our particular circumstances. First, we did not always advert to the precise manner for reading the signs of the time. Gaudium et Spes counsels that we ought to interpret the signs of the time in the light of the Gospel (GS, 4). Very often, our interpretation was done using a penlight rather than the lamp on a lampstand (Matt. 5:15). Second, our interpretation was predominantly of external signs. Our interpretation of internal signs failed to keep pace.

In the post-conciliar period, it seems as if we have fared better at detecting social characteristics like poverty and unemployment as obstacles to the righteousness of the Kingdom. Our sensitivity to personal features like extravagance of spirit, we have been slower in recognizing as impediments to the righteousness of the Kingdom.

In the Second Vatican Council’s other document on the Church, Lumen Gentium, the Council Fathers urged that all the members of Christ’s Body devote themselves to answering the call to holiness. This, the Council Fathers admitted, is expressed in many different ways by individuals. With due regard for the different states of life, the Council Fathers still suggested that the practice of the evangelical counsels occupy a special place in the witness to holiness (LG, 39).

Many refer to the weeks following Thanksgiving as the Christmas season. We realize this is a misnomer as it is only the Christmas season commercially. As far as we are concerned, we are just beginning the Advent season. During the Advent season, we are going to feel the pressure at just about every turn to shop and buy. Sometimes, the pressure to live this way will be accompanied by otherwise helpful benefits. For instance, some of the inducement to shop and buy comes in the form of aid to the indigent and needy. It’s not unusual to hear, for example, that one percent of your receipt in retail stores and at restaurants is going to a local program to alleviate poverty. Doing well and doing good at the same time, we might say. Who would object?

One of the three evangelical counsels is poverty. Members of a Religious institute or those living a consecrated life promise to live poorly in a material sense as a way of reflecting their dependence on God for all things. But even those who are not members of a Religious institute or living a consecrated life are still enjoined to live a poverty of spirit.

Living poorly in spirit is a blessing now and a promise of heaven later (Matt. 5:3). It’s a sign—an interior one at that—which can be cultivated if we are so inclined. It’s also probably a sign of contradiction (Luke 2:34) given the acquisitiveness of our culture, especially highlighted at this time of year.

In today’s gospel, the evangelist exhorts us to be vigilant at all times (Luke 21:36). He invites us further to pray that we might be strong (Luke 21:36). This seems like an eminently worthy way to begin our Advent observance—to be at least as vigilant to interior signs as we are to exterior signs. Proper discernment may even require that we postpone an alertness to external signs so that our hearts not become drowsy or susceptible to a capital sin such as greed.

Along with these two important moments in the life of Karol Wojtyla, mention can also be made of a project which the Pope has been working on since the earliest days of his papacy, and even further back to his priestly ministry in Poland. This project has been the development of a Theology of the Body, articulated in catechetical addresses and found in documents like Mulieris Dignitatem (1988) and the Letter to Women (1995).

All three considerations come to mind as the Church celebrates the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception. Today, our appreciation of the place of Our Lady in the Church is helped along by a bishop with a deep Marian devotion, terrific courage and insightful ideas about the meaning of human sexuality.

As we gather to hear the Lord’s word today, the Church offers us the account of the Annunciation. The evangelist tells us at the beginning of the text that the angel Gabriel was sent to a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph. The virgin’s name of course is Mary (Luke 1:26-27). After making Mary aware that she is full of grace and the Lord is with her (Luke 1:28), Gabriel reassures her, “Do not be afraid, Mary” (Luke 1:30). Gabriel goes on to tell Mary that she “will conceive in [her] womb and bear a son. . . . He will be great and will be called Son of the Most High” (Luke 1:31-32). Mary is at first uncomprehending. “How can this be, since I have no relations with a man?” (Luke 1:34). Gabriel then explains to her that “[t]he Holy Spirit will come upon you” (Luke 1:35. After listening to the greeting, the announcement and the explanation, Mary replies, “I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38).

Our Lady is unique in history because she exercises two vocations simultaneously. She is virgin and mother at the same time. In Mary, virgin and mother, fact and spirit converge harmoniously. Hence, it is possible for mothers to practice a kind of virginity, and for virgins to practice a kind of motherhood. Those who are factually mothers can be virgins according to the Spirit, and those who are factually virgins can be mothers according to the Spirit.

In Pope John Paul II’s Theology of the Body, virginity and motherhood complement each other. The obvious differences in the two vocations notwithstanding, we say that both states of life find their origin in the one Spirit. As we have been given to drink of the one Spirit (1 Cor. 12:13), so are mothers and virgins linked together by the one fruit of chastity (Gal. 5:23). As the Catechism reminds us, all Christ’s faithful are called to lead a chaste life in keeping with their particular states of life (2348). And then quoting Saint Ambrose, the Catechism states that spouses, widows and virgins are called to be chaste. We do not praise any one of them to the exclusion of the others. . . . This is what makes for the richness of the discipline of the Church (2349).

Saint Matthew’s Gospel records how the apostles were in a boat a few miles offshore and it was being tossed about by the waves. Just then, Jesus came toward them, walking on the sea. The apostles were terrified and thought Jesus to be a ghost. To this, Jesus said, “Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid” (Matt. 14:22-27). Even after Jesus had risen from the dead, the apostles could still not let go of their fear (John 20:19). It was not until the Holy Spirit in the form of tongues of fire descended upon them that they were fully relieved of their fear (Acts 2:1-4).

Mary was unafraid in the Annunciation because of her complete and total abandonment to the Spirit. She was fully receptive to the Spirit’s promptings long ago and has always lived without sin because perfect love drives out fear (1 John 4:18).

Our Lady challenges all of us to embrace our vocations confidently in the sure expectation that God brings his faithful ones through the valleys of uncertainty and anxiety to the green pastures of hope and peace. Even when it came to Calvary and her Son’s death, Our Lady still did not fear because of an abiding trust that the Lord’s word to her would be fulfilled (Luke 1:45). In trial and tribulation, may we likewise be upheld and vindicated through an unwavering reliance upon God and his word.

When Mary gave her Fiat, her response did not come out of a vacuum. It was wholly consistent with the trajectory of her life. She was unstintingly open to God and not anything but selfless in the way she placed herself at the Lord’s disposal. To God, Mary said with the entirety of her being Totus Tuus, Completely Yours.

In calling herself a handmaid and positioning herself beneath the divine word (Luke 1:38), Our Lady makes of herself a gift. In a paraphrase of the Second Vatican Council, it is through a sincere giving of ourselves that we discover our true selves (GS, 24). In the giving of ourselves to God and one another, a communion of persons is established and deepened to the point where any human falsehood fades away and the full light of integrity shines forth in our good works.

Saint Luke prefers to introduce John as a good historian would. He situates the prophet in an era, placing John in the time when Tiberius Caesar reigned and Pontius Pilate governed (Luke 3:1). This, according to Saint Luke, is the time when Herod was tetrarch in Galilee, his brother Philip tetrarch in Ituraea and Trachonitis and Lysanias the tetrarch in Abilene (Luke 3:1). Saint Luke takes care also to mention that John flourishes during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas (Luke 3:2).

Saint Luke is further set apart from the other synoptic evangelists in that he offers more reference points in John’s message. According to the accounts in Saint Matthew and Saint Mark, John is a voice crying out in the desert (Matt. 3:3; Mark 1:3). On this point, Saint Luke does not disagree (Luke 3:4). Both Matthew and Mark describe John’s role as that of preparing the Lord’s way (Matt. 3:3; Mark 1:3). Once again, Luke concurs (Luke 3:4). But unlike Saint Matthew and Saint Mark who just make reference to the Lord’s paths (Matt. 3:3; Mark 1:3), Saint Luke includes references to valleys being filled in, mountains and hills being made low, winding roads being made straight and rough ways being made smooth (Luke 3:5). Saint Luke the historian is also a spiritual geographer.

Additional references to land types are found in today’s first reading. Here, the prophet Baruch writes that every lofty mountain will be made low and age-old depths and gorges will be filled to level ground (Bar. 5:7). The sacred author goes on to write that God is leading Israel in joy by the light of his glory (Bar. 5:9). Along with illumination, the Lord gives to Israel his mercy and justice for company (Bar. 5:9).

For God’s covenant to hold up and perdure, there is the ever constant need for us to undergo conversion. Saint Luke and Baruch before him present this in terms of changing the contours of the land of our lives. Hearts, minds, souls and consciences must be converted to the Lord, and we ought not to underestimate the considerable effort it will require on our part. But we are consoled that this good work has already begun in us (Phil. 1:6). And the One who has begun it in us will just as surely bring it to completion (Phil. 1:6).

It is true that we need someone to prod us and shake us out of our complacency. The one to do this of course is Saint John the Baptist. He is the one whose uncompromising dedication to the word of God and ascetical living assist us in our arrival at the day of Christ Jesus (Phil. 1:6).

In today’s second reading, Saint Paul prays that the Philippian Christians will be able to discern what is of value (Phil. 1:10). John the Baptist discovered what is of value, and the place where this was accomplished for the Lord’s precursor was the desert (Luke 3:2). There, the word of God came to him (Luke 3:2).

The desert is where Jesus went too. At the beginning of his public ministry, Jesus engaged the Evil One (1 John 5:18-19) in spiritual combat and was victorious, intent as always on doing the will of the One who sent him (John 5:30).

The desert of our conscience is where we go in our spiritual landscape to confront the darkness of evil and sin. There, the word of God enlightens us that we might advance securely in the glory of God (Bar. 5:7).

Advancement in the glory of God cannot occur though if we are unwilling to claim responsibility for our misdeeds and omissions. We will remain stuck on a path too cluttered to see the light of God’s glory (Bar. 5:9) unless we humbly admit to our faults and failings.

In this Jubilee Year, we have been offered a wonderful opportunity to smooth out the rough ways of our selfishness and laziness. Let us remember that the bounty of the Lord’s forgiveness does not cease when this year of favor closes. It remains accessible to us all the time in the Sacrament of Penance.

The Catechism puts it so very well. “In this sacrament, the sinner, placing himself before the merciful judgment of God, anticipates in a certain way the judgment to which he will be subjected at the end of his earthly life. For it is now, in this life, that we are offered the choice between life and death, and it is only by the road of conversion that we can enter the Kingdom, from which one is excluded by grave sin” (1470). We ought not to be fearful about calling ourselves sinners for the Lord makes available to us the healing balm of his mercy. Are we too proud in saying that we don’t need this gift from the Lord?

The prayer of Jesus at the Last Supper was for joy. He prayed that the apostles experience joy, so great in fact that it could not be taken from them (John 16:22). And so great would this joy be that the apostles would share it completely with Christ (John 17:13). As Jesus prays in just this fashion for the apostles, he also gives to them a mission, a work to do. “As you have sent me, [Father], into the world, so I [have] sent them into the world” (John 17:18). To carry out their work in the world joyfully, it is necessary for the apostles to be consecrated. And thus Jesus consecrates them in the truth (John 17:19).

The gospel for the Third Sunday of Advent has John the Baptist dispensing advice. And who are those who ask for the Baptist’s counsel? They are, according to Saint Luke, the crowds, the tax collectors and the soldiers. A diverse lot to be sure. They are—all of them—people unavoidably in the world. Crowds, for instance, don’t normally coalesce with the characteristics of pious associations. If ever they did, we would call them worshippers or congregants or members of the assembly even. But none of these expressions or similar ones is used by the evangelist. There is then a certain presumed secularity in the expression “the crowds.” To be fair of course, secular is not always the same as anti-religious. Tax collectors do not enjoy a favorable reputation in the gospels. They are regarded there as sinners, especially despised because they bought from the Romans the right to collect taxes, and then used these positions to cheat their own people. The soldiers, the exegetes say, are not troops belonging to Herod Antipas or the Roman procurator. Rather, they are like armed guards for the tax collectors. Again, we would have to say that the tax collectors and the soldiers are not the typical candidates for admission into a sodality.

This says something very significant about John himself. Even though he spent considerable time in the desert away from others, he was still not thought to be inaccessible. He was, in fact, quite approachable. Further, he had something to offer to those ineluctably in the world. To the crowds, John recommended that they share cloaks and food with those who have none of these (Luke 3:11). To the tax collectors, John urged them to stop collecting more than what is prescribed (Luke 3:13). To the soldiers, the Baptist gave advice that they should not practice extortion, not falsely accuse anyone and be satisfied with their wages (Luke 3:14).

In Christifideles Laici (1988), the apostolic exhortation of Pope John Paul II, the Holy Father considers how the various members of Christ’s Body share in the mission and work of the Church. The lay faithful, according to the pontiff, have a role which is properly and particularly theirs and it has a secular character. The world . . . becomes the place and the means for the lay faithful to fulfill their Christian vocation. The lay faithful are called . . . to contribute to the sanctification of the world . . . by fulfilling their own particular duties (15).

This message needs to be better known and better heeded in a new century and a new millennium. As we have witnessed a deeper consciousness of the call to holiness on the part of all the baptized and as we have seen a need to re-evangelize our culture, there is an awareness that men and women cannot produce good fruit in the vineyard if they are deprived of guidance and formation. Put another way, the lay faithful in the world must have sound teaching on which they can draw.

The crowds, the tax collectors and the soldiers and the lay faithful today can count on sound teaching from John because he was sent from God (John 1:6). He came to testify to the light but he himself was not the light (John 1:7-8). While he was obviously not the light, John’s ministry of preaching repentance and reform meant nonetheless that he had to expose the deeds of darkness.

Jesuit Father James Schall writes that a Jesuit confrere, Fr. Francis Canavan, refers to the disappearance of “hard” teachings as preaching by silence. That is, we refuse to mention publicly the sins we commit which cause us embarrassment or threaten our popularity with those who mold and shape popular opinion. Father Schall writes further that “Christianity is a joyful religion, but it is not a ‘soft’ one. It is not primarily concerned that ‘we feel good about ourselves.’ It is, in fact, concerned with the truth of what is, including the truth of mysterious disorder we find actively in our souls which we cannot ourselves cure, in spite of our many psychological, sociological, economic and political theses. Christianity wants us to know ourselves to be capable of sin and of wanting to be rid of it when we do. Nor [does Christianity want us] to call evil something which it is not, namely, good.” Father Schall goes on to say that “the greatest need of missionaries in the modern world is found in those parishes or communities—they are not just in our land—in which the commandments are not taught, in which sins are not explained as the Church has explained them from her foundation, in which the forgiveness, not the covering over, of sins is a major preparation for understanding and participating in the joy that is revealed to us.”

John exposes the darkness of greed in today’s gospel, as he also exposes cheating, extortion and false accusation (Luke 3:11, 13-14). The Baptist even teaches the “hard” teaching that it was not right for Herod to live with his brother’s wife (Mark 6:18). For refusing to preach by silence, John was arrested, chained and imprisoned (Mark 6:17).

What can be said of Jesus in the Letter to the Hebrews can also be said of the Blessed Virgin Mary. A body was prepared for her, and it began to take form in the womb of Saint Anne. Later on, perhaps at the age of seventeen or so, Mary offered this same yet different body to the Lord in her Fiat, her “Yes” to God.

Father Richard Neuhaus, in his wonderful book Death on a Friday Afternoon (2000), writes that “it is not too much to say that Mary’s consent to the announcement of the angel that she was to be the mother of the Messiah made our salvation possible. To be sure, the death of Jesus Christ on the Cross made our salvation possible, but without Mary’s consent that would not have happened. Mary’s fiat—her ‘Let it be done to me according to your word’—inaugurated the central act of salvation history.”

Mary’s consent is inferred in today’s gospel. In Saint Luke’s account of the Visitation, Elizabeth praises the Virgin of Nazareth as blessed among women (Luke 1:42). Elizabeth, a kinswoman or relative, is blessed too. She who was called barren (Luke 1:7) is now in the sixth month of her pregnancy. Mary is further blessed in the words of Elizabeth because she believed that the word spoken to her by the Lord would be fulfilled (Luke 1:45). Still another blessing is acknowledged by Elizabeth. This is the one given to Mary as the fruit of her womb (Luke 1:42). As much as the Annunciation was the Holy Spirit coming upon Mary and the power of the Most High overshadowing her (Luke 1:35), the Virgin’s assent still had to be freely given because God does not violate the freedom of his creatures. What the Visitation does is allow another creature, namely, Elizabeth, to marvel in awe at God’s design.

God’s design is a loving one according to Pope Paul VI in his wise encyclical Humanae Vitae (1968). Husband and wife by the mutual gift of themselves . . . develop that union of two persons (HV, 8), writes the pontiff. This union though is not confined wholly to the loving interchange of husband and wife; it also contrives to go beyond this to bring new life into being (HV, 9). By taking seriously the love-giving and the life-giving responsibilities of the conjugal act then, spouses may be said to minister the Creator’s design (HV, 13). And by faithfully ministering God’s design, spouses bear witness to the fecundity of authentic marital love (HV, 9).

The Catechism calls fecundity a gift of marriage, for conjugal love naturally tends to be fruitful (2366). In contraceptive intercourse, though, spouses withhold their free consent and do not allow God’s loving design to take hold in their own wills. In negating fertility, spouses negate their status as creatures.

Mary is the model of discipleship in her total availability to the will of God. She had no business on her own. She was always on call according to Fr. Neuhaus in his book Death on a Friday Afternoon. By saying “Yes” to the angel and agreeing to be the mother of the Messiah, he continues, Mary had created a situation beyond her control. Availability is letting God have his way, even when it brings us to the Cross.

Saint Paul offers us a beautiful description of Jesus’ death on the Cross in his Letter to the Philippians. He writes there that Jesus empties himself (Phil. 2:7). As he empties himself on Calvary, Our Lord establishes a small community at the foot of the Cross. “Woman, behold, your son,” Jesus says to his mother (John 19:26). And to John, he says, “Behold your mother” (John 19:27).

The Synoptic Gospels depict the Crucifixion in terms of darkness. Matthew, Mark and Luke write that a darkness came over the whole land (Matt. 27:45; Mark 15:33; Luke 23:44). The Fourth Gospel does not mention any darkness on Golgotha. And that’s because for Saint John the Cross is Jesus’ glorification. His hour had finally arrived. Not so earlier in Jesus’ public ministry. When he and his mother were attending the same wedding feast at Cana in Galilee, Our Lord was notified that the wine had run out. When Mary tried to intervene and prevail upon Jesus to do something, he told her, “My hour has not yet come” (John 2:4). And what was Our Lady’s response then? To the waiters, she said, “Do whatever he tells you” (John 2:5). Again, Fr. Neuhaus writes insightfully. “By doing the will of God she first became his mother, and thus did she become the Mother of the Church, the mother of all who do the will of God. Of course her last word had to be and will always be, ‘Do whatever he tells.’ Wherever or however Mary appears, her message can finally be none other than that: ‘Do whatever he tells you.’ Her motherhood increases through all who obey her son.”

In the Annunciation, Mary expresses astonishment when told that she was going to be the Mother of God. “How can this be since I have no relations with a man” (Luke 1:34)? Elizabeth has her own astonishment in the Visitation. “How does this happen to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me” (Luke 1:43)?

How can? . . . How does?

What brings us to church now is a voice—a voice not from late in the second millennium but from early in the first millennium. This voice made its debut when it pierced the stillness of the night air in Bethlehem. It was the voice of a Baby crying. But how were the people of first century Palestine to know that this Baby crying was their long awaited Savior? Some may have known of Isaiah’s prophecy that a child born, a son given would be called Wonder-Counselor, God-Hero, Father-Forever, and Prince of Peace (Isa. 9:5). But how could this have been detected in a Baby crying?

The people of first century Palestine had to wait. They waited until the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry when he announced: “The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the gospel” (Mark 1:15). We hear these words pronounced every year as ashes are imposed on our foreheads, marking the beginning of our Lenten journey which ends inexorably at the Cross.

The juxtaposition of Christmas and Good Friday is not very odd at all. And that’s because these two commemorations—one of birth and the other of death—are joined together by wood. The manger in which the Virgin laid the Christ Child (Luke 2:7) was made of wood. The Cross on which hung the Savior of the world was made of wood, too.

While hanging on the wood of the Cross, the Savior heard the voice of Dismas: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom” (Luke 23:42). Dismas was a truthful man and he knew that he had been condemned justly and that his sentence fit his crime (Luke 23:41). He also knew that Jesus had not done anything wrong (Luke 23:41). The Savior then lifts his voice—the voice of any and all millennia—and says to Dismas: “Today, you will be with me in Paradise” (Luke 23:43).

Two thousand years ago, Paradise came to Bethlehem as the angel proclaimed the gospel of great joy (Luke 2:10). But short-lived this joy would be. In Salvifici Doloris, Pope John Paul II’s 1984 apostolic letter, the Holy Father refers to Jesus as the Man of Sorrows (17). Our Lord is called this because he had taken upon himself the sins of us all (Isa. 53:4-6).

The twentieth century was a most sorrowful era, certainly the bloodiest on record with two world wars, many more regional conflicts and a grisly body count stemming from every kind of totalitarian calamity. The twentieth century was the century of two holocausts—the first one in the concentration camps of Europe and the second in abortion mills all over the world. Like ancient Jerusalem, we had failed to recognize the time of our visitation (Luke 19:44).

A failure to recognize a time of visitation is a failure to undergo conversion. It’s the kind of moral rehabilitation Saint Paul has in mind when the Apostle writes to Titus: “The grace of God has appeared, saving all and training us to reject godless ways and worldly desires and to live temperately, justly and devoutly in this age” (Titus 2:11-12). In delivering himself into the hands of sinful men, Jesus cleansed for himself a people as his own, eager to do what is good (Titus 2:14).

Living temperately, justly and devoutly is a matter of training—the training we give our ears when we hear the words spoken in the Sacrament of Penance: “I absolve you of your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” (Rite of Penance). The rich young man was indeed eager when he put the question to Jesus: “What good must I do to gain eternal life?” (Matt. 19:16). In Veritatis Splendor, the 1993 encyclical of Pope John Paul II, the Holy Father explains that the good cannot be achieved at the expense of the truth (VS, 84). It is only in keeping goodness and truth together that we can ever possibly attain the lofty status of free men and women.

As the Christ Child lay in the manger (Luke 2:7), his tender flesh pressed against wood. More than thirty years later, the flesh of the God-Man pressed against the wood of the Cross. His crucified flesh, the pontiff tells us, fully reveals the unbreakable bond between freedom and truth (VS, 87). If we can give thanks for a flesh that is destroyed, then surely we can give thanks today for a flesh that is brand new. In the Holy Eucharist, immolated flesh becomes life-giving flesh. The Incarnation of Jesus made him subject to death. But God has conquered death through the Resurrection. Jesus’ Resurrection from the dead is the supreme exaltation of the fruitfulness and saving power of a freedom lived out in truth (VS, 87).

All three readings at Mass today make reference to obedience. In the first reading, the sacred author writes “he who obeys his father brings comfort to his mother” (Sir. 3:6). In the longer form of today’s second reading, Saint Paul instructs children to obey their parents in everything (Col. 3:20). Finally, in the gospel, Saint Luke tells us that Jesus at the age of twelve was obedient to his mother and foster father (Luke 2:51).

On this last day of the Year 2000, the Church celebrates the Feast of the Holy Family. As the three readings of the Eucharistic Sacrifice today call our attention to obedience, so also does each person in the Holy Family witness to this virtue. The obedience of Jesus has just been adverted to but we need to say something about the obedience of the Blessed Mother and Saint Joseph.

Earlier this month, we celebrated our patronal feast day here in the United States. When we came to Mass on the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception, we listened to another text from Saint Luke’s Gospel. The account we heard on December 8th is the evangelist’s description of the Annunciation. Upon hearing the angel Gabriel’s greeting, Saint Luke writes, the Virgin Mary was greatly troubled (Luke 1:29). Even with the joyful announcement that she would conceive and bear a son (Luke 1:31), the Virgin remained perplexed. “How can this be, since I have no relations with a man?” (Luke 1:34), Mary inquired. The angel continued that the Holy Spirit would come upon her and thus by the power of God would Mary carry the Son of God in her womb (Luke 1:35). The Virgin’s response to all this was unequivocal: “I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38).

The best way to characterize the Virgin’s response is to call it an act of obedience. She receives God’s invitation in faith and cooperates completely with the Lord’s favor to her. Freely and without reservation, Mary assents to God’s plan.

On one of the days immediately preceding Christmas, we listened to the text of what is sometimes called the Second Annunciation. Here, in Saint Matthew’s Gospel, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and reassured the carpenter that he should not worry about taking his wife Mary into his home (Matt. 1:20). This angel repeated what Gabriel told the Virgin. “[I]t is through the Holy Spirit that this child has been conceived in her” (Matt. 1:20). The evangelist then adds that “[w]hen Joseph awoke, he did as the angel of the Lord had commanded him” (Matt. 1:24).

Here, too, we have no better way to characterize the conduct of Saint Joseph than to say that he is obedient. He had already made up his mind to divorce Mary quietly (Matt. 1:19) but reversed himself at the Lord’s bidding. Trustingly, Joseph commits himself to the course of Providence.

The Annunciation stories demonstrate an obedience of adults, of one man and one woman who choose to act in a certain way and therefore are considered responsible for their behavior. The case of today’s gospel is different, however. Jesus is still of juvenile consideration when he gives over an obedience to Mary and Joseph in today’s gospel.

The Catechism has this to say about obedience. “As long as a child lives at home with his parents, the child should obey his parents in all that they ask of him when it is for his good or that of the family. . . . Obedience toward parents ceases with the emancipation of the children; not so respect, which is always owed to them. This respect has its roots in the fear of God, one of the gifts of the Holy Spirit” (2217).

During the public ministry and again in the passion, well after Jesus’ emancipation, the Lord shows respect for his mother even in the way he addresses her at Cana and from the Cross (John 2:4; John 19:26). Were Joseph still on the scene (we presume that he had already died), he would no doubt have received from Jesus the respect due to him also.

While he respected, Jesus didn’t stop obeying. And we’re all the better that Jesus never gave up on obedience. To describe Jesus’ redeeming death on the Cross, Saint Paul writes to the Philippian Christians that it was an act of obedience (Phil. 2:8). Jesus acts obediently because of a consciousness of his own Sonship. The author of the Letter to the Hebrews acknowledges this, “[As] Son, he learned obedience from what he suffered” (Heb. 5:8).

The adopted sons and daughters of the Father will have to practice obedience to their rightly formed consciences if they are to live with Christ in glory. And in the exercise of their right judgments of conscience, the adopted sons and daughters of the Father will invariably undergo suffering too.

Christ though has transformed suffering. And because he has, it is possible for us to show compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience (Col. 3:12) all the while we are being reduced. Witnessing to these virtues—the ones marked out in today’s second reading—we are indeed holy and beloved (Col. 3:12). It is then that we are raised up on high!