2nd Sunday Ordinary Time

When does the “ordinary” become “extraordinary”?

My Liturgical Calendar tells me/us that we are now in what is known as Ordinary Time. When one looks up the definition of the word ‘ordinary’ in the Oxford Dictionary we find stated “not interesting or exceptional; what is commonplace or standard.”

Nothing really to write home about. The liturgical colour chosen for this “ordinary time” is, however, green, and maybe here the ‘ordinary’ becomes ‘extraordinary’; what is standard becomes special.

Across the road from the parish complex of St. Mary’s Otaki there is a market garden. I found it intriguing to watch what were ploughed however empty, barren paddocks, after attention and watering begin to be carpeted in green! Row upon row of lush cabbages, and lettuce, and broccoli.

Maybe this time in our liturgical year is the invitation to go down, deep, and to find my/our water source?

What, who gives me life? what, who refreshes me? Where lies my/our water source? What and/or who colours me green?

I recall watching a television programme, many years ago, and the topic of discussion was whether there were life forms of any kind on planets other than our own, Earth. One of the scientists made an almost offhand comment – he said, “we need to search for water, because where there is water there is life!”

Maybe these weeks called “Ordinary Time” are an invitation to find my water source – those persons, places and objects that refresh me, nourish me, make me wet again and so promote my growing.

The 12thC Benedictine abbess Hildegard of Bingen wrote, “There is a power that has been since all eternity, and that force and potentiality is green!” Hildegard names this greening force viriditas, the Latin for her original “das Grün,” the greening.

With viriditas Hildegard captures the greening power, the living light, that breathes in all beings, flows through all that is alive: “Be it greenness or seed, blossom or beauty – it could not be creation without it.”

Hildegard spoke often of viriditas, the greening of things from within, analogous to what we now call photosynthesis. There is a readiness in plants to receive the sun and to transform its light and warmth into energy and life.

Maybe that is what this “Ordinary Time” is truly about, a readiness to receive the sun/Son and to be transformed into energy and life.

Maybe, we dare rename our Ordinary Time as Greening Time.

Inclusivity

St Luke’s gospel has shepherds and no wise men; St Matthew’s gospel has wise men and no shepherds.

However, both the shepherds and the wise men are important to our story of the in-breaking of God into our world in the person of Jesus, the Word made flesh.

The shepherds were Jews, the wise men (or Magi) were non-Jews, or Gentiles.

The word epiphany means a manifestation or revelation. Literally, ‘a drawing back of the veil.’ On this day the veil is drawn back on a great mystery, namely, that Christ is the Saviour of all people.

Today is the feast of inclusivity.

It is God’s will that all people be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth. God invites all to share on equal footing the benefits of the saving actions of Christ. This feast shows that election by God is not a privilege for some, rather a hope for all. It puts an end to every kind of exclusiveness.

In Jesus own mission he reached out to those excluded by the society in which he lived, the poor, the diseased, women and children.

He reached out to Samaritans, Canaanites, foreigners, and every manner of social outcast.

He angered the Jewish leaders by telling them that the Kingdom of God was open to everyone. The news that the Gentiles would be accepted on equal terms as themselves caused shock and bewilderment to the Jewish leaders. This great and wonderful truth was revealed in embryo when the Magi came to honour the Christ child.

Are all welcome, as equals, in our Church, irrespective of race, gender, age, sexual preference, ability or disability? If not, why not? Is the barrier not in them; rather, might it be in me?

Towards the conclusion of Matthew’s gospel, Jesus is in discussion with the chief priests and elders, and they are questioning his authority. The discussion concludes with these words of Jesus, “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you. For John came to you, in accordance with God’s covenant plan, and you didn’t believe him – but the tax collectors and prostitutes believed him. But when you saw it, you didn’t think better of it afterwards and believe him. “ (Mtt. 21: 31-32)

An historical footnote:

The magi (‘wise men’) were traditionally astrologers of the Persian court and priests of the cult of Mithras, but were later redefined as kings, based on a similar story of royal gift-giving in the Old Testament (Psalms 72:10).

In the early Middle Ages (by about 750), they were given names, Caspar, Melchior and Balthasar, and were said to come from the kingdoms of Tarshish, Sheba and Seba (Seba was thought to be an ancient name for Ethiopia).

From about the 15th century, Balthazar, the black magus/king associated with Ethiopia became a familiar figure in European images of the Adoration of Christ at his birth.

From the fourteenth century, it was customary to differentiate the Magi between their ages, representing one as youthful, one as middle aged, and one as elderly.

From the fifteenth century, especially in German and the Netherlands, one was frequently portrayed as a moor.

Thus, they implicitly acquired the persona of the three Ages of Man and the three Continents of Asia, Europe and Africa. (G. Schiller, Iconography of Christian Art, vol. 1, London 1971, pp.94-114).

The illustration is titled Die Heiigen Drei Konige (The Three Magi), 1912; by Emil Nolde. (Private Collection)

An only child

In his autobiography, “An Only Child” the Irish writer Frank O’Connor recounts the following story:

One Christmas Santa Claus brought me a toy engine.

As it was the only present I had received, I took it with me to the convent, and played with it on the floor while Mother and “the old nuns” discussed old times.

But a young nun brought us in to see the crib.

When I saw the Holy Child in the manger, I was very distressed because little as I had, he had nothing at all.

For me, it was fresh proof of the incompetence of Santa Claus – an elderly man who hadn’t even remembered to give the Infant Jesus a toy and who should have retired long ago.

I asked the young nun politely if the Holy Child didn’t like toys, and she replied composedly enough:

“Oh, he does, but his mother is too poor to afford them”.

That settled it.

My mother was poor too, but at Christmas, she at least managed to buy me something, even if it was only a box of crayons.

I distinctly remember getting into the crib and putting the engine between his outstretched arms.

I probably showed him how to wind it as well because a small baby like that would not be clever enough to know.

I remember too, the tearful feeling of reckless generosity with which I left him there in the nightly darkness of the chapel, clutching my toy engine to his chest.

The Christmas pram

Fr Mulcahy had been appointed to the parish of St Brendan’s, a parish in rural County Kerry, Ireland.

At Christmas, he was incredibly surprised that the Church had no crib.

The parishioners agreed to put a little aside each week till enough was collected for the purchase.

After two years of saving, enough had been raised and the crib figures were purchased. Fr O’Reilly had a contact in Rome who acquired the figures in beautiful Italian marble.

The local carpenter agreed to build the crib to show the statues.

Great delight was taken at the Midnight Mass that year when the crib was installed and the figures arranged.

To much rejoicing and song, Fr Mulcahy and others proceeded in with the figure of the infant Jesus, which was placed with reverence in the crib.

Early the next morning, Fr Mulcahy decided to go and say his morning prayers in front of the crib.

When he arrived at the crib and knelt, absolute shock went through his entire body.

The figure of the infant Jesus was missing.!

“I had better inform the police immediately”, Fr Mulcahy muttered to himself, “who would do such a thing – and on Christmas morning!”

As he was about to leave the church by the side door, he heard what sounded like the front door of the Church opening.

He paused. “Are they returning?” he wondered and hid behind a pillar.

Up the centre aisle walked young Bridget Fitzpatrick, pushing a pram!

Bemused, Fr Mulcahy watched.

She stopped at the crib, bent down, and leaned into the pram, gently lifting the figure of the baby Jesus. She placed the figure back in its resting place in the crib.

Fr Mulcahy walked forward and asked Bridget what she had been up to.

“Well, Father,” says Bridget, “I prayed to Jesus for a new doll’s pram for Christmas. And I promised that if I received one, he would be the first one to have a ride. Well, I received the pram, and we just been for a walk around the block.”

Maybe, Christmas is not so much about putting the infant Jesus into the crib, but rather daring to take him for a walk outside.