On
New Year’s, I often like to repeat something that the late comedian
George Burns once wrote in The New York
Times: “Growing up on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, I always looked
forward to New Year’s mainly because it was the only thing we could afford that
was really new.” Burns was a lifelong,
professional comedian, of course, and that was his laugh line. But then he
added: “And we always believed that things were going to get better during the
New Year.”
The
Roman god Janus, for whom the first month of the year is named, was the god of
beginnings and endings, of doors and passageways, of past and future. Hence he
was typically portrayed with two faces – one looking back to the past, the
other ahead to the future. In a sense, that is what we all do every year on New
Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day. We look back on the past, particularly the past
year, perhaps with some mixture of gratitude and regret, while we likewise look
ahead, sometimes with worry but with worry mixed always with hope. Some of these sentiments are captured in the
religious customs that have traditionally been associated with New Year’s Eve
and New Year’s Day – the traditional singing of the Te Deum, the Church’s official hymn of thanksgiving on New Year’s
Eve, and the Veni Creator, the
Church’s great hymn invoking the grace of the Holy Spirit on New Year’s Day.
This
new year 2015 will also be the 50th anniversary of the
end of the 2nd Vatican Council, which was quite likely the single
most influential religious event of the 20th century. To mark that
anniversary – and specifically the 50th anniversary of the Council’s
Decree on the Renewal of Religious Life - Pope Francis has proclaimed this a “Year
of Consecrated Life.” These past few weeks, I have been commenting in the
parish bulletin on the three specific aims Pope Francis has proposed to
religious communities for this year. They are, first of all, “to look to the
past with gratitude,” second, “to live the present with passion,” and then, third,
“to embrace the future with hope.”
But
what is immediately obvious about these three aims is their universal relevance
– not just for priests, brothers, and sisters in religious communities – but
for everyone (especially at New Year’s).
In
inviting us “to embrace the future with hope,” for example, the Pope candidly
acknowledges many of the difficulties which we in religious communities are
currently experiencing – including, of course, the perennial problem of
decreasing vocations and aging members. But, of course, many of the particular problems
we in religious communities currently experience are actually also being
experienced more broadly by the Church throughout the world. And they are not
unlike the kinds of challenges that all sorts of ordinary people experience in
our world today. “But it is precisely amid these uncertainties, which we share
with so many of our contemporaries,” the Pope assures us, “that we are called
to practice the virtue of hope, the fruit of our faith in the Lord of history,
who continues to tell us: ‘Be not afraid … for I am with you’ (Jeremiah 1:8).”
Our hope, Pope Francis reminds us, “is not based on statistics or
accomplishments, but on the One in whom we have put our trust (cf. 2 Timothy
1:2), the One for whom ‘nothing is impossible’ (Luke 1:37).”
And
so he encourages religious communities – and, by extension, I would suggest, all of
us in the Church – not “to see things in terms of numbers and efficiency, and
even less to trust in your own strength” but instead to “constantly set out
anew, with trust in the Lord.”
During
the Paulist General Assembly last June, in one of the committees I was on, I
quoted from a letter that Isaac Hecker wrote to Orestes Brownson in 1851: If
our words have lost their power, it is because there is no power in us to put
into them. The Catholic faith alone is capable of giving to people a true,
permanent and burning enthusiasm fraught with the greatest of deeds. But to
enkindle this in others we must be possessed of it first ourselves.”
And
that, as I said in last Sunday’s Bulletin, is the basic challenge not just for
religious communities but for all of us in whatever state in life we occupy,
and not just in some special Year of Consecrated Life but all year, every year
– starting here and now with this new year of Our Lord 2015 that is just on the
horizon.
Coincidentally,
New Year’s is the also the 8th Day of Christmas. On this day, the Western
Church celebrates in a special way the awesome mystery of the Blessed Virgin
Mary’s motherhood. The Byzantine and Syrian Churches celebrate Mary’s
motherhood on the 2nd Day of Christmas, December 26. Either way,
this is one of the very oldest feasts in honor of Mary.
Continuing
the Christmas theme, today’s Mass repeats the Gospel of the 2nd Mass
of Christmas, adding a final verse recounting Jesus’s ritual circumcision and
naming on the 8th day of his life, a very particular kind of event
that highlights Jesus’ full embrace of our human condition and complete
commitment to our human life and our human world. In the Gospel [Luke 2:15-21], we hear the
Shepherds, the first to be told of Jesus’s birth, respond to that message and
then become in turn messengers themselves All
who heard it were amazed by what had been told them by the shepherds, while
Mary, on her part, reflected on these
things in her heart. Thus, ever so simply, does the Gospel give us our
agenda for the new year: bringing the good news of Jesus into the wider world
around us, while at the same time seriously letting it sink in, at the heart of
who we are.
None
of us can know now what this new year has in store for us. But, with Mary and
the shepherds, we begin this year as new people, transformed both inwardly and
outwardly by Christ’s coming.
Homily for the Solemnity of Mary Mother of God (New Year's Day) Immaculate Conception Church, January 1, 2015.
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