Today’s Gospel for Mass on the feast of the Holy Family quotes the prophet Hosea: “Out of Egypt I called my son.” Because this weekend is the celebration of the Holy Family and not a reflection on Matthew’s use of Old Testament quotations, that line probably won’t get much air time in the homilies. Because of that, I want to reflect on it here, and really, the whole of Hosea 11, the chapter that line comes from. 

During the several silent retreats that I went on as a part of my seminary formation, Hosea 11 was an often-used scripture passage assigned to me by my spiritual directors. In it, the prophet speaks in the person of God – or God speaks through the mouth and pen of the prophet – about the “person” of Israel, the whole people. “Israel” becomes the name of the whole people seen as a single person growing up from childhood to adulthood – a common way of speaking about the people of Israel throughout the scriptures. We even see this more maturely formulated in St. Paul’s consideration of the Body of Christ, the Church, though the unity of the Body of Christ is even more profound than the unity of the people of Israel. 

Still, the Lord speaks of his mercy toward the people of Israel in this passage. He has called his child, Israel, out of Egypt, and they saw his wonders. They knew his might, but they still turned away from him, repeatedly. This caused God’s wrath to flare up, but in his love for Israel, he did not destroy them. Instead, he continued to draw them to himself, to heal them. We see in this passage one of those places even in the Old Testament that the merciful and Fatherly love of God is displayed in full force. 

This passage is well-worth reading in the season of Christmas as well. We read in the letter of St. Paul to the Romans 5:8, “While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” We could take it back a step and recognize that while we were still sinners, the Word chose to become flesh for us in order to die for us. Since the fall of man in the Garden of Eden, God has continued to call his people back to himself, calling the patriarchs, Moses, the Kings, and the Prophets. He made covenants with them and people did draw near him. Without fail, though, his people continued, time and again, to turn away from him.

He did not abandon his people. Out of Egypt he called his son, and he only continues to do so. Back in Hosea 11, the Lord cries out in anguish over his rebellious child, “How could I give you up, O Ephraim!” (another name for Israel). The Lord continues after several more statements of that sort, “My heart recoils within me; my compassion grows warm and tender. I will not execute my fierce anger; I will not again destroy Ephraim; … I will not come in wrath.” Truly, centuries later, God did not come in wrath. He did not abandon his people or give them up. He did not execute his fierce anger by destroying them. Instead, he gave vent to that anger by entering our human condition and destroying the cause of our downfall, sin, and its consequence, death. 

Praise be Jesus Christ for the redemption wrought through his incarnation. What a work of grace! What a work of the beauty of the heart of God! What a powerful testament to the grandeur of God’s mercy! Jesus entered the “Egypt” of the human condition to bring us all out of that place of slavery. May we never stray from his loving heart. He draws us by that love. Jesus, draw me to the Father. Amen.

The final two paragraphs of Pope Benedict’s encyclical on Christian Hope, Spe salvi, fittingly turn our attention to the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Star of Hope.  He references an early hymn which greets Mary, the Mother of God as “Star of the Sea”: Ave maris stella. (SS 49) This is a beautiful title for Mary as we consider the topic of Christian hope.  The Holy Father writes:

Human life is a journey. Towards what destination? How do we find the way? Life is like a voyage on the sea of history, often dark and stormy, a voyage in which we watch for the stars that indicate the route. The true stars of our life are the people who have lived good lives. They are lights of hope. Certainly, Jesus Christ is the true light, the sun that has risen above all the shadows of history. But to reach him we also need lights close by—people who shine with his light and so guide us along our way. Who more than Mary could be a star of hope for us? With her “yes” she opened the door of our world to God himself; she became the living Ark of the Covenant, in whom God took flesh, became one of us, and pitched his tent among us (cf. Jn 1:14). (ibid.)

As I read these words, I recall a particularly important point in my life in which Mary indeed served as a star of hope for me.  Perhaps I have shared previously that I was not always an intentional disciple of Christ.  Sometime during my college years, I had drifted from practicing my Catholic faith.  I was not angry with God, nor was I upset with the Church.  I just took my focus off of Him and followed my own pursuits.  As I was in the early years of my career, I began noticing a restlessness in my heart, a feeling of emptiness and hopelessness.  Something was missing in my life, which in reality, that something was actually a someone.  I recall vividly going to bed early on New Year’s Eve in 2004 with a heaviness of heart.  The next morning, the first of 2005, still feeling burdened, I looked next to my bed and saw a Rosary sitting there.  Prompted no doubt by the Holy Spirit and the intercession of Mary, I decided to reacquaint myself with how to pray the Rosary, and then I did.  Though there was nothing mystical or spectacular that happened, what had seemed so dark in my heart now seemed to not be so overwhelming.  It is as though there was a dim light the promised hope.  

I continued to pray the Rosary each day and that light of hope continued to grow and I began to be intentional about getting to know Jesus on a personal level.  As I look back on that time, I know that Mary played such an important role in leading me back to her Son.  Even though I have read this paragraph from Pope Benedict before now, this image of Mary as a “Star of Hope” resonates deeply now, and my heart is renewed with gratitude for Mary’s assistance in guiding me through the shadows into the bright light of Christ’s love for me.  Regardless of how confusing, difficult, or dark the journey may be for me, I know that I can always turn to Mary who always reflects the light of hope which invites me to trust in her Son.

The final paragraph of Spe salvi is a beautiful prayer to Mary, and it is well worth your read.  In the interest of space, I offer the final line as a prayerful plea to her to continue to show herself our Mother and our Star of Hope:

Thus you remain in the midst of the disciples as their Mother, as the Mother of hope. Holy Mary, Mother of God, our Mother, teach us to believe, to hope, to love with you. Show us the way to his Kingdom! Star of the Sea, shine upon us and guide us on our way! (SS 50)

Details, details… When reading the scriptures, it can be easy to gloss over little details that seem to be insignificant or repetitive. Very often, we need a great saint or insightful person to shake us out of whatever stupor we are in when reading the sacred words so that the full meaning can flow from the fountain of life that is the divine Word. One example of this happening to me comes in that most well known of passages: the Annunciation from the Gospel of Luke. 

In the first chapter of Luke, we hear of the Archangel Gabriel visiting the virgin named Mary to ask for her consent to be the mother of God. Mary humbly asks, “How can this be, since I do not know man?” (Lk 1:34). Luke records this as the response: “The angel said to her, ‘The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God’” (Lk 1:35). Simple enough. Still, whenever I read this passage, I tend to conflate the two actions of God here into one phrase, seeing them as simply parallel lines: The Holy Spirit will overshadow you. 

There is nothing wrong with reading this verse the way I just described. It is possible to interpret them as a Jewish way of speaking in parallel, repetitive phrases to emphasize a point. We see that all the time in the Psalms, and in like manner, Luke could simply be highlighting the power of the overshadowing of the Holy Spirit. In my case, I did not even consider another way of reading them until I came across a commentary passage in the writings of St. Bonaventure. 

St. Bonaventure clearly sees this verse as describing two actions of God: One action: the Holy Spirit coming upon Mary; and a second, simultaneous action: the power of the Most High overshadowing her. Near the beginning of his short work, The Tree of Life, St. Bonaventure explains, “When she gave her consent to him, the Holy Spirit came upon her like a divine fire inflaming her soul and sanctifying her flesh in perfect purity. But the power of the Most High overshadowed her (Luke 1:35) so that she could endure such fire.” In this fascinating description, St. Bonaventure sees God as both descending upon Mary to incarnate the Son of God in her womb, and at the same time, powerfully accustoming her to receive the Divine presence of God in perfect peace, enduring the fire of God’s life and love. 

As an addition here too, I cannot help but be reminded of the invocation to the Holy Spirit in the prayer to the Holy Trinity by St. Elizabeth of the Trinity. St. Elizabeth calls out to the Holy Spirit, recognizing that His desire for each of us is to become little “Christs” in the world, Christians in name and in truth. She prays, “O Consuming Fire, Spirit of Love, overshadow me so that the Word may be, as it were, incarnate again in my soul. May I be for him a new humanity in which he can renew all his mystery.” Though only the Blessed Virgin Mary was privileged to bear Jesus bodily in her womb and to be his mother in the flesh, every Christian is called to bear Jesus to the world by being a member of his body and living His life, death, and resurrection in the world in our own lives. He chooses to come to the world in us and through us, and he joins us to his body by the power of the Holy Spirit, ordinarily working through the sacraments. 

The Holy Spirit once came upon Mary and the power of the Most High overshadowed her. May that same Holy Spirit come upon our Church to fill us with the fire of his life and his love. May he draw us ever more deeply into the mystery of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, the Son. May we rejoice at the birth of our King, and may he be born ever anew in our hearts and in our lives. Come, Lord Jesus! Come, Holy Spirit! Lead us to the Father!