Today’s gospel reading is a very long list of names - Jesus’ genealogy. It begins with Abraham and goes all the way down through the Babylonian exile to “Jacob the father of Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom Jesus was born…” It includes 42 generations.
It occurs to me that these are not just names, but names that carry with them stories full of emotion. There are characters, scoundrels, saints and sinners – all sitting in Jesus’ family tree. There are incidents of murder, rape and abandonment. There are stories of lust, incest, greed and theft. There are also stories of love, faithfulness and devotion. The stories reflect times of peace and times of war, exile and repatriation. These are not just names, but 42 generations of stories of people’s lives - all related to Jesus of Nazareth. All about how the mystery of God enters into our collective story.
I recall growing up hearing stories about the characters sitting in my family tree. The alcoholic who neglected his family. The sailor who actually sailed all 7 seas by the age of 35. There were numerous adventure types who left home to live in foreign countries. There were women who left their families to follow husbands. Children who died young and men who lived to be 100. There was a great uncle who had done something so heinous that his name was hardly spoken, and then in a whisper. There were spinster women and young dandies. There were slave owners and those enslaved by their own addictions. There were a million stories. I loved hearing the stories of adventure, greed, disease, defeat and success. I enjoyed hearing about the scoundrels as much as the saints. I had my favorites for sure. The stories made me feel proud, sad, shame, happy and excited. But most of all they made me feel as though I belonged. I belonged to a family. Not a perfect family, but my family.
Jesus also was born into a family. Not a perfect family, but his family. Jesus was born into a family. Jesus of Nazareth was fully human, a descendent of a human family. There were saints, scoundrels, and skeletons in his family tree, just as there are in mine.
During this Advent season of longing, preparation and now of rejoicing we might reflect on our own families, our own stories of anticipation, joy, love, devotion, abandonment and trial. Who is my family? What does it mean to be part of my family? How has Jesus entered into my story, my family, my life? Where is the continuing mystery of the presence of God?
Joan Blandin Howard
After working and teaching at Creighton for many years, I am officially retired, but hardly so. Having 5 adult children, in-laws, and 11 grandchildren I keep pretty busy! My husband and I spend hours in our garden planting, pruning, dead-heading and of course weeding and mowing! We spend even more time sitting in our garden, delighting in its beauty. The beauty overwhelms me and invities me into a space of en-Joy-ment and gratitude to the Creator and Artist of all. I have much for which to be grateful. I also like to travel, read, write and make art. My ministry of spiritual direction and silent retreats continues.
I count my blessings. You among them.
Initially I thought I was writing for myself. I use the readings as a source of personal prayer. I thoroughly enjoy the time I spend in prayer, study and preparation. The writing seems to be a natural end product. The wonderful e-mails I receive tell me that I am not writing just for me and they reconfirm my faith in the presence of the Lord, who speaks all languages, permeates untold experiences, and surfaces in the most ordinary of daily delights and disturbing distractions. That the Lord would speak through me is a gift I had not anticipated.
I thank you, the reader and fellow pilgrim, for joining us on our journey. God bless us.
