Commentary by Fr Donagh O’Shea OP, www.goodnews.ie
In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. He went into all the region around the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, as it is written in the book of the words of the prophet Isaiah,
“The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.
Every valley shall be filled,
and every mountain and hill shall be made low,
and the crooked shall be made straight,
and the rough ways made smooth;
and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.'”
“From shadows and symbols to the truth,” (ex umbris et imaginibus in veritatem): This was the personal motto of John Henry Newman (1801-1890). Since ancient times Christian writers have used this expression, and others like it, to place Jesus in relation to the prophets who went before him. In him there is a coming out into the light after the long night of darkness and half-light; he is “the loving-kindness of the heart of our God who visits us like the dawn from on high” (Lk 1:78).
But the coming of this Light is a more precise event than dawn. The birth of Jesus, though we may not know its precise hour or date or even its year, is an historical event, and so it is precise in principle. Luke seems insistent on pinning it down, in the cumbersome way that people dated events in the ancient world: “In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, etc.” This insistence on real history sets our faith in contrast with some other profound faiths. In the Rig-Veda, for example, you read:
Like a youthful maiden,
Dawn shines brightly forth,
Stirring to motion every living creature.
Divine Fire was kindled for human use;
Dawn created light, driving away the dark.
John’s gospel says, “The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world” (1:9), but it is Luke’s gospel in particular that paints in the humble details of Christ’s birth. And it is Luke’s gospel that we are reading on the Sundays of Advent this year.
Light can be contemplated for itself, but its practical purpose is to illuminate a path. Ultimately it is “to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.” (Lk 1:79). As members of Christ’s body, the Church, we are living through a time of great crisis. The road ahead often looks dark and frightening. We don’t know what it will be like in another generation, or even in another decade. We need light, which gives us courage to move in dark times. Many seem discouraged. But that light is guaranteed. Christ promised to be always with us. “I will not leave you orphaned” (Jn 14:18). He did not promise that everything would be clear and easy. Fr Timothy Radcliffe OP often notes that the Church was born in crisis (the death of Jesus was a shocking crisis for the disciples); from the earliest times it has known one crisis after another; so in living with crisis, he says, “we are being faithful to tradition!”
We use the expression “losing one’s faith”. It would be good if we realised that losing one’s hope is just as serious a matter as losing one’s faith and losing one’s love.