Homily delivered by Rev. Fr. Jose Ramon Villarin, SJ
18 December 2022,
Fourth Sunday of Advent
Not a single word of his is mentioned in the Gospels. Instead we learn of
angels speaking to Joseph in his sleep. He only comes in at the beginning
and fades out sometime we know not when.
Quietly. That is the adverb of his motion in life. Even in the Gospel today,
when he learns that Mary is with child, he decides to fade out of Mary
quietly so as not to shame her publicly.
Quietly too, upon awakening, he does as the angel tells him. Quietly he
takes Mary to his home.
Today we will desire to be hushed by mystery, as Joseph was. Of course, we
will allow all kinds of sound and merriment to adorn the season, but we will
also permit some restful quiet in the wake of every celebration. We will
pause, turn down the dial, and move into decrescendo. We will hush
ourselves even if only for an interlude amid the rush of Christmas.
We will ask Joseph to help bring us to some quiet. Of all persons in our
faith, he knows how important quiet is for sleep and dreams and action.
Quiet is a prelude to sleep and dreams and action.
First, sleep. The image of San Jose Dormido, St Joseph sleeping, invites us
to reflect on how we rest, on what helps us to rest, and on how we retire
from the fullness of the day. Joseph reclining also makes us wonder about
what keeps us restless and standing.
Some of us keep the sound on until we are lulled to sleep. Some read. Or
pray. Or drink or medicate. Whatever our devices, we can only prepare and
dispose ourselves to sleep. We do not really know how or when sleep
descends. It is a gift. While we are awake, we are in control or so we'd like to
believe. When we sleep, we let go.
To come to the quiet of San Jose Dormido is to learn to let go. When I was
young, I was proud to pull all kinds of all-nighters. Now that I am old, I take
to heart what the poster says: Sleep in peace; God is awake.
Second, dreams. Some dreams are nightmares, some an incoherent mix of
storylines that hardly make sense. They say dreams are the mind's way of
housekeeping and throwing the gunk out, of rebooting itself. Or that
dreams are expressions somehow of repressed longings and subconscious
desires.
Whatever the theories, in faith, we hold that God is also with us while we
are sleeping. God is near not just in our waking moments. God is present to
us whether or not we are present to him. God is present to us even when
we are not present to ourselves. Case in point: Joseph, to whom God spoke
in his dreams.
And so quietly, ala Joseph, we will rest to dream and let God speak. We will
let God speak to us of his dreams and longings for us. From the very words
and deeds of Christ our Lord, we realize that God's dreams of redemption
and wholeness for us are our deepest and most urgent dreams as well.
Third and last, action. The quiet of sleep and dreams restores us. It
reenergizes us to commit our lives to God's work of deliverance in the
world. The silence of Joseph is not weakness. In our Gospel today, his
silence reverences Mary and spares her the hate of humiliation. His silence
brings Mary home.
Silence however is not always this strong. It can also signify inaction or
indifference. Silence can be a refuge for the timid or afraid. Quiet can be an
artifice used by the unscrupulous in the name of order. It can deaden us
into submission and disengagement. Quiet can mean complicity in the
works of darkness in the world.
We can learn from Joseph's silence. Quietly he gets up from his sleep. He
acts on his dream that is God's dream for Mary and the Child. It is just the
first of three dreams that all come true because he gets up to protect the
vulnerable in his care. All throughout, there is only quiet resolve and
determined action from the man, whose faith in God must have been deep
and strong.
Quietly, Joseph comes in at the beginning and fades out at some point we
know not when. Only for an interlude, not even a single word.
Radyo Katipunan 87.9 FM
Homily delivered by Rev. Fr. Jose Ramon Villarin, SJ
18 December 2022,
Fourth Sunday of Advent
Not a single word of his is mentioned in the Gospels. Instead we learn of
angels speaking to Joseph in his sleep. He only comes in at the beginning
and fades out sometime we know not when.
Quietly. That is the adverb of his motion in life. Even in the Gospel today,
when he learns that Mary is with child, he decides to fade out of Mary
quietly so as not to shame her publicly.
Quietly too, upon awakening, he does as the angel tells him. Quietly he
takes Mary to his home.
Today we will desire to be hushed by mystery, as Joseph was. Of course, we
will allow all kinds of sound and merriment to adorn the season, but we will
also permit some restful quiet in the wake of every celebration. We will
pause, turn down the dial, and move into decrescendo. We will hush
ourselves even if only for an interlude amid the rush of Christmas.
We will ask Joseph to help bring us to some quiet. Of all persons in our
faith, he knows how important quiet is for sleep and dreams and action.
Quiet is a prelude to sleep and dreams and action.
First, sleep. The image of San Jose Dormido, St Joseph sleeping, invites us
to reflect on how we rest, on what helps us to rest, and on how we retire
from the fullness of the day. Joseph reclining also makes us wonder about
what keeps us restless and standing.
Some of us keep the sound on until we are lulled to sleep. Some read. Or
pray. Or drink or medicate. Whatever our devices, we can only prepare and
dispose ourselves to sleep. We do not really know how or when sleep
descends. It is a gift. While we are awake, we are in control or so we'd like to
believe. When we sleep, we let go.
To come to the quiet of San Jose Dormido is to learn to let go. When I was
young, I was proud to pull all kinds of all-nighters. Now that I am old, I take
to heart what the poster says: Sleep in peace; God is awake.
Second, dreams. Some dreams are nightmares, some an incoherent mix of
storylines that hardly make sense. They say dreams are the mind's way of
housekeeping and throwing the gunk out, of rebooting itself. Or that
dreams are expressions somehow of repressed longings and subconscious
desires.
Whatever the theories, in faith, we hold that God is also with us while we
are sleeping. God is near not just in our waking moments. God is present to
us whether or not we are present to him. God is present to us even when
we are not present to ourselves. Case in point: Joseph, to whom God spoke
in his dreams.
And so quietly, ala Joseph, we will rest to dream and let God speak. We will
let God speak to us of his dreams and longings for us. From the very words
and deeds of Christ our Lord, we realize that God's dreams of redemption
and wholeness for us are our deepest and most urgent dreams as well.
Third and last, action. The quiet of sleep and dreams restores us. It
reenergizes us to commit our lives to God's work of deliverance in the
world. The silence of Joseph is not weakness. In our Gospel today, his
silence reverences Mary and spares her the hate of humiliation. His silence
brings Mary home.
Silence however is not always this strong. It can also signify inaction or
indifference. Silence can be a refuge for the timid or afraid. Quiet can be an
artifice used by the unscrupulous in the name of order. It can deaden us
into submission and disengagement. Quiet can mean complicity in the
works of darkness in the world.
We can learn from Joseph's silence. Quietly he gets up from his sleep. He
acts on his dream that is God's dream for Mary and the Child. It is just the
first of three dreams that all come true because he gets up to protect the
vulnerable in his care. All throughout, there is only quiet resolve and
determined action from the man, whose faith in God must have been deep
and strong.
Quietly, Joseph comes in at the beginning and fades out at some point we
know not when. Only for an interlude, not even a single word.
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