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20 Dec 2009 - Fourth Sunday of Advent, Cycle C

New jobs, job promotions, acceptance at your first-choice school, straight A’s, getting engaged, the mortgage approved, the account you were vying for, front row tickets to the game of the century—these are all extremely exciting moments in the course of any life, but they pale in comparison to giving birth—at least for most people, under even the worst circumstances. Human beings can’t help themselves: New life is irresistible, even if only for a brief moment before the worries and responsibilities of caring for this new life push their way into the nursery. What is often not so joyful is discovering that you or someone you love is pregnant under not the best of circumstances—too old, too young, unmarried, unhappy, unhealthy, or, worse yet, carrying a baby that is far from perfect. The wait can seem painfully long and each day filled with the agony of uncertainty about what the future holds. Today’s gospel addresses that anguish. Mary and Elizabeth are kindred spirits to all those facing difficult pregnancies. They had their questions and doubts, but they held out hope for the strength to handle whatever came their way. They were determined and faithful women. They are witnesses to the power of love and commitment, but most of all, their actions demonstrate the need for support and solidarity during difficult times. Offer yourself this day in service to another in need.

Authors Patrice J. Tuohy

birth pregnancy pregnant mary and elizabeth

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Homily stories

20 Dec 2009 - Fourth Sunday of Advent, Cycle C

This weekend usually is one of the busiest travel times of the year. Airports, bus terminals, train stations, and, of course, highways will be filled with people laden down with gifts, all trying to make it home for the holidays. Home with their loved ones is where people want to be, if at all possible. And so they are willing to withstand all sorts of incredible trials and tribulations to get to where they want to go. If some snow is added to the mix, it is guaranteed to snarl everything up. But year after year people do it. Scripture tells us nothing of Mary’s journey to her cousin Elizabeth’s home. We are given only vague details telling us that it is somewhere in the hill country and that Mary hurries there because of Elizabeth’s pregnancy. It probably was a grueling trip for her to make. But Mary does it willingly to be where she is needed. And when her own pregnancy nears completion, she will take another difficult journey, this time to Bethlehem to fulfill the words of the prophets. Mary, this “Christ bearer,” is bringing to Elizabeth the presence of the messiah for the first time. And it has a dramatic effect on her and on the baby John in her womb. Neither would ever be the same again. With Christmas only days away, we are challenged to bring that very same presence to all whom we will touch this holiday season. Mary has become the embodiment of what we are called to be and do as Christians in our service to one another.

Authors Father Dominic Grassi

journeys pregnancy mary and elizabeth

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Exploring the word

19 Dec 2021 - Fourth Sunday of Advent, Cycle C

During the holidays, some of us will be traveling again—perhaps after a long time away from an airport. The rest of us may well be waiting on the other end for travelers to arrive. One thing you learn quickly in airports, on either side of the process, is that planes are often late. Reasons abound for these delays: a shortage of pilots and flight attendants, overcrowded and overbooked flights, increased security measures at the airport, and inclement weather at the point of departure or arrival. Lost luggage and lost tempers are likely to be part of the experience. Yet a great many people will to enter into the holiday migration. It’s as if the old Roman census of the empire were still in practice, and Caesar wants us all back in our towns of origin to be counted. Maybe this year the planes will be late once more; and Amtrak and Greyhound, too; and travelers stuck in traffic from Boston to Los Angeles. Maybe dinner will be late, and so will that last gift arriving by UPS. Even Midnight Mass might not start on time. But there is one arrival we can count on, and that is the hour of our salvation. God chooses to pitch the divine tent with us, to be with us, and to rescue us from all that could harm us—from sin and death itself. This great arrival is never late, is always right on schedule. The news is irrepressibly good The prophet Micah is not exactly a messenger of good cheer. His times, the late eighth century B.C.E., were not what you would call hopeful. Assyria was on the prowl, swallowing Damascus and Samaria. Jerusalem would be under siege by the end of the century. But those were just the outside dangers. What concerned the prophet more was the harm from within, the bribe-loving prophets, judges, and priests of Israel. While the leadership of the nation satisfied itself, the merchants cheated the common folk, and those same folk in turn ran after idols. In other words, the time of Micah was every bit as bad as our own—violent, greedy, unfair, and unfaithful—and the prophet wasn’t shy about calling down some first-rate smiting in response. And yet even Micah, from his high and righteous perch, came forth with an amazingly optimistic word from the Lord in the midst of his ranting and condemnation. It’s as if he couldn’t help himself: God’s desire to save was stronger than Micah’s aching wish for judgment and punishment on a generation that was getting precisely what it deserved. This strange little prophecy of hope gets tucked away into the holy texts, to be extracted 700 years later in the time of King Herod, when he asks his advisors if the Magi from the Far East know what they are talking about when they say a king is to be born in the vicinity of his court. In a time of great distress, with personal and political turmoil the order of the day, Micah predicted the rule of a man called peace. If that seems unlikely today, you can be sure that Micah’s generation thought so, too. The poor have the Good News preached to them Before the Magi even started on the journey that would end in Herod’s kingdom, two women already knew that Micah’s prophecy was about to be fulfilled. A young girl from Nazareth traveled four days to the home of her elderly cousin Elizabeth to share her joy. Both women knew the truth without exchanging a word. Their bodies told them everything they needed to know. Imagine: a very old woman and a virgin girl both large with child! These births were irreconcilable with the facts, with nature, with the world as it is. And yet the women could not doubt that God’s promise was true, because God’s promise was happening to them. The two women knew it; their leaping unborn children knew it, and within a generation, the whole world would be alive with the news. If the good word could not be suppressed by a prophet of mostly bad news in an equally rotten generation, then these women, full of divinely inspired life, could hardly contain it either. They cried out their praise and thanksgiving. Like prophets themselves, they spoke of God’s desire to save a world sore in need of rescue. The worse history gets, the more eager God is to throw us a lifeline. Commentators like to point out that Luke constructs this scene more from theology than history: It’s unlikely a virgin girl in the Middle East—of any century—would be allowed to travel alone for four days along dangerous roads. Nor is it likely that a childless girl would assist a pregnant woman, when more experienced women would be available for the task. Scripture is ambiguous on this point, but it seems that Mary is sent home in Elizabeth’s ninth month, so as to deliberately keep her from participating in John’s birth. The only reason, then, to present this hour of visitation between two such favored women is because those who share in the Good News of salvation naturally come together to celebrate that communion. You can’t keep true believers from gathering—this is the meaning of church! Applying the word The eve of our salvation That’s why we gather on this day, the Fourth Sunday of Advent. What brings us to church today is that we believe something wonderful is happening to us. We believe that God has chosen to be with us, to live as one of us, to take up residence in us as bearers of the life of Christ for the sake of the world! We come together, as a matter of theological necessity, to celebrate that reality, and to share our joy with others who have had the same experience. Like Mary of Nazareth, we may have traveled a long way, an impossible way, to get to this place to share this hour. But the news is so good, we can’t contain it ourselves. We have to share the blessing, declare God’s goodness to us, and sing the song of praise. Related scripture links Herod uncovers the prophecy: Matt. 2:5-6 Mary is sent home: Luke 1:56 Believers sing their song of praise: Luke 1:46-55 Catechism links Other aspects of the Visitation: CCC 148; 448; 495; 523; 717; 2676; 2677

Authors Alice Camille

Micah mary and elizabeth

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Homily stories

19 Dec 2021 - Fourth Sunday of Advent, Cycle C

A day or so or so after my mother died, my sister- and brother-in-law appeared at my door with a pecan pie. For the next couple of hours, we sat in the kitchen, ate pie, drank tea, and shared memories of our mothers. I was genuinely moved and grateful for their thoughtfulness (pecan pie is a favorite), kindness, and gift of time. To this day when I think of authentic hospitality, that comforting visit is the first thing that comes to mind. Today’s story of Mary’s visit to her cousin Elizabeth invites you to think about the ways you offer and receive hospitality. For example, how do you welcome others into your home? (Think of Elizabeth’s welcoming words to Mary.) We have to rely on our imagination for the rest, but Mary’s stay surely included sharing meals, heartfelt conversation, and consoling laughter—all offered and received on a foundation of sincere care and concern for the other. What sort of guest are you? What is essential for genuine hospitality—and what is not? What can you do in these last days of the Advent season to revive the ancient art of hospitality in your family and community?

Authors Ann O'Connor

hospitality mary and elizabeth guests

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Homily stories

22 Dec 2024 - Fourth Sunday of Advent, Cycle C

New jobs, job promotions, acceptance at your first-choice school, straight A’s, getting engaged, the mortgage approved, the account you were vying for, front-row tickets to the game of the century—these are all extremely exciting moments in the course of any life, but they pale in comparison to giving birth—at least for most people, under even the worst circumstances. Human beings can’t help themselves: New life is irresistible, even if only for a brief moment before the worries and responsibilities of caring for this new life push their way into the nursery. What is often not so joyful is discovering that you or someone you love is pregnant under not the best of circumstances—too old, too young, unmarried, unhappy, unhealthy, or, worse yet, carrying a baby that is far from perfect. The wait can seem painfully long and each day filled with the agony of uncertainty about what the future holds. Today’s gospel addresses that anguish. Mary and Elizabeth are kindred spirits to all those facing difficult pregnancies. They had their questions and doubts, but they held out hope for the strength to handle whatever came their way. They were determined and faithful women. They are witnesses to the power of love and commitment, but most of all, their actions demonstrate the need for support and solidarity during difficult times. Offer yourself this day in service to another in need.

Authors Patrice J. Tuohy

difficult pregnancies mary and elizabeth support solidarity

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