COMBERMERE, Ontario, December 23, 2011 (LifeSiteNews.com) – I often find my heart turning towards my father during the celebration of Christ’s birth. What is it about this man whom I call Papa that so powerfully influences my experience of the Christmas mysteries? Let me try to explain.
As a young boy, I remember my mother wearing the religious pants of the family. Mom led the morning offering; Mom took us to daily mass; Mom vocalized after supper that it was time to pray the family rosary. My father played a supportive but backstage role in these initiatives.
I recall however that there were some spiritual traditions that Papa took complete charge of. These included leading the family in grace before meals, reading from the Bible after supper as part of our Advent preparation, and baking a special Polish poppy seed bread (Makowiec) in preparation for the Christmas feast.
When I left home as a young man I remember fluctuating in my commitment to the faith that my Mom had played such a large role in passing onto me. Despite the fluctuation, I always found myself praying grace before meals, even in restaurants. What would compel me to pray grace before meals when I had dropped the morning offering and the daily rosary?
When I married Erin and we had children of our own, I found that when Christmas approached, I grew genuinely zealous to read to my children the Advent readings. Why did I especially experience my faith to be something real and alive at these times?
And now, as the great 12-course Polish Christmas Eve meal approaches, I practically view it as my religious duty to bake the special Christmas bread that my father used to bake with me when I was young. Why do these things matter so much to me?
I see similar patterns in the lives of my brothers, seven of whom are married with children. For some, the morning offering has gone by the wayside, daily mass is hit and miss, the rosary is prayed once and a while.
But grace before meals, advent readings, and baking the Polish Christmas bread are something that each brother has continued to do in his own family.
I once asked one of my brothers why, out of the many religious traditions we had learned from home, he had tenaciously held onto the advent readings. “Because,” he said, “when Pa did them, I knew that they mattered. They became real to me.”
As he said this to me, the verse from Luke’s Gospel came into my mind, when the angel speaks about the mission of John the Baptist to prepare the way for the coming of the Lord. “…he will be filled with the Holy Spirit…to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children…,” the angel had said to Zechariah, John’s father (Lk 1.15-17).
“…to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children…,” I mused. Why does the revelation of God hinge on a father’s heart being turned towards his children?
My mother, who had recently attended an Elijah House retreat, helped me solve this. She said that Christ came to reveal God, not as the formidable just-judge, but as a Loving Father (Lk 15:11-32). But if children have a distorted perception of their earthly father, they will have a distorted perception of their Heavenly Father. The mission of John the Baptist, she said, must be to turn the heart of a father to love his children so that the children would be prepared to receive Christ’s revelation of God as Loving Father (Jn 17:25).
“In the end,” she said, “the earthly father radiates the love of the heavenly father to his children.”
I was stunned by what she said. The pieces of the puzzle of my spiritual life suddenly fit into place. My Papa had revealed something of God’s very own Fatherhood to me when he prayed grace before meals, when he read the advent readings, when he baked the Christmas bread. By turning his fatherly heart towards me through these spiritual traditions, my heart had latched onto something profound concerning the truth about God. These simple acts of faith of my Papa made divine realities come to life in me.
Through these spiritual traditions and the loving presence of my father, it was as if I was able to touch God directly.
Much has changed since I was a young child. My father has matured in his role of radiating God as Loving Father to his children. Despite this, the first part of the parable of the Lost Son (Lk 15:11-32) continues to take place under various guises in our family. As this happens, my father reveals to me another dimension of God, namely the patient Father who scans the horizon anticipating his child’s return.
I now realize why my heart turns to Papa when I prepare to celebrate the coming of Christ. It is because he first turned to me to prepare my heart to receive the message of our God of Love.
“Father…I made known to them thy name, and I will make it known, that the love with which thou hast loved me may be in them, and I in them” (Jn 17:25).
For this I am forever grateful.
A merry Christmas to all fathers. May your hearts turn to your own children in this holy season to radiate with intensity our Heavenly Father’s love.