While teaching a philosophy class I introduced the students to an early medieval philosopher named Boethius (480-524 AD), a well-educated Roman who studied in Athens and worked as consul for the Ostrogothic King of Italy, Theodoric.

Boethius had it all by the time he was in his 30s: success, wealth, fame. Boethius’ Roman senatorial background and his Greek education served King Theodoric, and also increased his own prestige. Boethius was not only intelligent but very clever. He knew how to put his skills and connections to work.

Being employed in the king’s court, however, had its risks: signs of betrayal or conspiracy had serious consequences.

Sure enough, Boethius was accused of being implicated in a plot against Theodoric and so the king had Boethius executed. In his prison cell Boethius awaited his death sentence, and while imprisoned he wrote his philosophical masterpiece, Consolation of Philosophy.

Boethius had plenty of time to reflect: “What is the meaning of life?” He had everything; suddenly, he had nothing – even his days were counted.

Boethius’ story is not only a great story, it’s a true story – a true story of life: we have everything, then suddenly, unexpectedly – nothing. The “nothing” may not be the loss of everything, but simply the loss of that which is most precious.

In his prison cell Boethius began reflecting on “What happened?” And the larger question, “What does God have planned for us?”

One thing we do know is that God has planned for each of us our salvation. In this respect, God has predestined us to holiness. But, this requires our response – our response to collaborate with God’s plan. God’s plan is not imposed upon us. Grace can be accepted – but even rejected.

The Boethius class came soon after our Christmas break (which felt very short!) I was enveloped by the presence of Mary, Mother of God, from the Monday liturgy, Jan. 1. The Solemnity’s profound movement within me this year was felt when I went to Our Lady of Sorrows to pray before Our Blessed Mother and my eyes simply fell on the First Sorrow of Our Lady: the Prophet Simeon holding Jesus and relating to Mary the prophetic words, “A sword will pierce your soul, too.” (Lk 2:35)

The First Sorrow conveys the Marian devotion and patronal title of the parish: Our Lady of Sorrows. The prophetic passage was fresh in my mind as Simeon’s words were announced in the Gospel reading from Saint Luke the previous day, the Sunday of the Holy Family.

What stands out is “sorrow.” If we think about it, how can the joy of bringing a child into the world contain a prophecy of sorrow for a mother who just gave birth? “A sword will pierce your soul, too.” Simeon’s prophetic address to Mary explains the devotional imagery of Mary with Seven Swords in her heart.  

Christmas paradoxically creates a spirit of joy and sorrow. In fact, all the liturgies express both joy, danger, and death. At the human level suffering and sacrifice remain present in the liturgies – and the human dimension of suffering cannot be dismissed as this would fail to appreciate what is being offered/sacrificed: the bloody stoning of St. Stephen (Dec. 26) the day after Christmas; the slaughter of Innocents only a few days later (Dec. 28); and the prophet Simeon prophesying Mary’s sorrow (Feast of the Holy Family) as has already been mentioned.

Even the Kings after visiting Jesus (Epiphany) are warned to take another route on their return because of the threat of King Herod. Joseph was ordered by an angel to flee with Mary and the infant Jesus to Egypt because of Herod’s murderous rampage killing babies seeking out Jesus.

So, let us return to Boethius. In spite of all his knowledge of Roman and Greek philosophy and Christianity – we can safely call Boethius an intellectual – it was only in prison where Boethius could make sense of Plato, Aristotle, Stoics, and the Christian Scriptures. Waiting for his death sentence Boethius understood that true happiness is not to be found in wealth, power, or glory, but only in God. (Book III, Prose 10)

Christianity is the religion of the cross; to embrace Christ also means to embrace his cross. From the time of Christ’s birth, joy and sorrow appear inseparable. We are taught by the Scriptures and the saints that our religion does not exclude suffering and sacrifice, while joy transcends the human experience to attain, by God’s grace, something everlasting and eternal.

This is what Christ and his mother teach us, and this is what St. Joseph, St. Stephen, and the Holy Innocents teach us. And this is what, I believe, Boethius finally learned.  

Father David Bellusci is a Dominican priest and Assistant Professor of Philosophy at Catholic Pacific College in Langley, B.C.

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