A few months ago, one of my friends from high school gave birth to her second child. A baby boy. A “pandemic baby”. When he was born, the hospital was under such restrictions because of COVID-19, that he couldn’t have any visitors in his first few days, while he was there. Just his mother and father. But he’s doing very well. He’s happy and healthy.
His first name is Rocco. His last name is Fitzsimons.
His middle name is Fauci.
Rocco Fauci Fitzsimons. So now I think he has to become a superhero, to live into that name.
Rocco’s mom is among the first of my high school friends to have kids. I’m 33. During our younger years, I remember some of my peers wondering aloud about whether they might *not* have kids. They were hesitant about it. What did it mean to bring a child into a world so threatened by global warming? And threatened by other things too…
We are living in an Empire. And that’s a hard thing for people of goodwill to live with. I expect this has weighed heavily on many of us here, from time to time.
The tough part is, it’s not something you can just opt out of. Its reach extends everywhere. It’s like a dragon with seven heads and ten horns, as the first reading from Revelation says. What a great metaphor for Empire. Some have drawn a parallel between the seven heads the seven hills that Rome was built on. They see the crowns as pointing to the Roman Empire’s power of all the kingdoms of the earth. How do you escape something like that: something so immense?
You can’t, really. Even when you try your best, as many of us do… it’s almost impossible.
When I wake up to start my day, my taxes are paying for military spending, without my having a say in the matter.
I get dressed, I eat breakfast; only sometimes can I be sure that what I eat and wear is sustainably made. Often, I can’t trace where my clothes and food come from, or know that the people who made them were treated fairly.
I drive a car that runs on gasoline, and the power of big oil companies. When I chose the car I did, it was after being bombarded with slogans suggesting that nothing less than my salvation was tied to the car I bought: “Love: It’s What Makes a Subaru.” “Find Zen with Cadillac ELR.” Some of you may once have driven a Datsun, whose slogan was “Sets You Free.” (!) Then there’s “Honda: What Dreams Are Made Of.”
I carry an i-phone in my pocket— from Apple, whose slogan is, “think different”… Even though Apple products are about as common as rocks, and even more difficult to tell apart. I have to take pains to turn off notifications on this phone, or else it will constantly fill my ears with noise – pinging every time there is a news story, or a photo, or an update. And encouraging me, each time it does that, to make my life all about efficiency, busyness, comparison, appearances, and “more.”
Earlier this month, we needed some incense for the sacristy here at church. It arrived this week— neatly wrapped— from amazon.com. (My brother actually calls Amazon “the evil empire.” But he uses it too! He is a college student, and it’s often the only affordable option.) In any case, here were the symbols of the church, literally wrapped in the packaging of empire.
In this world— of Amazon and Apple, fires and flooding, not to mention a pandemic— my friend gave birth, nevertheless. To a beautiful, healthy baby boy, who just might be a hero.
That’s what both the first reading and today’s Gospel are about.
They’re about birth in difficult circumstances.
They’re about having the courage to be hopeful, even when it seems there are so many dragons; even when the world feels scary.
So much depends on what vision we hold to.
The passage from Revelation is about two dueling concepts for how the world can be: One of Empire, represented by the dragon. The dragon that stands ready to “devour” — just like that
