Just last Sunday we completed another cycle of the Church’s liturgical year as we celebrated the Feast of Christ the King. And now we begin again, as we wait for Christ to return to us once more, as He always does and always will. That is our hope, that is what we anticipate.
And He will come in the most unexpected way, entering our world through the most wonderful woman in the world, Mary, His mother and—by adoption—ours. Joseph and Mary, weary, without lodging, given a stable to rest in, and so far from their home in Galilee, one more family to be counted by the ruling authorities.
But how beautiful and touching the story is, isn’t it? How many songs, how many paintings, how many musical settings, how many memories we have of our Christmas mornings, when our families gathered to unwrap presents and attend the luminescent altars of our churches to receive Him in the breaking of the bread!
The days are coming, Jeremiah warns us, when the Lord in the fullness of time will raise up for the House of David a just shoot, who will do what is right and just in the land.
And centuries later—a wink in God’s eye—Jesus, preparing to end his earthly time with us, telling his disciples—telling us—that a time is coming when the nations will be in terrible dismay, and that some will even die of fright as the very heavens are shaken.
And how many times have events like this happened already? The very destruction of the Temple and the death and captivity of the Jewish people at the hands of the Roman army. Or the plagues and diseases which have decimated us. Or those atom bombs over Nagasaki and Hiroshima? Or the situation in the Middle East and Ukraine. And even the internal struggles here in the United States?
Be prepared, Christ tells us, for there is Good News too. In fact, better news actually. For Christ will come—as He always has—and He will be there with us and for us, like the Good Shepherd He is.
In the meantime, here’s what we must do. Be alert like good sentinels. Don’t give in to carousing and drunkenness, and don’t let your daily anxieties overwhelm you. All of those things count as nothing, finally. No, your job is to be ready to stand before Him, with open and ready arms.
And isn’t that what Advent is for? Isn’t it to prepare us with our acts of loving others for the coming of the Savior, either as the King of the universe, or as a baby cuddled in his mother’s arms?
Paul Mariani
Boston College English Professor Emeritus
Professor Paul Mariani has published over 250 essays and 21 books, including biographies of William Carlos Williams, Berryman, Lowell, Hart Crane, Hopkins, and Wallace Stevens, nine volumes of poetry, and Thirty Days: on Retreat with the Exercises of St. Ignatius. His awards include fellowships from the Guggenheim, the National Endowment for the Arts and the National Endowment for the Humanities, the John Ciardi Award for Lifetime Achievement in Poetry, and the Flannery O’Connor Award. From 2000–2006 he served as Poetry Editor of America.