In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Today, in the context of our liturgy, and especially through the Gospel we have just heard, we find ourselves poised on the brink of Apocalypse. The word “apocalypse” in Greek means an “unveiling” or a “revelation” – and the Christ’s advent is quintessential apocalypse, for he is the unveiling of God himself, the manifestation of what had been hidden since the fall of man: the creator of the world within the world.
We don’t tend to think of our preparation for Christmas as preparation for Apocalypse, yet that is precisely what it is. We live between the two advents of the Christ: this is the last hour. John Henry Newman put it this way:
“Once the Christ had come ... had suffered, and had risen again ... Earth had had its most solemn event, and seen its most august sight; and therefore it was the last time. And hence, though time intervene between Christ's first and second coming, it is not recognized (as I may say) in the Gospel scheme, but is, as it were, an accident. For so it was, that up to Christ's coming in the flesh, the course of things ran straight towards that end, nearing it by every step; but now, under the Gospel, that course has… altered its direction, as regards His second coming, and runs, not towards the end, but along it, and on the brink of it; and is at all times equally near that great event, which, did it run towards, it would at once run into. Christ, then, is ever at our doors; as near [two thousand] years ago as now, and not nearer now than then; and not nearer when He comes than now. When He says that He will come soon, "soon" is not a word of time, but of natural order. This present state of things, "the present distress" as St. Paul calls it, is ever close upon the next world, and resolves itself into it. As when a man is given over, he may die any moment, yet lingers; as an implement of war may any moment explode, and must at some time; as we listen for a clock to strike, and at length it surprises us; as a crumbling arch hangs, we know not how, and is not safe to pass under; so creeps on this feeble weary world, and one day, before we know where we are, it will end.”
This is the state of the world before the apocalypse of God, groaning, in one of Isaiah’s favorite images, as though it were about to give birth (cf. Isa. 13.8).
And so the apocalypse of God begins with pregnant anticipation. Poised, as we are, on the brink of this annual apocalypse, the Gospel reading today brings before us the pregnant anticipation of our Lady, the blessed Virgin. In doing so, it situates the apocalypse, our salvation, within the context of the whole narrative of salvation history. For Mary, like John the Baptist, is a figure who stands astride the border between the old and the new covenant. She is the chosen daughter of Zion, a descendent of Abraham, and Israelite. But the sound of her fiat will reach the ears of all nations – for the salvation that begins with her devout ascent to the call of God is the WORLD’S salvation, and so her voice reaches beyond the confines of Nazareth, beyond Bethlehem of Judea, beyond Jerusalem, and encompasses Ephesus, where tradition says she would die, Rome, Paris, Canterbury, New York, and Dallas. In Mary – literally IN Mary: inside of her womb – the Lord “remembers his mercy and faithfulness to the house of Israel” and, more wonderful still, in Mary “all the ends of the earth have seen the victory of our God” (Ps. 98.3).
The world sits on the brink of the apocalypse, and it is as though a breathless anticipation settles. For what is the world waiting? For what is the Lord waiting? We are waiting for the grace-filled response of Mary – for one who can, in total purity of heart, say “Yes” to the call of God, holding nothing back, and insensible to the cost.
This is what God is ever looking for, not least in us, now, as we await the Lord’s second and final advent and our own renewal, and the renewal of the heavens and the earth: he wants each of us, in purity of heart, to say “Yes” to his call – to say, with Mary, without reservation: “Be it done to me according to thy word.”
In the 12th century, St. Bernard of Claivaux addresses the Virgin in such terms, and he might well have been addressing you and me, poised on the brink of decision:
Let God hear your voice! “If you let him hear it, then he will let you see our salvation. Is not this what you have been waiting for, what you have been weeping for and sighing after day and night in your prayers? Answer, O Virgin, answer the angel quickly; or rather, through the angel answer God. Speak the word and receive the Word. Offer what is yours and conceive what is God’s. Breathe one fleeting [little] Word and embrace the ETERNAL Word.
“Why delay? Why be afraid? Believe, speak, receive! Let your humility be clothed with courage, and your reserve with trust. In such circumstances, O prudent Virgin, do not fear presumption, for although the reserve which makes you silent is [lovely], how more important at this juncture is it for your goodness to speak!
“O Blessed Virgin, open your heart to FAITH, your lips to speak, your womb to your Creator. Behold, the long-desired of the nations is standing at the door and knocking. Oh, what if he should pass by because of your delay and again in sorrow you should have to begin to seek for him whom your soul loves? Rise up, then, run and open! Arise by faith, run by the devotion of your heart, open by consent.
“And Mary said, ‘Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. Let it be to me according to your word.’”
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Today, in the context of our liturgy, and especially through the Gospel we have just heard, we find ourselves poised on the brink of Apocalypse. The word “apocalypse” in Greek means an “unveiling” or a “revelation” – and the Christ’s advent is quintessential apocalypse, for he is the unveiling of God himself, the manifestation of what had been hidden since the fall of man: the creator of the world within the world.
We don’t tend to think of our preparation for Christmas as preparation for Apocalypse, yet that is precisely what it is. We live between the two advents of the Christ: this is the last hour. John Henry Newman put it this way:
“Once the Christ had come ... had suffered, and had risen again ... Earth had had its most solemn event, and seen its most august sight; and therefore it was the last time. And hence, though time intervene between Christ's first and second coming, it is not recognized (as I may say) in the Gospel scheme, but is, as it were, an accident. For so it was, that up to Christ's coming in the flesh, the course of things ran straight towards that end, nearing it by every step; but now, under the Gospel, that course has… altered its direction, as regards His second coming, and runs, not towards the end, but along it, and on the brink of it; and is at all times equally near that great event, which, did it run towards, it would at once run into. Christ, then, is ever at our doors; as near [two thousand] years ago as now, and not nearer now than then; and not nearer when He comes than now. When He says that He will come soon, "soon" is not a word of time, but of natural order. This present state of things, "the present distress" as St. Paul calls it, is ever close upon the next world, and resolves itself into it. As when a man is given over, he may die any moment, yet lingers; as an implement of war may any moment explode, and must at some time; as we listen for a clock to strike, and at length it surprises us; as a crumbling arch hangs, we know not how, and is not safe to pass under; so creeps on this feeble weary world, and one day, before we know where we are, it will end.”
This is the state of the world before the apocalypse of God, groaning, in one of Isaiah’s favorite images, as though it were about to give birth (cf. Isa. 13.8).
And so the apocalypse of God begins with pregnant anticipation. Poised, as we are, on the brink of this annual apocalypse, the Gospel reading today brings before us the pregnant anticipation of our Lady, the blessed Virgin. In doing so, it situates the apocalypse, our salvation, within the context of the whole narrative of salvation history. For Mary, like John the Baptist, is a figure who stands astride the border between the old and the new covenant. She is the chosen daughter of Zion, a descendent of Abraham, and Israelite. But the sound of her fiat will reach the ears of all nations – for the salvation that begins with her devout ascent to the call of God is the WORLD’S salvation, and so her voice reaches beyond the confines of Nazareth, beyond Bethlehem of Judea, beyond Jerusalem, and encompasses Ephesus, where tradition says she would die, Rome, Paris, Canterbury, New York, and Dallas. In Mary – literally IN Mary: inside of her womb – the Lord “remembers his mercy and faithfulness to the house of Israel” and, more wonderful still, in Mary “all the ends of the earth have seen the victory of our God” (Ps. 98.3).
The world sits on the brink of the apocalypse, and it is as though a breathless anticipation settles. For what is the world waiting? For what is the Lord waiting? We are waiting for the grace-filled response of Mary – for one who can, in total purity of heart, say “Yes” to the call of God, holding nothing back, and insensible to the cost.
This is what God is ever looking for, not least in us, now, as we await the Lord’s second and final advent and our own renewal, and the renewal of the heavens and the earth: he wants each of us, in purity of heart, to say “Yes” to his call – to say, with Mary, without reservation: “Be it done to me according to thy word.”
In the 12th century, St. Bernard of Claivaux addresses the Virgin in such terms, and he might well have been addressing you and me, poised on the brink of decision:
Let God hear your voice! “If you let him hear it, then he will let you see our salvation. Is not this what you have been waiting for, what you have been weeping for and sighing after day and night in your prayers? Answer, O Virgin, answer the angel quickly; or rather, through the angel answer God. Speak the word and receive the Word. Offer what is yours and conceive what is God’s. Breathe one fleeting [little] Word and embrace the ETERNAL Word.
“Why delay? Why be afraid? Believe, speak, receive! Let your humility be clothed with courage, and your reserve with trust. In such circumstances, O prudent Virgin, do not fear presumption, for although the reserve which makes you silent is [lovely], how more important at this juncture is it for your goodness to speak!
“O Blessed Virgin, open your heart to FAITH, your lips to speak, your womb to your Creator. Behold, the long-desired of the nations is standing at the door and knocking. Oh, what if he should pass by because of your delay and again in sorrow you should have to begin to seek for him whom your soul loves? Rise up, then, run and open! Arise by faith, run by the devotion of your heart, open by consent.
“And Mary said, ‘Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. Let it be to me according to your word.’”
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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