The liturgical calendar begins on the first Sunday of Advent, and will end the Saturday before the following first Sunday of Advent.
But every year, as the end approaches and a new year is beginning, we are presented with readings to remind of the end times, the day when Christ will come again. The readings offered as we approach the transition are repetitive with common themes.
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By Steve Hall
https://bible.usccb.org/bible/readings/112820.cfm
Revelation 22:1-7
Luke 21:34-36
It was 1582. Gregory XIII was Pope.
Due to a small error in calculations the dating of the equinox had gradually drifted from observed reality. That shift affected the proper day for the celebration of Easter and it was steadily getting worse. Through a papal bull titled Inter Gravissimas a modification was made to the erroneous Julian calendar so as to correct that error. It is Pope Gregory’s modified calendar that is in use today; but interestingly, the Church’s own liturgical calendar does not, as you may know, correspond.
The liturgical calendar begins on the first Sunday of Advent, and will end the Saturday before the following first Sunday of Advent. But every year, as the end approaches and a new year is beginning, we are presented with readings to remind of the end times, the day when Christ will come again. The readings offered as we approach the transition are repetitive with common themes.
We may be intrigued with the when where and how of the coming Kingdom, but the unknown will remain unknown. What’s left to us is to give heartfelt attention to the themes presented to us.
As I mentioned, last Sunday, the Sunday called the feast of Christ the King, the Sunday we renewed our faith that Our Lord will come again, the Sunday on which we acknowledge that ultimate, final judgment — on that Sunday we heard the precursor to that judgement. “Before him will be gathered all the nations, and he will separate them one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. . . .” (Matthew 25:32) Mentally I recalled other words from a parable of Anticipation: “But he replied, 'Truly, I say to you, I do not know you.'” ( Matthew 25:12) The words come from a passage where Jesus uses the image of women waiting through the night for the arrival of the bridegroom. Some brought extra lamp oil. Some did not. Since the bridegroom was later than expected those without extra oil had to go buy some. By the time they returned, the bridegroom had arrived and the door to the celebration was shut. It was then that they heard the fateful words: 'Truly, I say to you, I do not know you.'
It’s not inappropriate that those things pertaining to the Christmas coming of our Savior and the End of Days coming of our Savior should be confused, or rather, intertwined, intermingled and interwoven. Sometimes one image helps with understanding the other. So it was for me in the commingling of the passage of judgment and the passage of anticipation. So let me explain the truth which became clearer.
The words of judgment — “I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink . . . Etc., etc.” — I have probably always understood in humanitarian terms, the terms which evoke such sayings as ‘we’re all human beings’, or ‘we’re all children of God’ so we should treat one another as such. But when I put that together with ‘Truly, I say to you, I do not know you.' I had to look more deeply. In doing so, the works of Jesus while he was on earth came to mind. When the five thousand were hungry he had compassion and fed them. When he met the woman at the well he offered her life giving water. When strangers approached him he welcomed them. When people were sick throughout Galilee he healed them. And, of course, the list goes on. Suddenly the necessity of these works of mercy made sense and the words “I do not know you” were not confusing.
We were commanded, not to love one another as we love ourselves, but to love one another as I, Jesus, have loved you. How has he loved us? By being the mercy of God among us. We have also been directed to “put on Christ”. How do we put on Christ? We do so by being the mercy of God among men just as he was.
God was not, is not a humanitarian. The corporeal works of mercy are not humanitarian directives. They are the directives that, if followed, will conform us into the likeness of his Son. It is no wonder that, if they are ignored and our image remains that of ourselves alone, he will one day say to us: ‘Truly, I say to you, I do not know you.'