A radiant Sign of Hope

The Twelve Days have been a hard slog so far. The weather has been snowy and cold, and everything that involves being outside (such as going to work) takes longer. I am always worn out by the afternoon of Christmas Day, and this year I was coming down with a cold. My wife was also worn out by a back injury in November and the insanity of big-chain-store retail in December. By the time I got home that afternoon, the two of us stared bleakly at each other for a while, ate a light supper, and went to bed. Neither of us had bothered to have a gift for the other; she received no gifts at all other than some cash from her parents.

It has been little better since then; I have worked my normal schedule, fighting a mild fever and hacking cough in the rush to prepare for Sunday – having Christmas on Wednesday made it like two very short weeks with two Sundays to cover, two sets of bulletins to produce. Twice as much work, no extra time to do it.

Seeing that the refrigerator was starting to be a little barren – the weather had been too frightful, and I too tired, for my normal grocering the previous Monday, and promised to be even worse this Monday (yesterday, Dec. 30) – I swung by the all-night supermarket on Sunday when I was done at church, dully making my way through the store for milk, yoghurt, beer – all of these for my wife, nothing for me. I had lost my appetite with the fever and was barely eating. Halfway through, I had to stop and go to the store's filthy restroom with a bout of diarrhea. I somehow managed to get home and lug the groceries and twelve-pack of Grain Belt to the door, the wind chill some thirty below by now. I got everything inside, put away, and fell into the bed, still in most of my clothes.

The next morning: not a word of thanks. “I am almost out of oatmeal. And you didn't bother to even look.”

Lo, how a Rose e'er blooming
from tender stem hath sprung!
Of Jesse's lineage coming
as seers of old have sung.
It came a blossom bright,
amid the cold of winter,
when half-spent was the night.

The week has been instructive. In my weakness, I clung to the Daily Office, and for the three Major Feasts, the Ante-Communion service with the Eucharistic lessons (for this is how I celebrate them, not being a priest). For Stephen's Day, which was a day off and the worst of my sickness, that was all I could manage – Matins, Ante-Communion, Evensong, sleep.

And a slim little book: the Infancy Narratives volume of Benedict XVI's “Jesus of Nazareth.” Having read the other two volumes, I was slightly disappointed when I purchased and read it early in 2013; it is 132 pages and hardly more than a two-hour read, where the other volumes had been substantial. And it cost the same: $20.00. Worse, the ending seemed like Benedict simply ran out of steam and quit. To some extent, that might have been true, for his powers were failing when he wrote this and it is a miracle that we have it at all.

But now – here I was in the Twelve Days, in most desperate need. It was medicine for the soul. Even the ending now makes sense; Benedict saw rightly that this book must lead directly into the one he wrote first, which takes up the story of Jesus of Nazareth at his Baptism. I can see that if one were to read the books in order (that is, the Infancy narrative first), the end of this book would flow almost seamlessly into the beginning of the next, and the very fine ending of "volume three" (the second to be written, covering the events from Palm Sunday through the Ascension) would be a fitting conclusion.

I do not have the time or energy for extensive quotes; I will simply recommend the book to anyone who wants a companion through the infancy narratives of St. Matthew and St. Luke.

And one quote:

Is what we profess in the Creed true, then?--'I believe in one Lord Jesus Christ, the Only Begotten Son of God … [who] by the Holy Spirit was incarnate of the Virgin Mary?' The answer is an unequivocal yes.... These two moments [the Virgin Birth and the Resurrection] are a scandal to the modern spirit. God is 'allowed' to act in ideas and thoughts, in the spiritual domain—but not in the material. That is shocking. He does not belong there. But that is precisely the point: God is God and he does not operate merely on the level of ideas....

Hence the conception and birth of Jesus from the Virgin Mary is a fundamental element of our faith and a radiant sign of hope. (p. 56-57)

Today, I am better. It was still a struggle to get to the church in the snow and I was ten minutes late in starting Matins, out in the church in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament, and the final public liturgy of the year. But I was able to sing the Psalms and Canticles without coughing for the first time since Christmas Eve. And I was able to put in a solid day of work, much of it on a First Workout of “Les Mages” from the Messiaen Nativity suite. It will be the prelude for Sunday.

My wife and I both have this Thursday as a day off. Perhaps we can mend some bridges then. It will help that I swung by the store for some oatmeal on the way home today.

O Star of Hope, O Mother of God,
pray for us sinners.
May we treasure His words in our hearts,
as you have ever done.
May they bear fruit in our lives
for the Kingdom which began
with your obedience.
May we love the poor among us
and be their servants.
May we, with you, behold his face
forever, world without end.