The “fulfilled in your hearing” statement of Jesus today is also the conclusion of last week’s Gospel, with the words of Isaiah about the breadth of God’s mercy and justice at its heart. The response of the crowd in the synagogue is united: all are amazed, but all likewise ask if he’s not merely the son of Joseph the humble carpenter. Jesus calls them out for seeming to think that he ought to be doing his ministry only locally, and - selfishly - only for them. (After all, they know where he comes from!)

Community is important. Community is essential. Community is crucial. This message is the foundation of today’s readings from Nehemiah, Corinthians, and Luke. Ezra’s reading of the scroll is done in front of the community, including—a radical act at the time—women, and children old enough to understand, groups usually not counted among those hearing God’s promise proclaimed. Community is important. The mystical Body of Christ, like the human body, functions best and most fully when all members are playing the role for which they were meant.

“For Pete’s sake will you kids be quiet?” This question, no doubt, has passed the lips of numerous parents through the years. It’s tempting to speculate as to who, exactly, was instructing Isaiah to be quiet. Neighbors? Fellow prophets? Family? No matter. Isaiah says firmly that for the sake of Jerusalem and Zion he will not be silent. Conversely, in the familiar passage in today’s Gospel reading, Mary chides her son to break his silence, to save the wedding soon to run out of wine.

The Advent/Christmas cycle that began on November 28 ends with the Baptism of the Lord. We likely have an image in our minds (based on details from the Gospels and works of art) of what that scene looked like. We might wonder, “Who else was there and who wasn’t?” No disciples were present because Jesus had not yet begun his ministry. They would have to wait until the Transfiguration to hear a similar message.

Gifts are everywhere at this time of year. Christmas gifts. Hostess gifts. Hidden gifts. Wrong-size gifts. Unexpected gifts. Unwanted gifts. Unreciprocated gifts. And in today’s readings we hear about even more gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. But we know intuitively (or, one hopes, eventually!) that gifts are symbols of something much deeper and less tangible. The gift of God’s Son is, of course, at the heart of our Christmas festivities.

It wasn’t at all what Mary and Joseph expected their life to be like. Almost from the beginning, there were indications that something extraordinary was at work: Mary’s angelic annunciation; Joseph’s strange dream; the puzzling words of Simeon and Anna in the Temple. And now this: during Mary and Joseph’s annual Passover journey to Jerusalem, the discovery that their son Jesus was lost—and even when he was found, they didn’t totally recognize their twelve-year-old boy.

For years, Catholic spiritual writers have drawn our attention to the Christmas liturgy’s subtle - and not-so-subtle - linking of Christ’s incarnation with his paschal mystery. In the infancy narratives of Matthew and Luke, there are countless intimations of the Passion and cross. The saints of the Christmas octave, dubbed “comites Christi,” Christ's companions in suffering, form a royal honor guard of martyrs and others who bore witness at great personal sacrifice to the Child we hail as “Prince of Peace,” while the wood of the manger evokes the wood of the cross.

Today is known as Gaudete - Rejoice - Sunday, the day’s Latin nickname is taken from today’s ancient official Entrance Antiphon, “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice. Indeed, the Lord is near.” The optional rose vestments — reminiscent of winter's early morning skies as the solstice draws near, the festal organ music, the floral arrangements, all these ancient traditions together with the antiphon are meant to anticipate, in sight and sound, the soon-to-break-upon-us Christmas joy.

Almost nine hundred years ago, Saint Bernard of Clairvaux suggested in one of his Advent homilies that we should think of three Advents of Christ: the First, when Christ came in humility as Mary’s Child, clothed in our human nature; the Second, when Christ will come in glory as Judge and Redeemer of the world.

Today, whether at evening, morning, or midday, in many communities of different churches around the world, the first candle lighted in each Advent wreath silently but beautifully announces the beginning of a new liturgical year. This new beginning presents a grace-filled opportunity for us to resolve to live not simply according to the secular calendar of our commercialized society, but according to the spirit of the liturgy. There’s nothing wrong—indeed there can be something quite holy—about planning to celebrate God’s surprising gift of the Son by surprising our loved ones with thoughtful gifts at Christmas.

Today we celebrate the Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ the King. It is likely that when we think of a king, the image that comes to mind is of pomp, ceremony, and civic authority. Jesus is a king like no other. He is hot bound by the constraints of time or place. His authority is everlasting. He is the one “who is and who was and who is to come.” Jesus does not rule as earthly kings govern. Jesus reigns in humble obedience to the will of God the Father and calls us to do the same. It is by following the truth of Christ's command and listening to his voice of love that we are made into a kingdom, serving the One whose dominion is everlasting.

The end is near! Many of us recall such predictions from religious sources, mostly small evangelical sects but even the larger Jehovah's Witnesses. Catholics, too. For instance, Pope Saint Clement of Rome declared the end is near for the year 90; his successor Pope Sylvester Il for 1000; and Innocent Ill predicted 1284 as the world’s end by adding 666 years to the date of Islam’s beginning. The end is near!

This year, it seems the Lectionary’s scriptures not only reinforce the Catholic tradition of November prayer for our beloved departed, but also join with nature’s storms and the pandemic as well as humanity's violent disasters to remind us that we are moving inexorably toward the end of history, both the world’s and our own. Today’s Old Testament reading prepares us for a fruitful hearing of the Gospel.