Dominica 4 Adventus
Evening,
17 December 2016
Church
of St John, Agawam
And the light
shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it (Jn 1:5).
We already said from this pulpit that
the Last Gospel is a kind of summary of salvation history, if not especially as
it relates to our Advent waiting and preparation. It is also the case that the
Last Gospel is a summary of the Holy Mass. For instance, during the first half
of the Mass—the Mass of the Catechumens—we receive the testimony of the
Scriptures about Christ, just as the Last Gospel states: “This man [John the
Baptist] came for a witness, to give testimony of the light, that all men might
believe through him.” The scriptural texts of the Mass before the Canon all
serve to acquaint us with the person and mission of Christ.[1]
The second half of the Mass, the Mass
of the Faithful, is when Christ takes flesh on the altar.—“And the Word was
made flesh, and dwelt among us,” as the Last Gospel puts it. Christ dwells
among us most dramatically and efficaciously in the Sacraments, and among
these, in the Eucharist most of all, the Sacrament of Sacraments. When the Word
became incarnate of the Virgin Mary, he had the Mass in mind: “I will not leave
you orphans; I will come to you.”[2] If that be true, then we
see why the prologue of John’s Gospel is an especially appropriate text with
which to conclude the Mass: again, it spells out the whole picture of the
sacramental action that has just taken place. As one liturgical scholar put it,
the Last Gospel is “the concluding paragraph by which the Mass is brought back
to its ‘eternal root’ or source.”[3]
All that being said, the Last Gospel
has another quality and function that is no less important: it is a text that
blesses. We know this in two ways. First, by its location in the Mass. If the
Last Gospel were meant to have an instructive function, as do the epistle and
Gospel, then it stands to reason that it would be located in that part of the
Mass which contained the other lessons. But this is not the case. Instead, it
follows immediately upon the final blessing given by the priest-celebrant,
without any other prayer or liturgical action in between.
But we know the Last Gospel serves as
a blessing for another reason, namely, how the text is used in other rites of
the Church. For instance, it may be read by the priest in the sickroom before
he dispenses the Sacraments; at one time it was recited over a neophyte or used
to evoke the blessing of fine weather.[4] Most especially, however,
the prologue of John’s Gospel is used during the solemn rites of exorcism: this
text is so profound that it is especially potent against the enemy of our
souls. Why? Because the prologue of John pierces the mystery of the Incarnation
of Christ, and therefore reminds Satan how thoroughly and powerfully he has
been defeated by that same mystery: “And the light shines in the darkness, and
the darkness has not overcome it.” As we have said before, all the Gospel texts
are sacred; the prologue of John is especially so—which is precisely why the
Church has always used it when she has had to more explicitly assert herself
against the darksome influence of Satan.
Therefore, the Last Gospel is like a
seal set over the blessing of the priest at Mass. Christians who are nourished
at the supper of the Lamb also need to be guarded against the enemy, who does
all he can to try to sully and wreck the purity of the gifts God bestows. “And
the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” Unto
ourselves, we are no match for the dark intelligences that set themselves
against our spiritual good; human power can never stand against what is
angelic. But with the words of the prologue of John, we are protected by grace
from on high: et tenebrae eam non
comprehenderunt.
The mysteries of the Christmas cycle
are indeed joyful mysteries. The faithful do well to make this a time of
especial rejoicing and trustful abandonment to the gentle Father. The truths
and images of Christmas are rightfully precious to us, we who so readily attracted
to the divine tenderness of the Madonna and Child. Without prejudice to that
joy, however, our spiritual realism does well to take note of the fact that the
Christmas mysteries are a prominent part of the great campaign against the
kingdom of darkness. (They are the Normandy Invasion of the spiritual
order.)
The Vespers hymn for Advent spells
this out explicitly: Te, Sancte, fide
quaesumus, / venture iudex saeculi,
/ conserva nos in tempore / hostis a telo perfidi.[5] This he does— fortiter suaviterque disponens omnia[6]—contrary to the work of
our ancient enemy. “And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did
not overcome it.”
Amidst the natural cold and darkness
of this season, the light of grace shines brightly and warmly from the
Incarnation of Christ. Authentic Christmas joy has nothing to do with sentiment
and superficial well-feeling: our spiritual enemy is too real and hateful for
any of that. But the Last Gospel, at each Mass, reminds us that our joy may
blossom and flourish all the more because of the divine love which attains so
great a victory: et tenebrae eam non
comprehenderunt.
[1] This is not to say,
however, that the texts do not serve other purposes. Every Mass text is an act
of worship, even the recitation of the scriptural lessons. The texts are indeed
given for our edification, but they are also spoken to God in adoration. The
position of the deacon during the singing of the Gospel at Solemn Mass suggests
this most obviously: he faces “north,” in the direction of the Gospel side of
the sanctuary, perpendicular to the people.
[2] Jn 14:18.
[3] Jungmann, vol 2, p 450.
[4] Ibid, 447-448.
[5] “O Holy One, we faithfully
beseech you, / the coming Judge of the age: / preserve us in time / against the
weapon of the treacherous one.” Translation mine.
[6] Cf Magnificat antiphon for
17 December: O Sapientia, quae ex ore
Altissimi prodisti, attingens a fine usque ad finem fortiter suaviterque
disponens omnia: veni ad docendum nos viam prudentiae.
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