This year, I would like to share with you some texts that are ripe for meditation on the birth of Christ. On Christmas morning, I took a video of the sunrise for your viewing pleasure, and I’ve put a bit of music in the background to keep it exciting.
Texts for Christmas meditation
Magnificat and antiphon from Christmas Evening Prayer I
Prologue from the Gospel of John (Christmas Day Gospel)
Luke 2:1-20 (Knox Translation)
Selection from Pope St. Leo’s Christmas Sermon (Office of Readings on Christmas Day)
As we approach the culmination of Advent and, on Saturday, celebrate the birth of our Savior, my thoughts turn to a story by Henry Van Dyke, the Story of the Other Wise Man. Artaban prepared to leave with the three other wise men, but missed them by just a few hours. He never managed to catch up, to them. While following the star he encountered people in need. He had sold all of his possessions to go on this journey and purchased three majestic gems: a sapphire, a ruby, and a pearl to give the king.
Artaban, when he finally reached Israel, became a wanderer throughout Israel and Egypt, always searching for the king he could not find. He consulted scholars, disciples, and sought him ought, but he could not find the king for whom he searched. He sold the sapphire and the ruby he had brought to give to the new-born king, who he did not know, to assist those in need, asking himself, “Should he risk the great reward of his divine faith for the sake of a single deed of human love?” (p. 16)
Finally, after 33 years of searching, “Worn and weary and ready to die, but still looking for the King, he had come for the last time to Jerusalem […] and something whispered in his heart that, at last, he might succeed.” (p. 29) Yet, in the final encounter of Artaban’s life, he surrendered the pearl, his final treasure, to save a poor, helpless soul in desperate need. He never made it to meet his king, who was being crucified that day, in fact, at that same moment. The other wise man’s final lament tragically proclaims, “Not so, my Lord! For when saw I thee an hungered, and fed thee? Or thirsty, and gave thee drink? When saw I thee a stranger, and took thee in? Or naked, and clothed thee? When saw I thee sick or in prison, and came unto thee? Three-and-thirty years have I looked for thee; but I have never seen thy face, nor ministered to thee, my King.” (p. 33) In Artaban’s dying moments, a sweet voice proclaims to him, “Verily I say unto thee, inasmuch as thou hast done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, thou hast done it unto me.” (p. 34)
This story speaks to me during this time of year for so many reasons. How many of us fear that we’ve only just missed to best moments? That if only we had been born a decade earlier, if only we had not fallen into a particular sin while young, if only I hadn’t made that one decision 30 years ago, that if only things were different I would be able to meet Jesus Christ face to face, that following him would be easier? How many of us, on the search to find Jesus Christ, look around us to see the world and the people around us, offering the poor souls we encounter the gifts we have? How often do we not recognize the face of Christ in these same people? How often do we seek to retain that joy of Christmas, only to find out that our journey to meet our King is going to be a life-long journey?
This story proposes so many questions to our hearts, uncomfortable and challenging questions. When we are wandering through the world, seeking an answer for the infinite longing of our hearts, we are like the great crowds in the Bible who sought Jesus: “many wanted to see Jesus, to be healed by him, to meet him.” (Luigi Giussani, Why the Church?, p. 20) Having taken on human form, Jesus could not have tended to all of his flock himself. “Unable to visit all the towns and villages, he began to send his closest followers to the places he could not reach.” (Giussani, p. 20)
We never know the power of our own witness to our faith in Jesus Christ. We do not know the impact it will have on the hearts of our family, our friends, and even ourselves. If Artaban had not met the disciples of Jesus, he would not have learned that “Those who seek [the King] will do well to look among the poor and the lowly, the sorrowful and the oppressed.” (Van Dyke, p. 27) If the apostles and disciples of Jesus had not gone to the ends of the earth, and if the story of Jesus, the story of God’s infinite self-giving love for all humanity, had not been told from generation to generation, none of us would have know. Our faith is a story to be shared, because in each unique story of coming to know Jesus Christ we see another side of his glory. We see another side of his love. We see another side of his mercy.
Contemplating the Christ child this Christmas, let us ponder the question: what is the love story God wants to write in my heart?
I find the works of Fr. Luigi Giussani to be particularly inspiring, and have found much spiritual good in the Communion and Liberation movement. This year, the Christmas Poster and its quote have struck me particularly deep, so I wanted to share them with all of you.
He is present here and now: here and now! Emmanuel. Everything flows from this; everything flows from this, because everything changes. His presence requires flesh, something material, our flesh.
The presence of Christ, in the ordinariness of life, increasingly involves the beat of our heart: being moved by His presence turns into being moved in our daily lives. Nothing is useless; nothing is extraneous. We start to have an affection for everything, everything, and the magnificent consequences of this are respect for what you do, precision in what you do, loyalty to your concrete work and tenacity in persevering to the end; you become tireless. Really, it is as if you were outlining another world, another world within this world.
Welcome to all of you reading this. Whether you are from Wichita or somewhere else, whether you are at Church every Sunday or find yourself only able to make it infrequently, welcome. Everybody belongs in Church on Christmas. Today we celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, our Savior.
This year has shown us many things, but above all it has shown us that we need a Savior. Our world is full of things trying to kill us in body, soul, or both. This year we are acutely aware of our own mortality, our own weakness. I have thought often this year of the prophet Isaiah, who said, now the people that went about in darkness has seen a great light; for men abiding in a land where death overshadowed them, light has dawned. (9:2) If there were any doubt, Isaiah continues, For love of Sion I will no more be silent, for love of Jerusalem I will never rest, until he, the Just One, is revealed to her like the dawn, until he, her deliverer, shines out like a flame. […] No longer shall men call thee Forsaken […]; thou shall be called My Beloved, and thy land a Home, now the Lord takes delight in thee. (62:1,4)
For generation after generation, the Jewish people ponders the meaning of these prophecies. They expected a Messiah, a Christos, to save them from the imperial powers that continually ruled over them. What they received was so much more. Not just any savior would do. Only God himself, the Divine Word who was with God and who was God (cf. John 1:1), the Only Son of the Father, the one through whom all things came into being (1:3), the one in whom there was life (1:4) was capable and worthy of the task of redeeming his creatures, and that life came into the world and was the light of men (ibid.). And the Word was made flesh, and came to dwell among us; and we had sight of his glory, glory such as belongs to the Father’s only begotten Son, full of grace and truth. (John 1:14)
On Christmas Day, the eternal made himself subject to time. The almighty became powerless. The source of life put on mortality. The creator of all was born of his own creation. God, while not ceasing to be God, was born of a virgin and became man. St. Augustine wrote, “He was God from the Father, and man from the mother. […] From the Father He is the beginning of life, and from the mother he is the end of death. From the Father He ordains every day, and from the mother He consecrates this day.”1
God entered into this world not as the people expected, but as a helpless child, Jesus, the Christ the Emmanuel. He teaches us that forgiveness, not vengeance, is the way to true freedom. He teaches us not to fear death, because he will conquer it. The only thing worth fearing is that which can kill the soul. This event of his birth established his presence here on earth; his presence has never departed from us. We experience it through his Church, his Sacraments, and his presence in his baptized people.
Our Savior has come forth from the darkness to bring light into our lives and to be present in our lives. “The presence of Christ involves the beat of our heart: being moved by his presence turns into being moved in our lives. Nothing is useless; nothing is extraneous. We start to have an affection for everything, everything, and the magnificent consequences of this are respect for what you do, precision in what you do, loyalty to your concrete work and tenacity in persevering to the end; you become tireless.”2 This Christmas, let us begin to remember the presence of Christ in our hearts, so that his light and power might shine out through us to all the world. All the ends of the earth have seen the saving power of God. (Psalm 98:3c) May they see it through us.
Note: this homily was preached on January 1, 2020. It was posted on January 16, 2020. Sorry about the delay.
Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.
There are two holy days (holidays, for those keeping score
at home) throughout the year that are so incredible, so mysterious, so full of
grace, that the day cannot be contained within 24 hours. Instead, we take 8
full days to celebrate them. These two feasts are Christmas and Easter. On
these two feasts, we follow the example of Mary, the Holy Mother of God, and
our mother too: we follow her example and take these mysteries into our hearts,
pondering them, making these mysteries present again, here and now, by our
words and actions, and carrying them into the world with us. By pondering these
words in our hearts, we allow these mysteries to shape our lives, and we allow
God to work through us. Following Mary’s example, we become agents of Christ’s Incarnation
in the present day.
Today, we conclude our observance of Christ’s birth, a new
beginning in our story of salvation, on the same day as we celebrate the
beginning of a new calendar year. What a fitting intersection of beginnings and
of days! We can celebrate this last day of Christmas by giving the world a Christmas
gift on this New Year’s Day: the gift of a joyous Christian heart. Throughout
these days since Christmas, we have been filling out hearts with God’s love, filling
our hearts with the joy of the Nativity, filling our hearts with the Good News
that God has become one of us. Saint Pope Leo the Great, in a sermon on the
Nativity, taught us that these days of Christmas should fill our hearts with love
and joy. As members of Christ’s body, of his Church, Christmas is not just his
birthday: it is ours too. The head does not celebrate its birthday separate
from the body! What birthday is this that we celebrate with Christ on
Christmas? our Baptismal rebirth with Christ. Leo also taught why God becoming
one of us is such Good News. Leo, wrote that our Savior, Jesus, became the Son
of Man so that we might become children of God. This is one of the most
important teachings of Christianity. By becoming a human being, Jesus bridged
the unbridgeable gap that existed between God and us. Jesus opens the gate so
that we might cross that bridge by his Passion and Resurrection.
The Nativity, the Crucifixion, and the Resurrection are all
mysteriously linked. All three of these mysteries are necessary for our
salvation. Without each other they are not complete. Today, Jesus received his name, which means
“God Saves,” and so it is good that we celebrate the beginning of our
salvation. We celebrate God’s coming to earth to save us. We thank Mary for
saying “yes” to God, to giving him flesh. Without Mary’s yes, God would not
have been able to become a human being. Without Mary, the bridge between us and
God would never have been built. Without Mary, our chance at redemption would
have been lost. Luckily, she said “yes.”
Then, Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her
Let us follow Mary’s example and bring Christ into the
world by allowing him to enter into our hearts, by allowing him to show us how
to love as he does, by allowing him to shatter everything we ever thought we knew
about ourselves and the world, by allowing him to shine forth from us like the
beacon of a lighthouse to ships in stormy seas. Let us follow the example of
the Mother of God. Let us keep all these things and reflect on them in our
Today’s Readings January 1, 2020 Ordinary Form: Mary, Holy Mother of God Numbers 6:22-27; Psalm 67; Galatians 4:4-7; Luke 2:16-21 Extraordinary Form: Octave Day of Christmas (sometimes called the “Feast of the Circumcision”) Titus 2:11-15; Ps 97:3-4, 2, Hebrews 1:1-2; Luke 2:21
Tonight, we hold vigil in preparation for that most incredible event: the birth of Jesus, the Christ Child. We hold vigil, because he is not yet born. The entire universe awaits that glorious moment, when God speaks his Word to all of us: that Word which burst forth from God and creates all things; that Word which God cannot keep quiet; that Word which vindicates; that Word that shines forth, like a burning torch; that Word, foretold by all the prophets and heralded by the greatest of the prophets, John the Baptist. The entire universe awaits, with pangs of labor, for God to speak his Word. The entire universe awaits, as the Virgin Mary prepares to give birth to her son and our Savior.
As we wait for this joyous event, we do what every family does when we wait: we tell our stories. We speak of those who have gone before us. We remember our past, how we got here, and where the future might lead. Tonight, we heard a long list of names, but each of these names has a story. It is the family tree of Jesus, the human lineage of God himself. His family history is that of the entire human race. To really understand it, we have to go further back, though. We must go to the beginning, to the dawn of history.
In the beginning, God created the universe and everything in it out of love. The crowning moment of God’s creation was his creation of humanity and our first parents, Adam and Eve. These progenitors of humanity spoke for all of us, as parents speak for their children even now. They initially accepted God’s great gift, but soon began to doubt. They experienced that all too human of emotions: fear that God might not mean what he says. Satan, the vile tempter and the enemy of all humanity, saw his opening in those seeds of doubt and convinced Adam and Eve to do something seemingly innocuous and small: to disobey God. To say “no” to the One who created all out of love. The “small” decision, though, shattered the entire universe. Humanity was separated from God and his love, no longer able to see with eyes of faith. Adam and Eve were bound to toil and labor for their nourishment, bearing children
became painful, and human vision was clouded through the fog of sin. We must now search and strive and suffer. We are all born, wounded by this original sin. After Adam and Eve, humanity has experienced millennia of pain and suffering as a result of that tragic, small choice.
That is not where our story ends, though. That is just the beginning. Because even as our story took a turn for the worse, as the universe was shattered and the human soul wounded for all time, God also give us a promise of redemption. He is never willing to accept defeat, and he will always fight for us. Despite the tragic sin perpetrated against our all-loving God, he condemns the vile serpent. In Genesis 3:15, God vows to “put enmity between you,” that is, Satan, “and the woman, and between your offspring,” that is, all Satan’s perfidious minions, “and hers; They will strike at your head, while you strike at their heel.” This woman: Mary. This offspring: Jesus. But humanity was not ready yet. You see, we expected a savior. The Jews had figured out that a Messiah was coming, but what we got was so much than we ever expected. What we got was something we never expected. Nobody expected that God himself would become man. God knew this, and he had to prepare the world—us—so we might recognize him when he comes.
The beginning of this preparation was with Abraham, our father in faith, the first in the book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ. Abram was faithful to God, he followed God wherever he was led. God rewarded him with a covenant: he would be the God of Abraham, and Abraham and his descendants would be God’s chosen people. The descendants of Abraham were called to be a light to all the nations. Isaac, Jacob, and those following generations took up this mantle, finding their climax in David the king. There are a few blemishes in the record, and you can find all their stories in Genesis, but King David represented the height of Israel. From that height, Israel shined throughout the world as a beacon. Sadly, it did not remain such a beacon. Solomon, the son of David, begins the next set of names. These names tell the opposite story: one of decline into darkness. Where David repented and turned toward God, Solomon persisted in his sin and turned to false gods. There are a few bright spots in the record, but most of these names belong to kings who led Israel further away from God and into the darkness. Their stories are in the books of Kings. The Babylonian exile ends this list at the darkest moment in Jewish history.
The nation of Israel suffered many times under foreign rulers, but nothing quite compares to the Babylonian exile in Jewish consciousness. I am not exaggerating when I say that in Jewish consciousness, the two worst moments in their history—the two
moments in history every Jew remembers with pain—were the Babylonian exile and the Holocaust. That’s the kind of darkness and tragedy that we’re talking about here.
The next set of names, beginning with the Babylonian exile and ending with Jesus is largely silent in Jewish history. From the darkness of exile, generations of silence emerged. At the end of that silence, after generations of darkness, there came a light: a burning torch, which cut through the night. That torch was Jesus, the Christ, the Word, spoken by the Father, through whom all was created. Jesus, both fully God and fully human, came to save his people from their sins. Jesus was the fulfillment of the prophecy under King Ahaz—one of those names we just heard—that the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel. Jesus was the fulfillment of the prophecy to David that his son, a member of his line, shall sit on the throne forever. Jesus was the fulfillment of the promise to Abraham that from his descendants a light shall shine forth to all the nations.
Tonight, we hold vigil in preparation for that most incredible event. The entire universe awaits, with pangs of labor, for God to speak his Word. The entire universe awaits, as the Virgin Mary prepares to give
birth to her son and our Savior. As we wait, let us ponder our history. Let us recognize God’s desire and love for us. The angel that appeared to Joseph told him not to be afraid to take Mary into his home. As Joseph was called not to fear, so are we. Let us not be afraid to allow Jesus into our hearts. It can be frightening to allow God into our hearts, because when we do we might recognize that we have to change. We might recognize that God is calling us to more. That is not a small ask. God is calling us to greatness and perfection. That request can be frightening.
But do not be afraid. Jesus is coming. He will save us from our sins, and he will be with us for all ages. Emmanuel, God is with us, is more than just a name. It’s a promise. The question we must ask ourselves this Christmas is this: How can I let God be with me?
Today’s Readings December 24, 2019 (published December 27, 2019 at 11:06 am) Christmas – Vigil Mass Isaiah 62:1-5; Psalm 89; Acts 13:16-17, 22-25; Matthew 1:1-25
The prayers and readings of today’s Mass are full of joyful
expectation for something incredible. In the collect, we prayed together asking
God for “the resolve to run forth to meet your Christ with righteous deeds at
his coming.” In our first reading, all nations stream toward Jerusalem, the
Lord’s city, which was built on top of a high mountain, saying as the go “Come,
let us climb the LORD’s mountain, to the house of the God of Jacob, that he may
instruct us in his ways, and we may walk in his paths.” The psalmist
echoes this sentiment, saying “Let us
go rejoicing to the house of the Lord.” Even St. Paul is swept up in eager
expectation today, writing that “it is the hour now for you to awake
from sleep. For our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed; the
night is advanced, the day is at hand.” Jesus himself even tells us to “Stay Awake! For you do not know on
which day your Lord will come.”
What are all of
these readings pointing toward? They are expecting the coming of the Messiah.
It is fitting that in the season of Advent we would be preparing for the Nativity
of Jesus, but the prayers and readings today are also pointing beyond that. As
we purify ourselves and prepare ourselves to commemorate and memorialize the
birth of the Messiah at Christmas, the Church is trying to remind us to look to
the future: to the second coming of the Messiah. We spend weeks preparing
ourselves and our homes to celebrate Christmas Day; many are already
celebrating Christmas: we love to have our Christmas parties during Advent, as
opposed to the—admittedly brief—Christmas season. There are probably people out
there who’ve already started preparing their Christmas dinners, who’ve
purchased a tree already, who’ve put up their lights.
I suppose that’s
all fine, as long as we remember that we’re not there yet. Christmas
is still 24 days away. We still have time set aside to prepare for that day.
Whether or not we’ve decorated yet, whether started planning our dinners and
parties, or whether we’ve tuned our radios to one of those “All Christmas All
The Time” stations, we still have 24 days to get ready. If keeping all those
reminds of what we’re preparing to celebrate helps, then great. But we cannot
forget to prepare for the coming of our Lord, because while we memorialize and make
Jesus’s birth present again to us on Christmas Day, Jesus is going to come
again. As we prepare for Jesus’s first coming, as a little child, we are teaching
ourselves how to prepare for his second coming in glory, where he conquers the
world and brings us all back to himself.
and prayers tell us all of this as well. Isaiah writes that “From Zion shall go
forth instruction, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. He shall judge
between the nations, and impose terms on many peoples.” The psalmist writes
that in Jerusalem “are set up judgment seats, seats for the house of David.”
Paul writes, “Let us them throw off the works of darkness and put on the armor
of light; let us conduct ourselves properly as in the day, not in orgies and drunkenness,
not in promiscuity and lust, not in rivalry and jealousy.” Jesus tells us, “you
must also be prepared, for at an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will
Let us prepare ourselves for the coming of our Lord, our King, and our God. From ages long past until perhaps the late 19th or early 20th century, we would fast during the entirety of Advent. That later turned to abstaining from meat throughout Advent, until very recently when Advent seems to have lost nearly all of its preparatory character. These practices are very similar to Lenten practices that we practiced until very recently. Along those lines of thought, maybe we can give something up for Advent, make a commitment to pray a few extra minutes a day, make special effort to go to Confession, or something like that. By engaging in these time-honored traditions of the Church, we will make Advent more meaningful, and by extension, we will make the celebration of Christmas that much greater. Best of all, we will have begun our preparations for the Second Coming—so that we are prepared when the Son of Man comes again in great glory.
Today’s Readings: December 1, 2019 First Sunday of Advent, Year A Isaiah 2:1-5; Psalm 122; Romans 13:11-14; Matthew 24:37-44
We know these passages in the Bible. The Christmas Gospels are some of the best known literature in the entire world. Whose heart does not flutter, just a little, when they hear, “Now this is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about…” or “In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that the whole world should be enrolled…” We know what comes next: we hear about the birth of a baby, Jesus, who is wrapped in swaddling clothes. We know that “[t]he shepherds said to one another, ‘Let us go, then, to Bethlehem to see this thing that has taken place…” We know that “this [baby] was the light of the human race; the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”
We’ve heard these stories so many times.
But do we really know them?
How has the Birth of Jesus Christ changed my life?
God came into this world as a baby to show us the way to the Himself. Jesus showed us how to live the most human life possible, by doing it himself. God showed us the dignity of human life by taking on human nature himself. Through the Incarnation, God provided humanity a path out of the darkness of sin and into the light of Heaven!
What does this look like in our lives? How have we let Jesus’s birth change us?
Has it helped us to love God with all our hearts, all our strength, and all our minds? Has it helped us to love our neighbor? Has it helped us to recognize that God loves us and sees us as precious jewels within his hands, jewels whom he calls “My Delight”?
This Christmas, let us ponder the gift that God gave us: the gift that excels far beyond any gift we can ever give. Let us ponder Jesus, the God-Man, the Wonder-Counselor, the God-Hero, the Father-Forever, the Prince of Peace. Let us prepare our souls so that they might, in silent stillness, receive him and allow him to transform us. Let us allow God to provide for us, and to transform our lives.
We do not know what wonders God has in store for us, if only we allow him to work within us!
Christ is born! Let us rejoice!
December 25, 2017
Christmas Four sets of readings are possible for Christmas. Scriptural quotes and references above come from Matthew 1, Luke 2, John 1, Isaiah 9 & 62.
Welcome to the new liturgical year! We begin with Advent. Advent… What is Advent all about? Didn’t Christ already come? Why do we have to ready for something that already happened?
Christ did come to us 2,000 years ago. He comes to us every day through the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, and we experience him being truly, entirely, and substantially present to us in the Eucharist.1 Christ will come again, but not as a baby: he will come in glory!
We don’t know when this second coming will happen, so we must be ready for it. If Christ is already present, though, why do we need to spend the season of Advent preparing?
We forget. It’s that simple. We forget that Christ is going to come again. We forget how important the Incarnation is. Nobody expected the Incarnation! In the first reading, the Jews are pleading for God to save them. They beg Him to “rend the heavens and come down.” So he did. God became a human being. He became a little child, the son of a carpenter and a virgin. Nobody expected it to happen that way. Few accepted it. Who was able to recognize Jesus as God?
The only people capable of recognizing Jesus are the childlike—those who have the simplicity to trust in God’s plan, even when they don’t understand. Fr. Luigi Giussani2 writes that even after the Resurrection, the apostles still expected Jesus to establish an earthly kingdom. He corrects them, and because of their childlike simplicity, because of their trust in him, the apostles “let it drop; they don’t hold to the demand that He answer their questions just as they may have imagined, but they remain attached to Him more deeply than they were attached to their opinions, with a greater simplicity. Because being attached to one’s own opinion requires the loss of simplicity, the introduction of a presumption and the predominance of one’s own imagination over [God’s plan].”3
How do we grow in this childlike simplicity? How do we learn to abandon our certainties about how the future will play out, to accept what God has planned? In a word, how do we learn detachment? Three practices, in particular, assist with learning detachment: prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. These three practices help purify us of the evil things that slowly creep into our hearts without us realizing. Practicing prayer, fasting, and almsgiving is hard, but that shouldn’t stop us. Paul tells us that God has bestowed, and continues to bestow, Jesus Christ on us, enriching us in every way. He will keep [us] firm to the end. By spending Advent in preparation for Christmas, we prepare ourselves for Jesus’s glorious return.
Advent is the time of year where the famously ambiguous “already, but not yet” is most visible. Jesus is already present to us, but he has not yet come again. This is summed up in a fantastic word which almost never hear outside of Advent: Maranatha. It is one of the last words in the Bible, and was used in the ancient liturgies. We aren’t sure exactly how to translate it, because the Aramaic words can be broken up two ways. It could mean “Come, O Lord!”, or it could mean “Our Lord has come!”
Isn’t this ambiguity perfect? Our Lord has come, but he will come again. What glorious news!
Let us prepare for the Word to become flesh at Christmas, and in doing so prepare for Him to come again. Jesus tells us to Be watchful! Be alert! … so that when Jesus comes, he may not find [us] sleeping at the gates.
Maranâ thâ!Come, O Lord! Let us be ready to greet you, so that when you come we might exclaim Maran ‘athâ!Our Lord has come!
December 3, 2017
First Sunday of Advent, Year B Isaiah 63:16b-17, 19b; 64:2-7; Psalm 80:2-3, 15-16, 18-19; 1 Corinthians 1:3-9; Mark 13:33-37