The Gospel Reading

Whatever else is included or not included, every Eucharistic service has a reading from one of the four Gospels, Matthew, Mark, Luke or John. It is most often the case that the other readings are chosen in relation to that Gospel reading and follow an orderly chronology of Jesus’s life, teaching and ministry. That is, over the course of the Church’s year (beginning with the First Sunday of Advent), we follow Jesus from birth to death and resurrection. The readings invite us to journey with him. It is one way we “walk the way of the cross” as we worship together.

But it isn’t exactly a strict chronology – there are profound subtleties in the choice of readings. For instance, Advent begins not with an account of the coming Nativity of Jesus to which the season of Advent is meant to lead us. Rather, every Advent begins by focusing not on the “first coming” of Jesus, but the Second Coming which we now await. The readings on that first Advent Sunday direct us beyond the birth in Bethlehem, which, after all, has already happened. We cannot await an event that has occurred in the past. We can celebrate it, give thanks for it, deepen our appreciation of what that birth means, but we can’t really “wait” for it. What we await is the Second Coming of Jesus. The readings direct our attention to and through the Nativity to the horizon of our existence and the Christ who is our future. Without the promise of our ultimate future with Christ, Christmas can be reduced to sentiment and nostalgia. The readings steer us toward a more meaningful contemplation of Christmas by placing it in the context of eternity.

Another subtlety is that in the Gospel story, once Jesus is seen by Peter, James and John radiant and transfigured on the mountain, Jesus resolutely directs his path toward Jerusalem and the fateful events that will occur there. Thus, at the end of the Epiphany season, we hear the story of that Transfiguration, and on the following Sunday we begin the season of Lent, which is our own intentional directing of our attention to the Jerusalem events of Holy Week (Last Supper, Crucifixion, Entombment) in preparation for the joy of Easter. The readings invite us into deeper relation with all those events.

I always think of this interweaving of readings and theology and psychology as a sort of symphony with many elements making one sublime music. And, like a symphony, whether or not we know much about musical composition – what IS the sonata form? When did the violins rise above the oboes and play the theme again? – we are moved and changed by experiencing the music. Our liturgy is like that – it shapes us in ways beyond words and definitions. And the more we encounter it, the more we are touched, shaped and changed by it – increasingly changed into the image and likeness of Christ, which is the reality and the goal of the spiritual journey.