I spent much of the Christmas Octave thinking about end times. One of St Thomas Aquinas’ proofs of God’s existence talks about how things come into existence and go out of existence. It was never more apparent to me that much of what I have experienced in my life is in its latter stages of existence.
The flu bug struck me on the Wednesday before Christmas. As lousy as I felt for a few days, I always assumed it would pass. At my age however, returning to good health after a bout of illness comes with diminishing certainty. Our family Christmas was minus a nephew who we lost several months ago after a compromised immune system from cancer treatment met Covid pneumonia and eventual kidney failure.
Our church decorating for Christmas was challenged when one of our dear parishioners who owns a flower shop became hospitalized before she could get the poinsettias ready. Now, we are praying for her recovery from what are very serious health issues.
The once robust church choir for Midnight Mass was down to two singers this year, again due to various health problems and diminished numbers from some who have passed. An annual post-Midnight Mass reception was prepared and hosted by two couples, both in their eighties who have their own health issues. Our seventy-five year old pastor also got sick and barely made it through the five Christmas Masses he celebrated.
Everywhere I looked this Christmas, I saw ends coming. Not to sound depressing, after all we welcome death as Catholics, but a certain sadness arises when there is no one on the horizon ready to take over. We know the end is inevitable for what exists now. What does it mean for those we leave behind? Will our parish survive much longer? How many of us will not be here next Christmas? We will keep praying and leave it in God’s hands.
