The Hidden King

Advent is not only about waiting. It is about learning how to see. The danger is not that Christ will fail to come, but that we will fail to recognize him when he does.

As Advent draws to a close, we await the coming of the King of glory. Long ago, Israel also waited. In those days, the Lord spoke to King Ahaz and told him to ask for a sign. Ahaz refused, giving an answer that sounded pious. He claimed he would not put the Lord to the test, though Scripture makes clear that Ahaz was not a faithful king.

Ahaz’s refusal sounds devout, but it is not. God himself had commanded him to ask for a sign, and Ahaz’s pious language masks a deeper refusal to trust the Lord.

The Lord responded by giving his own sign: a virgin would conceive and bear a son, and he would be called Emmanuel. We are so familiar with this prophecy that we can miss how startling it is. A virgin conceiving a child is not an everyday occurrence. It is a sign meant to arrest our attention. And by this sign we would know that God is with us, for that is what Emmanuel means.

What is less immediately clear is that this child would be more than a sign of God’s presence. He would be the Son of God himself, both God and man, descended from David according to the flesh and declared Son of God in the spirit of holiness. This is not merely surprising. It is unthinkable. How could the Creator of all that exists, utterly beyond the world, choose to enter into his own creation?

It came about through the simple yes of a simple woman who was far more than she appeared. Mary was betrothed to a man named Joseph. When Joseph learned of her pregnancy, he resolved to divorce her quietly. This is often explained as an act of mercy toward a woman he believed to be unfaithful. I do not think that is what is happening.

I believe Joseph understood that something holy was taking place and knew he was not worthy to stand so close to the mystery of God made flesh. Scripture gives us many examples of this response, when human beings encounter the nearness of God and instinctively draw back in fear and reverence rather than suspicion. In truth, none of us would be. No one can earn or merit such a task. That is why God himself had to reassure him.

Ahaz appeared faithful, but was not. Joseph appeared to withdraw, but he was faithful.

In much the same way, none of us is worthy for God to come to us. We do not deserve it. Yet he comes anyway. He loved us into existence. He loved us enough to redeem us. And he continues to come to us now, quietly and humbly, most especially in the Most Blessed Sacrament. He does not overwhelm us. He does not compel belief. He comes veiled, just as he did in Bethlehem.

We wait for the coming of Christ at Christmas, but he also comes to us at every Mass. Many failed to recognize the King lying in a manger. Many fail to recognize him present on the altar. And yet we profess that he will come again. How many of us will be prepared for his return?

It is easy to say we would not make the same mistake. But the people of Israel surely believed they would recognize the Messiah when he came. Instead, he lived among them for thirty years, largely unseen. We are not better or wiser. We have been given more. The fullness of revelation should comfort us, but it should also give us pause.

Do not fall asleep, lest you be unprepared when the bridegroom comes, both now and at the end of time.