The end is near. I don’t mean that in the Book-of-Revelation-apocalyptic-end-of-the-world way that street corner preachers anticipate. I mean the end of the year. And, in case you’re concerned about the amount of ground that has to be covered between now and December 31, I mean the official church year.
What we call the Liturgical Year ends with the last Sunday before Advent, which is the beginning of the church year. The new year then begins with a time of preparation for Christmas and ends with a Sunday many churches call Reign of Christ or Christ the King Sunday.
The idea of this day is to set aside a moment to consider how Christ reigns in our hearts and in our lives. Pope Pius XI started it in October, 1925, and it was moved to the last Sunday of the church year in the 1970’s.
It’s a great idea, if you ask me, taking the time to consider that right before we get ready to celebrate the coming of Jesus into the world.
Except …
The language of kingship and reign and kingdoms conjures up images of hierarchy, structure and power over others that aren’t the Jesus I know. The Jesus I know was all about power with others, not over others, showing us the power within each and every one of us, the power that can be shared, the power that is equitable, just and caring, the power that serves the world, it doesn’t control it. This is the power of love.
That’s the constant through every ending and beginning, through every transformation or change, experience or growth. When we understand that, when we know that, then there’s nothing to fear. Each ending is followed by a new beginning, each beginning has an end.
The end of a year being followed by the beginning of a new one is an obvious example. So is the dawn of a new day when the previous one has ended. The transforming power of the seasons is another example. It’s winter. For now. Soon it will be spring, and summer and fall and then winter again, for the first time. It happened again, but it’s an all new one. It always is.
But there are other endings where it’s harder to see the new beginning ahead, more difficult to embrace it. The end of lives, relationships, jobs, careers - all things come to an end. But in the constancy of love, there is hope for each new beginning.
I started quite flippantly referring to the way we tend to perceive the Book of Revelation. “The end is near “means the end times, the end of all things, the great apocalypse. Except that’s not the point of the book. The point isn’t the anticipation of a horrific end of all life, but the hope of a new beginning and a new life greater than we can possibly imagine.
“Love never ends,” Paul writes (1 Cor. 13). Everything else does, it has to so that we can begin anew. It’s the power of love, ruling our hearts and lives, that carries us through each ending and new beginning.
