2nd Sunday of Christmas 2021/22
Sirach 24: 1-4, 12-16; Ephesians 1:3-6, 15-18; John 1:1-18
Do you remember the Last Gospel? Those of a certain vintage may recall the days when the priest would dismiss the congregation with the rather puzzling words “Ite missa est”, usually translated “Go, the Mass is ended”, but actually extremely difficult to translate accurately.
Literally, it means “(Something with a feminine ending) has been sent”. The missing word may be “ecclesia” in which case the injunction means “Go. The Church (or assembly) has been sent (or dismissed, or given a mission)”.
In any case, rather like the policemen in Pirates of Penzance, we didn’t go. Instead, the priest moved to the “Gospel side” of the altar, and read “the Last Gospel”, the beginning of St. John’s Gospel, which we heard proclaimed at the Day Mass on Christmas Day, and which we have heard again today.
How did this custom arise? Clearly, it was an addition to an earlier way of ending Mass, tacked on after the people had, in theory, been sent away.
Apparently, it was originally part of the priest’s private thanksgiving after Mass, but at some point after the Council of Trent, it was made part of the Mass itself, though the Dominicans were never happy about it, and used to extinguish the candles after the Ite Missa est, to signify that they were reading the Last Gospel under protest. Incidentally, it serves as a reminder to be careful when people speak of the “traditional” Latin Mass, as this tradition goes back only so far, and was always subject to change.
What the custom of reading the “Last Gospel” does demonstrate is how importantly this passage was, and indeed, is regarded, as an exposition of the faith. It is a case of St. John doing what he does best, namely theologising, explaining the deeper meaning behind the historical events. Matthew and Luke have their infancy narratives, describing, each in his own way, the events associated with the birth of Jesus, conceived by the Holy Spirit in the womb of the Virgin, and variously designated “Son of the Most High”, “Son of God”, “Saviour”, “King of the Jews”, and, perhaps most tellingly, by Matthew as Emmanuel, a name which, he goes on to explain, means “God is with us”.
John, for his part, goes further and deeper. The new born child is actually God Himself, the Logos or Word, who was with God eternally, who is God, and who is the agent of creation. John describes, or indeed defines, the birth of Jesus, in the words kai ho Logos sarx egeneto –in Latin et verbum caro factum est—and the Word became (or was made) flesh. This was not simply some miraculous baby: it was the pre-existing Word of God, indeed God from all eternity, hinted at in the Wisdom literature, as in today’s First Reading under the name of Wisdom, but greater than that Wisdom, as being begotten not created.
The Bible begins, in the Book of Genesis, with the words, “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth”. How did He create them? He created them through His Word—“God SAID ‘Let there be light’ and there was light”. John’s Gospel begins “In the beginning was the Word: the Word was with God, and the Word was God”. This was the Word which became flesh, in the womb of the Virgin, through the overshadowing of the Holy Spirit, the Word which God spoke to initiate creation.
So we can see that this passage from St. John’s Gospel, far from being abstract, or even abstruse, is in reality a statement of one of the central truths of our faith: namely that the child of Bethlehem is not only the Messiah, not only the redeemer, but God Himself, who has become one of us. Truly, this is one of the most awe-inspiring passages in the entire Bible.
