Boundless Coming Of Christ

The Dance Class, 1874, Edgar Degas, The Metropolitan Art Museum New York City

T

he Latin word adventus literally means “coming” or “arrival.” Primarily this refers to the two comings of Christ on Christmas day and on the final coming or Parousia. This is featured in the Advent Preface that opens the Prayer of Consecration in each Eucharistic celebration.

I quote, "For he assumed at his first coming the lowliness of human flesh... that, when he comes again in glory and majesty... we... may inherit the great promise in which now we dare to hope."

However, St Bernard of Clairvaux writes about a third coming that is featured in the Church's Office of Readings during Advent. In addition to the two comings, he adds an intermediate or middle coming. I quote, "This middle coming is like a road that leads from the first coming to the last. At the first, Christ was our redemption; at the last, he will become manifest as our life; but in this middle way he is our rest and our consolation." Advent is living in the present moment more than in the past or future.

For my second point, I would like to emphasize the temporary nature of Advent. When we speak of something "coming" or "arriving," it signifies a transient state—it has a beginning and an end. Advent reflects a sense of incompleteness and suspense, a time of waiting and preparation for something greater yet to come.

The Korean drama series Navillera (Like a butterfly in Korean), is a very good illustration of Advent with a beginning and an end. It tells the tale of a retired mailman aged 70, Sim Deok-chul, who finally decides to pursue his lifelong dream of learning ballet.

Despite societal expectations and his own aging body, Deok-chul perseveres, knowing that his time on earth is limited by Alzheimer’s disease or dementia. Yet, rather than succumbing to despair, this awareness motivates him to focus on what truly matters. His journey becomes a testament to the paradox of waiting: even as he chases his dream of ballet, he finds moments of fulfillment along the way. He makes muscle memories that will never be forgotten. People with dementia may still be able to remember things that they have repeated many times in their life, such as a route to school. This also includes skills that involve a lot of practice, like playing a musical instrument.

Pope Francis also offers the image of an anchor to describe this paradox of waiting. An anchor symbolizes hope that is both grounded and forward-looking. In our waiting, we are already tethered to something secure and certain—God’s promise. Similarly, while Deok-chul waits for the full realization of his dream, he already experiences its beauty and joy in the present.

Often, we delay pursuing our dreams or expressing love, waiting for "the right time." But the present—this intermediate, in-between moment—is the only time we truly have. Like an anchor holding us steady amid the tides, the present invites us to live intentionally, knowing that what we await is already beginning to unfold in our lives.

For our third and last point, we go back to the ballet dance class, as seen in Navillera—a beautiful metaphor for the sacraments, especially the Eucharist, where every Advent or coming is fulfilled. In the story, Deok-chul commits to regular practice. A person who does something with his or her whole heart is not after mastery only but the immersion of one’s whole being in the beauty of the action. “When you want something with all your heart, you shine brighter than anyone” (Navillera, Episode 11). Similarly, the Eucharist is not just a ritual to fill the time while we wait. Something is moving in the in-between. Paradoxically, it is the time that fills or "presents" itself.

Sacraments are not merely symbolic acts but moments of profound communion with God. As NT Wright beautifully writes, "We [already] taste the new creation on our tongues, in our lips, in our mouths, in our bodies, so that we can go out and do the kind of work in the world that helps bring in the kingdom, God’s new creation." The Eucharist, then, is not just about “me and my future salvation”; it is about equipping us for the mission of building God’s kingdom here and now.

Just as regular ballet practice transforms Deok-chul’s life, regular participation in the sacraments transforms us to become the hope and joy of Christ into the world. That is why this middle coming is also called the coming in mystery, in spirit, the indefinite or boundless coming.

“Now, if you are isolated or for some reason can’t partake of the sacraments, I believe God does have [boundless] ways of making it up to you. But the normal means to equip ourselves for participating in the new creation is the route given in the gospel, which is the physical feeding: the bread and the wine."1 The three comings are interconnected. The finite contains the indefinite and the boundless. "Boundless coming" highlights that Christ's presence transcends time, space, or a singular historical event.

So, just as Deok-chul acted wisely on his dream by wanting something with all his heart, let us start acting on God’s Word this Advent. It is written (Mt 7:27), “Everyone who listens to these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock. The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and buffeted the house. But it did not collapse; it had been set solidly on rock.” Amen. Fr JM Manzano SJ

1 NT Wright on Word and Sacraments: The Eucharist (Third of a three-part series based on a transcript of a lecture given by Dr NT Wright at Calvin College on January 6, 2007)