Throughout each winter, we tread upon the hard ground with little thought of whether it will ever grow fertile and full again. We become so accustomed to the cold, that sometimes it is difficult to remember the warmth of the spring or the weight of the summer. When—out of current desperation or remembrance of past warmth—we do consider the greenery to come, is it not true that we never truly anticipate the fullness of bloom? It seems that every summer, the lush leaves and the expansive shade cast by them take us by surprise.

So too with Christ. We tread upon the barren soil of our souls and cannot even begin to consider what could possibly grow there. Any thoughts on the matter seem naïve and exaggerated.

Yet, from an unseen root, there will bloom a transformative Savior. He comes to us, small and feeble, a child in a manger. When Christ appears, He is like a late winter sprout, much smaller than the grand blooms of August, seemingly weaker and more vulnerable. But His power is far, far greater than any of those who preceded Him. It is with a frail hope that we cry alongside the antiphons for the Root of Jesse! Even our wildest hopes could never anticipate the gift that is to come!
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