Happy New Year! There is a strange, beautiful tension on January 1st, isn’t there? On one hand, we have the confetti, the noise, and the res...
Happy New Year!
There is a strange, beautiful tension on January 1st, isn’t there? On one hand, we have the confetti, the noise, and the resolutions of the secular New Year. On the other hand, the Church gives us this Solemnity—a feast not of noise, but of quiet intimacy. We are eight days out from Christmas. The adrenaline of the holidays is fading, the decorations are perhaps looking a little tired, and the reality of a fresh calendar year—with all its unknown challenges—looms before us.
We look at 2026 and we wonder: What will this year bring? Will my health hold? Will my children be okay? Will there be peace?
To answer these questions, the Church asks us to look at Mary. Specifically, the readings today invite us to navigate this coming year through the lens of three words—three "P's"—that define Mary’s role and our survival as Christians: Presence, Pondering, and Peace.
Presence. The First Reading from the Book of Numbers gives us one of the most beautiful prayers in history: "The Lord let his face shine upon you."
Think about that image. When does a face shine upon you? I remember watching a father with his toddler in a supermarket. The child was having a meltdown—tears, screaming, total chaos. The father didn't shout. He didn't bribe. He just knelt down, got right in the child’s line of sight, and held his face close to hers. He just offered his presence. When the child saw the father’s face, really saw it, the breathing slowed. The crying stopped. The fear evaporated.
For centuries, humanity was that crying child—lost, confused, crying out to the heavens. In the Old Testament, God was a voice from a burning bush or a pillar of fire. But in our Second Reading from Galatians, Paul tells us, "When the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son, born of a woman."
God got down on his knees. He entered our line of sight. He gave us a face. This is the first lesson of Mary, Mother of God: She is the vessel of the Presence. She reminds us that we do not enter 2026 alone. Whatever trial is waiting for you in March, whatever joy is waiting for you in August, you are not facing it into a void. You are facing it with the "Abba, Father" mentioned in Galatians. The Face has shone upon us.
Pondering. But knowing God is present doesn't mean life is easy. That brings us to our second word.
In the Gospel, Luke tells us that while the shepherds were hurrying and the angels were singing, "Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart."
The Greek word Luke uses is symballousa. It literally means "to throw together" or "to piece together." It’s the image of someone holding two jagged puzzle pieces that don’t look like they fit. Mary is looking at a helpless, crying baby who needs milk, and she is holding the prophecy that He is the King of Kings. She is looking at the joy of birth, and perhaps the shadow of the Cross. She is holding the poverty of a stable against the glory of the angels.
She doesn't panic. She ponders.
We need this "Mariological" skill for 2026. There will be days this year when your life feels like a contradiction. You might hold a great success at work in one hand, and a difficult diagnosis for a parent in the other. You might hold the joy of a new relationship, and the fear of vulnerability. The human instinct is to reject the bad and grasp only the good. But the Christian instinct, modeled by Mary, is to hold it all—to "treasure" the whole of our lives, the light and the dark, and bring it into the heart where God dwells.
I think of a woman I knew named Elena. She lost her husband suddenly in the autumn. That first Christmas and New Year without him were agonizing. Everyone told her to "move on" or "stay busy." Instead, she did what Mary did. She sat with her grief. She didn't run from it. She held the pain of his absence right next to the gratitude that she had loved him at all. She "pondered" it in prayer. And by doing that, she didn't become bitter. She became deep. She allowed God to stitch those pieces together.
Peace. When we recognize the Presence of God, and when we have the courage to do the Pondering, the result is our third word: Peace.
The First Reading concludes: "The Lord look upon you kindly and give you peace." Today is the World Day of Peace. We look at the headlines, wars, and politics, and peace feels like a fantasy. But the biblical definition of peace—Shalom—isn't just the absence of gunfire. It is the wholeness that comes from knowing who you are.
In Galatians, St. Paul says, "So you are no longer a slave but a child." A slave is always anxious. A slave worries about performance, about being fired, about being cast out. A child—a true child—knows they belong to the family. They are safe.
Mary is the Mother of God, but she is also our Mother. She gave birth to the Prince of Peace so that we could be adopted into the Royal Family. Real peace in 2026 won't come from your bank account, your government, or your health plan. It will come from the unshakeable knowledge that you have a Father who loves you and a Mother who prays for you.
So, as we leave this church and step into the cold air of the New Year, let us take Mary’s example with us. Seek the Presence: Look for the face of God in the Sacraments and in the people you love. Practice Pondering: Don’t just react to life’s ups and downs; bring them into your heart and ask God how they fit together. Accept the Peace: Live not as an anxious slave to the world, but as a beloved child of the King.
May the Lord bless you and keep you. May He let His face shine upon you and be gracious to you. And through the intercession of Mary, the Holy Mother of God, may He grant you a holy, happy, and peaceful New Year.
Amen.
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