Our gospel today concludes, rather matter‑of‑factly, with a description of the Holy Family’s return to their own town of Nazareth. Taken in isolation, it gives no hint of the momentous events that had just unfolded in the life of this little and poor family. Shepherds, angels, Magi, and the stirring witness of Simeon, and Anna must surely have been a consoling reassurance both to Mary and Joseph who had, in faith, believed the angels’ messages, and acted accordingly. Thus, resuming their very ordinary and simple life in Nazareth must have initially taken some adjustment. In this they illustrate for us the inevitable alternations between light and darkness, consolation and inner turmoil, God’s closeness and his apparent absence, that characterize our spiritual lives. And although I speak of alternations, the intervals between one and the other can be very lengthy. Indeed, for most of us, light, consolation, and the experience of God’s closeness are the rare exception and much of the time we walk in that obscure darkness of faith by which our hearts are purified and made ready to finally look upon the face of God. Experiences of light, consolation, and God’s closeness are thus granted both to assist our perseverance, and to offer a hint—however slight—of the ineffable reward of remaining faithful to the end.