Tonight we commemorate the final passing of a year that, like every other, has been expiring since it began, over 360 days ago.
We spend our days strutting around as if we govern ourselves, as if we control "our" lives. However tightly we cup our hands, this life drains away with each passing moment.
What foolish mortals we are to miss what is right before us: we are not our own masters.
"And which of you by being anxious can add one cubit to his span of life?
And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin;
yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.
But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O men of little faith?...
"Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Let the day's own trouble be sufficient for the day."