By Father Casey
From what I can tell from driving around my neighborhood and chatting with many of you, a whole lot of us began to “need a little Christmas, right this very minute” long before the turkey went into the oven or we enjoyed the last slice of pie. You’ll get no gripes from me if your home is already festooned in holiday finery. People act like they’re making a confession when they mention to me that their Christmas tree went up last week. They look at me sheepishly, as though they’ve done something naughty. I’m not the Grinch, y’all, so if you need more Christmas in your life right now, by all means, go right ahead.
It’s important to understand, though, that hanging a wreath on the door and turning on Bing Crosby is not the same thing as observing Advent. Decorating your Christmas tree and setting out your collection of Santa Claus figurines may bring you joy, but it is not the same as observing Advent. Advent is more than the churchy word for the days preceding Christmas. Be careful in the hurry to “Ho Ho Ho” that you don’t skip over this ho-ho-holy season.
That’s why our gospel this weekend won’t turn a spotlight on Bethlehem, but instead point it toward a very different coming of Christ: the one at the end of days, when the fullness of the Kingdom of God will be known and the Son of Man returns in power and glory. This may feel out of step with our society’s rush into all things cozy and comfortable, but this longstanding tradition of the Church is good for our souls. For while “corporate” Christmas is all about stoking sentimentality and plucking our heartstrings, Advent is all about provoking self-reflection and asking us whether we’re ready to meet God.
This is why “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens is the perfect Advent reading (and viewing). Even when the Muppets tell the story, it doesn’t lose its edge, because it’s about revealing that which was hidden, remembering that which was forgotten, and illuminating that which had fallen into shadow. It’s a story of redemption that involves an honest reckoning with the past, the present, and the future – who we were, who we are, and who we have yet to become. It may be a Christmas classic, but it is pure Advent.
Paired with the perfect Advent reading, allow me to suggest the perfect Advent prayer. And lest you worry how you’ll ever find time to pray in the busiest month of the year, take note that it is a single word: maranatha. It is Aramaic, which was the language spoken by most Jews in first century (Hebrew would have been a ritual language in that age), so to utter this word is to speak in the tongue of Jesus himself. It means, “Come, Lord.”
One of the early saints, John Cassian, taught people to use this word for meditation as long ago as the fourth century. It is like four-syllable poetry, evoking power and beauty simply in speaking it aloud. Maranatha. Our ancient forbears adopted it as both a statement of belief and a declaration of hope for the future. Come, Lord. Maranatha.
All these centuries later, and we need what this prayer offers. Amidst the busyness of this month, it stills my mind and heart and points me to God. It deepens me down when I feel stuck in the churn on the surface of life, buffeted by the winds and waves of circumstance. It also reminds me that the longing I feel this time of year, the sense of hopeful yearning that is so palpable in these darkening days, is not really about getting ready for Christmas. We long for more than singing Silent Night by candlelight on Christmas Eve.
We long for the coming of the Lord, whose reign will finally overcome all the tendrils of sin and evil in the world. We long for the hungry to be filled and the lowly to be raised up, as we have been promised. We long for the tide of justice to sweep across the world unabated, never again to ebb under the pressure of the powers and principalities. We long for the coming of the Lord to right all the wrongs, wipe all the tears, and heal all the ills. Yes, all of our holiday merrymaking can gladden our hearts, but when we participate in Advent, when we pray maranatha, we are admitting how desperately we want Christ in far more than just our carols. We want him to reign.
When and how he will come again in the fullness of his power, as described in the gospel for this weekend, is a mystery. But even as we wait, we can invite the Lord to come to us, to dwell with us, to reign in us.
Come, Lord, and increase our love for those around us.
Come, Lord, to strengthen us for the work of holiness.
Come, Lord, give us hope to carry on.
Come Lord Jesus, and be with us…
not only at the end of days, but today, now, for we stand in need of you.
Maranatha.