Boundaries in Advent: Feast of the Nativity

Tonight we light the candle of the Nativity to celebrate that the Light of God who has come into the world to share his light with others.

We relight the green candle of faith to kindle within us the faith we are to have in God’s promises.

We relight the blue candle of hope to reignite our joy in the hope of Christ’s return.

We relight the gold candle of love to warm our hearts with the love God shares with us and others.

We relight the white candle of peace to enlighten our hearts toward a reconciled relationship with God.

We relight the purple candle of repentance to purify our minds, hearts, and souls for redemption.

We relight the red candle of communion to renew our longing to be united with God in this life and the next.

Luke 2:1-7

This Advent season, we’ve looked at how we must create boundaries to more fully prepare for Christmas. In faith, we go into the desert by turning away from pleasing ourselves. We set our hope on the only true salvific power found in Christ. We acknowledged that peace must be found in him who has overcome the world. And we felt the call to repent of sins with the knowledge that we must commune with God on his terms and not ours. These are the border walls of the kingdom of heaven.

But what if they were to be pushed back? What if the borders, the boundaries were made to include the whole world?

In today’s reading, Caesar August, emperor of the known world, declared all should pay him favor and should even move cross the face of the earth at his command. The territories and provinces were ruled by Roman governors or subservient kings. The people were under Roman laws. And the Roman gods and values ruled supreme. For Caesar, the future was Roman.

Today, there is no Roman Empire yet we are under a similar dominion of the Self.

The Self rules over the known world and demands that we pay homage to it and even change our lives for it. Whatever the Self finds pleasing or satisfying must be supported and validated no matter how damaging or oppressive it may be. Every sphere of life is monitored and regulated by Self’s ministers regarding every subject from sex and friendship to faith and personal interests. You cannot have an opinion if it remotely goes against the Self interest so idolized by the world. If you deny the Self, you are censored and in some cases have job and life threatened. The Self is god. And Self desires to consume all of time, past, present, and future to meet its needs.

Yet, something happened that neither Caesar nor the Self could either foresee or control. A child was born, a son given.

What child is this?

He is Christ the king. Though his kingdom was not of this world, it conquered the Roman empire and overthrew the gods of Rome. And it did so not by force of arms or coercion of the state. Rather it flourished like a vine, watered by the blood of martyrs and the love of holy mothers who loved their sons. And it did not stay in Rome, but the voice of the gospel of Christ has gone out throughout the world.

Through the Advent season, his Church helps every heart to prepare him room by denying Self and the world’s worship of it. Self is an oppressive tyrant, though some would argue it is liberating. But in taking on Christ’s name, all of Self’s oppression cease as we are called to die to Self and live in Christ. The Self would divide us into tribes and segregate us from our neighbor. With the birth of Christ, not only is man reconciled with his neighbor but God and sinners are reconciled! In his birth, Christ raises up and sanctifies that which the Self sees as lowly and contemptible. And as many who have been baptized and put on this Christ who came as a baby, the borders of the kingdom stretch out even more into the hearts of all people.

O Come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant
O come ye, o come ye to Bethelehem.
O come and behold him, born the King of Angels!

O come let us adore him!
O come let us adore him!
O come let us adore him,
Christ the Lord!

Adeste Fideles laeti triumphantes,
Venite, venite in Bethlehem.
Natum videte, Regem Angelorum;

Venite adoremus,
venite adoremus,
venite adoremus
Dominum!

Merry Christmas!

A good explanation of the Nativity Icon may be found here.

Stability in Advent: Sunday of Faith

Green Candle with icons

Today, we light the green candle of faith to remind us of our faith in the promises of God and the coming of His Son.  Let us reflect on the great mercy bestowed upon the world by Christ’s first coming and remove those obstacles which prevent us from sharing the gospel with others and readying ourselves for his return.

Isaiah 9:2, 6-7, 40:3-5, 52:7

I hate losing.

Sure, depending on the game or activity, I can probably handle the loss with a reasonable amount of grace. That still doesn’t make the sting of loss any less bitter. It also doesn’t help if the situation has more serious ramifications than a game of monopoly, chess, or a video game with friends.

And if you’re being honest, chances are good you and every other person you’ve encountered probably feels the same way.

This year being an election year, the concept of you or your party losing an election only intensifies the feelings of dread and despair. And given the increasing sense of polarization in the country, it is doubtful that we’ll see many well-wishers for the new or returning administration. Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly for those who study history, this is not a new feeling.

In first century Judea and Galilee, the Jewish people were the losers. Their Hasmonean kings, who descended from the legendary Maccabee family, had been overthrown by the Roman general Pompey the Great. In their place, Herod the Great ruled as a client-king to Rome (read “as a puppet figure”). To make matters worse, Herod was both cruel and an Edomite a descendant of a nation antagonistic to Israel. Couple that and the fact the Romans treated the Jews as second class citizens in their own land, it would be fair to say losing can lead to a dark time in people’s lives.

But it is in this setting that today’s reading is brought into fruition:

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in the land of the shadow of death, upon them a light has shined.”

In the darkest moment of these people’s lives, “a great light” has come into the world to shine upon them. As the prophet Isaiah continues, this light is a continuation of the kingdom of David which the people no doubt longed to return to.

No doubt someone might point out that the first coming, or advent, was solely spiritual in nature and not political. However this separation of the two is no where to be found in scripture. In fact the opposite is true!

Consider the genealogies of Christ during these days. If his coming were only spiritual, why not claim only a spiritual descent from David? After all, anyone of faith can claim Abraham as father without being of the line of Abraham (Rom. 4:16, Gal. 3:7-9). Consider also Christ’s exchange with Satan in Matthew (4:8-10) and later with Pilate in John (18:33-37). Not once does Jesus renounce his political mission. Rather he goes beyond the material world and lays claim to a kingdom that does not end as the Davidic and Hasmonean dynasties did.

This was same the message of St. Augustine of Hippo in his magnum opus The City of God which he wrote following the sack of Rome in the fifth century. Though the political world around us seems to be in shambles, it is important to know that there is one political state, one realm not shaken. Though some may rail and protest over injustices, both perceived and real, there is a kingdom where such injustices do not occur nor are they permitted. And it is to this kingdom and this king we are first to concern ourselves. Let all others shake out and fall where they may.

This year, as we gather around the Thanksgiving and Christmas tables, let us refrain from bitterness over the election and place our trust in the coming king whose birth we prepare to celebrate.