It’s here again, this season in which the world cools and darkens around us. It’s the time of year when we light candles and string up lights, send and receive lots of greetings, and think about presents.
“Remember the Reason for the season,” we’re told. “Yes,” we think, “I’m trying, but first, I’ve got an awful lot to do. The calendar doesn’t wait. If Martha hadn’t been working in the kitchen, there wouldn’t have been food on the table when Jesus came to stay.” Very true. Someone has to do the things, or they don’t get done. People are counting on us.
And I think that’s the key — the way to be both Mary and Martha as we prepare to welcome the newborn King in this journey through Advent.
- It’s about people and loving them. Are those busy preparations about loving people? About warming their lives in some way here in the cold and dark of December? Then good! Write those cards! Bake those cakes! Choose those gifts! Hang those ornaments for children to look at and see reflected in them the light shining from beyond all this.
- It’s about taking regular moments to consider what’s happening here. Sing the carols — really sing them, and let their words sink in. Read the story in Scripture. My favorite way to enjoy a Christmas tree is this (but it works with any decoration, even if you have no tree — a Nativity set or even a single, simple candle will do): sit near it at night, when the day’s work is done, when rest — however brief — lies ahead. Turn off all the other lights. Listen to whatever Christmas music moves you the most. For me, it’s “Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence,” the most eerie and terrifying and awe-inspiring hymn there is, because it’s full of monsters: six-winged seraph, cherubim with sleepless eye . . . it transports us beyond the Earth and tells of a Lord who gives us “His own self for heavenly food.” It’s a hymn that tells me to shut my mortal mouth and listen, because the whole creation is singing, all those beings in Heaven and under the Earth and among the stars. But that’s just me. The point is, do these things together: the still dark of night, the glowing tree (or candle), and the music. Feel the deep magic. Emmanuel is coming here, the immortal God in the form of a baby. For us, because of our brokenness problem — our death problem. He’s coming to take those away.
Back in my college days, I was introduced to many a treasure of the musical and liturgical heritage of the Church. One such is a set of prayers called the Great O Antiphons, the various names of Jesus as heard in the hymn “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” — antiphons so named because they all begin with the honorific “O.” They’re here below, playing us out along with pictures of our Christmas tree, which is calling for people to come and sit around it in the dark and keep silent and listen. A star is leading us to Bethlehem. The King of all kings is coming, born to die and rise and give us life. It starts anew this Advent, beneath a tree near you!
O Wisdom, proceeding from the mouth of the Most High, pervading and permeating all creation, mightily ordering all things: Come and teach us the way of prudence.
O Adonai and ruler of the house of Israel, who appeared to Moses in the burning bush and gave him the Law on Sinai: Come with an outstretched arm and redeem us.
O Root of Jesse, standing as an ensign before the peoples, before whom all kings are mute, to whom the nations will do homage: Come quickly to deliver us.
O Key of David and scepter of the house of Israel, You open and no one can close, You close and no one can open: Come and rescue the prisoners who are in darkness and the shadow of death.
O Dayspring, splendor of light everlasting: Come and enlighten those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death.
O King of the nations, the ruler they long for, the cornerstone uniting all people: Come and save us all, whom You formed out of clay.
O Emmanuel, our king and our Lord, the anointed for the nations and their Savior: Come and save us, O Lord our God.
Advent blessings, and a very Merry Christmas to all!