The Word Made Flesh
At the beginning of Advent, we are usually bombarded by the typical posts, articles, and thoughts on how to “do” Advent properly. To simplify, cut out, slow down, to enter into lots of quiet prayer time, and remember that it’s traditionally a time of penitence, etc. The reasons for decorating vs. not decorating, Black Friday shopping vs. not, etc. It’s easy to start Advent with the best of intentions and wanting to “do” Advent right.
However, there is reality. There is commitment to community groups, parades, parish fundraisers, open houses to host, family birthdays between Thanksgiving and Christmas, chocolates and cookies to make, etc. And as December progresses, time seems to go faster and faster. Do we just ignore these realities? We may not need to completely separate our internal preparations from our external ones. I am more and more convinced that the answers to these things always lies somewhere in the middle, in the paradox of both/and, which incidentally, also happens to be a Catholic world-view.
As I was thinking through these things on the first Sunday of Advent, I sat through a homily where the priest made a point and I thought, “of course. This is how the Theology of the Body lens would have me see Advent.” The point was this: to let our Christmas preparations be the signs that direct us to Christ. We should be intentional and thoughtful in our preparations, yes, but we don’t have to obsess over what to cut out and leave in our December plans. We just have to plan as best we can, then enter into our preparations with a joyful heart, keep our eyes open, and submit ourselves to whatever God wants to teach us through the ordinary circumstances of our lives. The Theology of the Body lets the visible become a sign of the invisible.
Now it’s Christmas! Christ has come in the flesh- joy to the world! And I’ve come to understand that by submitting ourselves to the process, God ‘bakes in’ so to speak, everything that we need. One example…as I put up my decorations this month, I found that almost every strand of light was half-lit. The pre-tree that my grandfather bought me on one of his last Christmases had lost its light. Rather than running to the store to buy more, I put them the tree and imperfect lights up anyway, mostly because I ran out of time. I was pleasantly surprised one evening (the 3rd Sunday of Advent, no less) as I was on the phone with a friend, a light came from the corner. I walked around the corner, and the tree had unbiddingly turned on. No reason. There it was, all lit up. And there were many other little signs and moments too, but the themes of darkness and light especially seemed to stand out this year. It’s darkest before the dawn. We don’t appreciate the light without an experience of darkness. And this is exactly the world Christ came into and conquered; a dark one, ruled by the Romans, without much hope of eternal life. That hope was kept alive in very small ways through the prophets. We can keep it alive too. Even if it’s just the light from one Advent candle reminding us, God is in control.
The Word was made Flesh. God chose to come to us in a body, in created matter, and he speaks to us through tangible signs in his created matter, all the time. Spiritual things are not divorced from created, visible things. Created, visible things, most especially the human person, help us understand invisible, spiritual realities.
"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." (John 1:5)
Merry Christmas!