On the first day of Advent a bunch of stuff descended on me. Some of it was a bit difficult, like preparing to move in a month or so, and fulfilling a new assignment from my pastor. Most of it was just seasonal fun: having a party, scheduling concerts, buying gifts. And, as you know, I follow the news which also seems to be descending on everyone I meet.

I had intended to sit down and have some extended time with God and make my way into Advent: Jesus prophesied, Jesus incarnate, Jesus present with me, Jesus coming again. But it just was not working. I finally decided this Advent was going a different direction than usual. Instead of considering how I would enter into Advent with Jesus, I decided to consider how Jesus was entering into Advent with me.

Here was and is my prayer: You are incarnate in life as it is. I welcome that.

It has felt good to investigate how I use Advent.

Originally, the season of Advent was supposed to be like Lent: a somewhat sober preparation to open up to the coming of Jesus. Christmas was the beginning of the celebration, not the end (as in “the twelve days”). But when the end became getting a gift on Christmas, the spiritual discipline was upended. So the incarnation might be the most neglected spiritual foundation for postmodern Christianity.

Instead of marveling at our self-giving God during Advent, who deigns to be a human, in all our corruption and pain, we idealize the baby and tidy up the stable. I was late getting Christmas cards this year, so I had to drive clear over to Manoa to the Hallmark store. They are nice. The manger scene has almost no hint of war, ignorance or suffering.

I also managed to put up my very tidy, artificial tree. It is quite beautiful. It reminds me it is “Christmas.” But it is more full of magic than majesty. It probably has more to do with whimsy than worship. I do have a lobster ornament and a dancing hippo, after all, not to mention a plump mermaid and a hand-blown pig. I think it is charming and hospitable, but it is part of an aesthetic and somewhat anesthetic.

I learned how to pair my I-phone with my blue tooth speaker and started playing my Christmas playlist. As a person who sings along with muzak in the store, the playlist can really dominate. I collect all the voices that please me and set an atmosphere; it can function as a musical bubble. I included Respighi’s “Laud to the Nativity” we sang in college. As I listened to the pro sing my tenor solo, I criticized how bad I performed it. I missed the Nativity and the laud as I critiqued the performance.

The aura of Christmas has, for centuries, been refined to the hilt: peaceful (snow on snow), candlelit or firelit (chestnuts roasting), calm and bright (wax burning your hand as you sing on Christmas Eve). We pull out the stops to denude it of most trappings of the original event. We may have colluded with each other to buffer the reality of God with us. Really, those of us who have birthed babies know very well the Christ child was not sleeping in “heavenly peace” with his stressed-out parents in a barn.

I don’t need a buffered relationship

As I was praying, I was distressed that I was messing up my Advent ritual! I was not even praying right. Hmm.  Holiday capitalism and our godless perfectionism gets in the way of Advent. All our excessive, ritual buffering (like our favorite sign off, “Stay safe!”) subverts a prayerful Advent. Jesus is like Doris Day getting shot through a filter.

Doris Day was a famous singer in the 1940’s who became a romantic-comedy movie star in the 50’s and 60’s. She’s on my “pop” playlist a few times. She did not like her freckles so she would tell the cameramen, “Gauze me baby” so she could sing Que Sera Sera. The operators applied Vaseline to the lens or used a very sheer piece of silk or plastic to soften her appearance on screen and later mask her wrinkles. She glowed.

Wouldn’t you say that Jesus is effectively  gauzed during Advent? Aren’t we seeing him through a controlling lens? I don’t need that. Syria is transforming and Trump is sitting with Macron in Notre Dame. Come, Lord Jesus. Do not stay locked up in that Christmas card!

Christ the Savior is born, again

My prayer became, “I dare not let you get cleaned up. I need you down in the dirt, in the stable with me.” I didn’t say, “Down in the shit,” since that would be unseemly. But no one knows the shit of humanity better than Jesus, right?

Much more than complaining about society and humanity, I want the Spirit of God unleashed by Jesus in me, so I am not only born again but I give birth to him in significant ways.

Ronald Rolheiser has encouraged me to do this birthing many times. For him, Mary is a model to imitate not a maiden to admire. From her we get the pattern of incarnation in our lives, hopefully ignited by Advent:

• Let the word of God take root and make you pregnant
• Gestate that by giving it the nourishing sustenance of your own life
• Submit to the pain that is demanded for it to be born to the outside
• Spend years coaxing it from infancy to adulthood
• Do some pondering, accept the pain of not understanding and of letting go.

I guess I am old enough to do some pondering. I don’t make complete sense and neither does Advent or the whole weird world. I think I can let go of the temptation to jump into controlling all that. If I resist, I will be able to welcome Jesus to do what He does: become incarnate in my messy existence. In like manner, I will be much more likely to give birth to the work of the Spirit in me, right in the middle of the turmoil of a world in great need of the true Savior.