(Image: I do not know why this picture of a white horse wearing a fancy steampunk hat against a background of industrial metal Christmas ornaments/fishing lures appeared as a result for “public domain Advent images,” but I was unable to resist it. It has nothing to do with anything that follows.)
So here I slump at my desk, trying to work up some enthusiasm for the upcoming season of Advent. I don’t know about you, but Enthusiasm – that chatty and energetic cousin of Hope – is hard for me to conjure up these days. So much to do, so much I want to do, but doubts and discouragements pop up like mushrooms. I envy anything that hibernates.
So why do I, fitfully and with a good deal of reluctance, turn my face to Advent – to the call of prophets demanding that I make straight the way in the wilderness, level the valleys, strengthen the feeble knees so that people can go around leaping like harts? I can hardly manage my own laundry! And guys, I know you know this… but there is SO. MUCH. WILDERNESS out there.
I think I have talked about this here before but, good grief – what was God thinking of, when God decided to trust us with a baby…? An unplanned baby, of dubious parentage and on the wrong side in an occupied land, yet stuffed with the divine like a piñata with everything we’ve ever desired: love, healing and wholeness, being seen, being told stories that will draw us into better, happier lives and relationships. And God just tips this most precious gift onto a barn floor in Palestine and expects us to take care of it! To nourish it, to love it, to encourage it into growth and understanding. Has God taken a look at us lately? Not ideal nanny material, then and now.
We know things didn’t get better for this baby as the years went on. He was run out of his hometown the first time he spoke publicly from the heart. He was surrounded by people who wanted things from him – healing, wine, answers, cabinet appointments in the heavenly bureaucracy that surely was right around the corner. And yes, even simple things like fish and bread. He knew the needs were genuine, but they never stopped, not while anyone was within grabbing distance. He spoke the truth, sometimes gently, sometimes not. And he continued to walk, every day, knowing where the path was taking him, dragging his whining and oblivious companions where they needed to go.
In the Christian church, we walk this journey over and over again in remembrance, hoping by iteration that we’ll understand it better, embody it better. Be less whining and oblivious, perhaps, for a change. Advent is the season where God wants us to remember that God loves us, and trusts us enough to give us the divine, vulnerable and messy and immediate, to care for. It is the season where our faith in God is less to be pondered than God’s faith in us. What does God know about us, when there’s a mountain of evidence, rising higher every day, that we, as a species, are lousy caretakers? What, seeded deep within me now, is the source of God’s hope, and how can I help it struggle out into the light, into the world?
What birth is God trusting me to midwife? How am I going to raise a baby in this mess?
Carol, that’s hilarious about the horse with steampunk hat image. And I love your reflection on Advent so much. Well said, spot on, and with so many chuckles along the way “I can barely manage my laundry.” I will reread many times as I head into my own Advent journey this year. Thank you.