Welcome to Advent! When I was at Sewanee, one of our chaplains would tell us and also would hide signs in the chapel reading, “Slow Down, Be Quiet, it’s Advent.” Amidst all the hustle, fear, business, and melancholy of the corresponding days and weeks, Advent meant to be a time to slow down, be quieter, and reflect on our lives and the years we have lived. Yet, at only four weeks, Advent always feels more like a time of preparation than a time of contemplation. Some of us might find solace in the earlier darkness, but most of us hate that it’s dark by 5:30pm and feel even less inclined to do more than work and sleep.
Amnesty International has popularized the adage that “it is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness.” There are several ways to interpret that phrase. I choose to see it as a call to action, even the most basic action, rather than simply complaining or giving into inaction and indifference. I admit that though I love contemplation, this hardly seems like a time to quiet down or be calm. In fact, the more I slow down, the more I give in to the maddening “what-if’s” about the next four years.
If we’re meant to slow down, then why do all our Advent readings and stories involve action? Mary learns from an angel that she will give birth to the savior of the world. She immediately goes to see her cousin Elizabeth who’s also pregnant and what do they do? They talk about overthrowing empires. Then Mary and Joseph travel to Bethlehem for the census and there, in a cattle shed, Jesus is born. Angels appear to shepherds who come and worship the child in the manger. Soon Herod, the puppet king installed and controlled by the Romans, begins systematically killing infant Jewish boys, so afraid of the messiah who ostensibly would take his power. To protect Jesus, his parents take him and flee to Egypt until Herod dies.
Even in the prophecies about his birth, the action is great. Great lights are appearing, people are rejoicing, yokes and rods are being smashed, and battle worn boots and cloaks marred by blood are being burned to fuel all the other action.
Friends, this Advent I think we have three options for who we will be and who we will become during Advent and beyond.
Assuming that going full on MAGA and Trumpian isn’t an option for any of us, then the first option is to dig a hole. That hole needs to be big enough for our head. We could insulate ourselves against the world. Given who we are, the people we’ve become, and the identities we hold, that may be easier for some of us than others. Depending on your level of privilege, burying your head in the sand might be perfectly legitimate or a complete betrayal to the people you love and support.
The second option is to navigate a path that is simultaneously active and contemplative. There’s a great example in one character who while mentioned in the Advent and Christmas narrative, says nothing and is almost forgotten about by the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry. He’s mentioned in Luke 4:22 and depending on the translation of the Bible, he might be mentioned in Matthew 13:55 and Mark 6:3. His absence is also implied at the crucifixion. I’m of course talking about Joseph, Jesus’ earthly father. We don’t know much about Joseph. The Bible tells us that he’s a carpenter and that he was from the house and line of King David. In fact, according to Matthew 1, he’s a direct, male-line descendent of David and also of Abraham. But that’s all we get concretely about Joseph. Tradition holds that Joseph was older than Mary, possibly double her age, and that he had been married previously. It’s clear that Joseph is protective of Jesus and Mary and that he trusts God. Given that Jesus places Mary under the protection of another man before his death, we can assume that Joseph has already died.
If you’re trying to find a path where you’re involved, but protecting yourself, I encourage you to remember Joseph who through all the turbulence of life as the legal father of the messiah and God incarnate, remained steady, protective, and responsive. He made himself a refugee in order to protect the child that clearly wasn’t his and in doing so he made himself a refuge.
The third option, the only option open to pastors, prophets, activists, and organizers, is action. Bishop William Barber says that “Preachers can’t stay out of politics. We can either be chaplains of empire or prophets of God.” He means that as preachers there’s no middle ground. Our option is either to support the forces of empire, capitalism, division, and hate or to speak prophetically about who God is and how God requires us to live. In other words, we have to stand up and we have fight back. The God we worship is not an indifferent creature unconcerned with humanity. Our God isn’t a divine chess player who simply manipulates us for their own purpose. No, our God is moving in this world and we have to move with them.
John Wesley reminds us that the call of every person who follows Jesus Christ is called to “Do all the good you can. By all the means you can. In all the ways you can. In all the places you can. At all the times you can. To all the people you can. As long as you can.” Our actions need not all be public or even recognized, but we need to commit to enacting and advancing justice whenever we can, however we can, and wherever we can.
Writing on Thanksgiving, Bishop Yvette Flunder said in part, “I know this Thanksgiving is a particularly “anti” season…for many of us, as we are under attack because of …
Our race
Our critique of bad religion
Our care for our Mother Earth
Our birth/choice gender
Our sexuality
Our political party
Our desire to end war
Our liberating education
We are in a season where despots believe they are God…it is part of the Divine Plan for their internal-political destruction! Bishop Walter Hawkins wrote the song, “Don’t Wait Till the Battle is Over…Shout/Dance Now!”…for we know in the end we will win! While we work for justice, we must offer God our best ‘Expectation Praise’ and Prepare like our ancestors…prepare to see the coming of the Glory of the Lord!”
Let us pray,
“O God,
When it feels like the world is on fire, we don’t always know what to do.
Do we light candles and pray?
Do we scream and yell in the streets?
Do we open our wallets?
Do we prepare guest rooms in our homes?
Do we write letters and make phone calls?
We don’t always know what it looks like to stand up to injustice.
We don’t always know what it looks like to call oppressors to account.
But we are begging for mercy, for justice, for all those things you tell us to look for.
We are begging for mercy for children who are cold and tired,
for parents who cannot stop aching.
The widowed ones and the orphaned ones are yours,
and if they are yours, they are ours, too.
When those children are crying in cages and we cannot get to them,
When those parents are desperate to hold their babies again and we cannot console,
Show us what it means to be the face of love.
Show us what it means to have hands and feet that only work for good.
We acknowledge that we are called to be people who fight for human rights,
and it is not a choice.
O God,
Teach us what self-care looks like.
Show us what strength looks like.
Show us what Love looks like.
Because we are a nation that has always oppressed children,
deeming them worthless,
pieces moved on a chessboard
to punish and control cultures and peoples.
This is hatred in every sense.
Teach us how to be people who stand against it again and again
for the sake of every child
and every person who wants a quiet,
safe place to lay their heads at night.
Teach us to be brave, we pray,
When we have no idea what it looks like.”1
Amen.
Prayer written by Kaitlin Curtice for Sojourners.