Advent wreaths
Is 2:1-5; Ps 122: 1-2, 3-4, 4-5, 6-7, 8-9; Rom 13:11-14; Mt 24:37-44
When you enter your church this Sunday, regardless of which Catholic church you attend: Beware! For you are certain to encounter one of the most insidious liturgical artifacts ever devised, which annually draws faithful believers away from an authentic journey toward Jesus Christ during this special season before Christmas. I am referring, of course, to the Advent wreath.
Before you pen an angry letter to the editor, stay with me for a bit. Part of the beauty of the wreath is its simple symmetry — four candles aligned in a circle, each lit successively as the four weeks of the Advent season unfold.
Let’s suppose that, à la Rip van Winkle, you fell into a deep sleep on Nov. 29 and did not awake until several days or weeks later. If you popped into a Catholic church, you would at least immediately know (plus or minus a few days) how many days until Christmas. Even if the candles weren’t lit, you could judge which week of Advent you were in based on the candles’ heights or which wicks were blackened.
Therein lies the problem. The Advent wreath underscores the sense that we are following a carefully scripted narrative. In fact, our popular culture is built around growing anticipation as we tick off the days until Christmas. But contrary to this methodical timeline, Advent ought to remind us that the coming of Jesus — whether his first appearance at the Incarnation or his “second coming” — is an irruption into human history whose date and place cannot be predicted (Mary didn’t have a scheduled appointment with Gabriel).
Indeed, the whole purpose of Advent is to help us nurture a mindset of preparing our hearts to be open to recognizing and receiving Christ’s presence in our midst. Christmas day recalls a concrete event in history. But the reality of Emmanuel (“God is with us”) is pervasive throughout time and place.
Every year, the first Sunday of Advent pointedly drives home this message of preparedness in the face of uncertainty. But while the readings speak of the coming of the Lord, they actually do not refer to the birth of Jesus, but rather to the return of the risen Lord who will come to judge the nations.
“Stay awake! For you do not know on which day your Lord will come.” Nothing could be further from a predictable, steady progression toward a known finish line, as the Advent wreath suggests.
I admit that I may be overreacting a bit about this treasured Advent custom (I promise, I like Advent wreaths!), but it reminds us that we are all capable of falling into the hubris of thinking that we basically have God figured out: He follows our script and is expected to perform on cue.
In our everyday lives, that might look like simply paying lip service to God in our prayer, while we actually rely upon our own schemes or the influence of others. It could also manifest as an attitude that sees Jesus’ call for self-sacrificial love as an idealized suggestion that he does not actually expect us to strive for.
So how do we avoid this potential trap? Paul offers one such way in the brief passage from his Letter to the Romans that we encounter this Sunday: “Let us throw off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light.” He then exhorts us to have greater respect for human dignity, both our own and others’: resist drunkenness, lust, jealousy, etc.
Wait, doesn’t this sound more like a Lenten message than what we usually expect from Advent? Yes, that’s the whole point. To live this way is to prepare our hearts to be ever ready to receive the coming of the Lord.
Here’s a simple suggestion. Instead of just focusing on four candles, resolve to express gratitude for the God-given dignity of the first four people you encounter today outside of your home. If you’re intentional about the first four, it will become much easier and natural to do it for numbers five, six and seven.
You don’t know who you might see today. They could be a dear friend or a feared enemy — and there’s nothing scripted about that.