As we move into the perspective of the Advent season, we step into a world that is both already here: Christ has died. Christ is risen. And a world yet to come: Christ will come again. The world as it is has known Jesus, and Jesus is not yet finished with the world as it is. In many ways, the last year has felt like one long Advent to me: high-alert, awake with wide-eyes, hoping for some new reality where joy, truth, and mercy reigns.
Our collect for this week, a prayer that's been prayed for over 450 years, frames the treatment for this unsteady reality in the words of the letter to the Romans: the gift of casting off darkness and putting on light, preparing for the day when we will live into eternity and fully experience the majesty of Jesus' humility.
Franciscan priest Richard Rohr writes about this Advent perspective: "The price for real transformation is high. It means that we have to change our loyalties from power, success, money, and control (read: our kingdoms) to the Lordship of Jesus and the kingdom of God." Rohr continues, "...Whatever you trust to validate you and secure you is your real god, and the gospel is saying "Will the real God please stand up?"
This week's collect acknowledges that it is God's gift to us to that we participate in shining light into the dark corners of this world. The collect also reminds us that this work of the here and now is part of living into the ultimate reality of eternal life. It also makes it clear that this is difficult work that requires protection and preparation: putting on a suit of divine light. This "armor" wraps itself around us when we are able to put our trust in some other, greater, ultimate reality. God is that for us--ultimate reality brought to life in Jesus who comes in "great humility." God is present with us to show that ultimate power is found in the enfleshment of justice, mercy, and the sacrificial love of neighbor. "Come, Lord Jesus" Rohr says, "means we do not spend too much time trusting that other 'Lordships' will ever finally save us."
O come, O come Emmanuel!
Artist David Kracov works on his sculpture "Book of Life"
representing the 2547 children that escaped Chernobyl's nuclear disaster. Read more about it in this article, from which the photo is taken. The artist's website is here.