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“For us and for our salvation, he came down from heaven, was incarnate of the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary and became truly human.” (Nicene Creed from Enriching Our Worship 1, p. 53; emphasis added)
Depending on your perspective, Advent is somewhere on a spectrum of “waiting” that has a BMV lobby at one end and blowing out birthday candles at the other. Some view this as an interstitial time that gets in the way of The Main Event (aka Christmas). Others see this as a chance to make space for reflection and meditation amid all the chaos and frenetic energy. I understand and have held both views at various points in my life – especially coming from a fundamentalist tradition where Advent wasn’t really a thing (in the same way that Lent wasn’t really a thing either and Easter just kind of popped up sometime in the spring).
Advent has been a sacred time for me these past few years as I have spent time taking my assumptions and biases about faith down the studs (to borrow Kate Bowler’s phrase) and rebuilding it from a place of love and hope.
The 24-day march towards Christmastide is chock full of narratives and pageantry that sometimes separate us from the physicality of the experience: that God chose a Middle Eastern woman living under Roman occupation to bear the savior of humanity. That’s why I prefer this quoted version of the Nicene Creed – it reminds us that God became truly human.
This implies that the Incarnation also comes with all the messiness that is the human condition: hopes, dreams, stubbed toes, upset stomachs, disappointments, celebrations, and more. All of this challenges the picture of a brown hair, soft white skin, and physically fit Christ Jesus from the churches of my youth. And I love that – I love that it challenges us into consider what else we have assumed or incorrectly believed to be true.
On her podcast, Emily P. Frieman admonished that “the silent night was fake news […] it was nice while it lasted, our vision of a quiet Christ, a cleaned up Mary, a tame controlled birth [but] when Divinity steps out of eternity and into the timeline of history, there’s bound to be some noise.” Scott Erickson adds to this as he explores the maternal aspect of this season in Honest Advent, observing that the Annunciation would have meant Mary’s own hopes and dreams would be set aside. The rote movement through Advent has killed our sense of wonder and robbed us of appreciation for the deeper meaning, Erickson argues.
This is what I ponder as I light the candles on my Advent wreath. I invite you to join me; this season let’s explore what is keeping us from the approachability and messiness that is Emmanuel, God is with us.
A light shines in the darkness, but the darkness does not overcome it: God’s love is with you this Advent season. Let this be a reminder that despite our imperfections we are still made in the image of God, who once became truly human.
Shane Hatchett, Parishioner
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