Third Wednesday of Advent
Scripture Reading for Today:
Taking Inventory
by Alanna Johnson
I put my Christmas tree up this year the day after Halloween. It’s the earliest I have ever done so. If you knew me, you might be surprised at that. I’ve historically been a person who gets a wee bit overwhelmed by the expectations and the busyness of the season, so Christmas decor doesn’t usually go up until after American Thanksgiving (it’s ok, Canadian friends; my husband is American, and he loves American Thanksgiving, which is why that is an acceptable demarcation of seasons in our home). But this year? This year is different.
The reason it went up that early wasn’t overly planned out. A friend simply asked if I could do so as a favour; he asked to use our home for a branding photoshoot. I had no intention of changing my pre-Christmas-season rhythms this year.
And yet, I did.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Eleven months ago I had no intention of entirely upending almost all of my rhythms.
And yet, I did.
My life has been deeply entwined with my local church for as long as I can remember. Starting as a young teen, I lived and breathed serving in the church, to the point of spending a number of years exploring pastoral ministry. I had no long-planned intention of walking away from church almost a year ago.
And yet, I did.
My story isn’t that unique. There are many of us dealing with disillusionment and disappointment, sorting out what has happened with our relationship to the institutional church. That’s still in process, and I don’t have it all sorted. What I do know is that this is the first pre-Christmas season that feels quiet. Empty. For many years my husband and I spent so much time planning, practicing, and serving in the weeks leading up to Christmas. We’d have church small group special holiday gatherings to attend, and large Christmas banquets to facilitate. We’d have to balance our time and figure out how to make it all work. I’d rush through it all and slam into Christmas day worn out and wondering, “how’d we get here?”
Eventually, I realized that that rhythm had become almost my whole experience of serving in the institutional church. Spending so much time planning, setting up, tearing down, and managing the expectations. Figuring out how to keep it all working against a backdrop of growing confusion, disillusionment and disappointment until I slammed up against a brick wall of “how’d I get here?”
How did I get here? I know I am not alone in asking this question. Maybe one of the reasons why I hit that brick wall so hard is that I’d neglected to seriously consider the invitation of Advent. Fleming Rutledge, the fierce and no-nonsense elder Episcopalian priest and theologian, has been unflinching in her work about what Advent means for the Church. In her book Advent: The Once and Future Coming of Jesus Christ Rev. Rutledge pushes back against the creep of premature celebration during this season:
“…this is the season of Advent. It’s superficially understood as a time to get ready for Christmas, but in truth it’s the season for contemplating the judgment of God. Advent is the season that, when properly understood, does not flinch from the darkness that stalks us all in this world. Advent begins in the dark and moves toward the light—but the season should not move too quickly or too glibly, lest we fail to acknowledge the depth of the darkness…Advent bids us take a fearless inventory of the darkness: the darkness without and the darkness within.”
If Advent is about contemplating the judgment of God and taking inventory of the darkness, I feel like I’ve been in an Advent season for over a year now. Rev. Rutledge probably wouldn’t disparage my feelings. Her thoughts? “Life’s darker side: that’s Advent.”
It’s been a year of quiet. Of being more honest with myself and others. Of allowing myself to be more fully human, in touch with my frailties and my failures, my spiritual mis-formations and misguided efforts. And of no longer being willing to pretend that the Church herself has no darkness worth interrogating.
Christmas Day might be coming on the calendar soon, but I sense my Advent season might carry on for a while longer. As I’ve said, it was not my intention to be here. But I have to believe that it has been the Spirit’s intention, and I receive it for the grace that it is. God has always been up to God’s business, whether we anticipate it or not. Gosh, whether we understand it or not! (I mean, look at the snippet from today’s reading of Jesus and the disciples coming down the mountain… they sound seriously confused in Mark 9:10, “wondering what on earth ‘rising from the dead’ meant.” [MSG]). Rev. Rutledge reminds us “one foundational truth that I have learned from apocalyptic theology, it is this: God is the subject of the verb. God doesn’t need us to help him make his “dream” come true; God is on the march far ahead of us, bringing his purposes to pass”.
If you are with me in the unintended and unanticipated grace of taking inventory in this season, I hope you feel less alone.
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