Just as the secular calendar reliably starts off with a January 1 holiday that looks ahead to the new year, the Christian church calendar (or revised common lectionary) starts its annual cycle with Advent, a whole season in December that likewise focuses on the future.
But the cheer of Christmas is elusive for many these days. We should consider adjusting our focus a bit during this winter of our discontent.
Catholics commonly channel their Advent spirituality along two tracks: short-term preparation for the Savior’s birth on Christmas and a longer-range, more visceral preparedness for encountering Christ at the hour of our death, or in extremis, when the Second Coming comes.
The Nicene Creed explains the latter readiness: We “look forward to the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.” Christ “will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead.”
Much of the Advent expectation Americans enjoy travels along the December 25 track, keeping it light and frothy as we shop and plan family gatherings.
Meanwhile, many of the season’s Scriptural readings are admonishing us to reflect on the Lord’s ultimate return. And one might say the typical Catholic strategy for the day of judgment is simple: “Oh-oh, look busy!”
Theology aside, most humans tend to give short shrift to the “last days.” The panoramic scene of truth, beauty, and goodness decorates the kitchen while we stuff the turkey and bake the pie.
Notice I’m not equating either Catholic track with the language used by many Protestants. They speak of the “First Advent” and the “Second Advent,” according to an essay in Bible Hub. Jesus’s first coming resolves the problem of sin, from whose captivity He did indeed save us. The second coming fulfills Jesus’s promise to “deliver into everlasting security those who have believed in Him.”
The equally hopeful Catholic lens (through which I peer only imperfectly) places more emphasis on Jesus coming again, individually or collectively, as a Just Judge. This assesses whether we have sought to participate in God’s Kingdom based on our faith and our works. Our decision to embrace the terms of His promise caps a lifetime of carrying crosses, receiving grace, and overcoming temptations with the big picture—love—in mind.
Something tells me that Advent 2023 could become everyone’s bifocal lens to monitor better both the holiday-prep and the hope-prep paths toward the future. We must observe the urgent hunger for love in the loneliness of society’s long-distance runners.
More and more people feel looser connections to the transcendent joy of the Feast of the Nativity—Jesus born as Emanu-El, incarnated in a human body, to teach us, accompany us, and break our sin-chains.
Despite this Good News, many have downplayed their religious affiliation and insight. Perhaps they have replaced God with something else, often themselves.
Or life’s circumstances may have given them less to celebrate and fewer families and friends to share a feast with.
Their hope-prep isn’t going well. Some folks are not finding real happiness because of distraction, detachment, and psychological pain. Much of that pain arises from today’s mash-up of sorrow and bad news, whether from personal experiences or the tenor of the times.
American media cultivate a secular interest in Christmas, but they hold us captive in an arena of non-stop hatred, existential threats, and artificiality.
We retreat to screens and social media because we lack a compelling personal story that exudes meaning and purpose. We don’t believe or invest in other people’s stories, especially if we see them as competitors or oppressors.
Wars and rumors of wars abound. The Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists will report in January their update on the proximity of cataclysm. Early this year, these global grinches moved the hand of their doomsday clock from 100 seconds to 90 seconds before midnight. That’s barely enough time for a Relaxium commercial.
At some point, we do have to giggle at our grimness. According to the “Study Finds” website, a “survey” by BonusFinder.com suggested 71 percent of Americans say they have lost faith in the U.S. government to “save them” from a “doomsday event.”
About 56 percent expect a catastrophe caused by climate change. One-third believe another pandemic will hit. One-quarter predicts World War III. “Another seven percent are betting on an alien invasion, while the same number believe 2024 will finally be the year zombies walk the Earth.” BonusFinder.com, a site about casinos, makes life look like one big gamble.
It’s a sure bet that many people foresee the world, or at least their world, ending in tragedy, in spiritual bankruptcy. This leaves no space for Yuletide cheer, and it leads to isolation, addiction, and nihilistic behavior down the road.
However, if we agree this ambient grief deserves our prayer and action, we can use an Advent awareness of Christ’s promised return to open up space for evangelization. The season’s religious observances and Bible readings are a good way to reach people where they are to address the grimness with accompaniment and hope.
Admittedly, the Catholic message isn’t all holly and mistletoes. It opens a door of empowering wonder, but imagine it’s the door to your physical therapist’s exercise room. This is where challenge and rigorous preparation will pay off by revealing truths and restoring hearts.
A rigorous adventure during Advent re-establishes order and brings us back to a meaningful reality, which happens to include the joy of Christmas. If we are participating in the venture, we can become effective spiritual coaches. We can tell those who are languishing, “We hear the same media reports you do, and we understand your discouragement, but we have glimpsed a long-range future you can live with.”
Think of this as “baptizing” the secular (but nigh onto spiritual) advice of public intellectual Jordan Peterson in his book, 12 Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos. This clinical psychologist-turned-coach starts out by ordering his readers, “Clean your room!”
In a commentary on Advent’s lessons, Bishop Anthony Taylor of the Diocese of Little Rock, wrote to Catholics:
“Jesus says ‘beware that your hearts do not become drowsy from carousing and drunkenness and the anxieties of daily life. . . be vigilant at all times and pray that you will have the strength to escape the tribulations.”
This is a hard saying, but it gifts people with a mission.
Ralph Martin, who leads Renewal Ministries, agrees with Peterson and Taylor that people who start mending their rift from reality can build a stronger relationship with the world, their church, and their God. Listen to the whole story! “If you don’t know the bad news, the Good News sounds like no news.”
Bishop Robert Barron, in a video about Advent, explains it’s all about prioritizing, not drifting. Putting faith first, rather than oneself, helps other concerns fall neatly into place. We can regain personal agency by making Christ’s story—the joyful, sorrowful, and glorious mysteries—our own.
In a sense, the church calendar uses the immediacy of the Nativity to set a first milestone on a distant journey. Meanwhile, the “long game,” the “life of the world to come,” puts the lead-up to Christmas in context.
Unlike those secular “preppers” who told BonusFinder.com they wanted the government to protect them from doomsday, Advent preppers come to see they can receive their own protection and propulsion. And that yields a bonus: There’s no real doomsday at all. This cure for drowsy hearts will reduce the population of zombies.
These considerations can help us share the wisdom of Advent as the church year begins. The season’s feedback loop of attentiveness helps us find more meaning on both the holiday-prep and hope-prep tracks.
We should be especially conscious of all those who lack the motivation or ability to imagine celebrating during their period of chaos. Advent exists for such a time as this. It gets us into motion. We can invite our brothers and sisters to a feast—and into the full story of the future. Just in time for Christmas!
*Originally published on Phronesis in Pieces. Republished here with permission.