The Light of Peace
Our Advent journey is so rich in meaning that themes keep adding through the Readings.
Today’s First Reading is taken from the Book of Baruch (5: 1-9), an anonymous author who had possibly assumed the name of Prophet Jeremiah’s scribe Baruch ben Neriah. The text announces the final restoration of Israel, her liberation and return from exile. There is a reference to the change of the name Jerusalem, in line with what the Prophet Isaiah had announced: ‘Peace of justice, and honour of piety’.
The city’s new appellation represents the joy experienced by returnees from the Exile, now assembled there to begin a new journey. Similarly, we who are exiles in this world see a new promise, a new light, a new hope. Jesus is to come again this Christmas and at the end of time, bringing peace, justice, honour and piety. And we will begin a new journey towards Heaven, the Eternal Jerusalem, where we belong.
The Gospel (Lk 3: 1-6) suggests that we too should assemble this Advent and embark on a new journey. It is metanoia, our journey of conversion and transformation. This cannot be said better than in the memorable words of Isaiah, with reference to the future St John the Baptist: ‘The voice of one crying in the wilderness: Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’
We are never alone on our journey. Our Lord walks alongside, and whenever necessary carries us on His shoulders. That is how He makes our burdens light. He fills every valley, flattens hill and mountain, makes the paths straight and smooth, to ensure that we see the salvation of God – reach Heaven. This is our journey’s ultimate and noblest goal.
Let’s think of how our journey toward Christmas has been like thus far. Have we examined our conscience, confessed our sins (at the very beginning, not end, of Advent), prayed and asked for pardon? Advent is not a time of merriment in anticipation of Christmas. In fact, it is a penitential season, a ‘little Lent’.
‘Advent used to be forty days but was formalized to four weeks, in the ninth century, which is why we now have the four Sundays of Advent. The Mass itself assumes a more sombre tone during Advent. The priests wear violet vestments, as they do during Lent, since purple is the liturgical colour that signifies an attitude of repentance and sorrow for sin. The Gloria is also removed from the beginning of Mass during Advent, just as it is during Lent.’[1]
Though both Advent and Lent are times of preparation for Christmas and Easter, respectively, the essential difference is that Advent has no Passion Week. The penitential observances of Advent always have a festive character to them, which is why the Alleluia is retained. It is sad that we are tempted to pass over the penitential aspects of Advent and focus on the festivity of Christmas.
Vis-à-vis our secular culture, therefore, St Bernard of Clairvaux (1090-1153) drives home a point. The mystic co-founder of the Knights Templar says: ‘Consider Who He is that comes, whence He comes, to whom He comes, for what end He comes, when He comes, and in what manner He comes. This is undoubtedly a most useful and praiseworthy curiosity, for the Church would not so devoutly celebrate the season of Advent if there were not some great Mystery hidden therein.’[2]
In light of the above, it is significant that St Paul bore the same joyful sentiments with which Baruc celebrated the return of the exiles to Jerusalem. He sings a paean to the conversion of the Philippians. Not one to bask in past glories, the Apostle to the Gentiles urges them thus: ‘This I pray, that your charity may more and more abound in knowledge, and in all understanding: That you may approve the better things, that you may be sincere and without offence unto the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of justice, through Jesus Christ, unto the glory and praise of God.’
There is no joy without prior conversion. May the second Advent candle, called Bethlehem Candle that represents Peace, remind us of Mary and Joseph’s journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem before the Nativity. She was carrying the Prince of Peace. Let us, who are filled with a renewed, transcendental hope this Advent, embark on a spiritual journey that will better prepare us to receive the Light of the World who is Peace Incarnate.
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[2] ‘On the Advent of Our Lord and its Six Circumstances’, in Sermons of St Bernard on Advent and Christmas, p. 4. https://shorturl.at/limFm
Simple and Sublime
The Christmas tableau is a heart-warming story in miniature. As a child I was moved particularly by those poor shepherds huddled up on the cold hills of Bethlehem; they were the only ones to hear “Gloria in Excelsis Deo” that mystical night. I was also enthralled by the Magi, whose regal aura perfectly balanced out the divine narrative. After all, Jesus not only descended from the House of David, he descended from Heaven and made his dwelling among us. Here was real majesty, with no hint of extravagance.
With two thousand years of the Nativity behind us, we surely have the benefit of hindsight. The multitude then perhaps failed to appreciate the wondrous event; and the few enlightened ones were so meek and mild that the likes of Herod exploited the situation, apparently frustrating God’s plans for humankind. The king and his minions even drove Christ to his death but, thankfully, his resurrection soon became the very foundation of the Christian faith.
There was a mighty coherence to Jesus’ life story. His rise from the tomb established his reputation as a Man-God. Were it not for Easter, Christmas would have gone down in history as a non-event. In fact, the Bible does not specify Jesus’ date of birth; and in the first two centuries, none paid attention to it anyway, as birthday celebrations were considered a pagan custom. Saints and martyrs were remembered on their day of death, which marked their entry into Heaven. Hence, theologically, Easter ranks higher than Christmas.
However, considering the tender feelings that birth evokes, Christmas was poised to be a cherished day. Based on patristic sources that dated Jesus’ conception (and crucifixion) to 25 March, St Hippolytus of Rome (c. AD 204) was the first to explicitly assign Christmas to its current feast day. For their part, the Romans had long been observing 25 December as Dies Natalis Solis Invicti (‘birthday of the unconquered sun’), so when in AD 325 Constantine I, the first Roman Christian Emperor, declared Christmas a holiday, the relation between the rebirth of the sun and the birth of the Son of God became more than obvious.
Half a century later, Pope Julius I formalised the date; yet Christmas would continue to be celebrated in close association with the day of Jesus’ baptism (6 January) for a long time to come. On this day some Eastern Orthodox Christians still observe Christmas side by side with the (revelation of the Infant Jesus to the Magi), while in accordance with the Julian calendar, Greek and Russian Orthodox churches commemorate Christmas on 7 January.
Celebration of Christmas struck root in the medieval ages. It gained impetus with Charlemagne’s crowning on that day in AD 800. The century also saw the creation of a special Christmas liturgy, although not on a par with that of Good Friday and Easter. But by and by Christmas developed a unique, visible identity, not least with the pine tree planted by St Boniface, as a pointer to Heaven; the old tradition of carol singing that was lent a heavenly form by St Bernard of Clairvaux; the crib, invented by St Francis of Assisi as a means of imparting the Christmas story, and so on.
Curiously, the more Christmas gained acceptance, the more it began to vary across countries, social and political eras, and Christian denominations in the post-Renaissance period. With changing values and norms, new customs were born while some of the older ones just hung on: the eye-catching star, the bright little candles, the sweet-sounding bells, and the intimate, family dinner, to name just a few elements that over time ensured that the divine occurrence became instantly relatable across cultures.
Christ’s coming was a watershed moment in the history of the human race. But the tableau typical of post-industrial society is so highly romanticised that we miss out on the chequered history and rich symbolism of the Nativity. Millions attend Mass on the world’s most prominent holiday, only to top it up with a secular, not to say raucous, celebration. Here the divine protagonist is easily forgotten and Santa the antagonist highlighted. In short, we forget the reason for the season.
With half a century of Christmases behind me, I feel more and more concerned about our collective failure to grasp the mystery of the joyous occasion. How I yearn to approach the manger with the simple heart of the proverbial shepherd and the sublime mind of the famed Magi!
(Herald, 23.12.2019)