S6: Adventure Through Advent

E5: Bethlehem and the Giant Bishop

The older I get time seems to speed up. And despite the distinction of days, weeks, months, seasons of the year, and years by themselves, it seems to me that time itself becomes homogenous; or a mere succession of one thing after the other with no moments, events, or occasions to set that time apart for its own unique significance.

For example, the Christmas season in December begins even before we get to Thanksgiving in November, and as a consequence, the significance of Advent is completely lost. You see, Advent is all about waiting or anticipation where we reflect on the promises of God that Christ would come, born of the Virgin Mary in Bethlehem. Without this distinction Christmas is an empty joy.

Think about it, at the end of 2020 we have seen the ugliness of racism, a complete loss of civil dialogue, and widespread losses due to a global pandemic. If that isn’t enough, there are conspiracy theories about the vaccine that would fill the Library of Congress. Without something of consequence to be joyful about, Christmas really is an empty jollity.

Advent is a distinct season different from other periods in the year that prevents time becoming homogenous. It prepares us for Christmas. More so, Christmas prepares us for Epiphany and then Lent, and finally on to Easter and Pentecost.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: what is Epiphany, Lent, and Pentecost? I assume Easter is understood with the same empty jollity of Christmas. Well, the answer to this question will be addressed in another blog. But for now, I want to suggest that our church services are also becoming homogenous – it’s all the same thing: countdown clock, three songs, welcome and mini sermon about giving, video announcements while we give, an entertaining monologue from the pastor, a call for salvation or rededication (or re-re-dedication), closing prayer, and we’re off to lunch (sometimes during the closing prayer). Enough said, that’s for another blog.

Back to Advent as a distinct period of time to prepare for Christmas.

Have you considered that Christmas, and Easter to a lesser degree, has its own songs that underpin how different it is from other times in the year? I have my favorites as I am sure you do. One of them is called O little town of Bethlehem.

It was written by Philip Brooks in 1868. Brooks was educated in Harvard and became the minister of Holy Trinity in Boston before being appointed Bishop. He was an absolute giant of a man standing 6’ 8” tall with a huge heart for people of all ages. His office was filled with toys for children to play with while he talked with their parents. It was not uncommon for Bishop Brooks to be found sitting on the floor playing games with the children. Like many Christmas songs, O Little Town of Bethlehem was written originally for children but captured the imagination of everyone.  

You see, in 1865 Brooks went on a pilgrimage to Bethlehem. According to the story, he traveled on horseback between Jerusalem and Bethlehem on Christmas Eve. We must remember that Jerusalem and Bethlehem in the 19th century were not the bustling cities they are today. Brooks participated in the Christmas Eve service at Bethlehem in Constantine’s ancient basilica (326 A.D.) built over the traditional site of the Nativity. The service commenced at 10:00pm and concluded at 3:00am. What transpired in those five hours became the backdrop for O Little Town of Bethlehem.

 Back in his Boston church, Brookes told his congregation, “I remember especially on Christmas Eve, when I was standing in the old church in Bethlehem, close to the spot where Jesus was born, when the whole church was ringing hour after hour with the splendid hymns of praise to God, how again and again it seemed as if I could hear voices I knew well, telling each other of the ‘wonderful night’ of the Savior’s birth.”

 Though time does, indeed, appear to speed up into a mere succession of one thing after the other, the occasion sets time apart for its own unique significance of waiting on the Lord. Now Advent has passed, Christmas is here, and we are filled with joy remembering that Christ has come, born of the Virgin Mary in Bethlehem.

But waiting on the Lord is not limited to Advent. Allow me to take one line from each verse in O Little Town of Bethlehem to shed some light on how we can wait on the Lord at various times in the year.   

“The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight”

Is this applicable to the night of November 3 this year where votes were being counted? I think so. How many people were caught between hope and fear waiting for the results of a COVID test, or worse still, a biopsy? What about employees who were furloughed with a promise of regaining their position? How many business owners were caught between hope and fear? You see, there were many moments this year where all our hopes and fear could have been met in Christ.

“While mortals sleep, the angels keep their watch of wondering love”

Are angels a thing? Are they real? Well, Scripture tells us they are so real. In fact, “some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it” (Hebrews 13:2). Apparently, angels minister to us (Hebrews 1:14). And we must remember they are not human. They have no need of salvation. This may be why angels are fascinated with our own stories (1 Peter 1:12). I don’t want to give the impression that angels are on par with God the Father, Son, or Holy Spirit, but as servants of God they are real, and they do watch over us.

“Where meek souls will receive him still the dear Christ enters in”

Between 1851-1853 William Holman Hunt painted the famous picture of Christ standing at the door knocking from the text, “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me” (Revelation 3:20). I want to suggest there is a subtle element to this verse, and Holman’s painting, that we often miss. We may hear Christ knocking at the door of our heart, but who invited him to knock? It was certainly not us. This is why Paul tells us, “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast” (Ephesians 2:8-9). Because of his great love for us, it was Christ who decided to approach the door of our heart (Romans 5:8). The dear Christ really does enter into our hearts.

“O come to us, abide with us our Lord Emmanuel”

Christ has come to us and he does abide with us. Perhaps some of the misguided philosophical teaching that has been the bedrock of bad theology needs to be addressed here. Once Christ has come into your heart, he abides there. You may leave him, but he does not leave you. This is why Brookes tells us “cast out our sin and enter in be born is us today”. Have you ever wondered why you feel so knotted up inside when you sin, and yet, when others sin, they seem to get away with it? It’s because Christ is in you.

Christ has come. He is with us. He is in us. We can confidently move forward into 2021 momentarily pausing to remember that Christ died, he was buried, he has risen again, and he promised to come again. We call this moment in time Holy Communion…something else we have relegated in favor of the worship band and monologue. Perhaps this will change in the New Year breaking into a somewhat homogenous sameness.