There is the silent hush of valley fog enshrouding our house today. The mute world waits, hoping for a sign. A sign of what? A sign of life, life everlasting, before and to come. A sign that we are more than flesh, more than animals on the hunt to survive.
I have long found it interesting that the Jewish world before Christ knew who humankind was and is, knew their identity and mission expressed in rituals and rules. They knew they were made in the image of God, their Creator. Just so, they treasured life, children, families. When they erred, their God called them back to Him and set them on the path to life.
The Greco-Roman world also knew that humankind was not mere flesh, but owned a spirit, a soul.
And so Jesus, the Son of God incarnate, was born into the Roman world, a Jew in the messianic lineage of David. The time was ripe for the two cultures to merge, for the Roman world gave the life-changing message of Christ the forum to broadcast the good news, the gospel. It is in the Roman Mediterranean basin that the first Christian churches would be planted, secretly in homes, then building upon the graves of the martyrs, celebrating eucharists over holy bones.
When Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea He synthesized these worlds, baptizing Rome with Jerusalem, and opening Heaven to all mankind.
Today’s gospel tells of John the Baptist who prepares the way for Christ’s birth, life, death, and life. The great followings that John attracted would shift to Jesus of Nazareth, as our preacher pointed out today. The Baptist prepared the way. And what did he say that prepared the world for the Savior? What could he possibly say that would be enough? Repent, he said, make his way straight. And with baptism, each follower said yes, I will change and I will make the crooked straight in my life.
And so the way was prepared in the hearts of many.
William-Adolphe Bouguereau (1825-1905), Song of Angels (1881)
Just so Advent prepares each one of us to receive the Lord of Lords, to kneel with the shepherds and bring gifts with the kings, to fly with the angels into the starry night of Christmas, Christ’s Mass.
Christmas, full of giving and singing and sharing for a brief time, gives us a taste of glory, the glory of the angels, the glory of life itself, the glory in a newborn baby.
Christmas says you needn’t be great or rich or powerful. In fact, it is better if you are lowly, poor, and powerless. Christmas says look at the baby and sing to him. Thank him. Love him. Invite him into your heart.
As Christina Rosetti wrote in her lovely Christmas sonnet, “What can I give him? I give him my heart.”
May we all experience the glory of the love of God this week, this sacred and holy time, when Christ Jesus came among us, bringing us life here and now, and forever in Eternity.
Come Lord Jesus, come.
Christine Sunderland
Christine Sunderland 