Reflections on Advent
In meekness, in humility, in silence, in the days ahead, I will meditate on the shocking, outrageous gratuity of a love that renders our God made man.
The wonder of advent began anew, wonderfully, on the first of December this year. In our household, some customs quietly turn to traditions, by the tender graces granted us by my beloved wife. The prayer table has been stripped down to it’s basics. The first pieces of our nativity, an angel of the Lord and our blessed Mother, alluding to the joys of the annunciation, given voice each night as we pray the rosary together as a family. The advent candles, with three purple for hope, faith and love; a rose for light and the central candle, white for the coming of Christ Himself. A statue of Our Lady as the Immaculate Conception, and a collection of picture books about advent and Christmas beneath the main table
The world around us begins to wax philosophical and muse, about the ‘real meaning of Christmas,’ everything and anything except the Christ child born two millennia ago. ‘It’s about being together, isn’t it?’ Or perhaps the true meaning is ‘family,’ or ‘going away,’ or ‘having a meal together.’ Alas, Of course, it’s about none of these things. Not that it necessarily excludes them. But it is of course, about our Lord, God and Saviour. It’s about a God that loves us, so deeply, so gratuitously, that he would take the humble form of his own creation, to renew the face of the earth and make all things new. It’s about the wonder of a young Woman destined to be the mediatrix of all graces, spared the burden of original sin, to be adorned with the sun, crowned with twelve stars and recognised by her cousin, inspired by the Holy Spirit as ‘the mother of my Lord.’ It’s about the strength, nobility and humility of a father that would raise the child as his own, protect, honour and nurture the woman with a love, devotion and resolution that would make him the ‘terror of demons.’
It’s about a night, in Bethlehem, two thousand years ago upon which the whole of human history, the whole of God’s creation, pivots, to set in motion a redemption and salvation that could only be wrought by the sacrifice of a high priest that would be pure and spotless in the eyes of the Father, re-created on the altar of every Catholic Church, at every mass throughout the world. It’s about the glory of a God who would be visited by shepherds and kings alike, who would return home ‘by a different way.’ It’s about prophecy fulfilled, one example from the book of Micah proclaiming: And though, Bethlehem Ephrata, art a little one among the thousands of Juda: out of thee shall he come forth unto me that is to be the ruler in Israel: and his going forth is from the beginning, from the days of eternity.”
In meekness, in humility, in silence, in the days ahead, I will meditate on the shocking, outrageous gratuity of a love that renders God made man. I will ponder the son of God, as a tender babe, born in the utter poverty of a cave kept as a stable, wrapped in swaddling clothes and destined to be found in His father’s house, talking amongst the teachers as one of their own. I will marvel at the miraculous grace of Our Lady, born without the stain of original sin, to be worthy and able to bear God Himself for the salvation of us all.
Those in power will pay lip service that they ‘also may come to adore him,’ fumbling and stumbling over the ‘holiday’ or ‘festive’ season rambling about ‘coming together,’ no matter what our traditions are. Christmas is for everyone, of course, or so the thinking goes. And yes, it is, in every way… the messianic birth of the Son of God. The shocking humility of God made man. The virgin birth of the Christ child. The call to awe, repentance, conversion. A kingdom not of this earth. The narrow gate. The gold of a king. The frankincense of a priest. The myrrh to anoint He who would be the first fruit of the resurrection. It is for us all, and all of it is for us all, which is the ultimate challenge for us all. Not to walk away, sorrowful, weighed down by our earthly wealth, by the irrevocable call to conversion, but to take up our cross and follow Him.
As Christ reminds us, His yoke is heavy, but His burden is light. How is yours this time of year?
By Gaetano Carcarello