Advent, Week #1
"An ox knows its owner, and an ass, its master's manger." - Is 1:3
Sooner or later our time will come. Perhaps we will have much time to prepare, or perhaps things will end in an instant. Perhaps it will end as we are doing as we ought, or perhaps it will end as we are doing as we ought not. The ox and the ass know their master, but do we?
In today's more and more atomized world, it becomes easier and easier to wake up, work, play and live all for one person: oneself. Far too easy is it to allocate God to his little box and pick him up and play with him on our own terms --- when and where we want to, and at no other time. And when the "me" lifestyle shows it's weaknesses, when despite my best efforts, things are going badly for me, it's far easier for me to try to console myself with disordered pleasures --- more "comfort food" than comfort truly requires, to use a common metaphor --- than it is for me to set aside the majestic edifice of my life which I have constructed, destroy the little box and let God wander freely in my life.
Advent is a chance for all of us to make this effort. To Jesus, who would be born among the poor, in a lowly manger (think of the smell!) to a pair of soon-to-be refugees, our spiritual poverty is no great obstacle. Our why-am-I-the-only-one-who-doesn't-have-everything-together self-pity, our my-bank-account-has-a-negative-derivative frustrations and our sitting-home-alone-on-saturday-night self-doubt, none of these are a great obstacle to Jesus. But we must recognize him and let him in.
In the Byzantine tradition, before sitting down to the Christmas Eve meal, all of the animals are fed. They knew the Master, and were the first invited to see Him. Can we learn to do likewise?
Sooner or later our time will come. Perhaps we will have much time to prepare, or perhaps things will end in an instant. Perhaps it will end as we are doing as we ought, or perhaps it will end as we are doing as we ought not. The ox and the ass know their master, but do we?
In today's more and more atomized world, it becomes easier and easier to wake up, work, play and live all for one person: oneself. Far too easy is it to allocate God to his little box and pick him up and play with him on our own terms --- when and where we want to, and at no other time. And when the "me" lifestyle shows it's weaknesses, when despite my best efforts, things are going badly for me, it's far easier for me to try to console myself with disordered pleasures --- more "comfort food" than comfort truly requires, to use a common metaphor --- than it is for me to set aside the majestic edifice of my life which I have constructed, destroy the little box and let God wander freely in my life.
Advent is a chance for all of us to make this effort. To Jesus, who would be born among the poor, in a lowly manger (think of the smell!) to a pair of soon-to-be refugees, our spiritual poverty is no great obstacle. Our why-am-I-the-only-one-who-doesn't-have-everything-together self-pity, our my-bank-account-has-a-negative-derivative frustrations and our sitting-home-alone-on-saturday-night self-doubt, none of these are a great obstacle to Jesus. But we must recognize him and let him in.
In the Byzantine tradition, before sitting down to the Christmas Eve meal, all of the animals are fed. They knew the Master, and were the first invited to see Him. Can we learn to do likewise?