When Constantine entered Rome on October 29, 312 after the battle of Melvian Bridge, after what was essentially his conversion to Christianity following a vision of the cross, he staged a grand arrival ceremony in the city called an adventus, whereat the conquering king was met with popular jubilation. The party lasted for weeks. Finally, after the mess of having too many rulers, the discord was behind them. A new era had arrived. Romans called that public celebration, that joy, and that era “the Advent.”
The church calendar represents the assembled wisdom of ages of faithful believers, and it knows a thing or two about what humans need. The notion of an All Souls Day may sound strange or grim until one’s mother dies, or one’s child, and then having a day every year to remember, lament alongside the church worldwide, and reassure one another sounds like practical good sense. So too, we need a season to examine our own sinfulness, and look squarely at how very far we have to go in our journeys toward holiness and it’s nice if that season comes right before everything is made fresh and new at Easter. And they knew we needed a season of unbridled joy at the astonishing gift of salvation, a time where we would give gifts ourselves in acknowledgement of all we’ve received, a time of merrymaking and tingling anticipation, and how nice if that time were right when the natural world was growing dark and cold.
I bring this up because recently there have been attempts to bridle that season of unbridled joy by pretending it is something it is not: a time of sorrow and repentance. We do not need another Lent on top of the one we have–40 days is long enough for that sort of business, thank you very much–my heart at any rate can’t take more of such poking and prodding. This reversal has theological implications too. Advent is outward focused: we increase our giving in terms of time, talent, and treasure to make our homes, our parishes, and our neighborhoods brighter. If we play an instrument, or sing in a choir, or dance ballet, this is often our busiest season. Thinking of Advent as another Lent ruins that others-focus by calling us again to sit with the darkness of ourselves; it is completely antithetical to the spirit of the year.
I can see why the change has been made. Because of the commercial rewards, “Christmas season” has been moving further and further up in the year; we start seeing decorations as early as October, even September sometimes. People naturally want to resist such encroachment. It’s hard to appreciate the autumn, or Thanksgiving, if we’re imaginatively in a winter wonderland. And as Kingdom people, we’re used to resistance. Christians are given, in the season of Advent, forty days to celebrate, to anticipate, and to prepare for Christmas. But what some have done, and only very recently in my communion, the ACNA, is to act as though Christmas season isn’t here until the December 25th, the Christmas feast day. Up till that point, we are to ignore the signs of joy and wonder all around us, to put our noses in the air, refusing to sing the greatest hymns the church has created until Christmastide, the 12 days that follow the 25th. I think that’s looking at the gift of the calendar in the wrong light.
Read the full essay at The North American Anglican →
Originally published in The North American Anglican, 2020-11-13.
Image credit: Image from The North American Anglican article page (https://northamanglican.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/Willet-Image.png)
