Advent, Christmas, and Weakness

Many Christians these days get angry when people say “happy holidays” this time of year instead of “merry Christmas.” I’ve seen a few blogs, facebooks, and other forms of social media dedicated to being “politically incorrect” in their conviction to keep Christ in Christmas by saying “merry Christmas.” It’s hard to know how to react things like this. On the one hand, we Christians should be eager to confess Christ. But on the other hand, we are called to respect and love all people; even those who disagree with our religious views. But both of these arguments miss the point.

For we Christians, in the midst of our fighting about semantics, we have missed the true meaning of Advent and indeed, of Christmas. Advent is about weakness. Christmas is about the all powerful creator incarnated in the form of a weak, entirely dependent baby. As I discussed a few days ago, Christmas is about God’s self-emptying on our behalf.

It is rather disturbing to think of God as weak. We pray to him for power, miracles, healing, salvation, and many other things that require infinite strength. And it is good that we do this. But the Christmas season celebrates God’s subjecting himself to weakness on behalf of humanity.

Why are we uncomfortable with weakness? Why does uncertainty bother us the way that it does? And to ask the biggest question of them all, why does it bother Christianity to practice weakness during the Christmas season? Our cultural climate is one of extreme social Darwinism - the survival of the fittest. We build massive buildings, form powerful armies, and accumulate excessive amounts of wealth all to show that we are the dominant society. Historically, when our position on the world scale is in danger of losing power, we have been told that “our very way of life is at stake.”

This attitude has worked its way into the church. Churches hold growth seminars, spend untold amounts of money on stages and sound systems that would rival full-time rock bands, and practice Christianity is a way that shows power, strength, and confidence. The church is equally as Darwinist as the world as it relates to social structures. In recent years, Christianity and politics has been inseparable in American society. Christianity has adopted a place of power. Christianity has been climbing the social ladder, trying to show that it is fit enough to survive. Out of this comes the fight for Christmas. We insist on saying “merry Christmas” because it shows our unique slant on this time of year. We fight to “keep Christ in Christmas” because by doing so we ourselves climb another rung on the social ladder while those who are not Christians stay behind.

The ironic thing about all of this is that the harder we fight to “keep Christ in Christmas,” the more we remove him. If our main concern about keeping Christ in the celebration of Christmas has become to use one set of terminology over another, we have completely missed the point. Christmas is about the weakness of God. Christmas is about the creator lying in a cattle feeding trough, embodying perfect love in weakness for a people who only understood power.

Unless we speak of weakness in love, we take Christ out of Christmas regardless of what terminology we use. Jesus’ birth and his life bore witness to a “weak” love of identifying with outcasts, the homeless, the unloved, and the despised. Unless we do the same, we have taken Christ out of Christmas regardless of whether we say “merry Christmas” or “happy holidays.”

Advent and Waiting

Internally bound within the concept of Advent is the painful process of waiting. Those who waited for the first advent waited and hoped through exile, return, oppression, revolution, and extreme nationalism. In our 21st century global village, we wait for the second advent in a myriad of circumstances. But the common thing binding all those who have waited for an advent, whether it be the first or the second, is that we have all experienced the pain of waiting.

My wife and I were engaged for two years before we got married. Those two years were happy and joy filled times that both of us loved. But after two years, the wedding day could not come fast enough. It’s not that neither of us were not satisfied with the way our relationship was with one another, but we knew that something greater than engagement was on the verge of happening. Waiting is a paradox. It can be both painful and joyful.

But within Advent, we celebrate both the pain and the joy of waiting because they both point to God with us.

Waiting is joy filled because in the tension of waiting, we find hope in that which we are waiting for. Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote that “whoever does not know the austere blessedness of waiting - that is, of hopefully doing without - will never experience the full blessing of fulfillment.” (1)

Focusing on Bonhoeffer’s words, if we do not experience the absence of that which we wait for, we can never fully appreciate it when it fully arrives. Those who awaited the first advent found hope through the despair of exile. This hope fully manifested itself in the stories of Simeon and Anna who experienced the fullness of joy in receiving the full blessing of that for which they had waited so long (Luke 2:22-38).

But for all of the hope we experience in waiting, we still experience the sharp pain of waiting. Anna who experienced a full manifestation of the blessings of waiting still had to endure the 70 years of being a widow in a society that was dominated by men (Luke 2:36-37). Bonhoeffer who wrote of the great blessings of waiting still endured the harsh realities of a Nazi prison while waiting for a reward that he never received before falling asleep. Those of us who look forward to the second advent still experience the groanings of creation that is infected with sin as it waits to be redeemed (Rom. 8:19-25).

Waiting is a paradox. It is joyful and painful. But in this season of Advent, we celebrate the tension of waiting in the tension of our celebration of he who has come and will come again.

(1) Dietrich Bonhoeffer, God is in the Manger: Reflections on Advent and Christmas (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 4.

Advent and Kenosis

I have to admit, Christmas is one of my least favorite holidays. My wife and my parents have often accused me of being a grinch. My wife’s ringtone for me around Christmas is even “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch.” There is just something about the ultra-consumerism, the fanatical light displays and overall increased attention over the possessions that we have or want that just bothers me. However, for not liking Christmas, this is one of my favorite times of the year. The reason for this is that instead of directing my attention toward Christmas as it is celebrated in North America, I try to take time to celebrate the season of Advent. Not that I don’t partake in the festivities of Christmas with those that I love most and instead substitute an ultra-spiritual reality that turns people off. But I think that this holiday season we should all take time to remember more than simply “the reason for the season,” and take time to reflect on the deep mysteries and meaning of Advent.

Simply described, the season of Advent is a celebration of the incarnation of the Son of God; God himself taking human form and identifying with our infirmities and our struggles for the ultimate purpose of presenting himself as a sacrifice on behalf of all of humanity and ushering in the Kingdom of God in the present time. The writer of the first gospel in describing this process called the Son of God “Immanuel which means God with us” (Matt. 1:23).

Advent is a season in which we reflect upon the reality of God being with us.

Perhaps the most beautiful words in all of Scripture describe this process of God being with us.

“Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father (Phil. 2:5-11).

This text is known within theological circles as referring to the process of kenosis. Kenosis is Greek for “emptying.” It refers to the process of Jesus, the second person of the Trinity emptying himself and taking on the form of fragile human; the ultimate reality of “God with us.” Thus, Advent is a kenotic season; one in which we celebrate that Almighty God emptied himself and took on our fragile and flawed existence. But the beauty of Advent is that we cannot stop at this point.

In considering this great kenotic text, we need to pay careful attention to Paul’s phrase “...though he was in the form of God...” (Phil. 2:6). I recently read a book on this text in which the author made the point that this same phrase can also be correctly translated as “because he was in the form of God...” (1)

This is hugely significant in considering this text. Kenosis was not just something that Jesus underwent as a gift to humanity even though he is God. Kenosis was something that Jesus underwent for humanity because he is God. Divine servitude on behalf of humanity is something that is in God’s very nature.

This is even more significant for us considering that Paul starts this passage by saying “have this mind among yourselves” (Phil. 2:5). The same emptying of himself that Jesus underwent on behalf of humanity is the emptying of ourselves that the Scriptures call us to. I find this attitude lacking in the way we have traditionally celebrated Christmas. In the past few years we have witnessed unthinkable things at the beginning of the Christmas season. We have seen people be cruel to one another in order to save money on some sort of electronics. We have seen people even kill one another in order for their family to have a “good” Christmas. We have gotten lost in how our culture defines Christmas. Even in our churches, we sing certain songs and hymns simply because it’s Christmas.

Maybe these are the main reasons the Christmas season just isn’t appealing to me. What I find much more appealing is that God has emptied himself on behalf of humanity because it is in his very nature to do so. This season, I encourage all of us to take Paul’s words seriously. What are the ways that we can empty ourselves as Christ emptied himself? How would the celebration of Christmas change if we took time to do more than simply “remember the reason for the season,” and took seriously the reality that this time of year represents God with us? God in indeed with us, and he has emptied himself and become obedient to the point of death. And we are called to do the same.

(1) Michael J. Gorman, Inhabiting the Cruciform God: Kenosis, Justification, and Theosis in Paul's Narrative Soteriology (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 2009), 22-25.

I Guess I'll Give This A Try

Lots of people have been telling me for a long time to start a blog and I've finally given in. I can't promise regular posts, but when I'm feeling creative they'll probably come out pretty fast. My blog will probably be a mixture of theology that is well defined, theology I'm not so sure about, and my overall feelings towards trends that I see in the world and in the church. I'd love to have any of you give me feedback and thoughts about the things I write. Conversation is the best way to get to know another person and also the best way to learn in the process.