Advent as parable

Tuesday, December 1st, 2015

Advent is the story of Jesus’ birth and the beginning of Christianity; but if we also see the readings as parable, they’ll become guidance for our own journey. Step by step they’ll bring us closer to the light that cannot be held in words.

In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph…

Arguments about the virgin birth have no place in spiritual journey. We all have a virgin space in our lives. It is a restless space, a hunger in the heart that only God can fill. Men and women alike, we are made to become pregnant with God. That is our destiny.

And he came to her and said, “Greetings, favoured one! The Lord is with you!”

First there comes the nudge of a greeting, a tug of love at the heart, so gentle that we wonder if we are imagining it. We may feel vulnerable and confused. What does this mean?

The angel said, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favour with God. And now you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus…”

The movement in the heart is stronger. It is a call of some kind and we are expected to respond. Our feeling of vulnerability increases. Our head is saying, “No! This is a lot of nonsense!” But our heart has tasted sweetness, and it clamours, “Yes, yes, yes!”

Mary said to the angel, “How can this be since I am a virgin?” The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the most High will overshadow you…”

Our yes has turned into a presence that is beyond our limited sensate system. It is both within us and outside us, filling and guiding, and always it is love. But our celebration is tinged with timidity. “How can I? I’m not qualified to do this? People will laugh or criticise.”

Love, always patient, says, “Trust me and see,” and we find ourselves growing into that trust.

Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be done to me according to your word.

This is not to say the path will be easy. We may still object. “This is too difficult.” But the call will keep coming back, each time stronger, until we say, “Okay, let it be done to me.”

… Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth.

Faith nurtures faith. We do not walk alone. When we meet another pregnant with God, the love within us leaps in recognition, light sensing light, truth acknowledging truth.

And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

The call is about being real, knowing who we are.

The birthing of Christ is not in an inn but a stable. It’s not about silken robes but bands of cloth. Not a royal cradle but a manger. While we have honoured the birthing story with cathedrals, jewels and fine vestments, the reality of it in our lives is always very simple.

It is in this utter simplicity, that we know God.