The season of Advent is upon us. How do I know this? Well, I know because Lois and I have made sure that both Hailey and Cole have their windowed, crèche scene, chocolate Advent calendar in their hands for December 1st, one in Florida, the other in Connecticut.
Advent is such a special time of the year, the four weeks before Christmas, a time of merriment and music, of festive gatherings with family and friends, of decorations and fond memories of times and people we love. It is blessed by wonderful traditions such as the advent wreath or tracking the mischievous nighttime movements of the Elf on the Shelf (Cole has named him Callie) and delicious meals, which could include a breakfast Kringle and some Swedish Korv.
It is also a time for serious and even critical reflection, practiced during a time of ‘waiting’ and ‘watchfulness’ and I would add, ‘witnessing.’ Indeed, over my many years of ministry, I have pondered what I call the profound ironies of Advent, namely, we ‘wait’ for the One who is here, we ‘watch’ for the One who is among us, and we ‘witness’ for the One who longs to be known as incarnate. No witness, especially during advent, is more central to its meaning than the one offered by the Gospel according to John:
…. In him was life and that life was the light of all humankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. (John1:4-5, NRSV)
That gospel truth is as true today as it was when John first identified it: that in Christ there is always life, and His life is our light, a light that shines especially during periods of darkness, despair and disillusionment; for many, the present is just such a time. Robert Reich, a professor, author, lawyer, political commentator and former secretary of labor in the Clinton administration, spoke for many when he wrote recently:
As we enter the darkness of the Trump regime, it’s more important than ever that we have access to the truth. (Robert Reich, November 29, 2024)
As the calendar moves us from 2024 to 2025 and the political transition to Trump becomes more real and threatening, dark and foreboding clouds gather because of his moral bankruptcy, some of his heartless policies and plans for his administration, and the people he is promoting for his cabinet. His administration promises to make evident the operational truth expressed by OZ in the recent blockbuster movie ‘Wicked,’ namely:
The best way to bring folks together is to give them a real good enemy.
How dark is that? And, how very timely, this season of Advent!
Each week in Advent has a theme. There are four candles in the advent wreath whose flames symbolize hope, peace, joy and love. The fifth and central candle is the Christ Candle.
Paul’s benediction-like words to the Romans are among the best for Advent.
May the God of Hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.
(Romans 15: 13)
I like that phrase: abound in hope. I think that’s what God wants for us, to abound in hope, a hope for peace in the world, civility and civics in our nation, a renewal of the moral character of our people. Perhaps we may once again be a people of a generous and empathic heart in a world less tolerant of evil, greed and hostility, indeed, any strategy to make more enemies.
I’ve always loved the old Scottish proverb: Were it not for hope, the heart would break.
Even more apropos of the challenges, conflicts and chaos of our time is a line penned by the French process theologian, Teilhard de Chardin:
The world tomorrow will belong to those who brought it the greatest hope.
Over the years, I think that I have quoted on more than a few occasions Viktor Frankl’s classic, Man’s Search for Meaning. He wrote it from a Nazi death camp, and it told of his observations about life and death there. Some prisoners just wasted away and died rather quickly, even though they had no discernible physical ailments. He recalls a man who one day was doing reasonably well, considering the deplorable conditions of the camp. The man often talked of his dream to get out of the camp and be reunited with his wife.
Then the man received word that his wife had died in another prison camp. And in just a couple of days, the man was dead. Frankl concluded that the man died not because of some bodily ailment, not because he lacked food or water but because he lacked hope. He lacked hope that there was anything to be had beyond the darkness of the bleak prison camp, that there was anything beyond the present anguish of the Nazis and their brutality. Frankl writes:
We can live longer without bread than we can live without hope.
Last week, Brad Stulberg wrote an op-ed piece for the New York Times, titled: “How to Keep Going Amid the Chaos or How Not to Fall into Despair.” He too refers to Frankl and writes the following:
Finding meaning and maintaining hope despite inevitable pain, loss and suffering is a crucial life skill. In 1949, the Holocaust survivor and psychologist Viktor Frankl coined the term “tragic optimism” to describe this conundrum.
Tragic optimism emerged out of what Dr. Frankl observed to be the three tragedies that everyone faces (not only those of us who have seen the worst of the world, as he had). The first tragedy is pain, because we are made of flesh and bone. The second is guilt, because we have the freedom to make choices and thus feel responsible when things don’t go our way. The third is loss, because we must face the reality that everything we cherish is impermanent, including our own lives.
Tragic optimism means acknowledging, accepting and even expecting that life will contain hardship and hurt, then doing everything we can to move forward with a positive attitude anyway. It recognizes that one cannot be happy by trying to be happy all the time, or worse yet, assuming we ought to be. Rather, tragic optimism holds space for the full range of human experience and emotion, giving us permission to feel happiness and sadness, hope and fear, loss and possibility…
I like that descriptive/prescriptive phrase: ‘tragic optimism.’ That’s how I am feeling, and there in that space, I hold fast to the hope that the life and light of Christ shines in the darkness of our real-life experience.
In the midst of this state of being, our tragic optimism, as we wait, as we watch, let us witness that by lighting the candle of hope in our hearts and homes, in our communities and among neighbors, and by showing the world that we trust the light and believe in Jesus Christ, we have accessed the truth that no one and nothing can overcome them, not darkness, despair or disillusionment, not even, death.
Hailey and Cole: Open another window and have some chocolate!