cherishing christ the king day before advent...

On the day after  Thanksgiving in the USA - a time when many, but not all of my sisters and brothers head out to the malls for Black Friday adventures in consumption, while still others start to decorate their homes for Christmas - I found myself mulling over this quotation from Jean Vanier of L'Arche. For a host of reasons, I've never been much for going to the mall for a Christmas shopping buzz nor am I interested in decorating the house before Christ the King Sunday. At this stage in life, I want to live and let live so I've mostly given up doctrinaire positions on Advent, Christmas consumerism, carols and all the rest. 

I know I am still a bit of a liturgical snob at this season of the year, but I don't want to be. I find an exaggerated albeit inverted beauty at work in the rush of the malls. And while I prefer to nourish a bit of waiting, and hold off until Advent is here, Christmas decorations are filled with the hopes and fears of those who display them. So, go for it. Still, this quote from Vanier caught my attention. 


One of the signs that a community is alive can be found in material things. Cleanliness, furnishings, the way flowers are arranged and meals prepared, are among the things which reflect the quality of people's hearts. Some people may find material chores irksome; they would prefer to use their time to talk and be with others. They haven't yet realized that the thousand and one small things that have to be done each day, the cycle of dirtying and cleaning, were given by God to enable us to communicate through matter. Cooking and washing floors can become a way of showing our love for others. It is celebration to be able to give.

Creating, shaping, sharing and giving beauty to another in this culture at this moment in time strikes me as a revolutionary and counter-cultural act of radical love. To create or share something beautiful, you see, can never be a random act of kindness. It must be intentional. Sure we can do compassionate things spontaneously. And the more we share such generosity, the more likely we'll be able to stand and deliver when it really matters. But bringing beauty, tenderness and creativity into our every day lives demands something deeper. It is costly. It requires a commitment. It demands discipline, practice and trust. The Epistle of St. James puts it like this: Be patient, therefore, beloved, until the coming of the Lord. The farmer waits for the precious crop from the earth, being patient with it until it receives the early and the late rains. (James 5:7) I am so grateful for this earthy image of the farmer as spiritual director: patience is nourished and practiced, cultivated and watered and can never be rushed. It is the model for how we share creativity, beauty and compassion in this world. Not randomly, but intentionally.

Perhaps that is why I cherish the liturgical celebration of Christ the King or what some call the Realm of Christ Sunday. It comes a week before Advent officially begins. And while the iconography of this feast may look triumphal to the novice, it is all about the upside-down realm of God. Where the first shall be last, where children become our spiritual directors, where the marginalized bring healing to the powerful, and where servanthood define the heart of leadership. Three texts from the New Testament move me to honor Christ the King Sunday as the core of what faithfulness means for me. 

+ Matthew 9: 11-13:

"Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” asked some of the religious leaders of the day. But when Jesus heard this questions, he replied, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means: ‘I desire compassion, not sacrifice.’ For I have come to call not the righteous but the broken.”

+ John 15: 9-13:
"As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete. This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends." 

+ Matthew 25: 34-40:
"Then the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.’

My practice in this in-between time after Thanksgiving but before Advent has become one of extra solitude. No crowds, shopping or decorations for me. I need to practice savoring the darkness so that I might discern the light. I need to wait and ask the Lord for patience because organically I want to rush to the conclusion. I need to sit and be still until the soil of my heart is ready to receive the small and often obscure gift of the Christ Child. Today I give thanks for the silence of this day.