Our Advent practice is to live a drama. We symbolically join the people of God who have waited in darkness. Whether that might be our ancient ancestors or our next-door neighbor. Advent is an invitation to the dark. To get in it. To name the dark as darkness. To call it what it is. Our first Collect for Advent calls us to suit up with light as “armor” and then we pray to God to “stir up his power.”
The work is internal.
It begins there, with a story that illuminates, a story of light and life. It is a story about your choosing, your volition, your dignity, your hope, and your choosing light in the darkness.
To keep hope alive and bear the darkness, the ancients would take a wheel from the idle winter carts, bring it in, and turn it flat on its side. A symbol of stillness and waiting; the quieting of marketplace and machinery. A centering piece decked with evergreens and wicks and firelight. We defy the power of darkness, with our wheel turned flat on the dining room table.
Like the ancients, we know the threatening darkness, we know the forces that risk our lives. Our Advent liturgy has us putting on light, “as armor,” to do battle with darkness.
So the work is external too.
We wear God for this work and become activists to dispel the darkness. We busy ourselves with outreach and social ministries in Advent because our king is coming. We know it. We sing it. His rule is “peace and freedom, justice, truth, and love.”
We position ourselves with people who are desperate to see God’s face. We’re finding our way in the dark, and imagining the earth filled with his glory, and we become activists to dispel the darkness. Our hearts pound with excitement. The King is coming. This is his Advent.
Blessings,
The Rev. Ruth Pattison
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