Advent Begins in the Dark

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Take a moment to center your spirit before reading the reflection below.  After what has been a long year, I invite you to begin Advent by listening to this beautiful, raw and honest sung prayer by Spencer LaJoye.  It has helped me to hold space for my own grief before God.

Reflect

This past Sunday marked the beginning of Advent, the first season of the Christian Liturgical Calendar. It is a time of preparation as we await the coming birth of the Christ Child, Jesus born to Mary and Joseph in Bethlehem. We tell and retell the ancient story of how HOPE came into the world… And, how we came to be, the church, a community of faith halfway around the world, so many years later.  

It is a season that always begins in the dark and moves towards the light. We mark this journey, this progression from darkness to light, most profoundly by lighting the candles on the Advent wreath (always during worship at church, but hopefully, at your home too).  

So, this year, we return to the beginning of the New Testament, where we read and reflect on Matthew’s genealogy. In that long list of names, we remember the trauma and triumph of those who came before; each name holds a story, and their story gives way to Christ’s story. God works through the unexpected people and stories of the past and present. When you zoom in, you may not be able to see how each character propels the story forward, but when you zoom out, you can see how each story is woven together into a larger tapestry.  

Just as Christ’s genealogy reveals the relationships across time and space in his life, many of our names also tie us to the generations who come before us and those who will come after us. Matthew lists the names of Jesus’ forebearers as a marker of hope finally realized. As we learned in worship, the list is not a tidy list of those we might initially expect to make the list. Just reflecting on the women in the story proves this point.  

Now mind you, it is highly unusual for any woman to be included in a Jewish genealogy. And yet Matthew includes four, plus his mother, Mary.  Of course, if you asked any good Jewish person what four women would most likely be included in an Old Testament genealogy, the answer would easily be Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel and Leah. They were the wives of the patriarchs: Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. But instead of Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel and Leah, we get Tamar, Rahab, Ruth and Bathsheba, four women with questionable backgrounds. Perhaps they are included to remind us of the reality that Christ came for all of us, not just some of us – that Advent begins in the dark but moves towards the light. Their presence reminds us that despite the grief, trauma, and atrocities of this life – Christ still was born in a manger in Bethlehem. The light was not overcome by darkness, and never will be. God works through the mess, indeed.

So, as we begin this Advent season, I invite you to take a moment to consider what layers of grief your life has witnessed and experienced. We often move through the world shut off from our hurts and pains. Maybe it is time to start peeling back the layers to acknowledge them, because they are part of us too. Maybe the holiest thing we can do as a people of faith is to hold space for our griefs such as people gone too soon, the pain we see others expressing in the world or a loss of hope. Maybe the women of Jesus’ genealogy can inspire us to trust God’s love and grace is a part of our story too. For there is room for every story and we can move towards the light of a new day dawning.

Read: 

Matthew 1:1-17 (The Family Tree of Jesus Christ)

Pray and Do:

(You are invited to use the following prayer on your own or with your family, alternating the voices who read):    

This week, we light the first of four candles on our Advent Wreath, the candle of hope to remind ourselves that God is at work in this world.

God of today and God of tomorrow, you say, “Bring your full self. There’s room for you here.”    

But we say, “Our lives are too messy.”   

You say, “Bring your hopes and your dreams. There’s room for you here.”    

But we say, “It’s too risky to hope.”    

You say, “Bring your grief and your prayers. There’s room for you here.”    

But we say, “Some things are easier to forget.”   

God of today and God of tomorrow, we know in our hearts that there’s room for us here.   Forgive us for withholding our full selves from you. Forgive us for giving only our Sunday best.    Help us remember, today and tomorrow, there’s room for every story. 

Light the first purple candle and take a moment to share what gives you hope. Then conclude…  

From generation to generation, God has brought good news of love and compassion, justice and community. Let us rest and abide in that good news. In Jesus Christ we are held, forgiven, found, and welcomed. Thanks be to God! Amen.