Orthodox Metropolis of Zambia and Malawi (photos from here)
“The Source of life and of Salvation from despair and the condition for
the existence of the whole world is contained in only these three
words: ‘The Word became Flesh’ [John 1:14]” (Feodor Dostoevsky, The
Possessed drafts)
“Heaven and earth join in celebration…Wise men and shepherds welcome Him…Angels and humans sing with joy…”
The question, “What does Christmas mean?” has as many answers as people in our society. Opportunity for merchants, vacation days for school children, parties and exchange of gifts even for non-Christians, since it has become a national holiday even in a nation that forbids official recognition. All including Christians, even Orthodox Christians, define the event by their own understanding, and by doing so limit the meaning of Christmas. There can be no definition, because the birth of the Son of God transcends every attempt to explain the inexplicable or comprehend the incomprehensible. We can only thank the Holy Trinity for the nativity of the Messiah and celebrate His life on earth.
Christmas is a mystery, a glorious event in history, the awesome phenomenon when “Christ Jesus Who, being in the very nature of God, did not consider it robbery to be equal with God, but made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bond-servant and coming in the likeness of men…” (Philippians 2:5). The kenotic condescension of the Holy Trinity expressed by the evangelist John, “The Word became flesh,” can only be explained by the word “love.” Such a divine love for human beings transcends the ability to grasp with our limited capacity, which is why the Orthodox Church services for this season, filled with joy, wonder and gratitude, point to the inexplicable event without even trying to elucidate the wonder.
“Heaven and earth join in celebration…Wise men and shepherds welcome Him…Angels and humans sing with joy…” The glorious hymn of laudation: “God is with us!” requires an explanation, because that phrase has been misused, wrongly applied and abused by some Christians through the ages. What it does not mean is that God endorses a nation or purpose against His other children.
"Gott mit uns", for example, was a battle cry of Nazi Germany equal to the present day war shout of radical Muslims: "Allahu akhbar!" as those flying into the Twin Towers yelled. “With us” is the joyous awareness of the awesome mystery that Creator became Creature, the Eternal condescended to human limits including death, love beyond all human comprehension has manifested itself in Christ Jesus the Son of God Who became the Son of Man for our sake.
Christ appears on earth as the most precious Gift that we cannot hope to recompense, certainly never earn or comprehend. Why does God love us so much, and how can we repay Him? Nobody, not even the Lord Almighty, offers gifts without expecting something in return. We know there is nothing we have as our own except the present of freedom. We are not robots, and even if “our days are like grass…” (Psalm 103:15), nevertheless, in our brief life span we have time to consider the gift of life and the Source of life. We can come to the realization that this lifetime may be short, but the promise of the gift of eternity is part of the reason for the incarnation of the Son of God. Salvation is Christ’s purpose for His birth. Christ is life, and yet He died so that we might share eternal life with Him. Yet another mystery.
He offers us life everlasting, but He does not insist we accept it—or Him. He “stands at the door and knocks,” but it is for us to open to Him or leave Him outside. Such respect is almost too much; however, He treats us with a freedom that we feel we do not deserve or that we may not appreciate. We throw away our freedom with excess of passions, with some form of addiction to drugs, alcohol, overindulgence, wallowing in despair or foolish behavior—and Jesus remains standing outside the door of our heart, patiently waiting to be invited inside. How can He love us that much?
The Christmas When Everybody Was There
The
soldiers were scattered across Europe with the loneliness of war. The
world was caught up in a total struggle. Women had gone to the
factories; children were collecting scrap metal. The “war effort” was
universal. In many places, food was rationed. The madhouse of
consumption belonged only to the war; everything else could wait. And
there was Christmas. Hollywood and Tin Pan Alley were part of the effort
as well, cranking out songs that have never gone away. The mood was one
of deep sentimentality and hope. “I’ll be home for Christmas,” the
radios played, and soldiers wept.
Being born in the early 50’s, I grew up in the cultural aftermath of the Second World War. The adults had not recovered from the experience and continued to remember it actively, even passionately. When rationing ended in Britain in 1954, there were those who felt that something important had been lost. At one point, the Labour Party had argued for indefinite rationing. The commonality of shared suffering, it seemed, was a stronger bond than the commonality of shared prosperity. Interesting that.
No one was nostalgic for the war itself. The fighting, bombing and the certainty of death and injury were gladly left behind. But the common bond of a common effort remained a lively part of a generation’s memory. The stories only ended when they were laid to rest. The nostalgia, I think, was for the commonality, an experience that banished loneliness and gave meaning to even the smallest actions. The prosperity that followed was hollow. For what purpose do we now shop?
Commonality is a fundamental part of life in a healthy world. It is akin to love itself and an extension of self-sacrifice. It is a world in which we receive far more than we give. It is also something that lies at the heart of the classical Christian account of salvation. We are saved within an act of inexhaustible and all-encompassing commonality in the incarnation, death, and resurrection of Christ. Unless those events are seen through the lens of commonality, they cannot be understood.
St. Paul describes Christ as the “Second Adam.” He does not mean by
this that Christ is merely a “do-over,” a second start for humanity.
Rather, as an Adam, He is a summary and “re-capitulation” of the whole
of humanity. The name “Adam,” in Hebrew, also means “man.” It is the
term for our collective humanity as well as the man, Adam. As Second
Adam, Christ is the new Man, but also a collective new Man. It is this
that is referenced by St. Paul when he says that we should put off the
old man and put on the new (Col. 3:9-10).
The Virgin is more than the one who carries the Christ Child in her womb; she is also the source of His humanity. He “took flesh” of the Virgin Mary (σαρκωθέντα ἐκ Πνεύματος Ἁγίου καὶ Μαρίας τῆς παρθένου), the Creed tells us. That “flesh” should not be seen as an isolated reference to biological meat. It is everything that constitutes our humanity: “and was made man” (ἐνανθρωπήσαντα). The reality of our humanity, whether of the First Adam or the Second, is collective.
In the Orthodox tradition, the two Sundays before Christmas are set aside to commemorate the Holy Forefathers, and the Holy Ancestors. It is a recognition that in the flesh of Mary is the flesh of many generations, indeed, the gathering of all flesh. It is a recognition that in the faith of Mary is the faith of the generations that have gone before as well. Christ has come for us, in us, that with us in Him, He might live, die and live again and we as well. This is the true fullness of Christmas.
In this true story of Christmas, everyone comes home. We are all there. We are united together in Christ in the common struggle that is our salvation. This war in which we live is the only true World War, and perhaps greater than that. Its outcome has long ago been determined in Christ but it remains something to be lived and fulfilled in us.
We’ll be home for Christmas. Christ is born. Glorify Him.
“Heaven and earth join in celebration…Wise men and shepherds welcome Him…Angels and humans sing with joy…”
The question, “What does Christmas mean?” has as many answers as people in our society. Opportunity for merchants, vacation days for school children, parties and exchange of gifts even for non-Christians, since it has become a national holiday even in a nation that forbids official recognition. All including Christians, even Orthodox Christians, define the event by their own understanding, and by doing so limit the meaning of Christmas. There can be no definition, because the birth of the Son of God transcends every attempt to explain the inexplicable or comprehend the incomprehensible. We can only thank the Holy Trinity for the nativity of the Messiah and celebrate His life on earth.
Christmas is a mystery, a glorious event in history, the awesome phenomenon when “Christ Jesus Who, being in the very nature of God, did not consider it robbery to be equal with God, but made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bond-servant and coming in the likeness of men…” (Philippians 2:5). The kenotic condescension of the Holy Trinity expressed by the evangelist John, “The Word became flesh,” can only be explained by the word “love.” Such a divine love for human beings transcends the ability to grasp with our limited capacity, which is why the Orthodox Church services for this season, filled with joy, wonder and gratitude, point to the inexplicable event without even trying to elucidate the wonder.
“Heaven and earth join in celebration…Wise men and shepherds welcome Him…Angels and humans sing with joy…” The glorious hymn of laudation: “God is with us!” requires an explanation, because that phrase has been misused, wrongly applied and abused by some Christians through the ages. What it does not mean is that God endorses a nation or purpose against His other children.
"Gott mit uns", for example, was a battle cry of Nazi Germany equal to the present day war shout of radical Muslims: "Allahu akhbar!" as those flying into the Twin Towers yelled. “With us” is the joyous awareness of the awesome mystery that Creator became Creature, the Eternal condescended to human limits including death, love beyond all human comprehension has manifested itself in Christ Jesus the Son of God Who became the Son of Man for our sake.
Christ appears on earth as the most precious Gift that we cannot hope to recompense, certainly never earn or comprehend. Why does God love us so much, and how can we repay Him? Nobody, not even the Lord Almighty, offers gifts without expecting something in return. We know there is nothing we have as our own except the present of freedom. We are not robots, and even if “our days are like grass…” (Psalm 103:15), nevertheless, in our brief life span we have time to consider the gift of life and the Source of life. We can come to the realization that this lifetime may be short, but the promise of the gift of eternity is part of the reason for the incarnation of the Son of God. Salvation is Christ’s purpose for His birth. Christ is life, and yet He died so that we might share eternal life with Him. Yet another mystery.
He offers us life everlasting, but He does not insist we accept it—or Him. He “stands at the door and knocks,” but it is for us to open to Him or leave Him outside. Such respect is almost too much; however, He treats us with a freedom that we feel we do not deserve or that we may not appreciate. We throw away our freedom with excess of passions, with some form of addiction to drugs, alcohol, overindulgence, wallowing in despair or foolish behavior—and Jesus remains standing outside the door of our heart, patiently waiting to be invited inside. How can He love us that much?
The
soldiers were scattered across Europe with the loneliness of war. The
world was caught up in a total struggle. Women had gone to the
factories; children were collecting scrap metal. The “war effort” was
universal. In many places, food was rationed. The madhouse of
consumption belonged only to the war; everything else could wait. And
there was Christmas. Hollywood and Tin Pan Alley were part of the effort
as well, cranking out songs that have never gone away. The mood was one
of deep sentimentality and hope. “I’ll be home for Christmas,” the
radios played, and soldiers wept.Being born in the early 50’s, I grew up in the cultural aftermath of the Second World War. The adults had not recovered from the experience and continued to remember it actively, even passionately. When rationing ended in Britain in 1954, there were those who felt that something important had been lost. At one point, the Labour Party had argued for indefinite rationing. The commonality of shared suffering, it seemed, was a stronger bond than the commonality of shared prosperity. Interesting that.
No one was nostalgic for the war itself. The fighting, bombing and the certainty of death and injury were gladly left behind. But the common bond of a common effort remained a lively part of a generation’s memory. The stories only ended when they were laid to rest. The nostalgia, I think, was for the commonality, an experience that banished loneliness and gave meaning to even the smallest actions. The prosperity that followed was hollow. For what purpose do we now shop?
Commonality is a fundamental part of life in a healthy world. It is akin to love itself and an extension of self-sacrifice. It is a world in which we receive far more than we give. It is also something that lies at the heart of the classical Christian account of salvation. We are saved within an act of inexhaustible and all-encompassing commonality in the incarnation, death, and resurrection of Christ. Unless those events are seen through the lens of commonality, they cannot be understood.
St. Paul describes Christ as the “Second Adam.” He does not mean by
this that Christ is merely a “do-over,” a second start for humanity.
Rather, as an Adam, He is a summary and “re-capitulation” of the whole
of humanity. The name “Adam,” in Hebrew, also means “man.” It is the
term for our collective humanity as well as the man, Adam. As Second
Adam, Christ is the new Man, but also a collective new Man. It is this
that is referenced by St. Paul when he says that we should put off the
old man and put on the new (Col. 3:9-10).The Virgin is more than the one who carries the Christ Child in her womb; she is also the source of His humanity. He “took flesh” of the Virgin Mary (σαρκωθέντα ἐκ Πνεύματος Ἁγίου καὶ Μαρίας τῆς παρθένου), the Creed tells us. That “flesh” should not be seen as an isolated reference to biological meat. It is everything that constitutes our humanity: “and was made man” (ἐνανθρωπήσαντα). The reality of our humanity, whether of the First Adam or the Second, is collective.
In the Orthodox tradition, the two Sundays before Christmas are set aside to commemorate the Holy Forefathers, and the Holy Ancestors. It is a recognition that in the flesh of Mary is the flesh of many generations, indeed, the gathering of all flesh. It is a recognition that in the faith of Mary is the faith of the generations that have gone before as well. Christ has come for us, in us, that with us in Him, He might live, die and live again and we as well. This is the true fullness of Christmas.
In this true story of Christmas, everyone comes home. We are all there. We are united together in Christ in the common struggle that is our salvation. This war in which we live is the only true World War, and perhaps greater than that. Its outcome has long ago been determined in Christ but it remains something to be lived and fulfilled in us.
We’ll be home for Christmas. Christ is born. Glorify Him.
Δεν υπάρχουν σχόλια:
Δημοσίευση σχολίου