November 28, 2003
Advent
The cosmologists tell us that if we look through the great Hubble
telescope floating weightlessly out there around us, not only may we
see all the way out to the edge of space, but as well, to the edge of
time. The reason for this is that space and time are two sides of the
same coin and are actually created simultaneously and inseparably in
such a way that one simply may not exist apart from the other.
This new old season of Advent returns each year, quietly, gently,
without store-window decor or newspaper ads and, thank God, with
absolutely no mall or elevator music dedicated to its cause. But it
is to pity.
For Advent, ever so much as its partner Christmas which gets all the
press, suggests something in our human becoming, our maturing that is
very important not to overlook. That “something” is very similar to
these new notions we’ve learned about time and space.
The stories from our family history we read through these days ring
changes over and over on two great biblical themes of expectation:
Blessed Baptiser John’s anxiety and Blessed Mary’s baby. Advent
collects and points to the mysterious union of matter and spirit,
Word and flesh, caught up in the star-crossed saving event of
Christmas which brings the great themes of judgment and redemption
into focus.
What is created in the image of God is, as well, now redeemed in the
image of God, assuring us, in a way very similar to what we’ve
learned about the universe, that finally never again need we — nor
can we — separate the one from the other.