Today marks the third Sunday in Advent鈥攖he season in the Church calendar where we wait, with great hope and anticipation, for the coming of Jesus to earth, both as fully God and fully human.
We are grateful for the words of Dr. J.P. Kang, who provides us a renewed lens through which to see our relationship to the Advent story and the divine鈥攖he familiar in the unfamiliar, and the known in the unknown.
When I visit a home for the first time, the space that typically feels the most unfamiliar is the kitchen, because so much is concealed. I must ask or learn by trial and error where things are. This experience of discovering things in kitchens is pervasive because there is no universal standard for organizing such spaces, but that, of course, is also precisely what makes one鈥檚 kitchen (or, by extension, home) distinctly personal.
The discipline of User Experience (UX) studies human-object interactions (e.g., doorknobs, dashboards, appliances, etc.) in order to improve reliability and to reduce frustration. These interactions generate a language which describes the form and function of the objects within a context. Learning to read, write, and speak this language鈥攊ts vocabulary, grammar, and syntax鈥攊s challenging, and inevitably, some things will get lost in translation.
These examples of seeking the familiar in the unfamiliar, the known in the unknown, may provide us a fresh way to think about the Christian tradition and our relationship to it.
How do you experience unfamiliar 鈥渞ooms鈥� and 鈥渇loors鈥� of the Bible? If you are only familiar with one house, what happens when you venture out and spend time in an unfamiliar space? Sebastian Moore (OSB) memorably observed that 鈥淕od behaves in the Psalms in ways that [God] is not allowed to behave in systematic theology.鈥� Is it possible that the good news is not 鈥渙ne size fits all鈥� but is irreducibly rich, relational, and contextual? And what is lost in the translation of the Scriptures from Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek into modern languages?
And how then can we be certain that our experiences of the divine鈥攂oth familiar and unfamiliar鈥攁re authentic? How do we recognize God鈥檚 form and function, especially when we are afraid? The Psalmist offers one answer:
Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil;
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff鈥�
they comfort me. (Psalm 23:4)
Comfort comes from recognizing the protective presence of the divine Shepherd. Jesus adds that sheep follow the shepherd 鈥渂ecause they know his voice鈥� (John 10:3). What is the most consistent mark of Jesus鈥檚 voice and presence that help us recognize him in the new and unfamiliar? I believe the answer is love.
God鈥檚 alphabet specifies a DNA of faithful creativity, including such bases as the power of the spoken word (e.g., 鈥渓et there be light鈥� as well as 鈥渢hus says the LORD鈥�) and the relationship binding the divine community. God鈥檚 vocabulary is comprised of the persons and families that are expressions of that DNA, every one created in the 鈥渋mage of God鈥� (Genesis 1:27). God鈥檚 syntax governs the coordination of those vocables into phrases, clauses, and sentences. For example, the drama of the exodus from Egypt and the spectacle of the cross both realize divine compassion in surprising ways. The unexpected return from Babylonian exile and the resurrection show that God鈥檚 grammar describes a living language, one that can still
communicate effectively today.
If God is love (so 1 John 4:8), God鈥檚 form and function may be discerned whenever we humans love one another (1 John 4:12). If we keep our senses tuned to the divine frequency of love that resonates in all living creatures, we will be able to discern God in unexpected persons and places, including a newborn in a feed trough.
Christmas is less about presents being unwrapped or answers being revealed than it is about this mind-bending idea that God became one of us, in carne, in the flesh.
Why would God so empty and humble himself (Philippians 2:5鈥�8)? Why would the Creator voluntarily subject the self to creaturehood with all its limitations and difficulties? Why else but to enter and fully know our lives, and therefore to love us as we are?
God in Christ knows the dysfunctions of our families (Matthew 20:20鈥�24), the anguishes of chronic illnesses (Mark 1:34), the shadows of terminal diagnoses (John 4:49), and even the unspeakable sadness of the death of beloved children (Matthew 9:18; Luke 7:12). Mary, too, would one day experience the death of her beloved son.
Advent is a season of light and shadows (Matthew 2:16鈥�18). The light of the world shines in our darkness (John 1:5), a light seen most fully in the face of Jesus, who is said to be 鈥渢he image (Greek eikon) of the invisible God鈥� (Colossians 1:15). May we, like Mary, contemplate and treasure even the things we do not understand (Luke 2:19).