Preparando

It's officially Advent: the "Season of Preparation" in the church year. We prepare ourselves for the celebration of the coming of the Christ child, and for the glorious return of the Kingdom of God on Earth. Whatever it is that means.

Currently, the practical manifestations of preparation in Riverdale House are comprised of two strings of lights, a wee tree (waaayyyy wee), and listening to the Hotel Café Tour Christmas album. A particular track from that album follows (it was also featured on a recent episode of the popular sitcom "Scrubs:"



A common tradition among churches is the lighting of candles - one for each week preceding Christmas - arranged around a central candle in an Advent Wreath. As with many Christian traditions, this seems to have been conveniently lifted from pre-Christian traditions, the wreath originally symbolizing the cycle of seasons and persistence of life in mid-winter. As Christianity co-evolved with Medieval spiritual practice, the four weeks of Advent were a season of fasting, during which people directed their thoughts to the "second coming" of Christ's kingdom on Earth.

Advent is not among the many differences between PC(USA) worship and PCI worship - each Sunday, church members and leaders light the appropriate number of candles on the Advent Wreath, carols are sung with increasing frequency as the weeks progress, and the church prepares for the season of celebration with decorations, Christmas parties, and pageants of all varieties.

At Dunmurry Presbyterian Church, I've been invited to lead a children's worship service on Sunday, 13 December - Advent III. After going over the lectionary passages for the day, I found them inspiring, but potentially a little too heady for kids between four and ten years. Instead, we're looking at the story of Jesus feeding the 5,000.

"When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.” Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” They replied, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.” And he said, “Bring them here to me.” Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children."

~Matthew 14:15-21, NRSV (Compliments to the Oremus Bible Browser).

Before setting myself to the task of preparing Advent worship for kids, I'd never seen this story as a Christmas sort of miracle - that particular sort of experience often attributed to a triumph of human generosity or goodness. When I took a second look at it, though, I can definitely see that kind of inspirational benevolence.

Jesus and company, having just heard some incredibly disheartening news about John the Baptist, sought a place where they could find a bit of respite, time for reflection and retreat. As Jesus disembarks onto the shore of this "desert place," he and those traveling with him realise that, unfortunately, Jesus' reputation as a great teacher and healer has preceded him - crowds of people, sick and needy, lined the beaches.

So he healed their sick...

...and that seemed enough compassion for the disciples, as they offered to clear off the crowds, and give themselves and their teacher some space for retreat and relaxation. Jesus, however, in his concise, brilliant, eternally intuitive way, says "They need not go away; you give them something to eat." So begins the more familiar part of this story - the disciples rifle through their brown bag lunches, count the food between them, and realise they barely have enough food to feed themselves, much less the potentially 15,000 people assembled (don't forget, it was only 5,000 men present, and the text mentions there were women and children present, too).

Jesus takes these meager portions, blesses them, breaks the bread, and sends it out to the throngs on the beach. A common interpretation of this story is that the baskets of food passed around were simply bottomless - an infinite flow of supernatural loaves and fishes. That's all well and good - it would definitely be very cool, and very miraculous, to discover that your wicker baskets are suddenly magic baskets.

What if that's not what happened, though? What if it's not just the traditional supernatural experience, but something - superhuman? Picture yourself attending some huge gathering, seeking out some great teacher, a spiritual leader, or going to listen to some of the best music you've ever heard. I know at least half of my friends and family are the type to pack snacks. Now imagine Jesus and his disciples present - handing out some of that blessed bagels and lox, you take a bit, pass it on, and maybe add in a bit of your own bread, pass around some of your family's fruit and veg, and before you know it, five loaves and two fishes have turned into enough food for an entire town.

All that from a pot of water and a big rock - or am I getting my archetypes confused?

If you ask church-y kids what Christmas is all about, a great majority will respond with something like "PRESENTS! ...and Jesus." An encouraging trend in the modern/progressive church is the de-commercialization of Christmas (example: the Advent Conspiracy)...putting the focus back on that Medieval spirit of preparation for the coming of Christ's kingdom. As I'm preparing a "Stone Soup Communion" with the kids of Dunmurry, I hope we can channel some of that traditional Advent spirit - preparando.