Reasons for the Season . . . of Advent (1st Sunday)

The Second Coming: Christ Pantocrator from Cathedral in Monreale, Sicily (http://www.wondersofsicily.com/sicily-christ-pantocrator.htm)

The Season of Advent

       For many years I taught in Catholic schools. As soon as Thanksgiving was over (and sometimes before) my students would begin demanding “Why aren’t you putting up the Christmas tree?”  My standard response was to growl back “For the same reason we’re not having an Easter egg hunt: it’s the Season of Advent, not Christmas!”  I used to have a nice Advent Wreath in my classroom with electric candles. State law prohibited real candles and, honestly, they could be the occasion of all sorts of mischief in a high school classroom.  

We also had special Advent prayers (printed on purple paper) taken from the Liturgy of the Hours for every day until Christmas. These included the O Antiphons on the last seven class days before Christmas.  I took great pains to explain to my young charges that this was a season of preparation and penitence. It was,therefore, quite distinct from the festive Christmas Season.  It was no use.  They only demanded more insistently: “Christmas and Advent are the same thing! Put up the tree!”

Strike the Harp and Join the Chorus?

Classroom Advent Wreath

    I have to admit that the entire world outside my classroom (with the exception of Catholic churches, and those of some other Christians who still honored the traditions of our forebears) was taking the side of my students on this one.  Even most of my colleagues in Catholic education seemed to be ready to strike the harp and join the chorus as soon as the dishes from Thanksgiving dinner were safely in the dishwasher.      

      To make matters even worse, I had a second job at a large retail store, where I worked in the seasonal department.  Here, I found myself stocking and sorting Christmas lights and decorations before Halloween had even passed. Well before Thanksgiving I had been relentlessly blasted with endless repetitions of the most execrable “Christmas” songs (most of which have virtually nothing to do with the Nativity of Christ) ever spawned in the brains of Tin Pan Alley songsters.  I’m convinced that if I ever succumb to a state of raving, maniacal insanity, it will be from having to hear “Santa Baby” one time too many.

Why Fight the Tide?

      So, why fight the tide?  Am I just being stubborn, rigid one might say, by sticking with the “old-fashioned” way of doing things? Not at all.  “Tradition,” G.K. Chesterton tells us, “is the democracy of the dead”.  It allows our ancestors the chance to present their perspective on whatever issue we may be facing.  If we’re smart, we’ll pay attention to them (which is not the same as “mindlessly aping” them), because they normally spent generations dealing with the same, or similar issues.  

Most human traditions represent the wisdom acquired through many years, often centuries, of trial and error. We who are Catholics ought to be particularly deferential toward those traditions which the Church has established. After all, our Faith tells us that Christ created the Church to act on his behalf here on Earth.  I’m not suggesting that traditions such as liturgical seasons enjoy the same status as Dogma (“You’re risking hellfire if you put up that tree on November 30th!”), simply that it would be wiser to give serious consideration as to why we have a separate season of Advent, for instance, than to simply go along with the secular conventional wisdom.

The Reasons for the Season

     Here, as always, the Church is happy to give us reasons for what she has established (see 1 Peter 3:15).  As it happens, there are three main purposes for setting aside this special time in the liturgical year. As the entry on Advent in the Catholic Encyclopedia explains:

During this time the faithful are admonished

• to prepare themselves worthily to celebrate the anniversary of the Lord’s coming into the world as the incarnate God of love,
• thus to make their souls fitting abodes for the Redeemer coming in Holy Communion and through grace, and
• thereby to make themselves ready for His final coming as Judge, at death and at the end of the world.

The Adventus

Christ in the Wilderness, Moretto da Brescia, 1515-1520

    The first of these reasons for the Season of Advent is the most obvious: we are preparing ourselves for the arrival (adventus in Latin) of the Messiah at Christmas. It’s impossible to overstate the importance of the Incarnation in human history; the only possibly greater event is the Resurrection at Easter, and one can argue that it makes more sense to look at both Christmas and Easter as different sides of the same event (see below).

Furthermore, it is an enduring feature of humanity that we need to prepare, spiritually and psychologically, for important events.  Jesus himself spent forty days in the desert before undertaking his ministry. St. Paul likewise spent several years in the desert before his ministry. In a similar way, couples prepare themselves during a period of betrothal prior to marriage.  We used to be able to underscore this point by noting that the consummation ought to take place not after the engagement, but only after the wedding itself. Unfortunately, in a society that believes in waiting for marriage no more than it believes in waiting for Christmas, this example doesn’t clarify for most people.  

In any case, the special period set aside before the event impresses upon us the importance of the event itself.  The four weeks of preparation before Christmas tells us, on an experiential level, that the Nativity is A Very Big Deal indeed.

The Body and Blood

     The second reason for Advent (to prepare us to more fittingly receive Holy Communion) reminds us that Christ comes to us in different ways, which should not surprise us, as the events of Salvation History typically embody different layers of meaning (hence the traditional four senses of scripture). In much the same way, we can find different dimensions to liturgical observances.

Jesus, therefore, does not incarnate only as the child of Bethlehem: in a different but very concrete way we experience His adventus and incarnatio every time we receive His Body and Blood in Holy Communion.  The Nativity itself only makes sense in light of Christ’s offering up of Himself on the Cross; we can see in the Baby resting on the wooden trestles of the manger the Man Who will later hang on the wooden beams of The Cross.  And so, during Advent we are called to reflect on Christ’s coming bodily among us in the Holy Eucharist.

His Coming in Glory

     Finally, there is yet a third adventus of the Messiah, a further way in which Christ comes into our world.  Like the Nativity, and unlike Holy Communion, it is a unique, one-time event: His Coming in Glory at the end of time. And there’s yet another meaning within that one as as well, as each one of us receives a preview of sorts when He comes for us individually at death, the end of our own time here on Earth. Whether we are facing our own end, or the Ultimate End, we need to be ready to face our Judge.  As John the Baptist, who figures prominently in the Advent liturgy, warns us: “Even now the axe is laid to the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire” (Matthew 3:10).

“Even now the axe is laid to the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire” (Matthew 3:10).

The Last Judgment, Michelangelo, 1536-1541

There is Time Yet

So, be of good cheer, but remember that the Season of Advent is a time of penance and anticipation.  Mary, heavy with Child, and Joseph are just now leaving Nazareth; the Magi are still far from Bethlehem, doggedly following a strange star in the heavens. Only the still unsuspecting Herod is making merry. There is time yet, so let’s make the most of it. The Boughs of Holly can wait for the Season to be Jolly: the next four weeks is the season to prepare ourselves to meet our Lord and Judge.

St. Catherine of Alexandria, Patroness of Modern Women

Tintoretto, The Mystic Marriage of St. Catherine with Doge Francesco Donato in Adoration, 1581-4

St. Catherine of Alexandria

St. Catherine of Alexandria used to claim a place among the Great Saints. Catherine herself and the spiked wheel upon which she became a martyr appeared frequently in the work of medieval and Renaissance artists. A monastery in the Sinai bearing her name was a popular destination for pilgimages. In France, unmarried women between the ages of 25 and 30 took the title catherinettes, and wore a special St. Catherine’s bonnet. The instrument of her martyrdom even inspired the name of a pyrotechnic device, the Catherine wheel. It was a rare Catholic who wouldn’t be thoroughly familiar the St. Catherine’s name and story.

Santa Catalina de Alejandría by Caravaggio, c. 1598, with the spiked wheel of her martyrdom.

  

An Army of Philosophers

   It’s a story well worth revisiting today (November 25th) on the saint’s feast day.  Saint Catherine, we are told, was a beautiful princess born of pagan parents.  She possessed a superior intellect, and applied her talents in the study of the sciences and philosophy.  When she became a Christian, she betrothed herself to Christ in a Mystical Marriage. She also used her formidable intellectual prowess in defense of His Church.  In this way she came to the attention of the Emperor Maxentius, who enlisted a small army of philosophers to refute Catherine’s arguments.  

Not only did Maxentius’s philosophers fail, but she converted some of them.  The enraged emperor ordered prison and torture for the young woman. As it happened, in the midst of her punishment she gained even more converts, including the emperor’s own wife.  After executing his wife (along with all the other converts) Maxentius tried to win over Catherine with an offer of marriage.  She refused, of course, having already married the King of Kings. As a result, the emperor condemned her to death by torture on a spiked wheel.  When the mere touch of the saint destroyed this implement of torment, the emperor finally ordered Catherine beheaded.  Angels bore her body to the monastery on Mt. Sinai that now bears her name.

A Most Honored Saint

St. Catherine of Alexandria by Giovanni Antonio Sogliano. Here she holds a book representing learning.

     For a long time, as we noted above, St. Catherine was one of the best known and most honored Saints.  The story of her martyrdom was widely known, and she was popular as the patroness of single women. She was also one of the Saints who spoke to St. Joan of Arc.  Today, however, many Catholics have never heard of her.  The Church removed her feast day from the Liturgical Calendar in 1969, although it has returned more recently as an Optional Memorial.

     There are no doubt a number of reasons for St. Catherine of Alexandria’s loss of prominence. The most apparent is that there is no historical record of her life until several centuries after the fact.  We can’t deny, of course, that some pious traditions and stories are clearly fantastic. We shouldn’t for that reason reject anything handed down by our predecessors in the Faith that falls short of the sort of documentary evidence required by modern historiography. To do so is to concede too much to a materialistic worldview.  There is certainly no evidence that St. Catherine is a fabrication, and in doubtful matters I’m happy to throw my support to Christian tradition.

Patroness of Modern Women

St. Joan of Arc by Jean Pichore, 1506

     St. Catherine’s lower profile is also unfortunate because she has so much to say to women in our world today.  She is the embodiment of the sort of “Christian Feminism” that St. John Paul II described in his Apostolic letter Mulieris Dignatem and in other places. While she is able to equal accomplished men, she does not seek to supplant them, and she does not lose sight of her essential femininity.  Notice that she finds her fulfillment in her spousal relationship with Christ. Accordingly, her miraculous deeds are a result of her absolute trust in Him.  Her later namesake Catherine of Siena, who was a diplomat and advisor to Popes, also had a well known Mystical Marriage to Christ. She was also like the Alexandrian Catherine in that even when she went toe-to-toe with men on their turf, she didn’t pretend to be one of them.  

I find the connection to St. Joan of Arc instructive here as well.  I don’t see St. Joan as a precursor of modern feminism, despite some modern depictions.  She is really much more like the Old Testament Judge Deborah.  In Chapter 4 of the Book of Judges Deborah takes the reins of the army unwillingly, only after her general Barak tells her that he won’t lead their troops against their enemy Sisera without her.  “I will surely go with you”, she replies, “nevertheless, the road on which you are going will not lead to your glory, for the Lord will sell Sisera into the hand of a woman” (Judges 4:9).

  As a result, not only does Deborah receive credit for the victory that should have been Barak’s, but Sisera himself dies at the hand of another woman, Jael, who drives a tent peg through his head as he sleeps.  Likewise, when Joan of Arc takes up the sword, it is not to assert that women should behave just like men. It is rather a rebuke to the men who have been failing to do that which they have been called to do.

 

What More Could We Ask?

    There’s a lesson here.  Today’s radical feminism is to a large degree an overreaction to a genuine failure to show due respect women and their appropriate role, but feminism has taken a cure that is worse than the original ailment: it denies the essential nature of women by attacking their maternal and nurturing mission.  At the same time, a major result of the so-called sexual revolution has been to reduce woman to a mere object of desire.   As a consequence, women are, in important ways, less respected than ever.  

St. Catherine of Alexandria has a lot to say to such a world.  She puts her trust completely in Jesus Christ, and so she trusts in the gifts he has given her, including her femininity. Therefore, she can be as strong as any man, without surrendering her womanhood.  She is not deterred by threats, seduced by bribes, and can’t be broken by the worst this world has to offer, because the Lord is her spouse.  She commands the respect of men, and invites the emulation of women.  What more could we ask of a Great Saint?

 

Christ is King of the Universe . . . and of Our Hearts

The End of History? 

Christ is King! How easily we forget . . .

What a fool I was when the Berlin Wall fell forty years ago.

I naively thought that the apotheosis of the state into totalitarian forms of government was fully and finally exposed. Everyone knew it was an inhuman, deadly fraud. In my innocence, I was sure that all such attempts to put the minutiae of every individual’s life into the all-powerful hands of bureaucrat-gods had sputtered and died from their own absurdity, never to return.  After all, the totalitarian states of the twentieth century had almost all gone through the entire cycle of rise, decline, and fall. Now they were residing in what one of their authors so eloquently termed “the dustbin of history.” Of the few remaining, Cuba and North Korea were so transparently disasters that nobody (it seemed) could see them as models. Even China appeared to be following Russia and the communist states of Eastern Europe on the path of democratic reform.

West Germans celebrate the unification of Berlin atop the wall on Nov. 12, 1989. Stephen Jaffe/Getty Images

     Yes I and many others had deceived ourselves.  Who would have guessed that despite the millions murdered and starved in the 20th century, and the manifest failure of every single attempt to invest god-like power into human governance, the totalitarian impulse would still hold such appeal, even growing appeal, in the third decade of the 21st century? Who would have predicted that even here in the United States, Cradle of Liberty, powerful financial interests and leading media entities would join with ambitious political forces to form a totalitarian syndicate that would make Mussolini proud?

 

The Totalitarian Impulse

Benito Mussolini (Photo by Roger Viollet/Getty Images)

      Speaking of Mussolini, the Italian fascist dictator was certainly on the mind of Pope Pius XI in 1925. That’s when the Roman Pontiff introduced The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe.  Pope Pius added the feast in order to counter growing totalitarian movements in Europe and elsewhere. He sought to remind Catholics that their Lord and Savior is Jesus Christ. He is not the Volk, and certainly not whatever Duce happens to grab the reins of power at a given time. The Solemnity of Christ the King says to the self-anointed powers of this world what Jesus says to Pontius Pilate. To wit: “You would have no power over me unless it had been given to you from above” (John 19:11)

    Sadly, despite the eclipse of most of the prominent fascistic and communist governments by the end of the past century, the totalitarian impulse and the idolatry of the state continues, albeit in a rather less homicidal form (for the time being).  For that reason this feast day is as relevant now as it was a century ago.

 

He Must Reign

The celebration of Christ the King is also relevant on another level. It applies to each and every man and woman who has inhabited this Earth (with two exceptions) since Adam and Eve were driven from the Garden of Eden. In Quas Primas, the encyclical with which he established the Solemnity of Christ the King, Pope Pius XI says:

. . . If to Christ our Lord is given all power in heaven and on earth; if all men, purchased by his precious blood, are by a new right subjected to his dominion; if this power embraces all men, it must be clear that not one of our faculties is exempt from his empire. He must reign in our minds, which should assent with perfect submission and firm belief to revealed truths and to the doctrines of Christ. He must reign in our wills, which should obey the laws and precepts of God. He must reign in our hearts, which should spurn natural desires and love God above all things, and cleave to him alone. He must reign in our bodies and in our members, which should serve as instruments for the interior sanctification of our souls . . .

“You would have no power over me unless it had been given to you from above” (John 19:11)

Jesus Before Pilate, Second Interview (Jésus devant Pilate. Deuxième entretien), James Tissot,1886-1894

 

Christ is King

    Pope Pius reminds us that there is Someone who really does have a claim on us. Someone who rules every aspect of our lives and even ourselves. It’s not the state.  Yes, Christ does not only reign over the world, he reigns in our hearts . . . if we let him.  All of us, even those who have consciously sworn off looking for messiahs in politics or government, fall into idolatry from time to time. How often have I pinned my dearest hopes on some passing thing? A new job, the next tax refund, or even some ridiculous new gadget to add to my collection of equally ridiculous gadgets? If I’m not careful (and, honestly, sometimes I’m not), I can find these seemingly innocuous little idols setting themselves up on the Throne reserved for Jesus alone.  

     On this Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, we do well to remember that only Christ is the Lord of men, only Christ can be the Master of our hearts: Inquietum est cor meum, Domine, donec in te requiescat, “my heart is restless, Lord, until it rests in you”.  

Featured image, top of page: Christ Surrounded by Musician Angels, Hans Memling, 1480s