I Am Advent

Heavy with hope and expectation, Advent descends with the first snow. Trees in the forest of my longing shake under its weight and surrender the last of dying leaves to the winter-bound earth. Unseen beneath a blanket woven of leaves and snow, seeds of power and promise germinate in the ground of my being.

On the longest night of the year, I sit in the glow of purple and pink candles that illuminate Mary, Joseph, and the infant Jesus within a crèche beneath the Christmas tree. For a moment I cease my infernal striving and simply make straight the way of the Lord. Suddenly the boundaries between then and now blur, and I see with new eyes and hear with new ears the oft-told tale of Jesus’ birth….

Now I am Gabriel, messenger of the Eternal One, sent to whisper into the ears of your soul that the great I Am weeps for joy in the presence of your radiant beauty. I proclaim that you carry Emmanuel, that “God with us” dwells in the womb of your heart. The Ground of All Being desires that you bear this Light into a world desperately in need of you and me and we.

I am Mary, pregnant with new life and possibility, with my truest self, with Emmanuel. I tremble with anticipation wrapped in excitement and fear. What will become of me if I give birth to the person I am called to be, that I long to be, that I know I am? Live into the answers, my soul whispers. Despite my fears, despite my uncertainty, I choose to endure the agony of birthing Emmanuel beneath the light of stars that herald my coming and going.

I am Joseph, the compassionate lover. Afraid though I am of what people will think of me, of us, confused as I am about who you are and what you carry within the womb of your being, I choose you. I choose to hold your hand and speak encouraging words as you birth your sacred self in the wilderness. In the presence of your pain, I feel powerless. But I hold your hand and wipe your brow while struggling to accept that your pain is yours as mine is mine and that each of us must endure what is ours to bear in order to give birth to our very self.

I am each innkeeper driving the weary young travelers from door to door like a stormy sea sweeping refugees away from shore – or toward it. And I am the compassionate steward that offers a stable as refuge from the tempest of the hero’s journey.

I am the shepherds, the marginalized among us. At best, narrow minds perceive me as simple and drab, as easily dismissed as a sparrow. At worst, fearful hearts see me as a thief who would steal their comfortable quilt of mediocrity and familiarity. They are blind to the brilliant beauty that bursts from our essence, that draws to our fields a choir of angels inviting us to the divine celebration.

I am Herod, twisted by dis-ease and fear, grasping desperately to control a torrent loosed by love and longing, wringing my hands to cleanse them of the blood of innocents.

I am the Magi, exploring the body of the Source like a yearning bride. I am a treasure-laden wise one discerning the Heart of Creator in the stars, reading like a map the fingerprints of the Universe, of Life, of the Self, of the Dreamer of All that Is – and following where it leads that I might honor and celebrate the One I am seeking.

I am the star that leads the Magi across forbidding wilderness. My light draws seekers to the Self. As the travelers approach Bethlehem, the flames of my truth burn away in each of them the not-me: fears, lies, wounds. I leave them naked before the manger of the Christ child, each a gift of pure, powerful, essential light that glimmers in the eye of a newborn babe.

And I, I am Emmanuel, brother to the Christ child born some two thousand winters ago, another child of He that is also She and…. I am a light sent to lead all that I am into the fullness of Being. I am a teacher and healer sent to comfort a broken world. I am Mystery.

As each of these players in the Christmas pageant, I dance across a star-strewn stage to the countless notes of the Universe, one with the Dancer and the Dance, one with the Singer and the Song.

And in the glow of these Advent candles,
in the whisper of my Gabriel truth,
in the knowing of my Mary heart,
in the compassion of my Joseph love,
in the blindness of my innkeeper busy-ness,
in the simplicity of my shepherd mind,
in the shudder of my Herod fear,
in the wisdom of my Magi soul,
in the flame of my Bethlehem star,
in the unity of my Emmanuel self,

I see and declare
that you as well
are Emmanuel.