The reality of Advent isn't that we are waiting for the birth of the Christ-Child. The Christ-Child is here and is waiting for us to come. He is crying out to us from the border. He is calling to us from the voices of the poor. He is shouting out to us from prison.
The darkest time in the year, The poorest place in the town, Cold, and a taste of fear, Man and Woman alone, What can we hope for here? More lights than we can learn, More wealth than we can treasure, More love than we can earn, More peace than we can measure, Because...
The pageant proceeded as scheduled—Angels, Shepherds, Wise Men, Mary, Joseph, the Christ Child—Children reciting their lines while parents beam with pride. The lights dim, children freeze in place; all is quiet. Then the children get up and leave; the pageant is over....
The mounting rhythms of time, the gathering passion of godhead pervading earth’s body erupt, ecstatic, unbounded…no fiery deluge, no fist-clenching rapture. No star-strewn apocalypse. Only a woman laboring. Only the needy cry of child in the dark. Glory is not what we...