Believe?

“Believe.” That’s Macy’s one-word advertising campaign this holiday season. You’ve likely seen it plastered on buses and screaming across the top of full page newspaper ads. I’ve found it jarring because it feels either like a subliminal Cold War-era message or an emasculation of the word itself.

Yes, I know that Macy’s has a whole charitable giving program based on the campaign that benefits the Make-a-Wish Foundation. And that’s a good thing even if it’s an add-on to deflect any potential criticism from, ahem, the blogging public.

The whole notion of what to believe is left intentionally ambiguous. This month, the choices are wide open: Santa, Christ, general hearth and home goodness, the Christmas-Industrial Complex, yourself, that your credit card debt will magically disappear. It’s a clever ad campaign meant to encourage good feelings and prime the economic pump.

But as a Christian who celebrates the coming of the Christ child  this month (yes, some of us still do) it grates. Maybe it’s because Christmas is not about belief in general but belief in particular.

The word itself derives from the Latin credo — from whence we derive the word creed. On Christmas Eve those who make it to church will recite the Nicene Creed, the primary Christian statement of faith. It begins “I believe in one God” or Credo in unum Deum in Latin. And we’ll go on to proclaim our belief in the Incarnation of Jesus by saying, “For us and our salvation he came down from heaven: by the power of the Holy Spirit he became incarnate of the Virgin Mary, and was made man.”

That’s the belief that I’m focused on this time of year — the belief that ultimately defines Christmas itself.

So, thank you Macy’s for encouraging us to “believe.” But we’ll take it from here.

The O Antiphons — Decoded

First, let me be clear: they have nothing to do with Oprah. Nor are they related to other songs beginning with “O” like O Susanna, O Christmas Tree, O Little Town of Bethlehem, or O-bla-di-O-bla-da.

The “O Antiphons” are a traditional Advent devotion dating to as early as the 5th century. Benedictine monasteries provide some of the earliest evidence of their usage and by the 8th century they were commonly used in Roman churches. There are seven “O’s” (the name simply derives from the start of each antiphon — “O Sapienta, O Adonai, etc.). Thus the first is recited on December 17th and the last on December 23rd.

Each antiphon is based on a title used for Jesus in Scripture thus (and I realize I’ve used the word “thus” in consecutive sentences):

• December 17: O Sapientia (O Wisdom)
  
• December 18: O Adonai (O Lord)
• December 19: O Radix Jesse (O Root of Jesse)
• December 20: O Clavis David (O Key of David)
• December 21: O Oriens (O Dayspring)
• December 22: O Rex Gentium (O King of the Nations)
• December 23: O Emmanuel (O God-With-Us)

If the English words sound familiar, you’re no doubt acquainted with the classic Advent hymn “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” which is based on these antiphons.

In Anglican usage the O Antiphons are traditionally used before and after the Magnificat at Evening Prayer (sung at Evensong) or as the Alleluia verse before the gospel reading during the appointed days. For many, they are used as private devotions during the waning days of Advent.

Click here to access a full list of the O Antiphons (along with their Scriptural citations) in both Latin and English. This comes from the Liturgy blog of the wonderful New Zealander Bosco Peters. Enjoy.

Smoking Bishop: The Recipe

Illustration by Paul Bommer

Can you really offer Advent Lessons & Carols without serving Smoking Bishop at the wassail reception that follows? I presume it happens but not the past few years here at St. John’s. Smoking Bishop has become part of our L&C tradition, though if you’ve never heard of it a) you’re not alone and b) I encourage you to whip up a batch this year.

What exactly is Smoking Bishop? Well, it has nothing to do with your bishop sneaking a cigarette in the parish cemetery before the opening procession. Nor is it to be confused with a flaming bishop — that’s something else entirely. Smoking Bishop is basically a warm version of sangria. It’s a drink so named for its purple color (brought about by red wine and port) and the fact that it’s served warm.

The best-known literary reference comes from the last page of Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol.” After Scrooge has his conversion experience, we read this conversation with his long-suffering employee Bob Cratchit:

“A Merry Christmas, Bob!” said Scrooge with an earnestness that could not be mistaken, as he clapped him on the back. “A merrier Christmas, Bob, my good fellow, than I have given you for many a year! I’ll raise your salary, and endeavor to assist your struggling family, and we will discuss your affairs this very afternoon over a bowl of Smoking Bishop, Bob!”

My Advent gift to you is the recipe. I hope you’ll try it out and let me know what you think. Better yet, make some and drop it off at the rectory!

Smoking Bishop

5 unpeeled oranges
1 unpeeled grapefruit
36 cloves
1/4 pound of sugar
2 bottles of red wine
1 bottle of port

Wash the fruit and oven bake until brownish. Turn once. Put fruit into a warmed earthenware bowl with six cloves stuck into each. Add sugar and pour in wine — NOT the port. Cover and leave in a warm place for a day. Squeeze the fruit into the wine and strain. Add the port and heat. Do not boil! Serve “smoking” warm. Yield: 15 to 20 servings (serve in small wine glasses).

What’s Up with the Pink Candle?

On the Third Sunday in Advent, churches throughout Christendom will light a pink candle on the Advent Wreath. We don’t do this for aesthetics — we’re not trying to prep out by getting our Talbots on. Nor is it because the males among us need to demonstrate just how secure we are in our masculinity. No, that third candle is pink (or technically rose-colored) because it’s Gaudete Sunday. Huh?

Okay, let me back up and do some explaining here. First of all, we refer to the Third Sunday in Advent as Gaudete Sunday because the introit for the mass begins “Gaudete in Domino semper: iterum dico, gaudete” meaning “Rejoice in the Lord always: again I say rejoice.” While much of the penitential nature of the season has been lost in favor of hopeful expectation, some of the readings still do sound this note. The Third Sunday has traditionally been a respite from the penitential themes of Advent emphasizing instead the joy of the coming of the Lord.

Thus many view the pink candle as emphasizing joy. As with most things liturgical, however, there is not consensus here. Some associate the candle with Mary and another title for the day is “Mothering Sunday.” This is a slight misnomer, however, because Mothering Sunday refers not to Our Lady but to an old practice in England where the rich gave their servants the Sunday off to go home and visit their mothers. Indeed, Mary appears in the readings for the Fourth Sunday in Advent, not the third.

To go even further back, it’s worth looking at the history of Advent wreaths themselves. There is evidence that some pre-Christian Germanic people placed candles on wreaths in the middle of winter as a symbol of hope that the warm weather of spring would return. And ancient Scandinavians placed candles on wheels in “the bleak mid-winter” as an anticipatory devotion to the sun god. It wasn’t until the Middle Ages that Christians adopted the practice of the Advent wreath as a pre-Christmas devotion.

Some churches use rose-colored vestments twice a year — on the Fourth Sunday in Lent and the Third Sunday in Advent. Both days are seen as times of refreshment, feasting, and joy amid a penitential season. I know a priest who, back when he was a curate, always celebrated the Eucharist on these two days. It seems the parish owned a rose set and the rector declared he never, ever wanted to wear pink at the altar!

So there you have it — a brief explanation about the pink candle that will be lit this Sunday. May this season bring you the joy of Christ as we continue in hopeful anticipation.

Rescuing Christmas from the Mall

In my latest “In Good Faith” column I take on mall Santas and encourage people to forget about the true spirit of Christmas.

Rescuing Christmas from the Mall

I have nothing against mall Santas. Out of uniform, they’re some of the jolliest people I know. So why can’t I stand going to the mall at Christmastime? It may be the endless soundtrack of Christmas carols, the tinseled decorations on steroids, or the forced joy that pervades each level. Obviously the hyper-consumerism is a turn-off but I think ultimately it’s just the lack of anything having to do with faith: God is nowhere to be found. And “Jesus is the Reason for the Season” bumper stickers in the parking lot aren’t helpful.

When I was in my late teens and early twenties I used to do all my Christmas shopping at the mall on Christmas Eve. This was before I started working on Christmas Eve and it was long before I had a wife and kids. Toss in those variables and I’d have about as much success shopping on Christmas Eve as Shaquille O’Neal getting hired as one of Santa’s elves.

The sad reality is that I loved shopping on Christmas Eve. There was a certain adrenaline-pumping desperation to the whole affair and the place was full of like-minded procrastinators. This fraternity (yes, it was mostly men) were men (did I mention it was mostly men?) on a mission. There’s nothing like a deadline to focus your gift-buying intentions. As the clock ticked toward closing time a new mind-set always emerged – a cloudy vision about what the people in my life truly craved. “I’m sure Mom has always wanted a gift pack of stale coffee from Gloria Jean’s” and “I know my brother will just love this two-in-one fountain pen/compass set from The Sharper Image. Isn’t he always finding himself lost in the woods and needing to take dictation?”

Even though I no longer shop on Christmas Eve, there is a better way to enjoy this season of preparation than to engage in mall-induced competitive shopping. Rather than bemoan the fact that the American Christmas experience has precious little to do with the Savior’s birth, I offer you several suggestions to undermine the mall Christmas virus. And I won’t even suggest that you get your shopping done throughout the year; unless you’re like my wife Bryna, it’s impossible.

• Forget About the “True Spirit of Christmas.” Despite the barrage of holiday catalogues, we’re not there yet. Focus instead on the “True Spirit of Advent,” the four-week period of spiritual preparation that precedes Christmas Day. If we acknowledge and recapture the meaning of Advent in the midst of our seasonal preparations, we leave room in our hearts and minds to prepare for the coming of Christ. Plus, if you forget about the true spirit of Christmas, you’ll have less guilt about participating in the competition for a parking spot. It’s a blood sport – cut off that old lady!

• Spend Time in Church. This sounds obvious and, coming from a parish priest, even self-serving. But spending time in pre-Christmas worship reminds us that holy waiting is an important discipline and it may be our only refuge from hearing Christmas carols (unlike the rest of society, we wait until it’s actually Christmas to start singing them). Embracing the season of Advent is the best antidote to the “Christmas-Industrial Complex” and you’ll really only be able to do this in church. Have you ever tried to find the Advent aisle at Wal-Mart?

• Let the Grinch Guide You Through the Season. This may sound odd, but reading the classic story by Dr. Seuss is a wonderful way to expose holiday consumerism and move toward the deeper meaning. In response to the Grinch’s rumination that “Maybe Christmas doesn’t come from a store,” we can answer with a resounding, “Amen!”

I should admit to a recurring mall fantasy. I’d like to go to a large suburban mall and find the back room that contains the sound system. Then I’d take it over for an hour or two. I’d replace “Walking in a winter wonderland” with “Come thou long expected Jesus” and I’d substitute “Frosty the Snowman” with “O come, O come Emmanuel.” Then I’d just stroll around poking into The Gap and Starbucks to see people’s expressions. Maybe it wouldn’t affect anyone but maybe it would change the focus, if only for a moment. Maybe people would recognize the true gift of the season: God’s love for us in sending his only son to live and walk among us.

Here’s hoping that this December you will be overextended in praise and thanksgiving rather than credit card debt.

Advent Blend

In the waning days before the South Shore’s first decent coffee shop opens, I’ve been slumming it at Starbucks. This makes me cringe — both the coffee (they burn it!) and supporting the big box store of java. Fortunately the Redeye Roasters Cafe & Espresso Lounge will be opening this Saturday in walking distance from the church. We’ll finally have an independent coffee shop that both roasts on site and offers a panoramic view of Hingham Harbor. An early Christmas gift!

A few days ago I walked into the local Starbucks and the corporate mandated holiday transformation had just taken place: Christmas music was playing, gifts packs of coffee and holiday-themed mugs were on display, Gingerbread Lattes and Peppermint Mochas were flowing; and their Christmas Blend was brewing.

While listening to a jazzed up version of Jingle Bells I approached the counter and asked for a cup of the “Advent Blend.” Maybe it helped that I was wearing a collar but to his credit the barista didn’t bat an eye and handed over the coffee. I’m happy to order the Christmas Blend during the twelve days of Christmas – which start on Christmas Day — and I’m under no illusion that my small act of civil disobedience matters much. But as Christians, being faithful to the seasons of the Church Year is a spiritual act.

During Advent we can wait; we must wait. Despite the Christmas-Industrial Complex that swirls around us, we’re invited into a period of holy waiting and anticipation. Let the walls of your church this season become a refuge from the madness that surrounds us; a sanctuary from the shopping frenzy and the expectations of others and the guilt and the to-do list driven preparations. As the lights on the Advent wreath build over the next four weeks so does our impending joy. This is a time not of instant gratification but one of sacred loitering, pregnant with possibility and hope.

Yes, we know what the immediate future holds – we’ll soon celebrate the birth of our Savior. But thanks be to God for this counter-cultural gift of waiting and anticipation. Advent blessings to you all.

 

 

Worst Ever Nativity Scenes

My online nemesis, Father Scott Gunn (think Spy vs. Spy), recently slapped me in the face with a glove – virtually speaking — making me morally obligated to respond to his slight. Our e-duels are well-known throughout cyberspace and quickly draw a crowd like two seventh graders beating the snot out of one another during recess. Some of you may remember the infamous Jelly Bean War that was waged during Eastertide 2010 AD. Well, yesterday, amid the joy of this holy season of anticipation, Father Gunn sucker punched me. And it will not go un-retaliated.

It all started with what I deemed the “Worst Advent ‘Devotional’ Ever” — a chocolate Advent garland that proclaimed  the 12 Days of Christmas started on December 13th and counted down to Christmas Day rather than the starting on the 25th. Not being able to leave things well enough along, Father Gunn publicly mocked me in his blog as being utterly naive and posted links to several horrid Advent calendars including a diamond-encrusted calendar selling for $2.6 million and one targeted exclusively to dogs. I don’t begrudge this opinion — they are indeed shining examples of holiday excess, irreverence, and irrelevance.

But I would also contend that this doesn’t stop here. After scouring the globe, I present to you the Worst Ever Nativity Scenes:

The Life-Size Nativity Set is always popular because bigger is better. I’m pretty sure Jesus actually says as much somewhere in the Bible but I don’t like to show off my Scriptural knowledge by citing chapter and verse. Plus, without a giant nativity set, we’d never have what is one of my favorite cinematic scenes of all time: the drunk Kevin Bacon character in Diner punching out the Three Wise Men outside of a church in Baltimore. In his underwear.

Related to the Life-Size Nativity Set is the Blow-Up Nativity Set. This looks particularly classy on the front lawn of a church but anywhere in suburbia will do. And anyway, I’m sure the baby Jesus is a lot more comfortable on the yuletide blow-up mattress than lying in a manger full of hay.

The Little People Nativity Set allows your children to play with the crèche while you avoid screaming such holiday cheer that sounds a lot like “Don’t touch that crèche, it was handmade in Italy!” And, since it’s made by Fisher-Price, it also allows you to do your part for what I like to call the Christmas Industrial Complex.

The Bear Nativity Set is wrong on so many levels. “The Word became black bear and dwelt among us?” It just wreaks havoc with the whole notion of the doctrine of Christology — Jesus as half man and half man-eater. Bizarre.

At least Jesus is human in the Dachshund Nativity set. No wonder he said, ““Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs” (Mark 7:27).

I’m not sure of the origin of this one, but I’ll call it the Bowling Ball Nativity set. Nine pin ball not included. But imagine how frustrating it would be to try to pick up a spare with a Magi-Shepherd split.

In light of the recent Goose Gate controversy, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to share this Goose Nativity Set. I can see it now. Instead of those “Jesus is the Reason for the Season” bumper stickers, prepare to confront ”Rubber Ducky You’re the One” stickers on pickup trucks sporting mud flaps.

I must thank Father Gunn for raising the level of horrible Advent/Christmas traditions. And also for helping me use my precious free time less than a week before Christmas to pursuing such endeavors. His is a gift that just keeps on giving.

Worst Ever Advent “Devotion”

See the accompanying picture for my nominee for worst Advent devotion. Ever. Bryna came across it while Christmas shopping at Target and thankfully e-mailed me this picture. She knows me too well.

Now, Advent calendars are one  thing. I like Advent calendars. I’ve always liked Advent calendars. Ever since I was a kid I’ve liked Advent calendars. Sure they don’t actually coincide with the season of Advent — there are usually a few days of Advent that go unnoticed and unrecognized in November since all Advent calendars start December 1st. But at least they get people excited about the holy countdown to the 25th.

But this product is wrong in so many ways. The idea is that after stringing your ” edible Advent garland” you eat chocolate for the “12 days of Christmas.” It says right on the package “Hang it up and let the countdown begin December 13th.” The problem, of course, is that the 12 days of Christmas begin on December 25th, they don’t end on Christmas Day. No one’s bringing out the partridge in a pear tree on December 13th!

This is precisely where the sacred and secular celebrations of Christmas diverge. For retailers and most of America, Christmas is over the moment the last present is unwrapped. For Christians, the season of hope and joy is just beginning. The 12 days of Christmas culminate with the Epiphany as the Wise Men finally make it to the manger on January 6th.

I’m not sure who makes this thing. But if you see it, please don’t buy it. We don’t need to encourage this sort of yuletide misinformation. The last thing we need is someone writing a song about the “12 Days of Advent.” The other one is bad enough — by far my least favorite Christmas carol (think seasonal version of “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall).

In any case, continued blessings to all during these waning days of Advent.

So Long, Santa

I guess it was inevitable. But after 11½ years this will be the first Christmas where leaving out cookies and milk for Santa will feel superfluous. Letting go of this piece of the magic is perhaps harder on parents than kids. For children, the process is often a slow realization; a seed of doubt gets planted by a classmate or an older sibling or a kid at the back of the bus. Some children try to hold on for as long as they can; innately aware that once lost they can never get it back. Others throw off the mantle of belief with great glee, seeing in it a giant step toward independence.

Ben, a sixth grader, fell into the former category. Zack, our 9-year-old fourth grader, was firmly in the latter. Maybe it’s an older/younger sibling thing. Ben held on for an extra year not wanting to let go of the joy and wonder of Christmas morning. Zack has delighted in uncovering the truth and refused to let me or Bryna leave after tucking him in one night this December until we “admitted it.” This was important to him – beyond any notion that “you must believe to receive.”

And he’s been fine with the reality. Though I did want to remind him about his response to the Easter Bunny a couple of years ago. “Dad, a giant rabbit hopping all over the world delivering jelly beans? Get real.” This revelation didn’t translate to a guy zipping around in a sleigh pulled by flying reindeer. I think it had to do with the fact that as nice as the Easter Bunny may be, there aren’t any real presents involved. No one gets an i-Pod for Easter unless it’s made of milk chocolate.

I’m pleased to report this newfound worldview hasn’t diminished our pre-Christmas preparations. The boys still fight over whose turn it is to open the Advent calendar. And as we trimmed the tree they still enjoyed mocking me in my annual struggle to string the lights. They’ve been prancing around the house with their Santa hats and are vigilantly counting down the days until December 25^th.

But still, there’s an innocence you can never get back and that’s what grieves a parent’s heart. It’s only one of the many transitions between childhood and adulthood, albeit a very tangible one. And while I have it on good authority that Santa still plans to visit this year it won’t ever be quite the same.

Picture Perfect Season

In my latest “In Good Faith” column for the Hingham Journal, I write about Christmas cards and the (sometimes) over-the-top letters that accompany them.

IN GOOD FAITH

By the Rev. Tim Schenck

Picture Perfect Season

Could there possibly be anything less conducive to getting in the holiday spirit than taking a Christmas card photo? We took ours recently on a beautiful Saturday afternoon at Nantasket Beach in Hull. After much cajoling, pleading, bickering, and ill will, we finally ended up with something usable. And every year that’s precisely our goal: something usable. The Cleavers we’re not.

It used to be pretty simple. Having a single infant was a no-brainer: young couple holding a baby. When we added the second child and the “gift” of movement, things started to get more complicated. With two boys and a dog it became blood sport. Of course I get no sympathy from parents with more than two children. After sharing this experience, I received the following note from a parishioner: “Okay Father Tim, now that you’ve had the practice, how about coming over to take a picture of a five-year-old and three-year-old triplets?” Yes, that keeps it in perspective and no I didn’t oblige. Though I do look forward to seeing their Christmas card.

I love getting Christmas cards in the mail. They’re rarer these days as many now send out electronic holiday cards and Facebook keeps us in touch with people we used to hear from just once a year. But I’m always curious about the back story. Not just with the taking of the picture but with people’s lives. We do our best to present perfect families but what’s really going on? There’s something quite superficial about the whole charade, something that undermines the notion of authentic friendship.

Because with most people’s ubiquitous accompanying letter, only the good news goes in. So you hear about the son that just got into Princeton and the daughter that won a ballet competition and the fabulous family vacation to Maui. But you don’t get anything about marital strife or job loss or their child’s bout with depression. Just once, I’d like to receive a Christmas card that would admit to the brokenness and need for healing right along with the proclamations of joy and celebration. That, after all, is the power and point of the whole season. As John writes in his gospel about Jesus, “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it.”

Mind you we haven’t sent out a letter in years. Not because we didn’t want to brag about Ben’s ability to read “Anna Karenina” in Russian when he was two or Zack’s becoming a kindergarten grand master chess player, but because we’re lazy. Or if not lazy, too busy and too tired to get it together in time. And anyway, isn’t a picture worth a thousand words?

So Christmas cards become like those entries in the back of alumni magazines. The bad news is always filtered out which means you hear about the guy who just graduated summa cum laude from Georgetown Law or the gal who just got married or the author who just had a book published. But you never see something like “Ned Carroll just got divorced and had his truck repossessed. He’d love to hear from you!”

I think it’s okay to let the chaos and brokenness shine through every once in awhile. Even around the holidays. Maybe one of these years we’ll even send out one of our ill-fated Christmas card attempts rather than the usable finished product. It would certainly be more authentic. And for those of you still waiting to take your Christmas card pictures, I wish you the best. Even if an intense family feud ensues remember that it’s all to the glory of Christ’s birth. Right?