A prison cell, in which one waits, hopes and is completely dependent on the fact that the door of freedom has to be opened from the outside, is not a bad picture of Advent. -Dietrich Bonhoeffer
Advent is about anticipation. Like almost all children, I anticipated Christmas the moment the turkey started digesting in my stomach after a hearty Thanksgiving meal. Our family did Christmas well. My father was a coal miner and my mother a homemaker to fourteen children, so times were almost always hard financially for our family, although my parents shielded me from that knowledge. Regardless, there was always a present or two waiting for each of us on Christmas Day. Festivities began with Advent each year, which meant going to confession at the beginning of Advent and being a good boy for four weeks in hopes of some candy on St. Nicholas Day (December 6 - the feast of St. Nicholas) and presents on Christmas Day. Our heritage was Croatian on my father's side, and he brought with him the tradition of placing shoes outside your bedroom door on Nikolinje (St. Nick’s Eve) and hoping it would be filled with chocolates and other goodies in the morning. I don't remember being the best or most obedient little boy when I was a child, but Sveti Nikola (St. Nick) always seemed to remember me on both days.
Both of my parents worked extremely hard for dollars that had to be stretched significantly, but Christmas was always a full holiday, and not just with presents, but with joy, good food, and lots of family. I think I've written before about my mother's own tradition of writing Scripture verses and other cheerful holiday expressions in lipstick on the mirrors in our home during Advent. When you were trying to brush your teeth or fight for a place at the sink with your older siblings, you were doing so in front of "Peace on Earth, Good Will To Men" or "Joy to the World" written in bold relief on the looking glass in front of you. My father would play Christmas carols on the piano and my mother would sing along, and occasionally Father Coughlin and Sisters Janette and Jane would stop by for an evening dinner and singing as well. Unfortunately, this also meant that Father Coughlin knew me well, so I could never disguise my voice sufficiently enough to throw him off in the supposedly “hidden” confessional booth. Inevitably, he would always be calling me "Jymmy" before the end of the session - or interrogation - both words fit the occasion. My penance was always more harsh, it seemed, because he knew who I was and the parents I was disobeying.
As joyful as those memories are for me, they pale in comparison to the joys I have known since coming to know the Christ of Advent as Savior and Lord. Jesus was born to save us from our sins. We were, spiritually speaking, trapped in dark and deep dungeons, seeking freedom but unable to find it, and absolutely powerless of our own accord to open the doors that stood between us and freedom. Then Jesus arrived, "born of a woman, born under law, so that he might redeem those who were born under the law" (Gal. 4:4-5). When the Christ-child arrived, our freedom became not only a possibility, but a reality for all who would accept his offer of grace.
I thank God for raising me in a loving family and putting me under the care of hopeful, joyful parents and siblings. My Catholic upbringing was not sufficient to open my eyes fully to the gospel, but by God's grace he made a way through other avenues, and I was at least prepared to listen based on the way my parents raised me. That is a blessing that many others in this world cannot claim. I owe that solely to the grace of God in my life. The prison doors were opened for me many years ago, and for that I am eternally grateful. My prayer is that they will be opened for your loved ones this advent season if they are still set in darkness, or even for you, if you have not come to know the Christ of Christmas. For "if the Son has set you free, you are free indeed" (John 8:36).
Grace and peace,
Pastor Jym