We are reminded that the Christian’s life is spent in longing for Jesus to return. I remember quite vividly spending time lined up with the other Catholic schoolboys squinting at the sight of the priest lighting the first of the Advent candles during the morning assembly.
Incidentally I had thought the priests were crazy when they instructed the congregation to ask of Jesus “Come, Lord; do not delay.” Was I the only one thinking that that meant the end of the world?
The 12th commandment (#11 Being Thou Shalt Not Get Caught): Thou shalt not let thy kids read the Book of Revelation until they can live with cognitive dissonance. Heck, Thou Shalt Not Let Them Read the Bible Without Thy Supervision.
Last year, I hardly felt Christmas. I was sleeping 12-16 hours on the weekends, running my life according to the demands of the Great Bundy Clock. There were no Advent Sundays as far as I was concerned. There was only the prospect of buying pizzas for my team and roses and sweets for the girls in the neighboring team. There was post-Christmas Christmas with my friends (dramatically fewer than the year before).
These days I feel Christmas trying to weasel its way into my consciousness. Sapping my will with pretty lights and sappy songs. Each night I hide in work or cable teevee to keep out the three Christmas Ghosts.
Oh no, Santa. Oh no, Jesus. You won't find me in a celebratory mood.
Not until some things have been set right.