Advent Desire
The wish for something or someone
begins as soon as we enter this life and does not cease until the moment we
breathe or last. It is desire. It burns within us all of our lives and, who
knows – it may well enflame the ethereal stuff of our spirits once we move on
from this life. Personally, I think it
will. To cease desiring is to cease
being a person, being human. Desire is
as beautiful as it is troublesome. Our
eyes and hearts wander, fueled by desire, for things, relationships, places and
circumstances that are either good or not good for us. The discernment of the desires that move
human appetites is as ceaseless as the desires themselves.
I do wonder why God made us with
such richly burning and yet sometimes wayward desires. It is said that we are made in the image and
likeness of God, and the struggles we go through because of our desires must
somehow reflect the divine life from whence we came.
The season of Advent offers us an
array of scriptural stories that reveal the scope of human desire and its
ultimate intent and fulfillment. God
desires to become one with us – very much like what we do and feel when we fall
in love with someone – and the magic begins.
He makes his desire known to a young girl through an angelic emissary,
and life begins in her womb. It is not
long before the desire of God for human life comes into play with others – with
family members, royalty, people of ages past, prophets and seers – these and
more drawn into the drama of the God who entered human history through the
flesh of a young woman.
Other desires will obscure the
message. Those who entertain desires of
power, prestige and the comforts of wealth and privilege will stifle in their
hearts the deeper desire to see what is good and real and lasting. All of this will be played out in the weeks
to come.
And it will be more than vaguely
familiar. It will be our lives, being
retold using the saints and sinners of the Advent stories – the way a God came
to us, and how we were told to repent and prepare for his arrival, and how some
of us respond and some of us do not.
I recently read of a large
gathering of religious academics that was held on the west coast. Thousands of scholars attended. It was held in a fancy hotel, a place that
served fine food and had all and more of the comforts of home. The man who wrote the article noted the irony
of the homeless just outside the hotel, begging or just huddled in blankets on
the sidewalk. All the scholars walked
through the door to better secure their knowledge of God and the human. And they somehow missed him as he lay in the
street. God is not to be found in an
elaborate insight, or a fancy footnote.
God is in life, in the human.
God is often just outside the hotel
of our comforts. He is there, reminding
us that desire is indeed everywhere in so many forms and persuasions – but the
desire that finds God begins when we take time to look about us and wonder
where he is. When that desire takes hold
of our hearts, we will find that the divine is close, intimately close, asking
something of us. Asking for food, for
warmth, for a place to stay for the night.
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