Signs and Wonders

Advent is indeed the season of signs and wonders. It is more a season of great expectations rather than of Christmas carols. At the Sunday evening mass for the first week of Advent, we welcomed two new catechumens and a candidate as part of the Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults.

In our preceeding Inquiry preparations, we discussed with an interesting and layered degree of complexity the difference between what our church celebrates in the Advent season and anticipates in Christmas and the plethora of secular symbols and commercial appropriations of “signs and wonders” we see abounding: holiday sales and gift buying on “Black Friday," family films in December release, end of year parties, etc. All potentially have a Christian basis, but all of them, too, have the potential to obscure the presence of God in that still, small, quiet voice.

Akin to Advent preparations is the youthful energy and parental concerns surrounding our upcoming celebration of Confirmation. But more generally, we are all in the midst of our own sacramental preparations. Indeed, it is in the celebration of sacraments that we know and experience God truly present to us. While there may be a new “IT” item on the holiday shelves to buy, or a new movie to go see with our children, or glad tidings and good cheer to celebrate as the calendar year draws to a close, it is well worth looking at our own sacramental practice, the Church’s liturgical year, and this particular Advent season to re-set our clocks. It is not simply a time to fall back or spring forward as part of a cyclical recurrence, but a time to also watch and to wait for the in-breaking of God into our lives.

Watching and waiting, I went with a group of Grade 7-12 youth and a gathering of parents and catechists to see The Nativity Story this past weekend. At 1 hour and 40 minutes, the movie itself was perhaps longer than how long it would actually take to read the infancy narratives found in the Bible. It was also longer than a typical mass in which the same spirit of reflection upon the Incarnation and celebration of the God who dwells with us might take.

I wanted the movie to be helpful for our 8th Grade classes, in particular, who are spending a great deal of time this year looking at the cultural and historical background of Jesus and the early church in New Testament times. Unlike other contemporary films I’ve seen, the Messianic expectations of The Nativity Story are muted. Those critical of The Passion of the Christ in its omission of the Resurrection, which is crucial to

experiencing the mystery of the Incarnation, might also note the supernatural role of God in The Nativity Story is underplayed in its simplicity, heralded mostly by appearances of the angel Gabriel. In its best rendering, Gabriel repeats the simple message of “Be not afraid” and Mary and Joseph confess to each other on the way to Bethlehem that, in addition to their belief in this heavenly message, they are also afraid.

This is not necessarily a criticism. It is an admission that I am comfortable sharing in the sense that the Christmas promise that we remember, celebrate, and believe (to quote Marty Haugen), is obscured by the everyday busyness and garish displays of an all too easy to visualize pageantry. We know what angels, shepherds, wise men, Christmas trees, and even the Holy Family are “supposed” to look like. But I’m not entirely sure we really know how to experience God in our midst and, more importantly, what we should be like in our journey to Christ.

For me, watching The Nativity Story left me asking the same question I ask myself when I feel like something more is supposed to be present. I ask myself “where is God in all this?” Where was the still, small voice?

There are at least three moments in the film when Jewish liturgical prayers are invoked. Zechariah prays in the Temple when he is told that his wife, Elizabeth, despite her old age, will bear him a son, John the Baptist. There is the blessing of the cup under the chuppah through which Mary and Joseph are betrothed to each other. Finally, at a camping stop, Joseph blessing bread, which he shares with Mary (and the donkey) on the way to Bethlehem. In all of these circumstances, the rendering of the Jewish prayers invokes the name of G-d, but the word used in the film to name this presence is not the word that would actually be used if a Jewish person was really praying.

This technique is often done to a subtle effect when filming Jewish liturgical practices. On one hand, filmmakers can claim they do so to be respectful of the Lord’s name. On the other, it makes an absolute distinction between the film story (and whatever claims it has to touch upon or reveal God’s presence) and real prayer, the real moment when we encounter God and God embraces us.

As we journey to Christ and await his coming, I pray we too can name and be embraced by this same God we prepare to meet in the sacraments and prayerful moments amidst the everyday clamor of our world.

Jay Cuasay