An Advent Meditation

Thou shalt know him when he comes, not by any din of drums, nor his manners, nor his airs, nor by anything he wears. Thou shalt know him when he comes, not by his crown or by his gown. But his coming known shall be, by the holy harmony which his coming makes in thee. – Anonymous, 15^th Century

Our sensibilities are under constant assault. We are bombarded by the chaos of bad news, vicious acts, personal attacks, biased narratives, and misinformation – all contrived to convince us to trust less and hate more. Talking heads tell us only what they want us to know, leaving out anything that could moderate our understanding. Politicians don’t want us to look behind the curtains of their shabbiness and ineptitude, preferring to make themselves look good and their opponents look bad. Voices all around us shout what is wrong with this or that group, or worse, with us. We don’t – or can’t – measure up. And we often join the chorus. Self-criticism and self-pity are easy. And so are self-promotion and self-righteousness. The chaos thrives on conflict. “Peace on Earth.” Humbug!

In “The Screwtape Letters,” C.S. Lewis proposed that there is never any music or silence in Hell. All is eternal noise, swirling antagonism and everlasting clamoring for supremacy. Music is not possible. Screwtape and the rest detest music because it requires harmony, the ability to work together while putting aside petty disagreements in service of a higher good. Silence does much the same thing. In silence, we can agree to disagree, and as our Quaker brethren point out, “wait for more light.” The “still, small voice” will not try to outshout the chaos. It comes from another place. So, if we can be silent for just a little while, maybe we can hear it. But we can’t expect to hear it if we refuse to listen.

In some ways we are in Hell. A Hell of smug opinions and unfounded assertions. A Hell of humor based on insults and sarcasm. A Hell of alienation and estrangement. A Hell of bold declarations from many who don’t know what they’re talking about. A Hell of accusations and denials. A Hell of snap judgements and even snappier condemnations. All coming at us as loudly as we will allow. This is a Hell of our own choosing.

We say we want peace. We say we want to make a better world. Then comes Christmastime and our two-thousand-year-old dream – of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, forgiveness, redemption, and the kingdom of God. I wonder…do we really want these things? If we do, why do we stand in the way of them? And why do we expect our Savior to participate in the Hellish ways of this world? What if we’ve been going about this the wrong way? After all, when we invite guests into our home, shouldn’t we just quietly stand aside and let them enter?

In the season of Advent, maybe we all need to shut the Hell up. Literally. Maybe we should shut the “Hell” out of our lives to make it possible for Heaven to come in. When we sing or hear “Silent Night,” maybe we should think more about keeping our hearts and minds silent, so the voice of the Prince of Peace might be heard. Just a thought.