Who taught you how to celebrate Christmas? Even asking a question like this seems strange, implying an obvious answer, but it is one I find myself reflecting on in some way or another during the season of Advent. It is a question that immediately addresses the primary relationships of our lives: mother, father, brother, sister, grandparents, cousins, neighbors, friends. It is also a question which brings up incredibly unique responses. I remember going to the River Walk in San Antonio, TX, and watching the floating Nativity story, where each barge had a scene of Mary and Joseph’s journey to Bethlehem. Or, it was a certain dish, a certain order of celebration, a certain gift. My mom has a tradition of giving each child a new Christmas tree ornament every year, usually something found while traveling, or a token of a significant event for that year. And somehow, it all comes back to memory, to remembering, and in that present act of remembering, making present again something past.
In Peter’s second letter, he is concerned with something similar: “I will make every effort so that after my departure you may be able at any time to recall these things” (2 Peter 1:15). What kind of effort does it take for someone to pass on, to testify with one’s whole life, to a reality that can be recalled at anytime? What desire, passion, and strength of will it takes to shepherd those coming after you in the way of witnessing to Christ. What is at stake in Peter’s mind is not a set of Christmas traditions or family gatherings or a Christmas dinner that the next generation might not hold fast to, but what God did in Jesus Christ at his baptism, how God’s very glory, majesty, beauty, and Spirit came to confirm the coming of Jesus Christ as God in the flesh.
Memory is a gift, but it is unpredictably given and received. Returning to my first question of who taught you how to celebrate Christmas, its clear that left to ourselves, we can remember all sorts of things about how we were taught to celebrate; in fact, for many, it is a source of pain and strife during the holidays. Coming back home, back into the presence of family, can stir up memories of brokenness, betrayal, dissatisfaction, and judgment. We can feel trapped in the disfunction of family systems, hoping that somehow this exchange of gifts can satisfy the longing we feel deeply for peaceful intimacy; but for many this Christmas might just be a repetition of old patterns. Decorations will go up, Christmas music will be on, pageants will be seen, and underneath the usual humdrum of anxiety and brokenness will be playing like some out of tune instrument in the Lessons and Carols orchestra.
But, to all this burden of memory, Peter wants us to recall something else: God’s breaking into these patterns of human life in the person of Jesus Christ. It’s the manifestation of God’s glory and truth in Christ that can be recalled at anytime, says Peter. Later on in Chapter 3, he faces critics who say that the world is just going on as it always has been from the beginning; there’s no interruption, no God breaking into the humdrum with any glory or truth. But to them, Peter says, “I was an eyewitness. And because I saw this majesty of Christ, everything has changed. The prophets who testified to the in-breaking of God’s glory have been fully confirmed to us.” Peter is saying, “You are not remembering the world correctly.” And for us today, because of Peter’s faithful testimony, we can have the same posture. We need Peter’s gift of memory because too often we get caught up in the humdrum cycles, and forget the prophetic voices who say, “God’s glory, his goodness, and his majesty came into the world through Jesus Christ once before, and God will do so again. How are you going to live in response to it?”
Receiving the gift of memory this Advent means listening to someone who remembers differently, remembers more than just last year’s traditions, remembers beyond the story of your life or your family’s traditions. The Church, in Advent, doesn’t simply remember itself or its own traditions, but the very source of its life, Christ Jesus. This is the light Peter speaks of: “For he received honor and glory from God the Father when that voice was conveyed to him by the Majestic Glory, saying, "This is my Son, my Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” We ourselves heard this voice come from heaven, while we were with him on the holy mountain. So we have the prophetic message more fully confirmed. You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts” (2 Peter 1:17-19).
In Peter’s second letter, he is concerned with something similar: “I will make every effort so that after my departure you may be able at any time to recall these things” (2 Peter 1:15). What kind of effort does it take for someone to pass on, to testify with one’s whole life, to a reality that can be recalled at anytime? What desire, passion, and strength of will it takes to shepherd those coming after you in the way of witnessing to Christ. What is at stake in Peter’s mind is not a set of Christmas traditions or family gatherings or a Christmas dinner that the next generation might not hold fast to, but what God did in Jesus Christ at his baptism, how God’s very glory, majesty, beauty, and Spirit came to confirm the coming of Jesus Christ as God in the flesh.
Memory is a gift, but it is unpredictably given and received. Returning to my first question of who taught you how to celebrate Christmas, its clear that left to ourselves, we can remember all sorts of things about how we were taught to celebrate; in fact, for many, it is a source of pain and strife during the holidays. Coming back home, back into the presence of family, can stir up memories of brokenness, betrayal, dissatisfaction, and judgment. We can feel trapped in the disfunction of family systems, hoping that somehow this exchange of gifts can satisfy the longing we feel deeply for peaceful intimacy; but for many this Christmas might just be a repetition of old patterns. Decorations will go up, Christmas music will be on, pageants will be seen, and underneath the usual humdrum of anxiety and brokenness will be playing like some out of tune instrument in the Lessons and Carols orchestra.
But, to all this burden of memory, Peter wants us to recall something else: God’s breaking into these patterns of human life in the person of Jesus Christ. It’s the manifestation of God’s glory and truth in Christ that can be recalled at anytime, says Peter. Later on in Chapter 3, he faces critics who say that the world is just going on as it always has been from the beginning; there’s no interruption, no God breaking into the humdrum with any glory or truth. But to them, Peter says, “I was an eyewitness. And because I saw this majesty of Christ, everything has changed. The prophets who testified to the in-breaking of God’s glory have been fully confirmed to us.” Peter is saying, “You are not remembering the world correctly.” And for us today, because of Peter’s faithful testimony, we can have the same posture. We need Peter’s gift of memory because too often we get caught up in the humdrum cycles, and forget the prophetic voices who say, “God’s glory, his goodness, and his majesty came into the world through Jesus Christ once before, and God will do so again. How are you going to live in response to it?”
Receiving the gift of memory this Advent means listening to someone who remembers differently, remembers more than just last year’s traditions, remembers beyond the story of your life or your family’s traditions. The Church, in Advent, doesn’t simply remember itself or its own traditions, but the very source of its life, Christ Jesus. This is the light Peter speaks of: “For he received honor and glory from God the Father when that voice was conveyed to him by the Majestic Glory, saying, "This is my Son, my Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” We ourselves heard this voice come from heaven, while we were with him on the holy mountain. So we have the prophetic message more fully confirmed. You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts” (2 Peter 1:17-19).
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