Pastor Cogan led a great, thoughtful discussion yesterday about Dietrich Bonhoeffer. The plan for yesterday and the next couple of these Tuesday lunchtime gatherings is to reflect on some letters from Bonhoeffer – one of our better known Lutheran theologians and heroes – that he wrote during the seasons of Advent and Christmas during his life, which was lived in the early to mid-1900’s. Other than his books, other writings and teaching, Bonhoeffer is known for having participated in a plot to assassinate Adolf Hitler during the second World War. He was put to death, himself – a martyr – because of it.
I don’t want to go down that road now, but our discussion yesterday had me thinking about what we’re up to tonight and what we’ve invited one another to this time around where our Advent walk is concerned.
One of the things we reflected on and talked about yesterday, was a painting Bonhoeffer referred to in one of his letters. He was writing from prison, to his parents, and referenced this painting by Albrecht Altdorfer. It’s called, simply, “The Nativity” and, as you can see, it’s not exactly full of the kind of Christmas spirit most people go looking for.
Bonhoeffer marveled that this painting was done 400 years or so before his time, in 1507, to be specific, but that the artist somehow captured something surprisingly relevant and meaningful about the world as Bonhoeffer was experiencing it as a political prisoner in a recently bombed-out prison, somewhere in war-torn Germany, circa 1943.
And it reminded me of something else I’ve seen and read about this week. This is the nativity scene on display these days in the worship space at Christmas Lutheran Church, in Bethlehem, Palestine. Instead of a Christmas tree this time around, the church has created this display from debris like that found in nearby Gaza these days, and they will be limiting their Christmas celebrations to less-than-festive prayers and rituals, in solidarity with the suffering that consumes their part of the world these days.
And THAT reminded me of an image I used a few years back, on the First Sunday after Christmas, where we often read about King Herod and his murderous “Slaughter of the Innocents.” This piece of art was created by the disguised, mysterious, anonymous artist known as Banksy. He called it “The Scar of Bethlehem.”
At the time, in 2019, there wasn’t a full-blown war raging in the region, but the piece was a response to and a depiction of the ever-present tension and division and struggle that seems to be bubbling just beneath the surface there – when it hasn’t erupted like it did, again, on October 7th. Notice the star looks like it was created by a bullet in the wall that divides and surrounds the Palestinians in so many ways. With graffiti there are words and symbols for “peace,” “love,” and “freedom” spray-painted behind the Holy Family.
And, finally, I thought about this image, too. It’s called “Jose y Maria” and done by a cartoonist named Everett Patterson. It’s full of clever allusions to the biblical story of Jesus’ birth, which you’ll have fun finding if you look it up and spend some time with it on your own. But you can see the “Smoke Weisman Cigarettes” ad, the neon “Star Beer” sign, the lack of vacancy at the “city of David” Motel, which also cleverly has the word manger included. And I love how Maria is sitting on that penny pony ride, like I used to ride at K-Mart when I was a kid.
Anyway all of this contemporary artwork, in light of the painting that Pastor Cogan shared with us yesterday, reminded me that there’s nothing new under the sun – these beautiful, haunting, faithful attempts at finding relevance and meaning in the Christmas story for our day and age. Banksy, Patterson and Bonhoeffer, too, are just trying to put the season of Advent and the coming of Jesus into some perspective for a world that simultaneously suffers and struggles in so many ways, but longs for the peace and good news and comfort and joy God promises.
And all of that makes me think of the devotional we hope you’re reading spending time with during these Advent days, this time around, courtesy of Kate Bowler. It’s called, simply “The Advent We Actually Have,” which is all we can have, all we can ask for, and all we can do, when it comes right down to it, right?
The Christians in Palestine are left to celebrate and look for God among the rubble and in the darkness and despair and the noise of the war that surrounds them.
Bonhoeffer was left to look for God in the loneliness and uncertainty and fear of his captivity.
Jose and Maria – the Joseph and Mary of every generation – are left to look for Jesus with the hope, curiosity, and fear that go along with an unknown future – and possibly unwanted – an unwanted pregnancy.
And we are left, no matter how much we decorate or dress up or dream about what all of this Advent waiting will mean this time around – with the Advent we actually have, just the same.
“The Advent we actually have” includes the grief that still lingers for so many who’ve lost loved ones and it includes the joy of new life some have celebrate.
“The Advent we actually have” matters for the successful healing and good health that belongs to some and it matters for the diagnoses yet to be delivered to others.
“The Advent we actually have” comes with promise for the budding relationships some are experiencing and it comes for the relationships crumbling like dust that too many others know.
And “the Advent we actually have” comes for those of us – maybe most of us – who have a little bit of all the above in our lives on any given day.
And the good news of grace we’re waiting for, in Jesus, reminds us that God is here for it … that God is here for all of it … that God is here for all of us … no matter where we find ourselves as we make our way to the manger.
Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.
