He is great who gives himself
By: Haig Shishmanian
Tags: Christmas, Advent

I began learning about Advent in my early 20s living through the bitter winters of the Central Anatolian Steppe, where, absent of country-wide celebrations, one or few had to make Christmas their own. In recent years, liturgical churches (Anglican, Orthodox, Catholic, and others) have shone in helping me understand its wonder. The church has had a great Advent calendar, going back at least a millennia and a half: East, West, Jerusalem — none celebrate before Christmas. All do a great job of keeping Advent.

“Praeparatio evangelica” was an early Christian term referring to the need for a society or culture to be prepared to receive the Word of Christ. Advent literally means arrival, and is the season in which Christians historically remembered what it was like for God’s Word to have been not yet Incarnate as Jesus Christ , in preparation of celebrating that great event.

Jews today commemorate the re-dedication of the second Temple on Hanukkah; Advent is a Hanukkah for the soul, a fast of re-dedication of the temples, us, created in God’s image, called to shine that light of God which shone into our dark world not too many years ago.

This is a season to re-dedicate, to give him back our hearts, wondering what do I need to stop doing? What must I begin doing? What needs to go? What needs to stay? Advent is not a time to eat, drink, and be merry: That’s what Christmas is for. Advent is a time to prepare, not to necessarily receive Christ for the first time, but to grow as people called to die to themselves and receive more of God every day. In my book, the better the Advent fast, the more glorious the Christmas feast.

I am in love with the TV series, The Crown. I firmly believe it’s good for the soul. One of my favorite scenes (yes, I’m caught up) comes in the first episode, “Wolferton Splash”: The emotive solo from the hymn “In the Bleak Midwinter” by Christina Georgina Rossetti, sung by none other than ailing King George VI. I’m regularly moved to tears at the thought of this scene, the great monarch humbled to sing lyrics a poor child might offer the Baby King:

“What can I give Him, poor as I am? If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb; If I were a wise man, I would do my part; Yet what can I give Him? Give Him my heart.”

What is greatness? In my spiritual formation class, I’ve been thinking about the people who’ve had the most profound influence on my life. One of them, a dear family friend, knew my parents well before I was born, became an uncle-figure to me, and later would be both my calculus professor and spiritual mentor.

My mentor is great for many reasons: He is hospitable, generous, intelligent, friendly, diligent, and radically godly. But I believe one thing alone makes him truly great: This accomplished and busy man gave me, and many others, the time of day, regularly. For years, each week, he spent hours with me to understand how I was doing, to encourage, challenge, and help me along my path of maturity. He gave the greatest gift anyone can give: The time of day. That is, he gave of himself.

My mentor’s example and the hymn “In the bleak midwinter” speak volumes of the meaning of Advent and Christmas together. They tell of the birth of the God-man, destined to live, die, and rise again for others, His own, arriving in the bleakest, darkest, humblest of circumstances — a virgin’s womb, a shelter for draft animals. God himself gave of Himself.

This year and each year, let us consider how we have lived lives unworthy of the love of the Great One, who has come in His great love anyway, bearing the gift of Himself.

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*Image as first published in Scribner’s Monthly (January 1872). Taken from Wikimedia. In the Public Domain.