Christmas, for us northern-dwellers, is the co-incidence of an astronomical event and the incarnation of God as a baby. Two truths, of very different sorts. When darkness is at its longest, the world turns, but almost imperceptibly. In a world captivated by the powers of domination, God enters, but as a human baby.
I am tired of the armor of masks and physical distancing. I want the armor of light! Our dark ordeal fuels an Advent longing further intensified by our many constraints. We simply cannot do the many things that we want to do to lighten our spirits. As plant and animal life goes underground in these short cold days, so are we forced inward again, into our houses, our small social bubbles and into ourselves.
