Advent is about the coming of the King.
Yes, that this King is fully God and fully man is properly part of the Advent proclamation. But we mustn’t exclude the fact of Christ’s Kingship from the gospel news. Afterall, proclaiming a new deity from the East would not have brought-down upon the early Christians the hammer of Rome. New mystery cults were all the rage. Do you have a new deity? A new sun-god? A new spirit to be worshipped? Great! Add him or her to the pantheon. There’s room for everyone in the Imperial list of gods and goddesses.
But, of course, there’s only room for one Lord and King. That is reserved for Caesar.
Christianity was a threat to the Emperor’s representative, Pontius Pilate, precisely for this reason. The death of Christ was permitted by the governor as a course of political expediency: this Galilean was laying claim to a world too small for two such rulers. And Rome did not bow. Rome was made of iron and clay, after all.
In our day and age there is much chatter about the “politics of the kingdom”. Often these voices are only differentiated by which portions of Scripture to which they take exception. And while I think some good must come from Christians thinking and writing clearly about what shape a truly Christian politics ought to take, that is not my intention here. I’ll merely commend, in all seriousness, The City of God for now and hope that at least such a recommendation begets fruitful reflection.
My intention here is to suggest that Advent offers us the opportunity for personal and communal (by which I mean the real and embodied communities with whom we worship and observe Advent) reflection on our surrender and allegiance to the King for whom we wait. “Grant me grace, O Lord, to grow in fealty” is a good Advent prayer. It can color our practices of confession and repentance: “I have failed to live like He is truly a king… I have grumbled against the commands of his kingdom… I have perjured against his citizens…etc.”
In just a few days, we will celebrate the birth of this King. We hold it among the highest of festivities precisely because he is the best and greatest of all kings. For He is the king who gives his life for his people. That is the truly kingly thing to do. And in doing so He makes us heirs with him in that kingdom. And it is as heirs that He invites us not to escape the call to give our lives for others, but to fellowship with Him in the kingly act of laying-down our lives; taking-up our crosses and following after Him.
All of the exercises of Christmas participate in this regal action: we give gifts; we devote time and money; we lay down our desires for “a nice quiet evening” in order to make room for the uncomfortable proximity of fellow parishioners, relatives, and neighbors (people we didn’t choose to be close with); we take part in exhausting skype marathons with toddlers; we stand in stifling kitchens for hours; serve in soup-kitchens; attend extra church services… We do these things because it is royal to lay-down our lives, and because we have spent all Advent praying royal prayers, waiting for the King of Kings.