But if you paid any attention to the title of this post,
you’ll realise it’s not the first or second comings I’m anticipating most this
Advent; it’s the seventh coming, that
is, the arrival of Star Wars Episode VII:
The Force Awakens in cinemas. Yes, that’s right, folks: this year, I’m more
excited about BB-8 than the baby Jesus. I’ve acquired a Star Wars t-shirt; I’ve bought a limited edition copy of Empire magazine (which I hope to sell
for a profit in about thirty years); and I’m taking in as much TFA-related stuff as I possibly can. I’m
more excited about Episode VII than I was about any of Episodes I–III – and I like those films. (Really, I do. They’re
unnecessarily scorned. And my son and I have just re-watched Episodes I–VI in
anticipation of Episode VII.)
As a Christian, I suppose I ought to be ashamed at my
misplaced longing for the seventh coming. But I’m not. I am aware at the
incongruity of looking forward to a film about fictional defenders of a
galaxy’s freedom when my hope and trust is placed in the actual, real-life
Saviour of the entire universe(s), the one through whom is the source of all freedom. But still . . . There
aren’t any lightsabers in the Bible (unless you count Genesis 3:24b).
So to what do I owe my jadedness? Part of it, I’m sure, is
the endless cycle of liturgical seasons. We celebrated Advent last year, and
the year before that. The imminent arrival of TFA is something new, something fresh, something exciting that
promises much – at least for a couple of hours or so. At the risk of sounding
like I prize entertainment over piety, the season of Advent is too familiar.
And despite all the energy and attention that no doubt will be channelled into carol
services, Christmas fairs, and what-not – well, this year, I fear that what
could be life-giving ritual will become soul-draining routine. The whole
process is stale.
Another factor is that TFA
is another chapter in an existing narrative many people have found utterly
compelling; Episode VII will continue a story. But Advent merely reproduces a
story. It’s an important story, to be sure – it’s the story of God’s eternal
Son taking on flesh as the historical person of Jesus of Nazareth. But all too
often, I feel as though the profundity of waiting in anticipation for the
Saviour’s coming(s) is buried underneath the debris of sentimentality and
kitsch.
So what can I do to refocus myself, to shuffle my priorities
into a more appropriate order? How shall I diffuse the Advent ennui that
threatens to engulf? I shall take time to be quiet and reflect during Advent;
nothing too radical. I shall make space to think about why Jesus came a long
time ago to this galaxy, and why Jesus has promised to return. And I shall have
to consider why I’m more excited by BB-8 than the baby Jesus, why I’m more
excited about things of this age (as good as they often are) than things of the
age to come, and what all this says about me at the moment. In these ways, I aim
to find a way past the Victorianized romanticism of the Advent season in
expectation of the Spirit’s awakening of the future.
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