A few weeks ago, the Community of St. Anselm joined Archbishop Justin and the staff of Lambeth Palace to record an Advent service for BBC Radio 4. A choir from St. Martin’s-in-the-fields, my new/for-now home parish, provided the anthems and carols, while my sister Sheelu and I offered short reflections on what Advent means to us and to our homelands. Sheelu spoke beautifully about resilience and awareness, and I encouraged the assembled congregation — and as of the second Sunday in Advent, c. 8 am — about 30,000 listeners around the UK to be amazed this Advent.

An Advent Reflection

“ALMIGHTY God, give us grace that we may cast away the works of darkness, and put upon us the armour of light, now in the time of this mortal life, in which thy Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious Majesty, to judge both the quick and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal; through him who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Ghost, now ever. Amen.”

So wrote Archbishop Thomas Cramner in the 1530s, intending us to say this prayer each day in the Advent season. “Put upon us the armour of light, now in the time of this mortal life”… hearing those words, I doubt Archbishop Cramner could have imagined a mortal life so overflowing with  light and sound and static. For years, I have heard the same message during Advent: slow down, quiet down, put off the Christmas shopping, and try your very best to be small and humble and still in this great thrashing, rushing world of ours. I am not convinced that shutting down and closing in will be enough this Advent.

A few years ago, I had a pre-Christmas season that might have been a bit more recognizable to Thomas Cramner. I was studying for my Master’s in History in Williamsburg, Virginia, home of Colonial Williamsburg, a reconstructed eighteenth century town. People wear breeches and petticoats to work, and from the outside, you would never know the houses have electricity or running water. This was a year already quieter and simpler than most, because of my surroundings, but I was also deep into my research, so there wasn’t much time for shopping or movie marathons. Instead, right at the beginning of Advent, the whole town celebrates the Grand Illumination, with bonfires and gingerbread, mulled drinks and the fife and drum corps. Once it’s dark, there are even fireworks, 1770s style. They are brighter and denser, closer to the ground but so much more vibrant than the fireworks we have today, and their smoke fills the air for hours after.

That night, my friends from church convinced me to climb through the attic of our parish house and up onto its roof. Exhausted from our school work, we huddled together and watched those Technicolor fireworks — in amazement. The same amazement, I believe, that made the Shepherds shout, that made Elizabeth prophesy, and Zachariah sing, the same amazement that filled Mary and directed Joseph, the amazement that flooded the world and will come again in glorious majesty. Do not just be small and quiet and still this Advent, but allow yourself to be amazed. Amazed at the Christ who came into this mortal life and who will come again to reign in Technicolor glory.

For the next few weeks, the full broadcast of the Advent service from Lambeth Palace will be available on the BBC Radio website: https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m000c3f5

---

Visions of Advent, the Incarnation, and Amazement

---

“Christ be our light”

This is a hymn with which I was not familiar, but it has become a sort of anthem for the Community throughout Advent. In the midst of our week-long silent retreat, the meeting of the House of Bishops, and the stress of communal life, we sang this song when we could not express ourselves in any other way. Thankfully, these words allowed us to recognize the darkness around or within us (a silent retreat is not an easy thing, neither is helping to host a conclave of Bishops discussing a document related to LGBT inclusion in the Church of England,) and to remind ourselves of the persistence of Christ’s light and love.

Longing for light, we wait in darkness
Longing for truth, we turn to You.
Make us Your own, Your holy people
Light for the world to see.

Christ, be our light!
Shine in our hearts.
Shine through the darkness.
Christ, be our light!
Shine in Your church gathered today.

Longing for peace, our world is troubled
Longing for hope, many despair.
Your word alone has pow’r to save us.
Make us your living voice.

Longing for food, many are hungry
Longing for water, many still thirst.
Make us Your bread, broken for others
Shared until all are fed.

Longing for shelter, many are homeless
Longing for warmth, many are cold.
Make us Your building, sheltering others
Walls made of living stone.

Many the gift, many the people
Many the hearts that yearn to belong.
Let us be servants to one another
Making Your kingdom come.

---

Advent and Christmas with St. Anselm’s (so far)

A Sampling of Decorations

When Advent’s waiting involves long walks

Community Parties & Festivities

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

A Weekend in Henley-on-Thames

Like so many of my experiences this year, this adventure certainly deserves its own post. For my birthday, I spent a weekend in the country, doing beautiful, Anglophilic things with my friend Bill Redley, who I met a few summers back in Williamsburg. He and his parents offered me the most lovely welcome into their home and their holidays, with walks around Henley, homemade dinner and treats, mulled wine and mince pies in front of a wood fire, and a trip to the local not-quite-a-manor-house. For such a young man, Bill teaches me so much about hospitality, thoughtfulness, and generous friendship. This next “photo essay” is best enjoyed with homemade lemon curd, believe me.

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

---

Wishing you all a Blessed Advent, a Merry Christmas, days full of amazement, and nights full of rest.

Peace – JFL