Advent Sunday.

Four Sundays before Christmas, the advent season begins with Advent Sunday. That’d be today, 1 December 2024. (Next year it’ll be 30 November. It moves.)

Our word advent comes from the Latin advenire, “come to [someplace].” Who’s coming to where? That’d be Jesus, formally coming to earth. We’re not talking about the frequent appearances he makes here and there to various Christians and pre-Christians. It refers to the two formal appearances:

1. His first coming, when he was born in the year 7BC, which is what we celebrate with Christmas.
2. His second coming, when he takes possession of his kingdom. Hasn’t happened yet. Maybe it’ll happen within our lifetimes. Maybe not.

Many American Evangelicals have lost sight of the advent tradition, figuring it’s only a Roman Catholic thing—as if American Catholics haven’t likewise lost sight of this tradition. In the United States we’ve permitted popular culture to define the Christmas season for us. And of course popular culture much prefers Mammonism. Gotta buy stuff for Christmas! Gotta boost the retail economy. How much did people spend on Black Friday weekend? How early did you put up your Christmas lights and inflatables? Gotta buy seasonal Christmas food and drinks, and go to Christmas parties and give Christmas gifts, and fly home for Christmas to be with family, or at least send them expensive gift cards so they can go shopping.

Popular culture reduces the advent season to advent calendars: Those 25-day calendars which count down from 1 December (regardless of when Advent Sunday actually starts). Every day you get a little piece of chocolate-flavored shortening, unless you bought the calendars made with the good chocolate, with the cacao beans hand-picked by slave labor. Or bought one of those advent calendars with different treats—like Lego minifigures, or a different-flavored coffee pod each day (admittedly I really like this one), or a daily bottle of wine—

It actually turns out these bottles are table markers, but this photo’s been making the rounds of the internet described as an advent calendar. Still, you can easily find wine advent calendars on almost every wine-seller’s website. Pinterest

—which, if you drink it all by yourself, means you’re an alcoholic. These 25-day calendars are pretty much the only “advent” most American Christians know about. And on the years where Advent Sunday falls in November, they’ve no idea they’ve been shortchanged.

As for the rest of the Christmas season: Nobody’s actually getting ready for Jesus. We’re getting ready for Christmas. We’re getting ready for pageants and parties and gift-giving. Wrong focus and attitude—meaning more humbug and hypocrisy, more Santa Claus and reindeer and snowmen somehow brought to life without the aid of evil spirits.

And less Jesus and good fruit and hope.

You see the problem. It’s why so many Christians dislike Christmas. Too much fake sentiment. Too much “magic.” Too many feigned happy smiles when really they don’t like what so much of the “season” is about.

So lemme recommend an alternative: Let’s skip the Christmas season, and focus on the advent season. Let’s look to Jesus. He’s coming back, y’know. Could return at any time.

Thanksgiving Day.

In the United States, we have a national day of thanksgiving on November’s fourth Thursday.

Whom are we giving thanks to? Well, the act which establishes Thanksgiving Day as one of our national holidays, provides no instructions whatsoever on how we’re to observe it. Or even whom we’re to thank.

Resolved by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of America in Congress assembled, That the last Thursday in November in each year after the year 1941 be known as Thanksgiving Day, and is hereby made a legal public holiday to all intents and purposes and in the same manner as the 1st day of January, the 22d day of February, the 30th day of May, the 4th day of July, the first Monday of September, the 11th day of November, and Christmas Day are now made by law public holidays.

—77th Congress, 6 October 1941
House Joint Resolution 41

The Senate amended it to read “fourth Thursday in November,” and President Franklin Roosevelt signed it into law. So it’s a holiday. But left undefined, ’cause our Constitution won’t permit Congress to pick a national religion, nor define religious practice. Article 6; Amendment 1 Not that Congress doesn’t bend that rule on occasion. Making “In God We Trust” our national motto, fr’instance.

Though our government is secular, the nation sure isn’t. Four out of five of us Americans call ourselves Christian. (I know; we sure don’t act it. Look at our crime rate. Look at the people we elect.) Regardless, a supermajority of us claim allegiance to Jesus, which is why we bend the Constitution so often and get away with it. Our presidents do as well; our first president was the guy who first implemented a national Thanksgiving Day.

Now therefore I do recommend and assign Thursday the 26th day of November next to be devoted by the People of these States to the service of that great and glorious Being, who is the beneficent Author of all the good that was, that is, or that will be.

—President George Washington, 3 October 1789

Yeah, Americans point to other functions as our “first Thanksgiving.” Usually a harvest celebration by the Plymouth colonists and the Wampanoag Indians in 1621. Although technically the first Christian thanksgiving day on the continent was held by the Spanish in Florida in 1565—followed by another in Texas in 1598, and another by the Virginia colonists as early as 1607.

Over time, colonial custom created a regular Thanksgiving Day, held in the fall. Sometimes governments declared a Thanksgiving Day, like the Continental Congress declaring one for 18 December 1777 after the Battle of Saratoga. But Washington’s declaration in 1789 didn’t fix the day nationally—and he didn’t declare another till 1795. States set their own days: In 1816, New Hampshire picked 14 November, and Massachusetts picked 28 November.

It wasn’t till 1863 when it did become a regular national holiday:

I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens.

—President Abraham Lincoln, 3 October 1863

Lincoln and his successors declared Thanksgiving every year thereafter.

Thanksgiving. The prayer, not the day.

In the United States, on November’s fourth Thursday, we celebrate a national day of thanksgiving. Today I’m not talking about the day itself though. I’m talking about the act.

Americans don’t always remember there’s such a thing as an act of thanksgiving. Our fixation is usually on the food, football, maybe the parade, maybe the dog show. If you’re pagan, you seldom even think to thank God… or anyone. Instead you conjure up some feeling of gratitude. You have a nice life, a decent job, good health, some loved ones, and got some stuff you’ve always wanted. Or you don’t have these things, but you’re grateful for the few things you do have. Or you’re not grateful at all, and bitter… and in a few minutes, drunk.

But this feeling of gratitude isn’t directed anywhere. Shouldn’t you be grateful to someone or something? Shouldn’t there be some being to thank?

And that’s a question many a pagan never asks themselves. I know of one family who thanks one other. Civic idolaters might be grateful to America or the president, as if they consciously gave ’em anythng. Those who love their jobs might be grateful to their bosses and customers. But pagans generally suppress the question by drowning it with food and drink. (And maybe thanking the person who prepared the food. But just as often, not.)

Even among the Christians who remember, “Oh yeah—we’re thanking God,” a lot of the thanking is limited to saying grace before the meal: “Good bread, good meat, good God let’s eat.” Although every once in a while somebody in the family might say, “And now let’s go round the table, and everybody say one thing you’re thankful for.” A game nobody enjoys but them… although I myself have come up with a lot of outrageous answers to that question, which amuse me at least.

But enough about Thanksgiving Day and its not-so-religious customs and behavior. The practice of thanksgiving isn’t limited to just this one day. If you wanna practice more actual, authentic thanksgiving in your relationship with God, great! I’m all for that. So’s God. But it means way more than thanking God only once a year, on the government-approved day set aside for it.

The Christian’s marital duties.

1 Corinthians 7.1-9.

Right after the apostles write about unchastity, they get to a question one of them (probably Paul) was asked in a letter—a question Paul quotes in verse 1—“[Is it] good for a person to not be bound to a woman?” By “person” the writer no doubt meant “man,” or himself.

And the reason he asked was because of the second coming. Y’know how some Christians constantly say, “Jesus could return at any time!” or “The rapture could take place at any time!” Well, Christians were also saying that back then. Yep, even before Revelation was written. Yep, even before Darbyists claim certain End Times events which have to take place first (in their timelines, anyway) took place first. Christians have always expected Jesus to return in their lifetimes; ever since he was raptured and an angel told the first apostles, “This same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven.” Ac 1.11 KJV

Okay, so if Jesus is coming back at any minute… should we get married and have children? Should we plan for the future if we might not even have a future?

Paul might’ve been astounded to learn Jesus delayed his return for centuries. (It’s gonna be 20 entire centuries in 2033!) But even so, he knew we can’t just sit on our hands and do nothing while we wait. We gotta be busy doing good. So if we’re married, be a good spouse. And if we’re not married… you don’t have to get married, but if you wanna, it’s okay. Jesus hasn’t done away with marriage. He will after the resurrection, Lk 20.34-36 because immortal people don’t need to reproduce; no generation is gonna pass away and need replacing! But right now, Christians die, and do need replacing, and we either need to make new disciples by conversion, or literally make ’em via childbirth.

So here’s where the apostles say all this.

1 Corinthians 7.1-9 KWL

1You write me about whether it’s good

for for a person to not be bound to a woman.

2Because of unchastity,

each man, have your own woman,

and each woman, have your own man!

3Man, do your duty to your woman!

Likewise, woman to your man!

4The woman doesn’t have authority over her own body,

but her man does—

likewise the man doesn’t have authority over his own body,

but his woman does.

5Don’t cheat one another!

Unless it’s out of consent, for a time,

so you might have time to pray—

and then you can be together again,

so Satan can’t tempt you for your lack of self-control.

6I say this as permission, not a command.

7I want every person to be like me.

But each person has their own gift from God,

one like this, one like that.

8I tell the unmarried and widows:

If they can live like I do, good for them!

9And if they can’t control themselves, marry!

—for it’s better to marry than burn.

The prayers of a righteous person.

James 5.16-18.

When Christians teach on prayer (like I’m doing right now), many of us like to quote this passage:

James 5.16-18 KWL

16So confess your sins to one another

and pray for one another so you can be cured.

The petition of one who works rightly is very strong.

17Elijah was the very same sort of human as we are.

He prayed a prayer for it to not rain,

and it didn’t rain upon the land for 3 years, 6 months.

18He prayed again and the sky gave rain,

and the land produced its fruit.

The two points we zero in on are, as the KJV puts it, “The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much,” Jm 5.16 KJV and “Elijah was a human like us.” Jm 5.17 NRSVue And usually what we teach about this, is how we oughta be a good man like Elijah—and you see what Elijah’s prayers actually achieve. Dude stopped the weather. Just like Jesus! But for years—he triggered a drought, and wrecked the economy of his country for half a great tribulation.

The rather obvious problem with this interpretation of this passage, though: It ties whether we get what we pray for, to our goodness. To our good karma. To whether we deserve to get our prayers answered, ’cause we’ve been good boys and girls, and we’re not on the naughty list. Conversely, the reason we don’t get what we ask for, is ’cause we are on the naughty list, and God is withdrawing any blessings till we shape up. Stop sinning or you might never get cured of cancer.

Yeah, that’s the wrong interpretation. Everybody remember what it is that makes us Christians righteous? Faith. Righteousness comes by faith. We trust Jesus, so we’re considered righteous. Exactly the same as when Abraham believed God, and God considered him righteous. Ro 4.3, Ga 3.6, Jm 2.23

So what does δικαίου ἐνεργουμένη/dikéu energuméni, “one who works rightly,” describe? One who does faith-works. The sort of person James writes about in chapter 2—those Christians whose faith actually changes their behavior, gets ’em to do stuff, because they trust Jesus just that much.

And no, I’m not talking about “the Christian faith” changing our behavior. I don’t mean orthodox Christian theology; I don’t mean religion. Neither does James. I mean we obey Jesus’s teachings. We follow the Holy Spirit’s leading. We hear from him in prayer and act accordingly. We behave like we actually believe what Jesus tells us.

The prayers of an active Jesus-follower is very strong.

Flee unchastity!

1 Corinthians 6.15-20.

CHASTITY 'tʃæs.tə.di noun. The state or practice of abstaining from nonmarital or illicit sexual intercourse.

2. The state or practice of abstaining from all sexual intercourse.

[Chaste tʃeɪst adjective, unchaste ən'tʃeɪst adjective, unchastity ən'tʃæs.tə.di noun.]

Yep, today’s bible passage has to do with sex, and if the subject offends you, stop reading. But bear in mind I write these articles to explain what the apostles would’ve thought, given they lived in the first-century Roman Empire. If you’d much rather hear preachers guess what they thought, based on their own beliefs, prejudices, and hangups—conservative or liberal—okay, go find a church where the pastor never, ever challenges your beliefs, or a bible commentary which does likewise, and enjoy your blissful ignorance. Me, I’d rather grow.

So, chastity. Most English-speakers are more familiar with the second definition I listed above, and assume chastity is the very same thing as celibacy. It’s not. One can be chaste and sexually active. Chastity has to do with proper sexual activity, and by “proper” I certainly don’t mean what society thinks is proper; I mean within the very few limitations God has put on human sexual activity. And contrary to certain repressed Christians, he hasn’t put many! They have, because their parents have, because their grandparents have, and so on back till they’re entirely sure their tradition originates with God, not men.

True, when the apostles object to πορνεία/porneía, “unchastity” (KJV “fornication,” NIV “sexual immorality”), yes they largely are reflecting Pharisee custom. (Paul grew up Pharisee; Ac 23.6 Sosthenes, if he’s the same Sosthenes who was Corinth’s synagogue president, Ac 18.17 was definitely Pharisee.) And Pharisees actually didn’t define chastity as the Law of Moses prescribed it… because the Law accommodated the polygamous culture of ancient western Asia, which included multiple wives and concubines. Yep, in the Old Testament, men could have multiple wives and multiple girlfriends, and it wasn’t considered adultery. This fact still regularly blows Christians’ minds. Totally true though.

So why did Pharisee custom differ? The Greeks. Alexander of Macedon had conquered the Persian Empire by 330BC, making Judea now part of his empire. Judea was ruled by Greek-speaking empires and Greek-speaking kings ever after—some of whom had heavily adopted Greek culture. And a big part of Greek culture was monogamy. True, often it was serial monogamy, with divorce after divorce; but polygamy quickly became a no-no among Judeans who feared offending their Greek-speaking overlords. By the time Pharisees showed up after the Maccabean revolt (165–60BC), Judeans had been largely monogamous for more than a century. So monogamy (and, unfortunately, frequent divorce) was now part of Pharisee culture too. Adultery and chastity was now defined by that standard. Not—yeah, this is still mindblowing—the bible.

Although since the apostles wrote the New Testament, now monogamy is biblical; now adultery and chastity are based on monogamy. If you wanna be in Christian leadership, you gotta be “a one-woman man,” Tt 1.6 or one-man woman; you can’t be unchaste; you can’t be promiscuous. And if every Christian’s gonna strive for spiritual maturity, that’s the standard we have to strive for. That’s the standard the apostles expected Corinth to strive for. But, to their irritation, Corinth was still full of spiritual infants, and they were still—as we know from today’s passage—merrily fornicating away with temple prostitutes. Among other things.

Really don’t wanna go to church.

There’s a guy whose blog I’ve been following for years. For the past five years he’s really amped up his message to everybody to quit their churches. Stop going, he says. Just stop; stay home. You’ll be a lot happier.

And I get it. There’ve been times in my life where I didn’t wanna go to church either. I didn’t try to drag people away from church along with me, like this guy; I figured if you like church, you do you. But for me, nah.

For the usual excuses.

I HAVE ANOTHER CHURCH. Back in college I used the excuse, “I already have a church.” It was 100 miles away, and impractical to visit every Sunday, and that was my excuse for ditching all the nearby churches—none of which I cared for. I did go to church whenever I went home for the usual college breaks. But when I was at school, I figured it was okay if I missed 10 weeks of church services.

CHAPEL COUNTS. Plus my school had daily chapel services. So they became my other excuse that semester. Me and a lot of other students.

DON’T GOTTA GO EVERY WEEK. Which… is actually true. If you’re in leadership (as I often am), you’re obligated to be there weekly. But if not, you can miss a Sunday morning from time to time. Of course when I was in my don’t-wanna-go phase, it wasn’t just time to time; it was a lot of Sundays. I know a number of Christians who only attend once a month, and of course there are those twice-a-year Christians who only attend Easter and Christmas. (If that; nowadays they can watch these services on YouTube.)

“I have freedom in Christ, y’know,” was my usual excuse for inconsistent attendance. And I do… but in context that passage is about freedom of conscience, Ro 14 not the freedom to be irresponsible.

I CAN DO THIS ON MY OWN. Years before, when I was really annoyed with the people of my church, this was my excuse for a few weeks. ’Cause I totally can do all this stuff on my own:

• Pray?—no problem.
• Sing worship songs?—easily done.
• Learn from fellow Christians?—I have their books; nowadays I have the internet; I got content.
• Study the bible?—sure.
• Tithing? Well kinda. I could donate money to myself for “religious” expenses. Or I could give that money to charity. Or I could spend all of it at a Peets one afternoon while I sit there reading some Christian book; wouldn’t that totally count?
• Take holy communion? I could eat saltines and grape juice on my own, and call it communion. But the vital element in communion is, y’know, actual communion—with fellow Christians. So that makes it tricky.

As are all our other rituals which require the participation of fellow Christians. Plus evangelism: Once you share Jesus with someone, where do you take ’em so they can be taught Christianity and mentored? Well I could do it by myself… but that’d mean I’m starting a church, right?

There are plenty more excuses. Some of them get pretty complex, and as a result they kinda merit whole articles, because it takes a little time to take these excuses apart. But for many a Christian, any excuse will do.