Published With Thanksgiving

Around this time of year I begin to feel pulled in two different emotional directions. On the one hand, I’m excited that in a few days we’ll crank up our collection of Christmas music, put up our decorations, and enjoy the fact that the holly-jolly time of year has come once again. But, at the same time, I’m a little sad. The few CDs that are marked to be played only in November will soon be stowed away, for another year. And as much as I love the fun and activity of December, I have equally grown to love the quiet weeks before Thanksgiving when night falls early and it seems the holiday season will go on and on.

In the midst of this time comes Christ the King Sunday (or, if you want less masculine and medieval language the Reign of Christ Sunday). It’s a rather new, liturgically speaking, day in the calendar. One that, it seems to me, most people are still trying to put a finger upon. Not to say that I have. But as it rolls around, it’s a day that blends rather well with how I feel both about the season of the year and the season of life I’m currently living through.

Right after Thanksgiving this year we plunge once again into Advent—a season that celebrates not just waiting but anticipation. We look forward not just to Christmas, but to that future advent. Something (someone) is coming, we know. Something new and wonderful and life changing (which means it’s probably not something you’ll find at a Black Friday sale) is drawing near. It’s something that we’ve long been waiting for and, man-oh-man it’s nearly here.

But this Sunday and the week that follows isn’t yet in the Advent season. It’s still Thanksgiving time which is about what is. It’s about the right now including the people (and animals) who are a part of that now. It’s about where we are in life, what we’re doing. It’s a time to look around and be thankful for it all.

That should be easy for me. With, as the prayer says, the “loving care” that surrounds me, I should be able to bask in this quiet present rather than want to rush on to the breathless anticipation that comes when the long wait is nearly over. I should be taking in the moment rather than looking toward the eastern horizon for a glimpse of what’s on its way. Because, I should be able to see that what is coming is wonderful, yes. But that it is no more wonderful than what has come and what is.

This Sunday, to me, we are called to remember that Jesus has already been placed above every name. It’s a day (and a week following) that, in the midst of my beginning to look toward that future redemption of all things, I must also turn my eyes to look around and see that redemption is already happening. It’s a day to remember that even in the period of waiting, when things seem like they’ll never change; there is a moment that contains its own joys and, I suppose, its own piece of redemption.

And it’s a day to remember that even as I wait I cannot forget to be thankful for this moment that not so long ago I was waiting for with anticipation.

Thank you for the moment.