I’m in the middle of William Craig’s book, The Fall of Japan: The Final Weeks of World War in the Pacific. I read another of his books, Enemy at the Gates, over the summer. Both are good, in-depth books, that take broad issues of history and distill them down to individual people and events. Such historical storytelling is always helpful in understanding a time and a place different than our own. Learning about people and a series of small events that make up a larger arc of history is fascinating and enriching. It adds dimension to things I think I understood, by showing me entry points into a narrative I assumed I already knew.

As I’ve gotten older, I have been surprised that this sort of non-fiction is appealing to me. As a student in high school and college, I was somewhat ambivalent about history. I could learn history and do well enough on tests, but it was an endurance class for me, not something I enjoyed. Maybe it’s the nuance of individual persons that grabs me more than dates and facts.  When I read such books, I’m not really memorizing the particulars of the narrative, just adding shapes and lines to the mental sculpture that I envision when I think about certain topics.

The Advent and Christmas Seasons remind me that I’ve had this affinity for some time. I like the Advent Season for a whole bunch of reasons, but one of them is the storytelling of this season.  It is unlike any other time of the church year. We hear a series of particular stories that add to the general sense of the understanding we have of the Incarnation – the arrival of Jesus into the world. Of course, there are Mary and Joseph and how they each learned about their Son.  There are Elizabeth and Zechariah, and their son, John the Baptist and their story. There is Gabriel the angel, and all the persons in the events of Christmas night, too.  There’s Simeon, who, while not in the Christmas story, per se, plays an illustrative role early in Jesus’ life, just after his birth.  

The more time that elapsed after Jesus’ death and ascension, with each Gospel written in the 100 years after those events, we get more of the small story, to help us understand the big story. The earliest Gospel, Mark, doesn’t have a birth narrative or a back story, it simply begins with Jesus, the adult, and his cousin, John, who helped establish his credibility as a leading candidate for Messiah.  Matthew and Luke, written later, are going deeper into the story to set the stage and filling in bits and pieces the Church might not have known it was missing right away, but immediately latched on to, nonetheless.

I always think I know a lot about WWII, and then I read something and realize there’s more to it; more layers, more nuance, more otherwise anonymous people whose lives affected the outcome of such a monumental time in history. When I don’t let the Advent Season slow me down, I tend to think I have Christmas handled. I know all about what Christmas is.  Undoubtedly, though, when I spend time with the stories that make up “the story,” I find richness there. Another layer. Another nuance. Another invitation into the awe and joy of this season. I’m going to try not to let such stories get by me this time.

Tom+

Merciful God, who sent your messengers the prophets to preach repentance and prepare the way for our salvation: Give us grace to heed their warnings and forsake our sins, that we may greet with joy the coming of Jesus Christ our Redeemer; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Photo Credit: Fall of Japan book cover via Amazon.com; Gospel of Luke by Sherah Martin via dreamstime.com subscription.