It was a chill November day when a sleigh pulled up and docked out front of The Screaming Monkey’s Head. The man in the sled had a rather amorphous aspect, looking one way to some, another way to others. Most passers-by were more interested in the sleigh, wondering how the skids managed the cobblestone road as it had not snowed yet this season. And the single reindeer with its felty antlers was a novel sight.
The man disembarked and, for me, he would be wearing a heavy winter coat, red with white cuffs, heavy black boots, possessing a long white majestic beard, bushy white eyebrows, and be, well, rather portly. He laid a finger aside his nose and the front door opened as he walked toward it.
“Nick!” cried Kindly Bob from behind the bar. “It’s been a while. Come, sit, Tommy’s here.”
“Ho Ho, Saint!”
”Ho Ho, yourself you old Saint, and see how you like it.” Thomas of Aquino replied.
Santa walked to the bar and clapped Thomas on the back, sat down and Kindly Bob slipped an opaque glass of Guinness in front of him. “Ah, yes,” said Santa and had himself a healthy swallow. Holding the stout between him and Kindly Bob, he said with a wink, “It’s always darkest afore the dawn.” Wiping the creamy froth from his moustache he turned to Aquinas. “Well, now Tommy, have you been a good boy?”
Aquinas laughed and, as was his wont, became immediately serious. “I’m glad you’re here Nick. It appears you already apprehend I’m having a conversation with some folks about liturgical seasons, and sadly, they are missing the point.” “How so?” “They think it a mini-Lent.”
Aquinas sighed, held up his empty mug, and Kindly Bob walked over with another steaming mug of mulled wine. “Here you go, the drink of choice for the patron saint of The Hermetic Order Of The Ruminantia,” he said. “About which nothing more may be said,” replied both saints with a laugh. They sipped in silence for a moment.
“But Tommy, Canon Law explicitly defines which days and seasons are penitential. And Advent is not listed. So who are these self-proclaimed popes imposing penance on the Church?”
“It’s not really like that, as I suspect you know Nick. The motives are pure. Well maybe. I don’t understand why they simply dismiss Canon Law, hubris maybe. But the motives are at least well-intentioned. They are trying to address something they don’t understand, something that I think they have been distracted from. And it doesn’t help that they can point to various times and areas where a specifically penitential flavor was overlayed, incorrectly, on Advent. But none of those were codified universally, and all were abrogated by current Canon Law.”
“Incorrectly?” “A category error. Not intrinsically wrong. Rather, theologically misaligned. Not saying they had no right in times and places to add a penitential flavor. Just that their intent misses the point, misses the difference between longing and penance.”
Nick turned to Thomas, “Yeah Tommy, I get it. Most people simply don’t understand anticipation and joyful expectation any more.” It was Nick’s turn to sigh. “This Amazon world,” he said and shook his head.
They each took another sip and Aquinas studied the steam rising from his mug, as if the answers may be hinted in the evanescent swirls. Turning to Nick he said, “Amazon?” Santa had been watching Aquinas studying the steam from his mug.
“You need something more corporeal than that steam. We need smoke for this chat,” and he turned only to find Kindly Bob already walking toward them, “Johnnie Walker Double Black seems apropos,” he said, producing two Glencairn glasses and pouring out two doubles. Winking at Nick he held out a pipe. Nick started to reach out and stopped, his heavy white brows raised and he said, “How do you have this?” “Mithrandir left it here before he went West.” Santa reached out and took the pipe reverently, “That was a being who understood smoke,” he said. “And light,” added Aquinas. “And Hope,” said Kindly Bob as he held out a Cuban Montecristo #2 for Aquinas.
They each went through the ritual of lighting their tobacco. Aquinas blew a large, fat, swirling smoke ring, and Nick blew a sharp tight ring through the center. Turning toward Santa, Aquinas said, “Ok, Nick, Amazon.”
“First, bring me up to date on the liturgical season conversation.” Aquinas puffed thoughtfully for a moment. “Spring. Summer. Winter. Autumn.” Turning to Nick, “Each in their own time, each with their own character.” Another puff. “Each its own season, its own meaning, its own end.”
Santa nodded and turned to Kindly Bob. “Remember grapes for me, will you? You’ll know when.” Bob just stared blandly, wiping out a glass. “Go on,” Nick said to Tommy.
“The Church has liturgical seasons. They have their unique characters, their own meaning, their own end.” He took a sip and then another couple of thoughtful puffs. “The Carpenter, remember when he was asked why his disciples weren’t fasting?”
“You don’t fast while the Bridegroom is present,” replied Santa.
“Yes, yes. Consider that. Now, in Advent we do not feast as in Christmas, nor do we fast as in Lent. We long.”
Santa exhaled, his beard shifting like snow drift. “Now using the Northern Hemisphere,” continued Aquinas. “See what we have during Advent. The shortest days, the longest nights. Cold creeping in. Nature is showing the need for anticipation and holy longing and the acceptance of ‘Not yet’. Light is promised but not yet seen.”
“The wisdom of the Church’s seasons…” replied Santa. “Yes, Nick, and what follows Advent?” “Why Christmas, of course!” “Yes, I note well you said, ‘Of course.’ Of course Christmas. Though still dark and bleak and cold, the days are getting longer. The beginning thaw. Joy in the Dark.”
Aquinas paused, and they both sat in silence. Santa added, “The light is promised but not yet seen during Advent.” “A hopeful people living in the dark and cold,” replied Aquinas. “Do go on,” said Santa.
“At Christmas, the light appears when things are still dark, not when everything is perfect.” Another thoughtful pause and puff. “A turning point. After Epiphany, Ordinary time. Growing light, subtle warmth. Beginning of the quiet return to life. Nick, why do you suppose Lent and Easter are when they are? And I’m not talking about moon cycles and technicalities.”
It was Santa’s turn to take a sip and a few contemplative puffs on the pipe. “You subtle master,” he started. “You are talking about metaphor and meaning. Imagery. What is happening during this time?” He sipped his scotch. “The earth is preparing. Cold hard ground is breaking open, the world is preparing for new life.”
“Yes,” replied Aquinas, “complete the imagery.”
“Late winter to early spring, hard ground, discipline, thawing. Preparation.” “Preparation!” cried Aquinas. “Preparation, not anticipation, not longing, not hope. Preparation!”
“Yes,” replied Santa with a hand on the shoulder of Aquinas.
Aquinas smiled at Santa, “And preparation is not anticipation. Note well my friend, the Carpenter’s arrival was anticipated, precisely because the time was unknown, same as is His second arrival. The time is not known. However, his sacrifice, for those with eyes to see and ears to hear, well, He was telling them all along. And that sacrifice is one and done. We no longer anticipate the sacrifice. Rather, we never anticipated the sacrifice. Even when it was right there in the First Covenant. No one saw it.”
He let that sink in.
“We Remember it. Note, there is nothing like Lent before the Carpenter’s arrival in the Jewish calendar.
Santa sat back at this, brow furrowed, cherry glowing in his pipe. Finally, “The Jews absolutely had fasts and penitential observances.” “Yes,” replied Aquinas. “But they were not preparation for a once and for all salvific sacrifice.”
Santa sipped on his Double Black, took his pipe out, looked at it, put it back in his mouth. He said, “I am reminded of a quote attributed to C.S. Lewis.” “Do tell,” said Kindly Bob, startling both saints. Recovering, Santa replied, “A pipe gives a wise man time to think, and a fool something to stick in his mouth.”
Aquinas laughed and Kindly Bob said, “He did say that, and if memory serves, he was sitting where you are now.”
Santa opened his mouth, closed it, then took another puff and with a sideways glance at Kindly Bob, returned to the conversation.
“Yom Kippur?” he asked. “Day of Atonement, a day mind you, not a multi-week season in preparation for a final salvific event.”
“Tisha B’Av?” “Mourning the destruction of the Temple,” Aquinas paused, “Some might try to draw an analogy to the Carpenter saying “Destroy this Temple and I will restore it in Three Days,” but the Jews would never have seen this observance as reflecting on a final salvific act.”
“Three Weeks?” “On the surface could be argued the closest thing to a Lenten observance, in form only, not in meaning. Definitely not with the same end. Mourning of a national catastrophe, not preparation for the salvation of the Universe.”
Santa thought some more. Kindly Bob interjected, “Those are all recurrent fasts and such, not a salvation-hinge season.” “Precisely,” replied Aquinas.
“Whence Lent?” Santa asked. “Nick, you know.” “The Carpenter’s 40 days in the desert, then.” “Yes. Only found in the New Covenant with hints of 40 this and 40 that in the Old.”
Santa puffed a few more contemplative puffs and the other two let the silence stretch. Finally he said, “There is a difference in the focus, the very meaning of each season.”
“Yes, there is,” replied Aquinas, “And blending should not be necessary. The seasons have different ends, and different means to those ends. However, for some reason, people insist it is appropriate to view as having a penitential flavor.”
Kindly Bob reached under the counter and pulled out a bunch of grapes, setting them on the counter before Santa.
“Ah, yes. Let’s talk about Amazon now,” said Santa. “Tommy, these grapes, tell me about them?” “It is not grape season.” “Correct, and yet?” “Here they are.”
Aquinas sat back remembering. “I used to wait in anticipation for grape season. The season was short, and the grapes were all the more special because they came when they came, not when I wanted them.” He puffed luxuriously on his cigar for a moment, took it out and used it to point at the grapes. “The fact these are here now, out of season, well Nick, it does not bring me joy.”
“Maybe you felt no joy because you did not practice penance in anticipation of grapes?”
Aquinas snorted. “Pfft. No.”
Santa turned, adjusted his boot on the stool and regarded Aquinas for a moment. “I get you Tommy, as you know. And of course I agree with you. Amazon. Amazon provides instant gratification. Amazon is the Destroyer of Anticipation.”
“Continue,” said Aquinas.
“Kids used to ask for simple mundane things. Things they had to wait all year for. Balls and Dolls I used to say.” He took a puff. “Now, if someone wants something, if it is not delivered that day or the next, they are angry. No more waiting 6 to 8 weeks after collecting cereal box tops for several weeks and mailing off for the decoder ring or what have you. A person can literally click “Buy now” and their coveted piece of crap arrives that day or the next. There is no anticipation, just desire and frustration. Very little satisfaction when whatever cheap material thing arrives.”
Aquinas turned and adjusted to more squarely face his friend. “People have lost the ability to feel longing, that’s what you are saying?” “Very much so.” “And yet, they know they need to be feeling something, which they translate into the need to be doing something. Something that feels like they are attaching the importance to the season it deserves. They translate holy longing into penitence.”
“I think that is exactly the issue. The motives are pure and sincere. But they’ve lost the ability to feel wonder, feel joy, feel the anticipation. Look at the Christmas Season. In the Secular World, Advent just is the Christmas Season. Parties, decorations, celebrations. Very little anticipation. Mostly frenetic energy, and consumption. And Christmas comes and by that weekend everything is gone, packed away, all the music immediately reverts to secular music. If I may be crass, it reminds me of hookup culture, there is the hunt, the pursuit, the conquest, the one night stand, and then slinking away the next morning.”
Aquinas nodded. “And the spiritual, the good people striving for holiness, they know this is wrong, and they are fighting against the lure and seduction of this instant gratification.”
Santa nodded in response, “Yes, and joyful anticipation doesn’t feel holy enough. It doesn’t feel like they are doing enough, it’s not active. Hence the pivot to penance, making Advent a mini-Lent.”
“Yes,” replied Aquinas. “It is easier to do penitential things, especially when you’ve lost the ability to be receptive, lost the felt understanding of joyful anticipation. The fruit of Joy is absent because charity has been disordered. It is harder to receive grace worthily than to perform many works.”
Aquinas sipped some Scotch and intoned,
“So is the kingdom of God, as if a man should cast seed into the ground;
And should sleep, and rise night and day, and the seed should spring and grow up, he knoweth not how.”
— Mark 4:26–27 (KJV)
“Yes, the quiet and unseen power of the receptive earth,” replied Santa.
“As always happens when good friends meet and work towards Truth, you have given me an insight.”
“Let’s have it Tommy.”
“Mary’s fiat.”
Santa sat, letting that sink in. Aquinas considered his cigar and waited. Kindly Bob unobtrusively refilled their glasses.
After a moment, Kindly Bob said brightly, “Receptive.”
“Ahh, yes,” said Santa. “Tommy, you are saying there is a fundamental and critical distinction between the two seasons.” “Yes.” “And given our current world, that distinction is difficult to perceive.” “Yes.”
“Advent is passive, reflective, receptive. God is coming to us in his own time. The only requirement of us? Be open and receptive. Not perfect. Not active. Receptive.”
“Yes, Nick. And Lent?”
“Active. We repent and turn or return to God.”
“Correct. Advent and Christmas, it is God who initiates the movement. He is coming to us. Lent, however, we initiate the movement; we are called to turn, to return, to God. The difference, Nick, the difference is Divine Initiative vs human striving.”
“But Tommy, people say that Advent is a season of preparation and what better preparation than penance?” “People say all kinds of things, don’t they,” Aquinas replied with a dismissive wave of his cigar, dislodging the 3 inch ash he had been cultivating. “Well, gosh darn it to the bad place,” he said.
“Language, Tommy, language,” said Kindly Bob.
“No, you’re right Nick,” said Aquinas. ”My response? Mary and Martha Nick. Mary and Martha.”
Santa smiled broadly, and saluted Aquinas by touching his pipe stem to his cap. “Mary chose the better part.” Then, raising his brows again, “Both Marys.”
Aquinas put his cigar down in the ash tray, stood and bowed to Santa and said, “Thanks, time for evening prayer. Always a pleasure Nick.” Santa smiled and nodded and watched Aquinas leave the bar. Turning to Kindly Bob he said, “Switching back to Stout, Bobby my boy.” Kindly Bob went to get a fresh glass.