Traditions are all
around us. They are the beliefs and practices that are passed down from one
generation to the next. They can be family traditions, cultural traditions or
religious ones. If it isn’t Christmas without Grandma’s special sugar cookies,
there is no celebration of Punxsutawney Phil (or Agua Fria Freddie) prognosticating
the approximate end of winter, or fireworks on the Fourth of July, then those
days are just days like any other. Some families eat turkey for Thanksgiving
and ham for Christmas. Some might do it the other way around, both or neither;
it’s all about what they usually do. Some put up the Christmas tree the weekend
after Thanksgiving, others wait until Christmas Eve and yet others do it
sometime in between. Traditions are like that. Even the celebration of Advent,
Christmas and Epiphany are traditions wrapped in traditions. They comfort us in
times of trouble because we don’t have to think about what to do, we just do it
the same way we’ve always done it because, well, because we’ve always done it
that way. They bring people together – but they can separate them as well. Like
with most things, it’s all in how they are used. Still, we celebrate
traditions, even if we don’t always remember quite why.
The story of Jesus begins with lots of tidings, “I bring you glad tidings of great joy,” is a message we
hear and think of angels flying about, singing joyfully in the night sky.
Tidings (which are plural) are news, information, and/or notification. In the
case of Jesus, it was good news, glad tidings, while the messenger bringing the
news of the defeat at Marathon definitely brought ill tidings indeed. Oddly
enough, it’s one of those words we usually only hear at Christmas – and Advent.
It’s a traditional word used in a traditional story told in a traditional way.
But we recognize it for what it is, a notification of a great event that
changed the world.
Theophany is a
word that isn’t in everyday conversation any more than tidings, but it is a
word that is appropriate for consideration during Advent. It comes from the
Greek, theo- for God and –phanein, to show. Together they point to
a manifestation of God that can be seen and heard. Remember the pillar of cloud
that guided the Israelites on the exodus? That was a theophany. The burning
bush that spoke to Moses? Another one. The calls of the prophets were often
theophanies. Probably the one we most think of this time of year is the
appearance of Jesus, the visible and audible presence of God on earth. He was
God and yet not God, a theophany that is also a Christophany, a revelation or
manifestation of Christ after his resurrection. There are also angelophanies,
appearances of angels who speak God’s message. In any case, a theophany is God
made manifest in some manner or other, as the hymn “Songs of Thankfulness and
Praise” (Hymnal 1982, #135, among
others) delineates. We celebrate the theophany of God among us in the
observance of Christmas, welcoming a newborn infant into the world, a world
that will be changed by his presence. He is Immanuel, God with us, theophany.
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