"Christ the King" and Advent

Symbols of our inner world (new thoughts from an older post)

“Christ the King Sunday” (tomorrow) marks the end of another liturgical year. Although “Christ the King” sounds like an ancient observance, it was only instituted in 1925 by the pope. The world had just experienced the bloody madness of World War I, undermining confidence in Western culture and institutions. The Russian Revolution had brought down the monarchy and ushered in the Bolsheviks and the Communist Party. Totalitarian regimes, including the Nazi party in Germany and fascists in Italy, were on the rise, demanding total allegiance.

No wonder that by 1925, with the world order upended, the pope saw an urgent need for people to recenter and refocus – our true allegiance is not to any worldly leader or nation but only to Christ and the kingdom of God.

But W.B. Yeats, the brilliant poet, was way ahead of the pope. Yeats had married Georgie Hyde-Lees in 1917; and interestingly, his well-educated and classically trained wife was given to the practice of “automatic writing,” an experience in which one surrenders one’s agency to the spirit world and produces written words without consciously writing. It is a purported psychic experience in which, pencil or pen in hand, one allows spirits to move one’s hand to write. It sounds ridiculous to reason, but the brilliant Yeats took it seriously and studied the images and symbols that emerged from his wife’s automatic writing.

In 1919, Yeats wrote his most famous poem, “The Second Coming,” which is replete with imagery that has resounded deeply and prophetically with readers for more than a hundred years. (Even Joni Mitchell based a song on it.) The poem opens with memorable and often-quoted images:

Turning and turning in the widening gyre   
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere   
The ceremony of innocence is drowned

The sense of things coming apart, the center no longer holding, the falcon spiraling farther and farther from the falconer, so that he can no longer hear the mastering voice calling to him home. “Anarchy is loosed upon the world,” and with it, “the blood-dimmed tide is loosed,….” The poem evokes remembrance of 20 million people killed in World War I. 

The poem also strikes a chord with us, as we reflect on wars and massive devastation in our own day, including the depravity and crushing violence in places like  Ukraine, Israel, and Gaza, with diplomatic solutions going nowhere. 

And for many Americans, there are lines that evoke images of our chaotic body politic, in which we have lost the art of conversation and respectful debate has been supplanted by ever-coarsening rhetoric that whips up our worst instincts and mutes our better angels:

The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Yeats’ poem certainly calls to mind the outer world of politics, culture, and international violence.  But even more urgently, “The Second Coming” describes our inner world: the rise of loneliness and depression, as well as feelings of despair and a sense that we are losing our moorings, our connection to joy and purpose.

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the center cannot hold.

And for me, the last lines of Yeats’ poem are the most haunting:

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,   
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Again, we might discover the real power of these lines, if we ponder how they describe ourselves and our powerful, inner lives. We all have a rough beast within, slouching towards our Bethlehem to be born. And those who are unconscious of this truth, or who are in denial, can be the most dangerous—to themselves and others.

The idea of “the enemy within” takes on new meaning here: Each of us has our own “enemy within,” and the sure way to empower that enemy is to deny its reality in us and focus instead on enemies “out there,” in others.

Self-knowledge is necessary for spiritual growth. Self-knowledge can be reassuring (“I am within you,” Jesus said), but it is also humbling (“Out of the heart come evil intentions, murder, adultery, fornication, theft, false witness, slander”).

Own your shadow, or it will own you.

The First Sunday of Advent comes right after Christ the King. The scripture for the First Sunday of Advent is about the end of the world; then, we turn our attention to an expected birth in Bethlehem. Again, these stories can be descriptions of our inner world. Some worlds need to fall apart; our old way of living needs end, so that a new birth can take place in us, in our Bethlehem. 

There’s a rough beast slouching to be born in every one of us, but there is another possibility in us, as well. Jesus said we should “keep awake,” because the forces in our mysterious inner lives are unpredictable and can catch us unawares. Over time, we can spiral farther and farther from our center, so that we cannot hear our falconer. Then, we find ourselves saying, “I don’t know what came over me; I wasn’t myself.” When we lose touch with our center, disturbing eruptions of anger and bouts of depression can become commonplace.

When Jesus says, “keep awake,” he does not mean we should keep alert to the failings and erroneous opinions of others so that you can hammer them. That’s the self-righteous work of the rough beast that slouches to be born in everyone. Rather, Jesus says “keep awake,” so that you can recognize this beast but welcome, nurture, and care for the birth of another: an unimposing, but gently mastering, true life within.

Jim Finely likes to say, “That which is essential never imposes itself. That which is inessential always imposes itself.” This is one reason Advent is a season of quiet reflection and watchful, silent attending: The birth we are hoping for is not the birth of a rough beast, but of “a still, small voice” or “the sound of sheer silence” which speaks wordlessly and directly to the heart. Its unimposing message? “Love your enemies, and do good to those who persecute you.”

The amazing revelation is that this One within ourselves is also within our enemies, which calls to mind something Abraham Lincoln said:

“Do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?”

Some things need to fall apart, some worlds need to come to an end, so that something new can be born. Applying this to our own inner lives can mean the gradual overthrow of anger, anxiety, fear, and loneliness, in favor of the birth of a governing Peace that passes understanding.

This doesn’t happen all at once, or once and for all, but day after day; because the inessential always returns, seeking to impose itself. Over time, our daily practice allows us to see our inner lives with greater clarity and to live into the most frequent command in the Bible, both Old Testament and New: “Do not be afraid.”

One voice within will confirm your upset, anger, despair, anxiety, and loneliness, as well as your conviction about just how blatantly wrong your enemy is. Invigorating! Another gently seeks to open us to a more patient Way, a kinder Truth, and a more joyful Life that destroys enemies by making them friends.