Advent and Adoption

I was going to start this with a rant on how often adoption is presented as an inferior reality in media, but that’s not where I want to go.

In the technical sense, I have never been involved in an adoption, though it is likely, if I choose to have children, that I will be one day. I have, however, seen plenty of examples of just how beautiful adoption can be. I see families who celebrate that this is how they came together. I see love and pride. I see belonging.

Sunday, we recited (ok, I read, because trying to recall a long ago memorized creed while hearing everyone else say it in German, was not going to happen) the Nicene Creed. As always, I struggled with the part about Christ:

And in one Lord, Jesus Christ,

the only begotten Son of God,

begotten of the Father before all worlds,

God of God,

Light of Light,

very God of very God;

begotten, not made,

being of one substance with the Father,

by whom all things were made.

I don’t have a particularly high Christology. I once mentioned this particular struggle to a dear friend of mine (a Biblical Scholar and past Professor of mine), and her answer was to tell me that she had a high theology of adoption. That idea kind of stuck with me, because it expressed perfectly my thoughts.

Adoption is a key piece of the Advent and Christmas stories. According to Matthew, the birth of Jesus is almost all about how Joseph adopted Mary’s son:

Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah1 took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly.

But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.”

All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet: “Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel,” which means, “God is with us.”

When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took her as his wife, but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son; and he named him Jesus. (Mat 1:18-25 NRSV)

Ok, that last bit means maybe it’s not all about Joseph adopting him, and we can talk about the translation of text from Isaiah another time, but that Joseph does marry Mary, names the son, and, presumably, raises him means that the adoption is a significant piece of the story.

What is so powerful about adoption is that it means belonging.

Those of us who have “adopted” family have found a place where we belong, a family who accepts and loves us and whom we accept and love.

“This is my family. I found it, all on my own. Is little, and broken, but still good. Yeah, still good.”

I don’t entirely agree with Stitch…he did not find it all on his own. He found them, and they found him, but otherwise, yes.

Through Jesus, those of us who call ourselves Christians, understand ourselves to be adopted children of God. This is not about bragging that God loves us more, but rather about having found a place we belong. In the family and community of Saints. We belong in a community that challenges us (or should) to live the Christ life. To give of ourselves, to care for others,  to bring about the Kingdom of God on Earth, in the here and now!

In this time of Hope, I am thankful for adoption.