An excerpt from "The First Christmas: What the Gospels Really Teach About Jesus’s Birth" by Marcus J. Borg & John Dominic Crossan. Used with the authors' permission.

We turn to our now. What does Advent as a season of repentant preparation mean for American Christians today? The meanings of this season are both personal and political, both internal and external, both inward and outward.

On the personal level, Christmas is about light coming into the darkness of our individual lives, about our return from exile, about inner peace. Indeed, it is about the birth of Christ within us. In the thirteenth century, the Christian mystic Meister Eckhart preached about Christmas as the birth of Christ within us through the union of God’s Spirit with our flesh. So also a line from the familiar nineteenth-century hymn “O Little Town of Bethlehem” affirms the personal meaning: “O holy child of Bethlehem . . . be born in us today.”

And, like the birth stories themselves, the meaning of Advent as a season of repentant preparation is also political. For centuries, this meaning has been eclipsed by the political domestication of the gospel. It began in the fourth century when Christianity became the religion of the Roman Empire and subsequently the dominant religion of Western cultures. The imperial captivity of Advent and Christmas has a long history. But once you see the political meaning of Advent and Christmas, it seems so obvious. Not to see it seems a kind of blindness, whether habituated or willful.

In our time, American Christians need especially to see the political meanings of these stories, for we live in a time of the American empire. Not so long ago, saying that America is an imperial power was a left-wing claim. But it is no longer disputed. Many political conservatives, including those at the highest level of government, not only affirm but celebrate it—the twenty-first century is to be the century of the American empire.

We add that empire is not intrinsically about geographical expansion and territorial acquisition. As a nation, that is not our aim. Rather, empire is about the use of superior power— military, political, and economic—to shape the world as the empire sees fit. In this sense, we are the new Rome.

The responses of American Christians to the American empire cover the political spectrum. They range from enthusiastic support to conventional compliance to uncertainty to timid or assertive protest. In this setting, the anti-imperial meanings of the birth stories raise challenging questions for American Christians. Who are we in these stories?

Are we like the Magi who follow the light and refuse to comply with the ruler’s plot to destroy it? Or are we like Herod, filled with fear and willing to use whatever means necessary to maintain power, even violence and slaughter? Are we among those in Herod’s court who seek to thwart the coming of the true light, the true king, and God’s kingdom?

Are we supporters of the dragon of Revelation, the ancient serpent who seeks to devour the newborn child and to rule the world through intimidation and fear, violence and chaos and to call it peace?

Are we among those who yearn for the coming of the kingdom of justice and peace, who seek peace through justice? Or do we, like advocates of imperial theology, seek peace through victory?

Where do we see the light of the world? Is America, the American empire, the light shining in the darkness? Jim Wallis, in his important book God’s Politics, reports that our president on the first anniversary of the terrorist attacks of September 2001 spoke of America as “the light shining in the darkness.” The statement is remarkably similar to Rome’s claim to be Apollo, the bringer of light. Or do we see the light of the world in Jesus, who stood against empire and indeed was executed by imperial authority?

We are aware that the above might sound like an indictment of our present president and the policies of his administration. But our point is the perennial temptation of imperial power and hubris. The peril comes from the ways of empire, not from a particular president and administration.

To return to who we are and who we might be in the stories of the first Christmas. Are we like Mary, willing to say, “Let it be with me according to your word,” obedient to the role she had been given in bringing about a different kind of world?

What if we were to identify with the shepherds? They represent those of lowly status, the socially and economically marginalized. Or do we, to use words from later in the gospel, identify with “those who put on fine clothing and live in luxury in royal palaces” (Luke 7:25; Matt. 11:8)?

Perhaps few readers of this book fall into either category. But the story of the shepherds invites those of us who have some wealth and influence to become disenchanted elites, no longer mesmerized by the claims of empire to be the light and hope of the world. If we identify with the shepherds, we will dream of and seek a different kingdom, one more and more under the lordship of God as known in Jesus, revealed to them on a starry night as Messiah, Lord, and Savior.

Or are we among those who hear the story of Jesus, but aren’t sure what to make of what we hear? No doubt there were many in this category who heard Jesus during his lifetime. Is this who we are?

We are meant to be changed by Advent and Christmas. This is the sacramental purpose of this season of the Christian liturgical year.

Excerpted with permission from "The First Christmas: What the Gospels Really Teach About Jesus’s Birth" by Marcus J. Borg & John Dominic Crossan. Published by HarperOne, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers.