It feels like I’m in Advent, waiting. (I never seem to be in sync with the current liturgical season.) I feel like an old dog trying to find a comfortable spot to lay down—he circles and circles around the same spot, but no angle quite looks comfortable enough to settle on.
I am uncomfortable in my own skin. And there is no where to go or run or do anything. Just wait.
I am not comfortable waiting. But there is no other choice. Only God can fill this God-shaped hole in me. It felt like I was standing on His shoulders back in the summer, now it feels like I’m standing on the edge.
Advent Longing
In the darkness of the season,
in the silence of Mary’s womb,
new life waits and grows.
Hope is shaped in hidden places,
on the edges, in the depths
far from the blinding lights
and deafening sounds of consumer frenzy.
In the darkness and silence of my own life,
I wait,
Iistening for the whisper of angel wings,
longing for a genuine experience of mystery,
hoping for a rekindling of joy
and the establishment of peace.
I lean into the darkness
and silence.
Expectant.
From part of today’s second reading (Philippians 1:9-11), Saint Paul’s prayer:
And this is my prayer:
that your love may increase ever more and more
in knowledge and every kind of perception,
to discern what is of value,
so that you may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ,
filled with the fruit of righteousness
that comes through Jesus Christ
for the glory and praise of God.
There are many good words in these verses to meditate upon. One word that jumps out at me is pure. It reminds me of a quote by Søren Kierkegaard, “Purity of heart is to will one thing.”
In his homily, Father suggested to meditate on the word value. The world’s values? My values? Christ’s values? What is of value?
My daily prayer for Advent this year:
Gracious God,
inspire us this Advent
to make straight our ways
so you can come to us and to our world.
Challenge us to fill in our valleys
by increasing our deeds of charity,
by expanding our times in prayer,
and enlarging our gratitude for all your gifts.
Guide us with the light of your Spirit
to be aware of the rough ways in our relationships
with family, friends, and strangers,
with co-workers, co-learners,
and with those in authority.
Help us smooth out the bumps,
and hills and mountains in the way.
Grant us patience as we pick away at Old Pride’s Peak,
our mountian of self-importance and selfishness.
With your grace may we become less,
so that you can be more present in us.
May we carve out a space in ourselves
where the Prince of Peace, the Wonder Counselor,
can be born.
By all these Advent works
may we prepare a roadway
for a truly holy Christmas.
Amen.
A prayer to begin Advent:
O God,
Grant me your grace as I take up my Advent shovel
to fill in the valleys of neglect
in my prayer and daily life.
May I be zealous in my labors
of straightening out the crooked ways
and leveling the mountains and hills of sin
and false contentment
that block the coming of Christ.
Amen.
I feel like I am always out of sync with the liturgical calendar. Next week starts Advent which leads into Christmas, but I keep thinking about Easter Week. The stories and images of Christmas, Good Friday, and Easter Sunday all seem to overlap and juxtapose for me.
As I searched for an image to put in the sidebar to represent Advent, the coming of Emmanuel, God with us, my favorite song at Easter came to mind. It is the old spiritual song, “Were You There”. It makes everything deeply personal.
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Oh…Sometimes it causes me to tremble…tremble…tremble
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Were you there when they nailed Him to the tree?
Were you there when they nailed Him to the tree?
Oh…Sometimes it causes me to tremble…tremble…tremble
Were you there when they nailed Him to the tree?
Were you there when they pierced Him in the side?
Were you there when they pierced Him in the side?
Oh…Sometimes it causes me to tremble…tremble…tremble
Were you there when they pierced Him in the side?
Were you there when the sun refused to shine?
Were you there when the sun refused to shine?
Oh…Sometimes it causes me to tremble…tremble…tremble
Were you there when the sun refused to shine?
Were you there when they laid Him in the tomb?
Were you there when they laid Him in the tomb?
Oh…Sometimes it causes me to tremble…tremble…tremble
Were you there when they laid Him in the tomb?
When I hear this song, I can close my eyes and suddenly be transported back to that Friday—to the sights, the sounds, the smells. I see Mary and John and the others. I see the shadow of the Cross across the dirt and gravel, the blood beginning to dry along the grain of the wood, the lifeless body above. The air is heavy with sorrow.
Fade into another scene, years before with Mary and Joseph in the stable, the shepherds, the animals, the night sky and the star above. The air is crisp and fresh.
Fade into another scene, an early Sunday morning, the dew is fresh upon the grass, everything is aglow in the golden rays of the rising sun. Mary Magdalene, the apostle to the Apostles, is running with determination back to the others, tears streaming down her face, crying and laughing with renewed joy to tell the good news.