'My soul is poor and bare of virtues,
the straws of so many imperfections
will prick You and make You weep;
but O, my Lord, what can You expect?
This little is all I have.
I am touched by Your poverty...
Jesus, honor my soul with Your presence,
adorn it with Your graces.
Burn this straw
and change it into a soft couch
for Your most holy body.
'Jesus, I am here waiting for Your coming.
Wicked men have driven You out
and the wind is like ice.
Come into my heart.
I am poor, but I will warm You
as well as I can....
'I want to adore You,
to kiss You on the brow, O tiny Jesus,
to give myself to You once more, forever.
Come, my Jesus, delay no longer.
Come, be my Guest.'
'The nine months draw to a close, and our Lord's last act is to journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem. It is toward us, as well as toward Bethlehem, that He is journeying. He is about to leave His home a second time for the love of us. As He had left His uncreated home in the bosom of the Father, so is He now going to leave His created home that He may come to us and be still more ours.'
Because many are pressed for time during this busy season, most of the posts here during the rest of Advent will be brief thoughts or prayers. I know that I, for one, am in need of ongoing reminders of the Presence of Christ in what could be hectic, stressful days.
If things go as I expect, we will start by thinking about how we can spend this season with God 'in the midst of the world.' Then the final week of Advent can (ideally) be spent going more deeply into silence.
Will things work out that way?
I expect that either they will or they won't. Now, how's that for a plan?
'How to find Christmas peace in a world
of unrest? You cannot find peace on the outside but you can find peace
on the inside, by letting God do to your soul what Mary let Him do to
her body; namely, let Christ be formed in you....
'As He was physically formed in her, so
He wills to be spiritually formed in you. If you knew He was seeing
through your eyes, you would see in every fellowman a child of God. If
you knew that He worked through your hands, they would bless all the day
through.' Bishop Fulton J. Sheen
Sometimes the activities
of Advent and Christmas can feel like an intrusion. Day to day life is more or
less put on hold by an urgent need to shop and wrap and plan. Chairs and tables
are displaced by, of all things, a tree in the middle of our house. There
is no time to do ordinary things, as everyday life is seriously disrupted for
weeks on end. It can seem like a major interruption.
A few years ago, the truth of it hit me.
This is what Christmas has been since the instant of the Incarnation: an interruption.
Please stay with me here, because our first reaction to the word “interruption”
could be negative. But interruptions are often quite positive, and this
Interruption was the most positive of them all.
Think of it. Mary was living a quiet, hidden
life. She was betrothed. Then one day an angel appeared to her, and with
that Holy Interruption Mary’s life was changed forever. As was Joseph’s, as was
yours, as was mine.
As we know, there was a Birth. There
were shepherds tending their flocks, and again an angel appeared. A night
of sheep-watching was interrupted.
While most of the world went on unaware, a
few men in the east noticed something out of the ordinary. A sign in the
sky. Something signaling, to them, a wondrous Interruption – one so
marvelous that they must drop any other plans they had and go in haste, and
they must bring gifts. These men were wise enough to know that somehow
the world had changed, maybe even that the course of life on earth had been
altered.
The change was so shattering that mankind
took notice. Calendars would later mark the divide.
God Himself had split the heavens.
We now measure time by the before and after
of that Grand Interruption, in effect saying that yes, we see. We may not understand,
really, but we recognize the wonder and the mystery of it. God interrupted the
cycle of sin and death by breaking into our world (John 3:16). Jesus
broke into the flesh of man, shattering hopelessness with His power and mercy.
With Jesus' arrival in the flesh, God
interrupted our misery. He opened to us the path to salvation.
When I feel stressed by Christmas
interruptions, I try to remember what I'm celebrating. Death was interrupted by
Life. Despair was interrupted by Hope.
With His glorious interruption, God tore
through the fabric of time.
'Teach us, O Mother, to carry Him as you did, completely oblivious of
material things, with the eyes of your soul fixed unceasingly upon Jesus
within you, contemplating and adoring Him in continual wonder. 'You
passed in the midst of created things as in a dream, seeing everything
that was not Jesus as though in a mist, while He shone and scintillated
in your soul as resplendent as the sun, and encompassed your heart and
enlightened your mind. 'Teach us to act on our little
excursions in this world and indeed on our whole journey through life so
that we may walk as you did, on your travels and every day, seeing
external things as though they were plunged in deep darkness, with our
eyes fixed only on your Jesus Who illuminates our souls like a flash of
fire.'
'It is necessary to understand that the
whole of our life must be an 'advent,' a vigilant awaiting of the final
coming of Christ.
'To predispose our mind to welcome the Lord who, as we
say in the Creed, one day will come to judge the living and the dead, we
must learn to recognize Him as present in the events of daily life.
'Therefore, Advent is, so to speak, an intense training that directs us
decisively toward Him Who already came, Who will come, and Who comes
continuously.'
"The question is: is the humanity of our time still waiting for a Savior? One has the feeling that many consider God as foreign to their own interests. Apparently, they do not need Him. They live as though He did not exist and, worse still, as though He were an 'obstacle' to remove in order to fulfill themselves. Even among believers - we are sure of it - some let themselves be attracted by enticing dreams and distracted by misleading doctrines that suggest deceptive shortcuts to happiness. Yet, despite its contradictions, worries and tragedies, it seeks a Savior and awaits, sometimes unconsciously, the coming of the Savior who renews the world and our life, the coming of Christ, the one true Redeemer of man and of the whole of man."
This time last year, I shared an archived post called 'The Advent Window' for It's Worth Revisiting Wednesday. Because Advent presents such an ideal opportunity for sharing Christ with others, I'm now revisiting this anew.
My 'Advent Window' opened when I was twenty years old. I was in what I call my 'God doesn't bother me and I don't bother Him' phase. There was so much to do... friends to hang out with, boys to date, parties to go to. I took no time to think about God; in fact, I was ignoring Him altogether.
God, however, was 'thinking' of me, and began reminding me of Himself through a series of little seasonal things. A song heard on the radio, a nativity scene featured on the courthouse steps, Christmas songs piped into stores to draw customers, strains of O Come Let Us Adore Him wedged between Have a Holly Jolly Christmas and Here Comes Santa Claus. One song in particular stood out to me that year, with its announcement that 'Jesus the Savior is Born.' I didn't know what was happening to me when I heard those five simple words on the radio. I only knew my heart felt strangely warmed.
I've heard discussions about whether or not Christmas should be celebrated before the 25th. After all, it's still Advent. In the Church, it is a time for quiet, for prayer, for gentle shades of purple. In the physical monastery, hearts wait in hushed anticipation.
But most of us live out in the red and green neon of the world. We're where bells jingle, songs jangle, nerves frazzle, patience frays. Because of my long ago 'Advent window,' however, I believe these weeks before Christmas bring rare moments when the love of Christ can be smoothly shared with neighbors, co-workers, family members, store clerks, acquaintances, friends.
In the midst of a secular, godless, 'we're-doing-fine-by-ourselves' world, there appears in this one season a window of opportunity. There is a slot, a crack in the Everyday. A few short weeks during which the whisper of God might be heard through carol or card.
In recent years, we have seen that crack narrow. The courthouse steps of my youth haven't seen a nativity display in years. But even now, somewhere between shoppers lined up for black Friday and the queues awaiting after-Christmas sales, there is still a window of opportunity. A time when someone rushing through a store might catch the strains of an old familiar carol, one she's heard every Christmas since childhood. Yet this time, the words sound different. She remembers a Babe in a manger, and her heart is strangely warmed.
This is a season when we can smoothly and naturally acknowledge (like at no other time) the One Who was born for us. After all, few friends would toss out cards that have nativity scenes on them. Neighbors visiting our homes won't be offended by the words of 'Silent Night.' It's all just part of the season, part of the holidays, part of the fun.
The Church will begin Christmas music and celebrations on the 25th. But out here in the world, the Advent window is now wide open.
This is when scenes and songs normally found only in Church can spill out into the world.
And who knows? Someone years from now might look back on a card you or I sent this season, and recall that 2016 was her own special Advent. We just never know.
'Advent is concerned with that very connection between memory and hope which is so necessary to man. Advent's intention is to awaken the most profound and emotional memory within us; namely, the memory of the God Who became a child. This is a healing memory; it brings hope.... It is the beautiful task of Advent to awaken in all of us memories of goodness and thus to open doors of hope.' Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI
'Never be in a hurry. Do everything quietly and in a calm spirit. Do not lose your inner peace for anything whatsoever, even if your whole world seems upset.'
It's a bad time of year to be hurting. Not that there is a good time
for pain, of course, but the weeks around Christmas and New Year's can
be particularly poignant for some.
I suspect many of us have had such seasons. Times when we can't be with
loved ones, or a relative or close friend has died,
or we've suffered a miscarriage, or we're sick, or we've lost our job,
or there is illness in the family. Even the time of year can make us
feel blue. Here in the northern hemisphere, night falls early in these
months of bleak midwinter. We may be struggling to adjust to the long, long, long dark.
For anyone
reading this who is sad, in pain, or maybe just wishing the holidays
would be over and gone - know that you're not alone. In fact, you are so 'not alone' that I'm going to ask a favor of everyone reading this.
Could we each take just a minute and offer a little prayer for anyone
coming across these words who might be hurting? If this gets to a
number of people, that could amount to quite a few prayers.
May God lift burdens, heal pains, comfort loneliness, and soothe hearts.
'We beseech You, Lord and Master, be our help and succor, save those
among us who are in tribulations, have mercy on the lowly, lift up the
fallen, show Yourself to the needy, heal the ungodly; convert the
wanderers of Your people, feed the hungry, release our prisoners, raise
up the weak, comfort the fainthearted, let all nations know You are
God.' (St. Clement of Rome)
'Cast all your cares on Him, because He cares for You.' (1 Peter 5:7)
This is a post from 2014. Painting: Viggo Johansen
Sometimes,
at this time of year, a question drifts into my mind. It's always the
same. "Is there room in Your heart for Me?"
I immediately think of innkeepers. I think of a house in Bethlehem where
travelers once lodged, where no room was found when the time came for Jesus to
be born. Christ
is in my heart; this I know. But sometimes I wonder. Am I providing
a place of welcome and adoration? Or could it be that I've allowed my
heart to become cluttered with so many other things that I have little room in
my life for Christ Himself.
The inn in Bethlehem was not filled with "bad" people on the night
Mary and Joseph arrived seeking shelter. It had no room for the holy
family only because others had gotten there first.
Does Jesus find little space in some of my days simply because the hours fill
up with everything else first?
Do I get up in the morning and put off prayer until I get one thing
accomplished, and then one more thing - and do I ever find that the day has
sped by without my spending any time at all in communication with God? I
am deeply ashamed to admit that more often than I care to mention, this has
been the case.
My heart seems, today, like a manger filled with clutter. Sometimes it's
as if there's no room in it for the most important Person in the universe.
Just imagine the "logic" of that. And so I come today to Jesus,
asking HIM to clear out all the distractions. I ask our Blessed Mother,
who so tenderly prepared a place for Jesus, to help prepare my heart to be a
fitting refuge for my Lord. May she re-arrange my priorities as one might
arrange pieces of straw in a manger.
As my Christmas gift this year, I ask that the same be done for you. I
ask that all our hearts be prepared as places of loving refuge for the King and
Messiah Whose birth we are about to celebrate.The
world did not welcome Him when He came to earth as an infant; it does not
welcome Him still. You and I have the opportunity of welcoming Him in a
world that does not do so.
May our hearts prepare Him room.
'Mary
is now with child, awaiting birth, and Joseph is full of expectancy as he
enters the city of his own family. He searched for a place for the birth of him
to whom heaven and earth belonged.
Could
it be that the Creator would not find room in his own creation? Certainly,
thought Joseph, there would be room in the village inn. There was room for the
rich; there was room for those who were clothed in soft garments; there was
room for everyone who had a tip to give to the innkeeper.
But when finally the scrolls of history are completed down to the last word of
time, the saddest line of all will be: 'There was no room in the inn.' No room
in the inn, but there was room in the stable.
The
inn was the gathering place of public opinion, the focal point of the world's
moods, the rendezvous of the worldly, the rallying place of the popular and the
successful.
But
there's no room in the place where the world gathers. The stable is a place for
outcasts, the ignored and the forgotten. The world might have expected the Son
of God to be born in an inn; a stable would certainly be the last place in the
world where one would look for him. The lesson is: divinity is always where you
least expect to find it.
So
the Son of God made man is invited to enter into his own world through a back
door.'
'My soul is poor and bare of virtues,
