All Else in Second Place

 

Painting: Kalckreuth, Children by the Christmas Tree

And To The Next Generation

'What we have heard and know, things our ancestors have recounted to us. 
We do not keep them from our children; we recount them to the next generation, 
the praiseworthy deeds of the Lord and His strength...'
Psalm 78:3-4

Reopening The Advent Window

In the past, I've shared a post I called 'The Advent Window.' It seems only natural to do so this year (edited a bit) for Worth Revisiting Wednesday.

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, you see, 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 court house 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 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 court house 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 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 2015 was her own special Advent. We just never know.

The following video captures (externally) what can happen to us (internally) when the Advent Window begins to open...






(ads that might pop up on this video were not chosen by me)

This is linked to Reconciled to You and Theology is a Verb for 'It's Worth Revisiting Wednesday.'

© 2015 N Shuman
thecloisteredheart.org    

The Advent Window, Revisited

Recently, I've seen online discussions about whether or not Christmas should be celebrated before the 25th.  In the Church, it's time for hearts to wait in hushed anticipation. In the world, however, things are not that way. We can barely walk out our doors without feeling "the attack of the glitz."

Last year, I wrote a post about a special - actually, THE MOST special - Advent in my life. I wasn't attending Church regularly in that long-ago Advent.  I was twenty years old and in what I've called my "I don't bother God and He doesn't bother me" phase. If pressed, I might have said I believed in God.  Probably.  Maybe.  The truth was:  I just didn't care.

That started changing as the world began its pre-Christmas celebrations in early December.  I wasn't talking to the Lord then, but it seems He used the clamor of the season as an opportunity to talk to me.

It was a month of non-stop reminders of the Reason for the season.  I almost couldn't get away from them.  Switching on a radio, I would catch an old familiar carol, one I'd heard every Christmas since childhood.  This time, however, the words sounded... different.

Sales clerks wished me merry Christmas.  A nativity scene was, as always, featured on the Court House steps, and that year I stopped more than once to notice.

As it turned out, that Advent was a pivotal time.  After doing a few things that I was at a loss to understand (choosing Christmas cards with Baby Jesus on them, taking notice of a song about Christ the Savior), I returned to Mass.  I thought more about God, and began to stammer out a few prayers.  Soon I was involved in a Catholic student center, where I would meet the wonderful young man I'd marry.. and the rest, as they say, is our history.

There are many people, right now, who are just as I was that Advent.  They may not spend much (if any) time in Church.  They might not be interested at all in God, but they're probably interested in Christmas.  They trim trees, string lights, watch Christmas movies, gather at parties, sing carols.  And in between "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" and "I'll Have a Blue ooh-ooh Christmas," they just might sing a few verses of "Silent Night."

It seems to me that in our secular, we're-doing-fine-by-ourselves world, there appears in this season an amazing and unique window of opportunity.

A slot.

A crack in the Everyday.

An opening through which the call of God might be heard through carol or card.   

In recent years, we have seen that crack narrow.  The Court House steps of my youth haven't seen a nativity display in years.  Store clerks wish me "happy holidays" at best. 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 pictures of a babe in a manger, and some part of her seems to thaw....

This is a season when we can acknowledge (like at no other time) the One Who was born for us. After all, friends will not be likely to toss out cards that happen to have nativity scenes on them.  Neighbors visiting our home won't be offended by the words of "The First Noel." 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 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 I sent her this season, or remember the nativity scene she saw in my home, and recall this very year as her own special Advent. 

For now, for just these few short weeks, the window is open.

We have no idea who might be looking through it.

I pray that they may catch a glimpse of Christ.





© 2013 Nancy Shuman.  All Rights Reserved.
thecloisteredheart.org    




Paintings:  
top: Franz Skarbina Unter dem Weihnachtsbaum (digitally altered)
bottom: Ferdinand Georg Waldmüller, Young Peasant Woman with Three Children at the Window

Refiners of the World

'When once Christ is given full sway in the soul, there is no limit to the means He will take to transform and sanctify it.  God's mystical Gift of Himself to such a soul, His mystical Indwelling in it, is effected in such a way that God, Who is omnipresent, manifests Himself to the faithful soul with an ever-clearly and more penetrating spiritual presence.  God and this soul have more and more frequent converse with each other, and together live the supernatural life in greater and greater fullness.

'In the end, the chosen soul no longer lives on earth, save for the purpose of sharing with the Holy Trinity that supernatural life which God, as the Absolute Ruler, wishes to live in the soul here below.  It lives its life with Christ.... Souls such as this become the refiners of the world, for the fire of their charity burns away much dross, and imparts warmth to the cold of heart.

'Never shall we know in this life how far the influence of our humble acts of kindness reaches beyond the margin of our own narrow sphere....

'Hidden, lowly souls in the cloister, the hospital ward, the classroom, the home and the factory, are winning many a battle on fields they never tread.  When God bestows His rewards for missionary service we shall see some of the most glorious crowns going to those who, like the consumptive young nun of Lisieux, were missionaries by prayer and loving self-denial....

'Let us, then, not let slip the golden opportunities that Our Lord puts into our path each day.'

 (from Fervorinos From Galilee's Hills, compiled by a Religious, Pelligrini, Australia, 1936, pp. 116-119)

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This post is linked to Catholic Bloggers Network Linkup 

The Advent Window

The Advent I wrote of in my last post was a season of non-stop reminders.  I almost couldn't get away from them.  Switching on a radio, I would catch an old familiar carol, one I'd heard every Christmas since childhood.  This time, however, the words sounded... different.

Rounding a corner, I picked up the tinny sound of Santa's bell as he stood beside a fat black kettle.   Sales clerks wished me merry Christmas.  A nativity scene was, as always, featured on the Court House steps.

Recalling that special season over these last few days, I've realized something.  That is:  the touches of God I had that Advent didn't happen in spite of the commercialism of this time of year.  They happened right in the midst of it.  They happened, in some instances, because of it. 

The song that so moved me with its lyrics of "Jesus the Savior is born...."?  It was in an advertisement  for tires.  Pictures of Baby Jesus were glued to dime store displays, and on posters announcing concerts and events.  Songs were piped into stores to draw customers, and sometimes the same lyrics played over and over.  O come, let us adore Him.  Adore Him.  Adore Him.  (that Advent, I almost did).  

I've heard discussions lately about whether or not Christmas should be celebrated before the 25th.  There is so much commercialism, the argument goes - and yes, I agree that this is the case.  In the Church, Advent is a time for quiet, for prayer, for gentle shades of purple.  In the physical monastery, hearts wait in hushed anticipation.

Most of us live, however, out in the red and green neon of the world.  We're where bells jingle, songs jangle, nerves frazzle, patience frays.  But during all of the glittery hype (I've realized), there is a moment of blessing.  In the secular, godless, "we're-doing-fine-by-ourselves" world, there appears in this season a window of opportunity.  A slot, a crack in the Everyday, through which the call of God might be heard through carol or card.   

In recent years, we have seen that crack narrow.  The Court House steps of my childhood haven't seen a nativity display in years.  Store clerks wish me "happy holidays" at best.  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 pictures of a babe in a manger, and suddenly her heart is stirred.

This is a season when we can acknowledge (like at no other time) the One Who was born for us. After all, few of our friends would toss out cards that happen to have nativity scenes on them.  Neighbors visiting our home 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 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 I sent her this season, and recall that 2012 was her own special Advent. 

We just never know.