Painful Dissonance of Advent

 Advent is one of my favorite, and most challenging, seasons of the year. And perhaps this year more than many. There is a palpable sense of the "painful dissonance between the promise and hope of Christmas and a world wracked with sin and evil." The lights on houses and trees and the sounds of familiar carols stand in stark contrast to the bright flashes of explosions and the cries of the wounded and grieving in the Middle East, Ukraine, and so many other flashpoints around the globe. Hope seems at a premium and joy feels elusive.

Yesterday's Advent reading (I read each year from Watch for the Light by Plough Publishing House) made me sit still and ponder for a while -- and it has percolated in my heart and mind. Alfred Delp was a Jesuit priest who was hanged in 1945 because of his opposition to Adolph Hitler. In a piece written just before his death, he wrote:

"We may ask why God has sent us into this time, why he has sent this whirlwind over the earth, why he keeps us in this chaos where all appears hopeless and dark, and why there seems to be no end to this in sight. The answer to this question is perhaps that we were living on earth in an utterly false and counterfeit security. And now God strikes the earth till it resounds, now he shakes and shatters; not to pound us with fear, but to teach us one thing -- the spirit's innermost moving and being moved."

As I read these nearly 80-year old words, my heart echoed Fr Delp's questions. Why this whirlwind over the earth? Armed conflict. Disregard for basic human dignity. Oppression of women and the powerless. Political turmoil. Why no end in sight? We seem to never learn that violence and deception simply beget more violence and deception. Why are we still haunted by these same questions and issues and troubles? Is there no real hope?

Delp continues:

"The world today needs people who have been shaken by ultimate calamities and emerged from them with the knowledge and awareness that those who look to the Lord will still be preserved by him, even if they are hounded from the earth." 

So perhaps a core message of Advent is not the end of calamity or difficulty or upheaval, but a reminder that what we are experiencing in the here and now is not all that there is -- or will be. That this Advent season of waiting is not just waiting for Christmas 2023, but waiting for God to eventually renew all things.

Press on!

Ice crystals in the morning

 This morning, as I went to my car to head over to City Hall, I noticed a light covering of ice crystals on the windows. Ordinarily I would get out the scraper and dispatch the view-obscuring crystals as quickly as I could. But this morning I slowed down and looked closely at the intricate designs--each one seemingly unique. And I breathed a little deeper.

There is so much these days that can demolish our sense of calm and any feelings of hopefulness. The strife between Israel and the Palestinians. Corruption and deception in American politics. Wars on multiple continents. Innocents slaughtered, enslaved, or forgotten. The seeming triumph of evil over good at almost every turn (or at least that is what gets eyeballs and views in all sorts of media). Accounts of good and beauty seem rare, at best.

I wonder whether the good and beautiful are out there, quietly waiting to be seen and enjoyed--if we just slow down and focus on those things? How might the next few weeks feel different if I slow down and examine the "ice crystals" instead of being in such a hurry to get to the next thing on my to-do list? And longer term, how might my mind be transformed if I can train it to dwell on that which is honorable, just, pure, lovely, commendable, excellent, and worthy of praise?

This winter it may take me a bit longer to get started in the morning, but I will build in the extra time to enjoy the ice crystals, take another deep breath, and calm my soul.

Pressing on,

Ken