Nativity Catholic Church
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A Disorienting, Foggy Season
A "FIRESTARTER"
Spiritual Essay by Rev. Dr. Benjamin Berinti, C.Pp.S. The tone and timbre of the Advent season is magnificent, but it mostly moves beneath the surface of the lights and glitter and economic forecasts that weigh heavy this time of year. Perhaps we think we know what “Advent” is all about—bits of midnight blue woven with purple, four candles and a wreath, puffs of incense smoke for solemnity, a nearly naked sanctuary, some admonitions to stop and breathe, rounding up donations for those in need, nightfall that comes every more swiftly with each passing day. Yet, no matter how many Advents through which we have sojourned, do we really know what its promises and perils are? From the looks of most people worshipping in church on the First Sunday of Advent—perhaps this season, and what it asks of each of us, isn’t really as familiar as we think. No matter how many we’ve seen come and go, Advent is still a disorienting season, a season that, one in the same time, both fits and disrupts. This disorientation was visible in the confounded movements of the assembly throughout the Advent liturgies last weekend. People tried to sit when they were supposed to be standing; an unusual antiphonal beginning even confused the altar servers; singing the “forgotten-since-last-year” melody of the “Missa Emmanuel” Lamb of God left many standing when they should have been kneeling; a wreath that looks more Florida than Vermont rumpled the expectations of some. Perhaps this ritual discombobulation mirrors the disorientation percolating in our souls as we face the depth of Advent’s invitation. More significant questions are being hurled at us in these days to come than what should I buy grandma (who doesn’t “need” anything); where are we eating Christmas dinner this year; when will I ever have time to write out Christmas cards; are there any parking spaces left at the mall on Saturday afternoon? The questions of this season are far more troubling than these—and they are disorienting to us—which is why we may want to ignore them. We unwittingly sing the words of the Psalm that begs God to “stir up and rouse your Spirit,” not realizing what we are asking. That’s the problem with ritual words: we say them without thinking, a matter of practice and obligation, but they still have the power, they are still dangerous, because they are addressed to God, and God will respond to these “formalities” of ours despite our not paying much attention! Rev. Jan Richardson, in her marvelous book of Advent-Christmas reflections entitled Night Visions, offers a beautiful prayer as she breaks open the first day of meditation, capturing the disorienting desires of the season:
Move over the face of Indeed asking God to “trouble me and stir me” is truly disorienting, for God may need to reach deep within my soul to bring forth things that I have neatly packaged away, or have tried to forget, or have never wanted to attend to, or even what I never knew existed below the surface of my daily comings and goings. Being “awakened” in our souls by God is no less disorienting than being awakened each morning as we rise from bed. We know these first tentative, groggy, uncertain, perhaps even achy movements of the early hours must be dealt with before we get on our way and enter the fullness of the day. If we choose not to abide in the fog of Advent’s disorientation; if we petulantly disdain the darkness and care to reach only for the brilliance of the decorative lights; we will have missed the grand opportunity presented to us by our God, who so often moves through this season in shadow and darkness, hidden and unnamed, imperceptible and ingenious. The joy of Christmas is sweeter, deeper, more honest, more authentic, and more grace-full when we wander a bit, disoriented in our thinking about who we are and where our lives are going. It’s quite possible that the true gift of Christmas may never be received if we pass these days without a stumble, a bump, a collision with the God who has been known, throughout the ages, to make people wander and search before they find their way home.
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