18 December, follow that star XVI: come down!

My dad used to call such breaks in the clouds ‘the gates of Heaven’. A hopeful name in the murky greyness of December. No wonder our ancestors went in for winter festivals! Of course the Christian celebration has room for all sorts of pagan or secular add-ons, but along with Bishop Erik Varden we are looking for something more than the annual repetition of comfy customs:

In Advent our gaze is turned towards Christ. We say we are full of expectation. Are we?

Do Advent and Christmas not easily seem like a repetitious, predictable old play? The Christmas tree must stand over there, not over here; the big Santa to the left, the smaller to the right; the mince pies this shape; the turkey exactly as it was last year.

This is all well and good, beautiful and charming. We must, though, at the same time dig deeper. Otherwise we shall find that the message of Advent will be for us like the decoration we bring down from the attic: an ornament arranged for a month’s time each winter to prettify the atmosphere before being reconsigned to a musty cardboard box in the expectation that life will carry on as before, that everything remains the way it was.

The thought of Christ’s Advent will make sense to me only if it touches my life the way it is in fact, not the way I fancy it ought to have been. For us Christians, the first Sunday of Advent introduces a new liturgical year. It is an occasion to render an account and to give thanks, also to formulate new resolutions. Once again we are called to opt for what is real and to relinquish illusion.

Isaiah calls for help: ‘Oh, that you would tear the heavens and come down!’ (64:1) This prayer resounds through the entire liturgy of Advent. It sets out from the insight that what is lacking in my life is not, in fact, this or that accomplishment, possession, or relationship. What is lacking is God himself, his presence. If God seems far away, we easily think we’re right in the middle of a great crisis of faith. It may not be like that. Perhaps I’m simply beginning to realise who I am, a creature of dust; and who God is, the All-Holy? If I recognise the chasm that separates us, I can begin to pray with sincerity: Lord, come! Help me! That could could be the beginning of a new, spiritual life.

+ + + + +

Of course, his coming will often be unnoticed. If I take stock at the end of each day, I can count our blessings and be thankful to the God who provides them.

Bishop Erik Varden’s article is here.

16 December, follow that star XIV: help me to slow down!

It was a wet and windy night when I opened this post from Fr Valentine. Cutting across an ill-lit, uneven pavement, Mrs T and I had both stumbled over tree roots on our way home from an event. More haste, less speed! There was plenty of light on the official pavement but we tried to do better, without light to see by.

We’ll help nobody if we get to Christmas injured, exhausted, frazzled, touchy, angry. Let’s slow down and light the third candle on the wreath, and watch the flickering light.

Lord, for tomorrow and its deeds, I do not pray.

Scripture Reflection:

The people who walked in darkness 
have seen a great light; 
those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, 
on them has light shined."
Isaiah 9:2

Advent Wreath Prayer:
Dear Jesus, you are the hope in our
messy world. This Advent, help us to
slow down, listen to your voice, and
focus on what’s really important. We
place our hope in you as we prepare
our hearts to celebrate your birth on
Christmas. Amen.

15 December, follow that star XIII, where is the star leading us?

I’m rather fond of this rather faded and battered old star which is one of many stencilled onto the wall of the little cemetery chapel of the Jesuits in Hales Place, Canterbury. It makes me ask, ‘Where is the star leading this rather faded and battered Will Turnstone in his old age?’

In the Jesuit chapel, there is this statue of the Madonna and Child. You will notice the hole in the chest of Jesus; there is another in Mary’s too. There were jewels there when the chapel was active, drawing attention to the hearts of Jesus and Mary, as emphasised by the Latin monograms behind the statue.

But the point of this post is not the lost jewels, but the symbolism of those stars, leading us to look at Mary, or rather to look at the child Jesus whom she supports and shows to us. She is calm, happy to be in the background witnessing to Jesus. I am reminded of the window in nearby Blean church that we saw a few days ago: quoting Luke 2:34; Yea, a sword shall pierce through thy own soul also.

smart

In our previous post we reflected on the sorrows of Mary, saying that there must have been more than the traditional seven counted in Catholic devotion. There are a good deal more than seven that Will Turnstone could count up, and I’m sure that is true for most readers, not just the senior citizens this reflection was originally aimed at. The sword has pierced our hearts for sure.

But we stick with it, stick with that star, which sometimes is splendid and inviting, sometimes apparently dim or behind the storm clouds. Where the star is leading us is to Jesus, to his Kingdom. Advent and Christmastide enable us to begin again to reflect on the story of the human who was and is Son of the Father.

Lead kindly Light!

12 December. Follow that Star, X: O Christmas tree!

Canterbury Cathedral usually has a grand Christmas tree in the precincts, but this one is inside, a blaze of light on a winter’s day.

The altar is dressed in purple for Advent, which makes the golden embroidery stand out. The big cross combines the first two letters, ΧΡ or Chi Ro, of the Greek name ‘Christ’. Most of us will have seen this reproduced in various forms in books, inscriptions, and so on; it possibly barely registers at times. The other two letters, alpha and omega, Α and Ω, are the first and last letters of the Greek Alphabet.

The Paschal Candle is marked with Α and Ω, and blessed using these words:

Christ yesterday and today,
the Beginning and the End,
the Alpha and the Omega,
all times belong to him
and all the ages
to him be glory and power
through every age and forever, AMEN.

So the Cathedral have used the symbols of Easter at Christmas, because Jesus is the beginning and the end, and we live in his time: Christmas leads to Easter. Likewise the lighted tree of Christmas points to the Cross, the tree of life, to come on Good Friday and Easter.

Enjoy decorating and living with your tree, but remember the Christians of the Holy Land who will be suffering this Christmas. Income from hospitality and selling Christmas carvings will be cut drastically; celebrations in Church or home muted; family members and friends homeless, neighbours and relatives mourned.

5 December: Follow that star III; not normal times.

We were going to write about Almsgiving for Advent and Christmas. Then we read that the Patriarchs and Heads of the Churches in Jerusalem have issued the following statement to their own people but also to us, their fellow Christians:

Each year during the sacred seasons of Advent and Christmastide, our Christian communities throughout the Holy Land take great delight in their preparations for the commemoration of the birth of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. In addition to attendance in religious services, these celebrations have normally involved participation in numerous public festivities and the large-scale display of brightly lit and expensive decorations as a means of expressing our joy at the approach and arrival of the Feast of the Nativity.

But these are not normal times. Since the start of the War, there has been an atmosphere of sadness and pain. Thousands of innocent civilians, including women and children, have died or suffered serious injuries. Many more grieve over the loss of their homes, their loved ones, or the uncertain fate of those dear to them. Throughout the region, even more have lost their work and are suffering from serious economic challenges. Yet despite our repeated calls for a humanitarian ceasefire and a de-escalation of violence, the war continues.

Therefore, We, the Patriarchs and Heads of the Churches in Jerusalem, call upon our congregations to stand strong with those facing such afflictions by this year foregoing any unnecessarily festive activities. We likewise encourage our priests and the faithful to focus more on the spiritual meaning of Christmas in their pastoral activities and liturgical celebrations during this period, with all the focus directed at holding in our thoughts our brothers and sisters affected by this war and its consequences, and with fervent prayers for a just and lasting peace for our beloved Holy Land.

Moreover, during this season of giving, we also invite the faithful to advocate, pray, and contribute generously as they are able for the relief of the victims of this war and for those in dire need, as well as to encourage others to join them in this mission of mercy.

In these ways, we believe, we will be standing in support of those continuing to suffer-just as Christ did with us in his Incarnation, in order that all of God’s children might receive the hope of a New Jerusalem in the presence of the Almighty, where “death shall be no more, neither mourning, nor crying, nor pain, for the former things have passed away” (Revelation 21:4).

Source: Latin Patriarchate of Jerusalem

To contribute to the relief efforts of the Churches in the Holy Land, go to the website of Aid to the Church in Need.

1 December: Advent is almost upon us!

Advent starts on Sunday, about as late as it can get. There should be time tomorrow to gather evergreens and berries to make an Advent Wreath for the table, and perhaps one for the front door as well. We have a tradition of lighting the first candle when we say or sing Grace before our evening meal, as Jews and Christians have done for centuries.

O come, O come, Emmanuel!

27 November: Advent at Canterbury Cathedral.

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11 June, Corpus Christi: Now I am Joyful!

Holy Water font, Holy Name Church, Manchester, England.

Happy Feast Day! It may seem odd to share an Advent Pastoral Letter for Corpus Christi but Bishop of Trondheim, Erik Varden, was exploring the Eucharist back in December 2022, and I know I want to read his letter again. This is the opening paragraph. ‘Now I am Joyful’ is a good philosophy for life!

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

The third Sunday of Advent is called Gaudete Sunday after the words of the introit: ‘Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice.’ But can anyone order us to rejoice? Isn’t joy a feeling outside my authority? I long thought it was so. Then I realised I was wrong. A wise nun taught me that. She was, like me at the time, responsible for the liturgy in her monastery. To lead seven services a day is demanding. There are so many other things to be done! At times one is distracted; at times one is sad, exhausted, or irritable; one doesn’t feel like praying.

Yet the bells ring 
regardless, 
no matter how I feel.

What the nun taught me is that my moods are conditioned by my free agency. Often, I can do something about them. She told me of a strategy she had worked out: ‘When I stand at the church door’, she said, ‘and dip my fingers in holy water to make the sign of the cross, I say to myself: Now I am joyful!’ She consciously left behind whatever weighed her down or saddened her.

In Jesus’s name she put on joy as if it were a cloak. Then she entered the house of God, free and attentive. I can testify that the strategy works. We can call it an asceticism of joy: exercise in the art of laying aside what impedes the joy for which God has created us. 

You can find the letter in PDF here, in Norwegian, English, and Polish.

Bell at ND de l’Adret, Gap, France.

24 December: the silent Word

from CD.

The early Cistercians were drawn to a central paradox of Christmas:that of the verbum infans or speechless Word. Throughout salvation history, God has made ready for great redemptive deeds by preparing quiet places apart in which grace can bear fruit; but that the Father’s eternal Word, by which all things were made, should himself have become such a place was, to these contemplatives, a supreme mystery. The least inadequate response one could make, they thought, was one of silent adoration.

+ Erik Varden, Return to the Centre, The Tablet, 5 February, 2022

Not much more to be said, but find a quiet moment to contemplate the crib in church or at home, or even a Christmas card. Let the mystery flow into your heart.

.

18 December, Advent Light XVIII: Yet more.

Yet more,

Yet further,

Fun

In the searching.

Be there.

Fr Hilary Costello of Mount Saint Bernard’s Abbey was a long-standing family friend. These lines are from a poem he shared with my mother that turned up among her papers when she died. The poem seems to veer from one speaker to another, one hearer to another. Here is God talking to the reader, or the writer to God? either makes sense. They also reinforce the idea of enjoying being a Christian. The shepherds and the Magi surely had fun in the searching; so, too, let us go unto Bethlehem!