Blue Season
“How is it going?” This is a question we get through interactions with acquaintances and friends. Even if it is asked as a greeting instead of an inquiry about one’s well-being, it is nonetheless caring at its roots. You ask this of others in its various forms: What’s new? How are you? How is every little thing? What’s up? Often my response is even more cursory than the question: “Oh, fine, thanks, how about you?” This turns the exchange into a kindly mutual greeting. Still, it is the thought that counts, and in this case the thought is rooted in concern for one another.
It is always true that things are mixed in life. I may respond, “Fine, things are fine.” We always know that some things are fine with us, and others, are quite challenging. Some matters are going great and some are troubling. At times, I think to myself, “What a wonderful world!” Other times, “What is this world coming to?”
I feel the season of Advent serves us well and stirs gratitude that God has come into our world. We picture this wonder in our upcoming celebrations: the baby rests in the manger, angels announce the good news to the shepherds, and the star leads the magi. In Advent, we also anticipate a coming, final consummation of the creation: God in glorious majesty setting all things right in the cosmos with a new creation, when the Great Judgement will set things right. The Epistle of James (5:7) tells us, “Be patient, therefore, beloved, until the coming of the Lord.” In Advent, I never neglect to emphasize the personal experience of God’s advent in the present. Emmanuel, God is with us. In Advent, we get a taste of what Augustine teaches us in Book XI of his Confessions: that the eternal present is encountered by us as the past, present, and future: memory…attention…expectation.
The wonder of Christian belief is that God does come to us now as we give attention to God’s presence. God comes not in just one way, but in innumerable ways. Some Christians tell of brief, rare Divine “touches.” Some point to a permanent union with God manifested in practical disciplines of prayer. Many have some combination of such experiences—the touches, and the permanence of God’s presence through habits of prayer. Those devoted to the Holy do encounter, in one form or another, immediate knowledge of God attained in this real life of the time, space, emotions, the senses, and human thought. Particular states of prayer come to the person of faith. I am currently teaching about such—a Christian mystical tradition—Wednesdays at 7 PM.
I love the prayer that goes with the Third Sunday of Advent:
Stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might come among us; and, because we are sorely hindered by our sins, let your bountiful grace and mercy speedily help and deliver us; through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom, with you and the Holy Spirit, be honor and glory, now and for ever. Amen.
“Come among us,” we pray, for “we are sorely hindered by our sins” by our torments, situations, and obstacles. We want God to stir up that divine power of grace and mercy to come among us to help and deliver us speedily. Not just at the end of time, but now, we need God to come. “How is it going?” someone might ask, and our response could be, “It is mixed, and I need help.” In some ways, our days are merry and bright, in some ways our days are blue. I rejoice with you that God will help; God does come. Christ Jesus comes in surprising ways of the mystical experience of God’s presence. Christ comes in the steady presence we know through daily prayer, where we make room for such a meeting.
On Wednesday, December 21, at the 6 PM Eucharist in St. Clare Chapel at St. Francis, we will gather for what we call Service of the Longest Night with Holy Communion. It brings a message of hope amid the darkness. The joy of the Christmas season does not always match up with the feelings and moods we currently have. We acknowledge both: the fitting joy that goes with Christmas, and the legitimate sadness that any of us might feel for a time. People have times of grieving and fulfillment, times of sadness and rejoicing. This service, “The Longest Night” on the winter solstice, is a chance to feel surrounded by the compassionate love of God and one another even amid loneliness, sorrow, alienation, or any other heavy mode. Keep it in mind as a worship experience where healing can happen. Keep in mind that God always deeply cares about how it is going for you.