It is the eve of Thanksgiving and the darkness settles early upon the land. I have taken out my Advent decorations to ready myself for the new Christian year that begins this Sunday. I know the candles will provide some relief from the darkness as we wait in hope for the arrival of Christ into our lives at Christmas.
As November is the month of All Souls, I think back fondly on those whose journey in this temporal life has come to an end. I am reminded of my own mortality and the brevity of life. Many of us have lost someone dear to us. Their stories will remain in our hearts until we join them in heaven. Until we do, I want to appreciate the struggles of my brothers and sisters and help them to realize that God gives much to them. I want to learn to be patient with others; I want to be patient in those areas where I want to see change right away.
I consider myself blessed. I began my year traveling to Australia to begin tertianship with eleven Jesuit brothers from across the globe. I marvel at the exciting times we had together and the bonds of friendship we forged. I am thankful for Adrian, the tertian director, and Joe, his assistant and the superior of our community, for their care for our spiritual development. I am grateful for what I have learned from the various communities of faith I encountered in Australia (Pymble, Sydney, Melbourne, Alice Springs, Seven Hill, Cairns, and Hervey Bay), in New Zealand (Opunake, Hawera, New Plymouth, Wellington, and Auckland), and in Honolulu, Hawaii. I especially pray for the loss of the 29 New Zealand miners in their recent national tragedy.
I am grateful to my Provincial for assigning me to Eastern Point Retreat House in Gloucester where I can direct the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola. I'll go anywhere he needs to send me. I'm very pleased with my small community at the retreat house and pleased with the dedicated guest directors who grace our hallways week after week. I can tell that many people come to know our Lord in the silence and stillness afforded by this magical place. I am honored to hear countless stories of grace alive and at work in the lives of many. I am grateful also for the people of Maine with whom our journeys have intersected. I am deeply enriched by their daily courage.
Tomorrow, I will travel to my family home south of Worcester, Massachusetts and we will share a happy traditional meal of roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, yams, vegetables, cranberry sauce, cheeses, and scrumptious desserts. It is my favorite meal of the year as November is a special month for me. I'm grateful for the good fortune of my family as we all endure our personal crises. We will focus on the good that is happening with us now and we will let our other concerns be diminished for the day. We soon set our sights on the wonder and splendor of Christmas.
Thankfully, Thanksgiving does not get such a commercial splash as the other major holidays even though there is an increase of pumpkins, pilgrims, cornucopia, and other harvest items on the markets' shelves. It does not become complicated like Christmas because we do not exchange gifts on this day. This means we get to appreciate the meaning of our national holiday with our hearts rather than with our senses. This has become our national holiday when we honor the time with our families and when we do that, we honor God.
The lights and sights of Christmas will hit us in the face on Black Friday when all the stores open to major sales and return to profit (hence, they are in the black, not in the red.) Radio stations will play Christmas and holiday music non-stop until Christmas day. Sparkling lights will soon adorn the lawns and windows.
Many purists lament the build-up of Christmas though they cheat by eating Christmas goodies way before December 24th. I, however, like the commercial Christmas season. For me, it does not wholly interfere with the liturgical Advent season. If these holiday traditions help people feel lighter and happier and help them dream of a brighter world, then I'm all for decorations and music. If these lights help people point to the mystery of the Incarnation, then I'm very happy. I want people to see the wonder in the season and the senses have a way of capturing information that feeds our imagination. All these symbols point us to the mystery of God's love.
I enjoy the gentleness of Advent. The soft lights that grow in longing anticipation of Christ's arrival makes me want to spend greater time watching the stillness of a flickering candle. The ancient Advent songs help me dream of Isaiah's prophecy of the peaceable kingdom in which no harm or ruin can come to anyone on God's holy mountain. The presence of Mary's motherhood helps us to realize the new life that is to be born within us. Yes, the Advent season is worth capturing. We are a people who live in the "now" and the "not yet" so we spend our time waiting, learning how to be patient.
The other days I read a quote from the protestant theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, in which he says, "A prison cell in which one waits, hopes... and is completely dependent on the fact that the door of freedom has to be opened from the outside, is not a bad picture of Advent."
Christ will soon come to open that door. With his coaxing invitation, it is up to us to decide whether we will step out of that prison door into a new life of freedom.
For God's great salvific event, I am thankful.
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