1st Advent
Luke 21:25-36
And there will be signs in sun and moon and stars;
and upon the earth, the nations will be constricted with anxiety and doubt with
the advent of these spiritual revelations, as before a roaring sea and waves.
And men will lose their inner strength of soul out of fear and foreboding of
what is coming over the living earth: for the dynamic powers of heaven will be
shaken. And then they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud, in the sphere
of life, with dynamic power and great radiant glory.
And when these things begin to
happen, stand upright and lift up [raise] your soul to the spirit, for your
deliverance draws near.
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And he gave them a comparison, saying, ‘Observe
[behold] the fig tree and all the trees when they burst into leaf. Seeing this,
you know yourselves that summer is near. So also when you see these things
happening, you know that the kingdom of God is near.
Amen, the truth I say to you: this present age of
Man’s being shall not pass away until all has happened.
Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will
never pass away.
1st Advent
Dec 1, 2013
Luke 21:25-36
In the midst of turmoil and destruction, somehow, somewhere,
a silent light shines. The breaking up of the old, the disturbances are
themselves a sign that something new is beginning.
We are entering the season of Advent, which signals the
beginning of the liturgical year. It is not an easy time; for something new is
trying to be born. In the reading we hear about the coming, the advent of the
Son of Man. His is a great light-filled power. We are challenged to raise our
sights, to rise up and to remain upright before His face.
To do so requires
that we find our own still point, our center. It is in inner stillness and
silence that the light of what is coming into being can be perceived. This is a particular challenge at this time
of the year. And yet this is where the seasonal prayers would direct our
attention—to find the stillness; to listen to the silence of a new beginning.
Our material culture tries to shout Him down, suffocate Him in a blanket of
sound, wrap Him in a mantle of commercial images. But in the words of the poet:
Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.
.…
If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves
with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead in winter
and later proves to be alive.[1]
www.thechristiancommunity.org
[1] Pablo Neruda, “Keeping Quiet” in Extravagaria,
translated by Alastair Reid
