This Advent Season: thoughts on Mary...

With the recent beginning of the season of Advent, my thoughts naturally turn towards Christmas. In the Gospel of St. Luke we find the 'Christmas story' starting with the sending of an angel to Mary and 'the Annunciation'. I'm not sure about where the story is commonly understood to begin, but I tend to see it as beginning with the Annunciation.

Here's how it goes down... The angel Gabriel visits Mary with some incredible news: she is to give birth to the Son of God, whose kingdom will have no end. She is understandably confused and wonders aloud how this could be possible - young though she is, she does know how babies are made and quickly realizes that she hasn't met the normal criteria for such things. When the angel responds by telling her that all things are possible with God, she responds with some of the most beautiful words to be found in Scripture: fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum.

[For some reason I always imagine Mary speaking Latin. It's strange how I think of such things: Mary spoke Latin, Jesus spoke Aramaic, the Apostles all spoke Koine Greek, and Yahweh some ancient proto-Hebraic, Semitic tongue. But of course it was not this way at all.]

"Let it be to me according to your word". When told that she will be intimately involved in the single most important event that will ever take place in the entire history of the world (I'm envisioning the Incarnation, crucifixion, and resurrection as the inseparable 'Christ event' here), she simply responds with humble submission to the will of God. She models the Christian life and sets the example which all Christians hence forth are to follow. Within five words (six in the original Greek text if you include the definite article), Mary manages to express the deepest cry of the Christian's heart.

I (like many) have often struggled with prayer. There tends to be no shortage of distractions which draw me away from it or 'reasons' why I'm too busy or tired. Often it is simply a matter of the heart - I'm lazy, weak, and rebellious. It is at times like these that my eyes turn to Mary and I speak the words with my mouth that my heart longs to voice: fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum. I let her words become mine; I let her example guide me. Just as God's plan of salvation for the lost human race included the humble submission of Mary, so to does His plan of salvation for me include that same humble submission to His loving will.

This Advent season, as I think about the miracle of the Incarnation and the wondrous love that was revealed so long ago in Bethlehem, I also think about the humble submission and trust that was involved in bringing it about.

Relationships: for love or power?

I recently came across these words of 'advice':

"The power in a relationship always resides with the one who cares the least."

I was blindsided, lost for words. Years ago these could have easily been words of advice coming from my mouth. In fact, this was a concept that I had conceived of and assumed was original to me. It had occurred to me at some point that if I was always ready to walk away from a relationship at a moments notice, then I would always hold the upper-hand. If the other person cared more, had more invested, then I had the power.

Of course I was fooling myself: in one sense, yes, I held the power, but in another very real sense I had made myself a prisoner. By purposefully not caring - which was simply a defense mechanism for a scared little boy not wanting to open up and get hurt - the decision was already made and my heart was not allowed to open up and discover love. Fortunately things eventually changed and yes, love was found.

After I recovered from the shock of coming face to face with a relic of my past, I realized what a horrible statement that actually was - devoid of all things good and beautiful. What kind of relationship would such an attitude foster? I thought about my relationship with my wife and realized that I have no desire to have any such power over her. It's an amazing thing to view such power-based understandings of relationships in light of love. In the pure light of love all the games and power maneuvers are revealed for the frauds that they are. Love does not coerce: love is gentle, patient, and kind. It asks for nothing but love in return.

Looking back on that pompous, scared little boy who thought he knew about relationships, I can only laugh to myself and thank God that love found a way. Relationships are better when they aren't zero-sum. When love, humility, and vulnerability are part of the equation, the relationship becomes so much more than it otherwise could.

Maybe the power lies with the one that cares the least, but if you don't care... what's the point? Plus, why be in it for power when there's an infinitely better prize to be discovered?

The Geography of LIfe...

Where is life?

Yes, a bit of a strange question. But one that I feel is worthwhile asking. It seems to me that there is a tacit assumption, one which is prevalent in our culture, that life is to be found 'out there', i.e. somewhere else. I can speak of 'getting out there and living life' and images from the myriad of movie scenes come to mind, the ones where the main character is 'breaking away' and on the road 'experiencing life' [cue the inspirational music and breath-taking scenery]. Isn't the sun brighter on vacation, the sky sweeter, and the air more refreshing? Is there something about the place itself that makes the colours of the trees seem more vivid? Do we have to 'get away' in order to experience life? Does familiarity really breed contempt? Is there something intrinsically different, i.e. more full of life, about any location other than our home? I think not.

It seems to me that the difference lies in ourselves. Perhaps while on vacation, we are more apt to notice the beauty around us, we are more likely to breath deep and be present in the moment. Is it that once we 'escape' our normal surroundings we are then able to be receptive to the world as it really is: full of life.

Where is life? The answer is that life is all around us. It is in the air we breath and in the ground we walk on. Where can you find it? You can find it at our homes and at our jobs. It's in our family and our friends, in the strangers we pass by every day without a second thought. We simply don't pay attention to the fullness of life that surrounds us daily. We get used to our daily lives and gloss over the beauty that it holds. We get so wrapped-up in the worries of the day that we cannot see what is all around us. In every corner of our daily travels abundant life springs out at us.

But, what do I mean when I say life? I mean life as understood within the Christian Tradition: I mean 'fullness'. I mean glory, beauty, transcendent love... life. I mean nothing short of the overflowing presence of the divine. God is life; He is the source and summit of all life. The Scriptures refer to God as him "who fills all in all". What do I mean when I say that all around us 'abundant life springs out at us'? I mean nothing less than everywhere God is present. And if we only have eyes to see, we will find, often to our surprise, His radiant glory filling the world around. We will see magic, mystery, and wonder at every turn. We will find ourselves in awe of the fullness that surrounds us. We will find ourselves always and everywhere in the presence of the Divine.

Where is life? It's right here and we can live it if only we desire to. We can see it, if only we're willing. If you're looking for life, put the map away and look around: it's right in front of you.

On Perspective: The surging waves...

I ran into an acquaintance of mine today and the encounter has troubled my heart. I saw in her eyes something that I know well from my own experience: she was tired. I'm not talking about being merely physically tired, as one experiences from staying up to late, but instead a deep weariness. It's a difficult thing to see in another person. My heart aches for her.

I will never forget my experience during second year of University. It was fall semester and I had taken too many classes, of which several were upper-level (that is to say they were somewhat beyond my previous academic experiences). On top of this, I was having trouble coming to grips with the harsh reality of street life that I was seeing in the street ministry I was involved in, I had stopped going to church since I was having difficulty seeing the point in it, and my granny's health was rapidly getting worse. It was a hard fall for me. I would often wake up and anxiously get ready for school only to realize that it was still the middle of the night. I didn't sleep well; I would wake up many mornings with eyes that burned and a sore body. All I wanted was to go back to sleep and forget the problems of the world. My diet was suffering and so was I. I was constantly falling behind on my reading and my school work. I knew that something would give eventually since I could not go on like this for long. I felt like I was carrying a huge weight everywhere I went. At the end of semester I ended up failing a course, which I retook the next year, but I made it through.

It hurts me to see others who are under the wave. When you're under the wave all you can see is the wave about to crash down on you. You swim with all your might but the force of the sea is too powerful. It's dark, cold, and seems hopeless. Even the sun and sky are blotted out by the wave towering over you.

The prophet Jonah writes:

You cast me into the deep,
into the heart of the seas,
and the flood surrounded me;
all your waves and your billows
passed over me.
I said, ‘I am driven away
from your sight;
how shall I look again
upon your holy temple?’
The waters closed in over me;
the deep surrounded me;
weeds were wrapped around my head
at the roots of the mountains.
I went down to the land
whose bars closed upon me forever

I wish that I had the words to encourage her. I can't stop the 'waves and billows' from thrashing her; but I wish I could let her know that beyond that wave there is sunshine on the horizon. Eventually the storm clouds will pass and the seas will calm. Though, this is a difficult thing to remember when you're under the wave.

"And He got up and rebuked the wind and the surging waves, and they stopped, and it became calm." Luke 8:24

The House of God: Sinners Welcome?

From the sayings of the desert Fathers:
A brother who had sinned was turned out of the church by the priest; Abba Bessarion got up and went with him, saying, "I, too, am a sinner."

I was reminded of a conversation I had with a friend some time ago. I had asked him how things were going with a new church which he had recently begun attending. His mannerism suddenly changed and he hung his head; "I haven't really been going much at all", he said. When I asked him why not, he told me how he felt like a hypocrite going to church as he hadn't been living as he knew he ought. He said that he couldn't face all those people at church. I said, "you feel like a sinner?" He agreed. I told him that is never a reason not to go to church: if you wait till you're sinless, you'll never get to go. "You're welcome to join me at my church, we have sinners there. I should know, I'm one of them".

Every Sunday I hear these words:
Dear friends in Christ,
God is steadfast in love and infinite in mercy;
he welcomes sinners and invites them to his table.
Let us confess our sins, confident in God's forgiveness.

These words weekly remind me that sinners are welcome at my church; I am welcome at my church. Even more profound is the reality that I am welcomed by God. If I can find forgiveness and mercy nowhere else, I can find it there.
I take comfort in this.

They stood there before me unashamed: naked and beautiful...

Yesterday, having finished work while still in the late morning, I decided it was time to take my weekly walk to the local farm market for our produce. I tend to enjoy these walks as I often give myself plenty of time to stroll the neighbourhood on the way to and from. On my way back this day I decided to stroll down one of my favourite streets of the neighbourhood, just one street back from us. I especially enjoy this street due to all the majestic trees which line both sides and tower overhead as you walk. I had been looking forward to the colours these trees would take on this fall season, since I remembered from last year that their leaves tended to be quite lovely. Of course I was not disappointed when, over the course of the last month, they came alive with colour. On this afternoon as I walked beneath their outstretched arms I was struck by how naked they’ve become. Beneath my feet I saw the fiery oranges and reds that I was so fond of – leaves trampled and mashed. With the leaves having left their branches, I was surprised to find that these trees were no less majestic and beautiful. It was a different beauty to be sure, but I could now see the trees in a way that had previously been masked. Stark, naked, and striking against the background blue sky - yes, they were certainly beautiful to behold.

As I gazed upon these arboreal neighbours of mine, I began to wonder if we humans cannot likewise be seen as beautiful when we are ‘unmasked’ of our ‘leaves’. We too have ‘colours’ that we put on to impress others. Could I stand before my neighbours as ‘naked’ as these trees? Could I view those around me as beautiful without the pomp and presentation that normally accompanies life?

These trees looked so exposed and vulnerable to me. If I took off my mask, my presentation of self, would I too look as vulnerable? Would I be any more or less than what I already am? I think that, just as with the trees, I would not. These trees were humble. Humility is not a matter of self-abasement or low self-esteem; humility is rooted in a proper understanding of the realities of human nature, of our strengths and our weaknesses. Putting aside such pretenses will not change the reality of my strengths. Nor will any amount of ‘leaves’ change the reality of my weakness and frailty.

These trees made me think of those all around who are weak, vulnerable and exposed. Could I learn to see them, in all their ‘nakedness’, as beautiful? I pray that I might learn to.

All Saints Day: dum in hac vita sumus

In conversation with my priest the other day on the topic of living a life directed towards God I expressed the frustration that led me to explore the Christian tradition: “I got tired of people not telling me how to live”. There were certainly many folks who felt called to tell me what and what not to do, but there seemed to be a horrible deficit in actual guidance. There was plenty of ‘do this’ and ‘don’t do that”. Sure, plenty of folks were ready to tell me to read the Bible, don’t have sex, pray more, etc. But it wasn’t until I came in contact with the church fathers and the great Christian Tradition that I came to see that there were guides who had traveled the path of holiness and love and sought to share what they had learned with me. Suddenly I had a vast reserve of wisdom before me; I had a two thousand year-old living tradition of communities of faith coming together to seek after and love God. The most surprising part of this discovery was that I was a part of this tradition: it was my heritage, my inheritance.

I’ve recently come across this phrase in my readings of St. Augustine which has stuck with me of late: dum in hac vita sumus (‘while we are in this life’). This is the struggle that we all face. While we are in this life, how are we to live? Life seems so temporal – probably because it is – yet it is where we find ourselves. What are we to make of the years, the days, the hours… of our life?

I’ve come to realize that I need the assistance of others in living life well. As in most, if not all, areas of life I need to learn from others who have traveled the road before me. I refuse to accept that I simply ought to know how to pray, or live virtuously, or other such necessities of the Christian life. I must be humble enough to sit at the feet of the learned.

In the prologue to his ‘Rule’, St. Benedict of Nursia writes:
Listen carefully my son, to the master’s instructions, and attend to them with the ear of your heart. This is advice from a father who loves you; welcome it, and faithfully put it into practice. The labour of obedience will bring you back to him from whom you had drifted through the sloth of disobedience. This message of mine is for you, then, if you are ready to give up your own will […] Let us get up then, at long last, for the Scriptures rouse us when they say: It is high time for us to arise from sleep. Let us open our eyes to the light that comes from God, and our ears to the voice from heaven that every day calls out this charge: If you hear his voice today, do not harden your hearts.

St. Benedict the proceeds to lay out a ‘Rule’ for living a life focused on community, obedience, humility, contemplation, and love: a life ordered towards the Divine. He provides a guide for those who seek to follow his example. Like a caring father aims at teaching his child the way to live, so too does St. Benedict set out to aid those of us who would follow in his holy path of love.

On this All Saints Day we in the Church celebrate and give thanks to God for the ‘great cloud of witnesses’ who came before us. We accept the gift of a living tradition of faith that has been faithfully preserved and handed on to us. We are reminded that we can look to the great Saints of our faith for guiding examples of how to pass the hours while we are in this life.