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Another liturgical year has ended. Advent and the month of December are all that stands between us and the celebration of Christmas and the end of the calendar year.
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Just a few days ago we celebrated the 112th anniversary of the birthday of Margaret Aylward, the foundress of the Holy Faith Sisters. One of the enduring symbols of her life and work is the lantern, which gave her light and hope in the darkness of her prison room. She was always afraid of the dark. Her legacy suggests that the lantern became a tangible symbol of hope and light to those to whom she went.
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As the days grow shorter and the end of the year beckons, the sense of increasing darkness can weigh heavily on us, and our spirits can struggle against the relentless pressure to buy more, want more, get more, spend more, particularly in the face of such need and deprivation all around us. Of course there are preparations to be made and errands to run, but it can be difficult to see the way ahead, to navigate the noise and busyness of the commercial season and to hold onto some sense of peace during these weeks. And although we may not have Margaret Aylward’s lantern to carry with us, Advent invites us to carry hope with us, to make hope our lantern.
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We are inclined to think about hope as an emotion, something we either feel or don’t feel, but Pope Francis has suggested to us that hope like joy, is a choice, a habit, or attitude that we cultivate and nurture, based on our belief in God and God’s goodness and mercy: “Hope does not expire, because it is based on the fidelity of God. The hope of the Spirit is not even optimism. Born deeper, it rekindles at the bottom of the heart the certainty of being precious because we are loved." In the bible, hope focuses on a person, not the circumstances in which they find themselves and the hope emerges from that person’s confidence in God, not from their ability to do anything to change their situation. Their faith in God’s goodness in the future comes from the ways in which God has been good and merciful in the past. Click here to watch a short reflection.
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Our trust in God’s goodness is intertwined with our belief that God loves us, not because we are good or worthy but because we have each been deliberately and uniquely created as an expression of God’s goodness and love.
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Advent means “to come” and traditionally we see it as a time when we wait for the Incarnation, for the birth of God in human flesh. Waiting for anything is frequently challenging and difficult; it requires patience from us and reminds us that we are not in control but watching children waiting for Christmas can be a huge learning experience. In addition to their frustration and impatience, they exhibit wonder and excitement, expectation and anticipation of something almost magical: the coming of both the Baby Jesus and Santa Claus. They have an unshakeable trust and belief that their hopes and expectations will not be disappointed, even if they cannot actually see the focus of their wonder, and we can learn from that level of trust and belief. Hope is not based on what we can see, but on what we cannot see and yet choose to believe – that we are God’s beloved, chosen and called by name.
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The question is not “How am I to find God?” but “How am I to let myself be found by him?” And, finally, the question is not “How am I to love God?” but “How am I to let myself be loved by God?” God is looking into the distance for me, trying to find me, and longing to bring me home.”
Henri Nouwen
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Many of us have been taught that our primary purpose is to “find God” as though God is some distant and unreachable being, constantly eluding our efforts to establish a connection with the Divine. But what if the reverse, as Henri Nouwen suggests above, is actually true?
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A heron like the one above can be seen on the Tolka river. On many occasions over the past few weeks, the stillness of the heron, in stark contrast to the noise and ferocity of the river swirling around its feet, has seemed like a metaphor for an inner stillness, in spite of all that is happening in the world around us. God’s creation is filled with examples of patience, stillness and waiting if we open our eyes and our hearts to its teaching. Click HERE for a short reflection on what creation can teach us about patience and hope.
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What if we approach this Advent as an invitation to create that space, those moments of stillness in ourselves, to allow God’s love to be born again within our hearts? And when we create that stillness, we can not only make space for God to find us; we also create space in which we discover that we are loved uniquely and unconditionally by God because of who we are, not what we do or what we have, where we live or work, or who we know. We did not choose God; God chose each of us and continues to do so. Why not make some space in the next few weeks to allow yourself to be chosen again? Click HERE to play a beautiful Advent/ Christmas Meditation by James Finlay.
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May Advent bring you and yours many graces and blessings!
Dympna
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All correspondence to: The Secretary, Margaret Aylward Centre for Faith & Dialogue,
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