God Embraces Outcasts -- Then & Now

Thom, author of the blog Faith in the 21st Century, has a great post today in which he considers how the socially marginalized (the outcasts from Proper Mainstream Christian Society) would come into play if Jesus were to appear in our midst and offer us a fresh version of his teaching that "tax collectors and prostitutes are entering heaven before you" (Luke 11:46).  Well worth a read.

Advent: Less Running, More Stillness

I was googling around a few minutes ago, in search of a quick, one-off Advent reflection.  (I haven't picked up the Advent booklet at my bedside in several days:  too busy.)

This is the line I came across on the Internet.  I know nothing about the author or what else he has written.  But it works for me right now.  It fits the spiritual state I'm in at the moment.  And it speaks to this time of waiting.

“Advent: the time to listen for footsteps -- you can't hear footsteps when
you're running yourself.” -- Bill McKibben

I need to slow down.  I need to stop running.  I need to get myself quiet on the outside, and then quiet on the inside as well.  Avail myself of the possibility that Christ might just be willing to take up residence in my flawed soul.  Make myself available to the peace that God is willing to offer -- and which I must be willing to accept.

Advent 2011.  The season when what I really need is fewer bright lights, less noise, less shopping, less greed for what appears in the ads from the big box stores.  And more moments waiting for the peace and love and mercy of God, which most likely will come in small moments, quiet moments.

Making and Finding Silence in Advent

We are now in the first week of Advent.  I love Advent; I love what it's all about -- waiting for God and, as we wait, trying to make a home for God in our hearts.  It's a liturgical season that is, in a sense, all about getting pregnant -- getting pregnant with Christ.  Each of us, female or male, old or young, can help bring Christ into this world.  Each of us is responsible for saying yes to God's call and now we wait for God's presence to grow in our souls rather than in a womb.

For me, silence has to play a role in all this waiting.  Otherwise I get caught up in the hustle and bustle of the commercial enterprise that is Christmas 2011, a season of bargains and parties and food and outward trappings that often fail to lead me back to the spirit of quiet possibility -- the sacredness -- found in "mangers" both ancient and modern.  (There's a "manger" two hundred yards to your right or left, if you're willing to keep your eyes open and you don't require farm animals or straw.  Humble, unassuming places where one can be open to the in-breaking of God in our world.  Places where the incarnation still seems like it has a real chance of occurring in the human soul, even in this busy, high tech era known as 2011.)

Now, in the middle of the night as I write this, I realize that I may not have an easy time of finding silence each day during Advent.  Plenty of Christmas carols in the air, some of which I like a good deal.  (A friend just sent our family a beautiful CD of Christmas carols performed by a girls choir.  We'll be playing that many times in the coming weeks and finding food for our souls in the playing.  Thanks, Jeanne!)  Still -- if I want to find moments of quiet during Advent, I'm going to have to kill the remote and turn off the car radio more often and stop myself from blathering on, too.

I'm going to have to make silence, in other words.  Valuing silence at different points during the day is helpful (perhaps essential) if I hope to make space in my heart for Christ's love, Christ's mercy, Christ's grace.  And maybe cultivating an inner spirit of quiet is essential if I hope to attain the equilibrium to share a bit of that love with others too -- since even in the quiet of the manger, the doorway was left open for shepherds, travelers from afar, and even (let's face it) curious livestock.  I have to imagine that Mary and Joseph savored the quiet -- occasionally broken by the Christ child's cries, for sure -- before they let those strangers in, before they pulled back the blanket a bit to let the visitors see the innocent face of love.