Advent is easily one of my favorite times of the year. A time of peace, reflection, joy, preparation. It is during advent that we are called to pause, to listen, to wait. Advent is the season to prepare our hearts and lives for Christ. I typically recall the season of Advent as a time filled with warmth, hope, and something that I couldn't quite put my finger on...something that simply felt magical.
The start of Advent this year felt so different than what I have experienced in the past. I no longer have the comfort of my home parish to join in prayer in anticipation of Christ's birth, there is no advent wreath on my dining room table, no special prayer said each night as my family gathered for a meal together.
My Advent began with the close of Thanksgiving weekend, which was spent in Irvine. It surely didn't feel like a new season when I spent Thanksgiving day at Huntington Beach, and cooked dinner with my vegetarian boyfriend. It was not my typical Thanksgiving, no large family gathering, no classic movies on television, no turkey to cook and carve. Looking back, I'm not sure I even prayed over our meal. It felt different because things are different, and I was thankful for all of the changes in my life, and for a beautiful Thanksgiving weekend. I had sunshine and ocean waves, a smile on my face, a loving boyfriend to cook with, a roof over my head, love in my heart, and a nice bottle of wine :) (I'll post pictures on another day)
After our little weekend getaway to Irvine and Laguna Beach, we went to church for the first Sunday of Advent. But it didn't feel like Advent...
On Mondays, all the girls in my house gather for community night. We'll eat dinner together, have conversation, and participate in a spiritual practice. On the first Monday of Advent, we reflected on that Sunday's Gospel. We talked about what Advent meant to us, the concept of waiting for Christ. The conversation turned more toward the idea that making room in our hearts for Christ--inviting the peace, joy, justice and love that is Christ's promise--is something that should take place all year round. Maybe Advent is our time to refocus on what God's presence in our lives really mean, and what our presence in His world really means. What if we used it as a time to practice inviting God into our lives, so that when the snow melts and the presents are unwrapped and we take down our Christmas trees and return to work, when the mystery and the magic of the season has faded, when hope has faded, we already know how to ask God to be present with us.
And I'm still struggling, because it doesn't feel like Advent...
I have been opening my heart, making myself vulnerable--and instead of feeling the peace of Advent, I feel hurt. It makes me want to shut off and curl up in bed and close off my heart because it hurts too much to see what I see during a time that is supposed to be peaceful and joyful, a time that is meant to be used as preparation for Christ--the one who worked for love and peace and justice.
Instead, there have been riots and protests. There has been hurt and anger, a blind eye turned on injustices that stem from hundreds of years of systematic racism. I choose to be aware of these things because they matter, because I want to be an ally, I want to engage in conversations and actions that work for change and justice. I'm tired of reading posts on social media from privileged white peers, that never left the comfort of their suburban Ohio homes to broaden their minds and expand their experiences with culture, posts that completely disregard and refuse to acknowledge a people's history.
I see homelessness, unemployment, and despair in front of me every day. I turn on the news and feel a flame inside me because I am so tired of seeing brothers and sisters dignity and experiences be minimized by the media.
I read today on Epsicopal Cafe some deep thoughts about the state of our nations, allow me to share an excerpt or two:
"A nation founded on openness, trust in the people, and values worthy of great religions saw its leaders turn to secrecy, disregard for humanity, and sordid standards worthy of history's monsters. We have sought to be a leader of nations. Now we have nothing to say"
Our current approach to righting wrongs (or lack of approach) isn't solving the problem we have "truly soul-wise".
It's naive to think that a nation that began with claiming a people's land, and enslaving other human beings for our personal benefit could overcome it so quickly. Instead of slapping a band-aid on it, the first step should be true acknowledgement and repentance, followed by making the conscious decision to educate yourself and others, to become allies and work for justice so that true true healing can begin.
My heart has never felt so restless during an Advent season. I wish I could ignore the things that tear me apart inside, but instead I'm choosing not to. Instead, I ask God to open my heart more each day to the needs of my brothers and sisters. I am trusting that God will use my heart to make change. Instead of closing off and shutting down, I am preparing my heart this Advent for what Christ brings and I pray that God's peace will surround all those that hurt. I pray that those who are blind to the injustice, the prejudice, the privilege, I pray that they may be awake.
When it doesn't feel like Advent, I put my trust in the mystery and the magic that is beyond me, within me, surrounds me.
Last Sunday when we lit the second Advent candle, we read this,
"Last Sunday we lit the first candle--the candle of hope. Today we light the second candle, the candle of peace. We light it knowing full well that peace is elusive, and in some parts of the world, it is almost completely absent. Yet in this season of Advent, we trust that God is never absent from us. God is always preparing something new. And even where there is war and discord, whether between countries, within families, or within our own hearts, God is present, gently leading us to new possibilities"
This advent I pray for newness, wholeness, and peace in my heart and in the world.
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