I am utterly immersed in Advent’s charms this year. The anticipation of Christmas to me has everything to do with the season leading up—the slow build up week by week, if I choose this over the hustle of commerce first, forces me to reckon with the words which shout fear not, peace, praise, and generally show wonderment: how can this be?
Case in point:
Have no anxiety at all, but in everything,
by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving,
make your requests known to God.
Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding
will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.
or
The crowds asked John the Baptist,
“What should we do?”
He said to them in reply,
“Whoever has two cloaks
should share with the person who has none.
And whoever has food should do likewise.”
The scripture holds part of this charm, especially Isaiah, Zephaniah, Jeremiah, and here the New testament passages from this past Sunday, Gaudete Sunday in the Catholic tradition: rejoice. Rejoice because you can’t possibly know how good this truly is, but you will eventually know in your soul. Here and now.
This joy I see directly in my littlest’s eyes lately, as she takes leaps of developmental growth. I watch her take careful bites and large, enthusiastic ones out of new favorite foods, and work through her dislikes, and consider the music and the waiting and the decorations appearing little by little. She enjoys the story and sees it fresh, and I realize that I see Christmas four decades on, with the cloak of adulthood sitting precariously on my shoulders, yet her mother still (somehow the adult in charge). And my oldest is hyper-aware of all things Christmas and the monotony of daily life, but I marveled the other day in her continued belief in Santa and Elves. Her eyes tell me that there’s still belief there, and it’s not so much that the existence needs proving, but that she has the heart of belief within her fueling her, making her happy from within that there’s something in the world which does stand true, in spite of all its sorrow.
I lament only not having that beginner’s mind, sometimes, when I see the gut of this world on daily display. When I know the same passages I meditate upon are willfully misread and misinterpreted for gain. When I wonder not at wonder, but at the gall of this world.
Still, there’s room for that newness of belief, if we choose to look toward it. Mind you, not ignore the wrong—oh no, quite the contrary, to look deep into the darkness with eyes of light. To see the peace of God that surpasses all understanding and to believe. To make belief come to life in the way we treat one another, waiting for no permission to love.