Thursday, December 13, 2018

a passion of patience: advent waiting part two

A gentle but persistent snow has been falling this afternoon, blanketing the Berkshires in a feathery coat of white. Life becomes a bit quieter when this happens - almost serene - and certainly subdued. In Holidays and Holy Nights Christopher Hill writes of walking his dog early on a Saturday morning much like this during Advent.

A dusting of snow blew back and forth across the sidewalk... as we came out of the woods into a clearing by a gully, the woods were completely quiet. Even the crows were quiet. The only sound was the creaking of the trees in the wind... The sense of waiting was thick. Something enormous was developing. The stillness was not an absence of activity; it was taut. The woods were holding themselves still, in a "passion of patience," as Charles Williams said. They felt like an empty room waiting for someone to come in. I don't think the woods always felt that way at this time of year. I think that all the Advents that people had ever experienced were working together to create that moment, to wear away a weak spot in time. ( p. 66)

This waiting, tightly drawn and pregnant with anticipation, is another way of entering the spirituality of Advent. The exilic words of ancient Israel's poet and prophet Isaiah speaks of those who "wait upon the Lord" only to find that their once sapped strength has now been renewed (40:31.) Some scholars have said that the primitive form of the Hebrew verb qavah begins with the tension of a rope's twisted cords. It is, therefore, an active waiting, an endurance fortified by a vision of God's steadfast love that endures forever. In this setting, "waiting means a longing for the fulfillment of the promise by faith... it is a longing or looking for that is characterized by confident expectation" in God's justice and peace. (Allan Ross, Professor of Hebrew at Beeson Divinity School.) This is a restless patience that fortifies the heart by reclaiming the story of the God who sets the captives free. It is neither idealistic nor sentimental but cultivated by an encounter with the Lord's presence in human history. Small wonder that this waiting is sometimes translated as hope in English Bibles - for it is both.

The late Henri Nouwen reminds Christians during Advent of Israel's steadfast trust that manifested itself in acts of active and hope-filled patience. 

The marvelous vision of the peaceable Kingdom, in which all violence has been overcome and all men, women, and children live in loving unity with nature, calls for its realization in our day-to-day lives. Instead of being an escapist dream, it challenges us to anticipate what it promises. Every time we forgive our neighbor, every time we make a child smile, every time we show compassion to a suffering person, every time we arrange a bouquet of flowers, offer care to tame or wild animals, prevent pollution, create beauty in our homes and gardens, and work for peace and justice among peoples and nations we are making the vision come true. We must remind one another constantly of the vision. Whenever it comes alive in us we will find new energy to live it out, right where we are. Instead of making us escape real life, this beautiful vision gets us involved.

Our Advent rituals link us to "the great visions of peace among all people... and harmony with all creation." They show us the consequences of shallow and immature patience and invite us to nourish a revolutionary love born of God's abiding grace. Nouwen writes that the Christmas vision corresponds:  

To the deepest longings of the human heart and point to the truth waiting to be revealed beyond all lies and deceptions. These visions nurture our souls and strengthen our hearts. They offer us hope when we are close to despair, courage when we are tempted to give up on life, and trust when suspicion seems the more logical attitude. Without these visions our deepest aspirations, which give us the energy to overcome great obstacles and painful setbacks, will be dulled and our lives will become flat, boring, and finally destructive. Our visions enable us to live the full life.

First, there is the simmering and ripening feminine wisdom of waiting that Advent asks us to nourish in the darkness of winter. Second, there is the active and restless patience of revolutionary love fortified by our sacred stories and prophetic visions; this, too, is part of our Advent spirituality. In part three yet another layer of Advent waiting takes shape in the lament of Psalm 130: "I cried out to you, O Lord, from my depths... my soul waits for you." The South African freedom theologian, Alan Boesak, brings all three layers of waiting together in his brilliant poem: An Advent Credo.  

It is not true that creation and the human family are doomed to destruction and loss—
This is true: For God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life;

It is not true that we must accept inhumanity and discrimination, hunger and poverty, death and destruction—
This is true: I have come that they may have life, and that abundantly.

It is not true that violence and hatred should have the last word, and that war and destruction rule forever—
This is true: Unto us a child is born, unto us a Son is given, and the government shall be upon his shoulder, his name shall be called wonderful councilor, mighty God, the Everlasting, the Prince of peace.

It is not true that we are simply victims of the powers of evil who seek to rule the world—
This is true: To me is given authority in heaven and on earth, and lo I am with you, even until the end of the world.

It is not true that we have to wait for those who are specially gifted, who are the prophets of the Church before we can be peacemakers—
This is true: I will pour out my spirit on all flesh and your sons and daughters shall prophesy, your young men shall see visions and your old men shall have dreams.

It is not true that our hopes for liberation of humankind, of justice, of human dignity of peace are not meant for this earth and for this history—
This is true: The hour comes, and it is now, that the true worshipers shall worship God in spirit and in truth.

So let us enter Advent in hope, even hope against hope. Let us see visions of love and peace and justice. Let us affirm with humility, with joy, with faith, with courage: Jesus Christ—the life of the world.

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