what Advent sounds like to me...

Perhaps the finest, most evocative Advent song I have ever experienced is Loreena McKinnitt's "Snow." It tells nothing of the spiritual journey we take as the liturgy calls us to journey quietly from busyness into waiting in anticipation of the Christ child's birth. Nevertheless, these five minutes of music create a palpable encounter with the frozen earth as well as the emotional anguish so many of us know at this time of year. No matter what else may be taking place, when "Snow" comes on, I must stop and let its aching, haunting beauty wash over me one more time. This is what Advent sounds like to me...

I have never really been interested in the lyrics. And until this evening, I had never looked at them. It is McKennitt's voice and sparse instrumentation that speaks to me. In a unique way, she gives shape and form to what the earth seems to be singing these days - and words only clutter the lament. (If you're interested, you can find the lyrics here @ https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/ loreenamckennitt/snow.html)

I listened to "Snow" over and over today while rigorously cleaning the house. When I had sorted and recycled yet more once valuable but now extraneous pile of papers, I came upon Naomi Shihab Nye's brilliant poem, "Kindness." It too speaks of this season in ways that rattle and cleanse me. Her words give voice to another way of hearing Advent:

Before you know what kindness really is 

you must lose things, 

feel the future dissolve in a moment 

like salt in a weakened broth. 

What you held in your hand, 

what you counted and carefully saved, 

all this must go so you know 

how desolate the landscape can be 

between the regions of kindness. 

How you ride and ride 

thinking the bus will never stop, t

he passengers eating maize and chicken 

will stare out the window forever. 

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness 

you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho 

lies dead by the side of the road. 

You must see how this could be you, 

how he too was someone 

who journeyed through the night with plans 

and the simple breath that kept him alive. 

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside, 

you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing. 

You must wake up with sorrow. 

You must speak to it till your voice 

catches the thread of all sorrows 

and you see the size of the cloth. 

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore, 

only kindness that ties your shoes 

and sends you out into the day to gaze at bread, 

only kindness that raises its head 

from the crowd of the world to say 

It is I you have been looking for, 

and then goes with you everywhere 

like a shadow or a friend.

Today I read an Advent reflection that insisted that only those who are wounded - broken - poor in body or spirit can grasp the soul of Advent.  Bonhoeffer, privileged and bourgeois pastor who was martyred by the Nazis at the close of WWII, put it like this: 

Celebrating Advent means learning how to wait.… and not all can wait – certainly not those who are satisfied, contented, and feel that they live in the best of all possible worlds! Those who learn to wait are uneasy about their way of life, but yet have seen a vision of greatness in the world of the future and are patiently expecting its fulfillment. The celebration of Advent is possible only to those who are troubled in soul, who know themselves to be poor and imperfect, and who look forward to something greater to come. For these, it is enough to wait in humble fear until the Holy One himself comes down to us, God in the child in the manager.

I think Brother Dietrich is right - not everyone can wait - or is willing to learn to wait. Not everyone is broken-hearted or willing to become broken-hearted. That's why God graciously sends us angels unawares like Loreena McKinnitt and Naomi Shihab Nye who can wake us up with beauty and truth. And maybe then, despite our affluence and busyness, we can hear what Advent is saying.