You may well know that the season of Advent and Christmas developed from a pagan belief festival. The pagans believed the world faced a constant struggle between light and darkness. They recognised the importance of light for the growth of all plant life. Darkness always spoke to them of evil. The Christian church recognised this and, in its wisdom, rather than banish the pagan feast, baptised it and gave it a Christian meaning. It was obvious then that the SUN God of the pagans became Jesus the SON of God.
As with all the beginnings of Advent, the days still grow shorter. This year we are also more aware of the darkness overpowering the word, with what is happening in Israel and the Middle East and the systematic destruction of the Ukraine but there are many other wars taking place that mercilessly destroy the lives of people, especially children. Now our country has chosen to reduce the value of life and of people making it legal for people to commit suicide and telling doctors, nurses and carers to ignore their consciences and the hypocritic oath: dark times indeed.
Despite this growing darkness, Advent offers signs of hope. No Advent is the same. As each Advent comes and goes, our frail expectations mysteriously mature. We gradually come to realise that there is a deeper hope, a more profound deliverance, a truer liberation. Our Advent hope helps us believe that Jesus Christ’s radiance will be brighter and more luminous than all the candles ever burned, and will drive out the evils of this world, opening us to the peace Jesus wants for us.
We help the light that Jesus brings spread more rapidly and with greater strength by becoming light-bearers. We contain the power to bring light in a gesture that makes someone feel better. A smile. A greeting. A phone call. A love spoken. An offering of good will. Very simple things that can still heal hearts and souls and often bodies. Make this your goal at the beginning of this new liturgical year. Become light-bearers in the darkness.
There is story about six people who died on a very cold night sitting round a dead fire each holding a large piece of wood. They did not put the wood on the fire to spite someone else in the group. The story ends:
Six logs held fast in death’s still hand
was proof of human sin.
Thy did not die from cold without.
They died from cold within
Advent invites us to “Settle down for a while.” To open the door just enough to let God in and ask "What is God trying to say to us in our busy lives?" Carlo Carretto says:
Be patient!Learn to wait—
for each other,
for love,
for happiness,
for God!
(Nikos Kazantzakis) adds …
God is never in a hurry!Let every tear bring the Messiah closer!For it is with much groaning of the flesh
that the life of the spirit is brought forth!
Advent is filled with anticipation and promise which will grow stronger through our times of prayer and reflection.
As we await the new birth of Jesus and the light and peace that he brings, know that there is a child in us that looks for the sign of love and reassurance in the sky, in the rainbows that appear, the snows that brighten the earth, and in the arms that reach down from heaven to lift us up. We love to light the candle that dispels the dark as we do in the Advent wreath. And we cry out for the light that banishes all the evils of darkness.
An elderly man in Hitchin phones his son in New York and says, "I hate to ruin your day son, but I have to tell you that your mother and I are getting a divorce after 45 years of marriage... and that much misery is enough!"
"Dad, what are you talking about?" the son yells.
"We can't stand the sight of each other any longer," his dad says.
"We're sick of each other, and I'm sick of talking about this, so you call your sister in Hong Kong and tell her!".
Frantic, the son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone. "Like heck they're getting divorced," she shouts, "I'll take care of this."
She calls her elderly father immediately, and screams at him, "You are not getting divorced. Don't do a single thing until I get there. I'm calling my brother back, and we'll both be there tomorrow. Until then, don't do a thing, you hear me?".
Smiling the old man turns to his wife and says, "Okay, it's all set. Both the children are coming for Christmas and paying their own air-fares."
by Fr Thomas O'Brien a.a
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