Saturday, December 5, 2020

Attempting to turn as time collapses

Readings: Isa 40:1-5.9-11; Ps 85:9-14; 2 Pet 3:8-14; Mark 1:1-8

It's worth mentioning again that despite being a relatively short liturgical season, Advent is multi-layered. It is correct to note, as many insistently do, Advent is not merely a shorter Lent. In other words, it is not exclusively a season of penitence. But it is equally incorrect to insist that Advent does not have a penitential aspect.

Next Sunday, the Third Sunday of Advent, is Gaudete Sunday. The Sunday of pink (or "rose" as many insist) vestments and the lighting of the unique pink (or "rose") candle. Gaudete (meaning "Rejoice") Sunday marks a turning point in the season. We turn from anticipating the future coming of Christ toward what has already happened. In a sense, we turn toward Bethlehem. We do so in the realization that the birthing of Christ/the return of Christ is always happening in our midst.

But each year on the Second Sunday of Advent the readings issue a clear and unambiguous call: Repent!

In the fourth verse of the first chapter of the Gospel According to Saint Mark, the Greek word translated into English as "repentance" transliterates as metanoias. This is the proper variant of the word metanoia. Metanoia does not primarily mean being contrite for the things one has done wrong. Literally, meatnoia refers to both compunction for guilt that compels a reformation of one's life and the reversal of a decision.

As to the latter implication, the metaphor of turning and walking in a different direction is an apt one. In general usage in the New Testament, metanoia means to undergo a change of mind or of heart. This conversion leads to a new way of life- the life of God's kingdom. In a very real sense, every day is judgment day, which also means that each day is an opportunity to experience the grace of God anew.

The transformation we are invited to undergo begins inwardly and makes its way into how we relate to creation, others, and to God. The point of our reading from 2 Peter is that God is patient with me as I undergo conversion. In short, God waits. Doesn't this introduce an interesting twist into this season? God waiting on us, not us on waiting on God.



In light of the above, a question comes to mind: How much more proactive can I expect God to be? After all, keeping his promise, "...when the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to ransom those under the law, so that we might receive adoption" (Galatians 4:4-5). This adoption occurred as I was reborn through the waters of baptism. Who is waiting for whom? Us for God or God for us?

In our first reading, from deutero-Isaiah (second Isaiah, which comprises chapters 40-55 of the Book of Isaiah), which was written during Israel's Babylonian exile, the prophet implores the captive people to "Make straight in the wasteland a highway for our God!" But these words remain relevant for God's people today. Both inspired authors of our uniquely Christian scriptures and the earliest Church fathers envisioned the Church as experiencing something of a Babylonian exile. No doubt this had to do with the illicitness of Christianity in the Roman empire. But the point in these readings is that human hearts are the milestones of the highway for our God.

The call to repentance is the call to be transformed in the manner Paul urges:
I urge you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God, your spiritual worship. Do not conform yourselves to this age but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and pleasing and perfect (Romans 12:1-2)
Getting back to the complex issue of time, of temporality, a complexity to which Advent bids us attend, commenting on a poem of R.S. Thomas, Carys Walsh observed: "Part of the mystery of Advent is that time collapses. We are waiting again for that which has happened, which also happens continually and will happen again at some unspecified time."

In the words of a wholly appropriate REM song: "I believe in... time as an abstract/Explain the change, the difference between/What you want and what you need" ("I Believe").

By invoking the distinction between what we want and what we need, I am not going to be so facile as to assert that we should settle for what we need. Satisfaction, fulfillment, completion are realized by pursuing what you want. Pursuing what you want entails a huge risk. But this risk is mitigated, even if only gradually, by ruthlessly interrogating reality and of your own heart: "What do I really long for?" "What is really and deeply satisfying?" At least for me, the "What" in both of these questions resolves into a "Who."

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