The Advent of Faith

It is the eve of a lovely Sunday, Christmas lights are sparkling and in the quiet before bed, I have sat down to read my daily Advent email. I signed up to receive a daily reading all throughout Advent from the Bruderhof communities, and I have been absolutely loving it. This particular reading struck me though, and it was so beautiful, I had to share it:

Advent is the time of promise; it is not yet the time of fulfillment. We are still in the midst of everything and in the logical inexorability and relentlessness of destiny. To eyes that do not see, it still seems as though the final dice are being cast down here in these valleys, on these battlefields, in these camps and prisons and bomb shelters. Those who are awake sense the working of the other powers and can await the coming of their hour.

Space is still filled with the noise of destruction and annihilation, the shouts of self-assurance and arrogance, the weeping of despair and helplessness. But round about the horizon the eternal realities stand silent in their age-old longing. There shines on them already the first mild light of the radiant fulfillment to come. From afar sound the first notes as of pipes and voices, not yet discernable as a song or melody. It is all far off still, and only just announced and foretold. But it is happening, today.

The whole thing is much longer, but this bit just seemed like such a jolt of divine reality that it's been in my mind all day. The author was Alfred Delpf, a Jesuit priest and prisoner in a Nazi camp, who, soon after writing this, was hanged for "treason". It was amazing to me that he could write with such clarity of faith, such trust in God. This man had every reason in the world to believe that God no longer cared for him, that God was no longer present in His life. Yet in the season of Advent, the season of "Coming", he celebrated God's presence all around him. For God was with him, and God is with us; with us in prison camps and suffering, with us in our moments of joy and frustration, even with us in the daily days where mundane reality seems to exclude any sense of the divine. And He will never leave, thank goodness.

Irony on the SAT

I'm taking joy by the fistfulls, grabbing it up with abandon because I have finished the SAT! This is my second time to take it, and regardless of the score, never again! Yes, yes, I'm very proud of myself and Joel (who also took it) for learning all the material and doing our best. Now we just have to wait three weeks to find out what that "best" really is. But, once and for all, after a solid week of daily three hour tests filled with obscure questions about vocabulary and unsolvable algebra, I am finished. Never again shall I have to sludge through the marshy maze of SAT preparation.

On a side note, I must say that when I really think about it, it irks me in the extreme to know that the SAT is the measure of highschool intelligence for everyone. I mean, if you happen to excel at algebra or just take a strange delight in quantitative comparison, then, it is indeed an accurate measure of your intelligence. But what about everyone whose intelligence and passion lies in history, or music, or geography, or literature? (Especially literature!) Everything is so boxed these days, and if your specific knowledge or intelligence doesn't fit into the box, then it doesn't count. I say it lightly, but hey, if you really think about it, it makes you stop to think about it more.

It was rather ironic today as well, because one of the literature passages in the vocabulary section was all about how Americans are so focused on test scores and filling in the correct blanks and getting the advantage in life that they have let all the most meaningful, wondrous things fall by the wayside. Since a capacity for vision, or a hunger for beauty, or a compassionate spirit isn't measurable, the author pretty much implied, it isn't appreciated or emulated. Which I thought was a very interesting essay anyway, but even more so since it was on my SAT.

All that to say, I am now going to take that essayist's advice and focus on all the creative, interesting, fun things I can. It being Christmas, that ought to be pretty easy.

Something for the Ordinary

I played with the name for this for quite awhile. I just wanted something simple, something to do with the thoughts and happenstance of every day. I looked up the Latin word for thought, cogito, or sententia, but that sounded too complicated for the simplicity I wanted. I looked up Tolkien's elvish words for joyful thoughts, ossanwe alasse, and though I find them quite beautiful, they too seemed to carry too much weight for the sense I wanted.

And then, it being Christmas, I turned around to look at a Christmas book I had sitting on my chair, and was stopped in my tracks by the big red letters of an old favorite. TAKE JOY, it said, in the title of a book by Tasha Tudor. And right then, I knew I'd found the name for my collection of small, daily thoughts.

I love the concept of taking joy, as if joy were a penny staring up at me from the ground, just waiting for me to pick it up and be enriched, even if only by a cent. There are a thousand joys, a countless number of instances in the day when joy is to be had for the taking, thoughts are to be had simply for the thinking, beauty is to be found, merely in the seeing.

So, there you have it.
Take joy indeed.
Merry Christmas!