Advent: Is God Here, Or Is God Coming?

It is commonly known that “Advent” means coming, and Advent is a season of waiting for “the coming of God.” Also, the faithful will be reminded at Masses that the initial focus of Advent is on the coming of God at “the End,” a kind of futurist expectation. And the faithful know fully well that in Advent we await the coming of Christmas, and hence remembering the coming of God in and through Jesus Christ. At the same time, if we priests and ministers of the word have done our duty, we have often emphasized to the faithful that the God we proclaim and worship is ever present, “nearer to us than we are to ourselves.” How can it be that God both comes to us and is already present? What is the relationship between God’s coming and His eternal Presence? Using familiar language, we are exploring the tension in Christian faith between “already” and “not yet.” This tension, this experience in faith, will be heard at Mass in readings and in prayers again and again throughout Advent.   

In simple words, if God is Present now, why do we say that “God will come”?  If one denies or is unaware that God is present now, one is in effect living in unbelief, living in the darkness of an empty soul. As expressing ultimate reality, as the truly good and unchangeable truth, the name “God” stands for the Presence in a human soul of that which gives understanding, guidance, meaning, wisdom, purpose, joy, peace, love. Without living attuned to this divine Presence, one experiences much anxiety, despair, fear of the future, mental confusion, an agitated drifting through life. The Presence of God anchors one in reality, not in fantasy, wild imagination, mere “dreaming.” On the other hand, if one thinks or claims that God is present now in such a way that one fully knows and loves God, one has closed off his soul in an arrogant condition called “Gnosticism.”  One is “saved,” “has arrived,” “is already in the Kingdom of God.” Both denial of God’s real Presence in one’s soul, and claiming to be fully one with God now, break the tension of living in truth, and are forms of spiritual death.   

To be ever aware of God’s Presence is the precondition for a life of faith, and of faith working through love. Also to be aware that one is not sufficiently attending to God, not sufficiently trusting God, and not fully obeying God is necessary for living humbly, honestly, openly. To encourage both real faith and humility, Catholic worship presents again and again these two truths: God is fully present to us, but none of us is fully present to God. Although God is here now, we are not fully with God, or loving God. That is the essential tension proclaimed and explored during Advent, and the liturgies are meant to help each of us wake up and live truly in the Presence of He Who Is, here and now. Although God is Present, you and I must allow the Divine to become more fully present in our hearts, minds, and actions, day by day. God is entering into you; are you attending?  Such is the message and beauty of Advent.

Thoughts On The End

The title may sound a little impressive, or pretentious.  It is triggered by the various “ends” coming our way these days: the end of the church year; the end of the civil year; readings and prayers about “the end of the world” or the “second Coming;” thoughts about our loved ones who died; thoughts about our own end, or the end of life of someone we love. There seems to be no end to ends, as they come one after another, unendingly.  Let’s briefly consider these ends one at a time. End of the church year—the Feast of Christ the King. Not a warm and inviting title for Jesus, is it?  At least, not to us, living in a long-established democratic regime, that began in time by overthrowing the king. Do we need another king?  Do we not have enough would-be kings in politics? For my part, I think that Jesus would far prefer the title, “Christ the Servant,” to “Christ the King.” Humility far more befits Jesus Christ than grandiose titles.  He rules by love. End of the civil year on 31 December, and New Year’s Day on 1 January. Why these dates? Did you know that in our civilization, we used to celebrate New Year’s Day at other times —especially at the winter solstice, or at the beginning of spring? When does one year end and another begin? Years seem to be part of an endless cycle of change, or at least a very slow winding-down of cosmic time.  A year might usefully be said to end at either the summer or winter solstice. I could see our Old Year ending on 21 December, and the New Year beginning around 4:00 p.m. on 21 December this year—the actual time of the winter solstice near Great Falls, Montana. What we call the end of the year is literally relative in space-time. “The end of the world.” What does this phrase really mean? If nothing else, it indicates that the person who uses the phrase may need to do more thinking before opening his or her mouth. I find phrases such as “change the world” or “the end of the world” virtually meaningless, quite empty-headed. What is “the world”?  What possibly could constitute “the end of the world?” Would everything that exists cease to be? Would that be the “end of the world?” What about God, or that which simply is, and has no end? Is God all that has to be? Yes, that is why God is called “absolute being,” or “necessary being.” Only God is and has to be.  Everything else? Each in time has its beginning, middle, end. But is there an end to everything that exists, altogether? No one knows but God, who brings all things into being. Our ignorance is legendary, known by all creatures, it seems, except to us human beings. And then there is the so-called “Second Coming.” When we hear this bizarre phrase, what possible meaning can we assign to it? Second coming of Christ? Why not his third, or thousandth, or billionth coming? It seems to me that Christ is ever coming into the world, into any heart or mind that is open enough to let Him squeeze in. Surely it is ever wise to “prepare to meet your God,” in the words of the ancient prophet, Amos. To me that means now, or in the famous words of Martin Luther King, “Not tomorrow, not today, but now.”

A Time To Remember

 

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter on heaven:  a time to be born, and a time to die.”  Although it is always our duty as human beings to remember our loved ones who have died, during November the Catholic Church invites us to do so publicly on behalf of all. To this end, November begins with two linked days of remembering:  All Saints’ Day, as we rejoice with and for those who have attained union with God beyond death “in heaven;” and All Souls’ Day, when we offer prayers on behalf of all who have died, and are still being moved, by God’s grace and their cooperation, to complete happiness in God.  

Typical of our Catholic faith, religious practices are linked with the movements of nature. As we see autumn pass into winter, and darkness descend on the earth, so we are invited to remember our Maker, and to contemplate our own pending death, and to remember our dear friends and family members who have “gone before us” into the “end without end.”  And we remember and entrust to God all human and other beings who have lived and died throughout the ages.  What we want for ourselves, we ask for each and for all:  unending happiness, the fulfillment of all the good that God created each one to be.  

 “In God alone is my soul at rest.” We lovingly entrust our dear ones who have died to the only One who can give life eternally, because He is Life.  God is the life of all that lives. And as Pope John Paul said so well, “When God gives life, He gives it eternally.” With trust in God—not in ourselves, nor even primarily in those we love most—we offer ourselves, all that we have, all whom we live, to “the God and Father of all.” In ourselves, of ourselves, we have no substantial being, no enduring life, for in time we are perishing.  In God we live, you live, your parents live, each of God’s creatures live.  I think that it dishonors God to speak of those who died as “dead.”  They died in time; they live in eternity. Eternity is another name for the non-temporal way that God is. To God nothing is dead.  Rather, “to Him all are alive.” 

Hence, November is a month for entrusting our deceased loved ones to God, not as though God needs our prayers to have mercy on His creatures, but because God is the ever-flowing, ever-creating Good, from whom each comes, to whom each returns. November is a beautiful time for remembering not the dead, but the God who is now and forever. We worship God by lovingly, gratefully remembering His beloved ones who have died in time, live in our hearts and memories, but far more importantly, live because God is.

Treasure These Days

We have been experiencing a beautiful fall in central Montana, with much sunshine, mild temperatures, and a spectacular display of colors in nature. My genuine hope for all of us is that despite our busy schedules, we are taking generous time to observe and to enjoy nature’s display. It is too easy to watch TV or to spend excessive time indoors. These days of “Golden Summer” are fleeting, and we know well what to expect in coming months. Not to enjoy the beauty of nature is to allow the days of our lives to pass away without being truly awake. 

“Give back to Caesar what is Caesar, and to God what is God’s.” And what is God’s? Not a part of who we are and what we have, but our entire life, our whole mind, body, soul.  A highly signifiant and enjoyable way to give ourselves back to God is to let go of busyness and take time to walk in God’s creation. As one walks on trails, paths, or even sidewalks, one is a creature among creatures, dwarfed by majestic trees displaying colors as they prepare for winter’s chill. What good would it do to give God some money or even some of our talents, but withhold our entire mind and heart—who we are? Essential to giving back to God is to give thanks, to be appreciative of His creative beauty as well as His love in giving us Christ. Enjoying beauty lifts us up and presents us to God presenting Himself to us through nature’s beauty.  

Moses and I have been take walks almost daily to see and to absorb something of creation’s beauty. Enjoying beauty is a self-transcendent activity. Nearly always I carry my camera, photograph, make a few needed adjustments, and then post some of these images on our parish website, www.beltcatholic.com. Photography is a labor of love, and a fruit of walking and meditating on what we see, hear, smell, touch. (Moses, too, is busy taking in sights and smells, and responding to the p-mail he reads.) Walking itself can be a form of meditation, if we seek to be open to reality as it presents itself, and let the truth and beauty of reality break into consciousness, freeing us from excessive self-preoccupation. If we walk and merely daydream or allow our worries to flood us, we lose the meditative benefit of walking. And although any form of production—even one’s art—can become less than loving openness to reality, I have found that the act of concentrating my mind to photograph, to “do my art,” makes me more attentive to the world beyond me, not less so. Whatever lifts up our attention from our self-contained, self-constrained worlds is good and refreshing. Walking with an open mind is a loving form of prayer in the true sense. 

Hence, in walking and photographing, I experience the truth of the Psalmist’s words: “He refreshes my soul.” We cannot perfect ourselves, renew ourselves, refresh ourselves.  Openness to divine Presence alone can bring us peace, joy, refreshment of spirit.  Each of us needs to climb out of our little worlds, our usual routines, and walk outside with grateful hearts.

The Grin That Stole My Worries

Several days ago I had lunch in a local cafe with one of the Catholic faithful who lives in the area, and whom I have gotten to know over the years through our common ministry. John is in his early eighties, and from our conversations appears to be quite wealthy, having been heavily invested in U.S. equity and bond markets for some 60 years. He lives frugally, however, driving a late model Chevy, not a Lexus or Mercedes, either of which he could easily afford. Anyway, in our recent conversation we were discussing how we live. John mentioned that he rarely ate much for lunch, or for dinner. “What about breakfast?” I asked. John said, “Oh, I eat a good breakfast. On Mondays and Tuesdays, my wife and I have cereal. On Wednesdays, she cooks us an omelet. On Thursdays and Fridays, cereal. On Saturdays and Sundays, we eat bacon and waffles.” Rather surprised by the scheduled meals—contrasting utterly to my style of eating—I asked, “Why follow such a strict schedule?  Is it by your doing, or your wife’s?  “I guess it is my way” he said.  And so I asked, “Well, why do you follow such a strict schedule?” John beamed, grinning broadly, and said, “I do not like change.”
His response, and the evident delight he took in his stance and in telling it to me, caused me to wonder. Does not John know that life always involves change, whether we like it or not? He is a very good man, respectable, solid, prudent, intelligent, and still in apparently good health into his 80’s. And I realized that I do not always like changes that come into my life, but they come anyway, and often major changes come unexpectedly—as when my beloved Zoe developed cancer and died just two weeks after diagnosis. That change was very painful. No, some changes I do not like at all, but they come.

Here is the good news. John’s broad and sun-shine grin offered with the words, “I do not like change,” caused me to reflect and realize that I need not be afraid of changes coming in my life. And why not? Because I have experienced again and again how even painful and unwanted changes have provided opportunities for further growth, for good changes in my life. My confidence—even joy—is not in not liking change, but in trusting that the One we call “God” is so good and powerful that He brings good into one’s life through most painful and unwanted changes. Such indeed will be death, when you and I will experience the truth of the Apostle’s words, “Death is swallowed up in victory.” 

Most of my worries come from fear of changes—haunting fears that bad things can happen to me. But John’s grin reminds me of the more profound truth: Despite some bad events, and seeming failures in my life, good has resulted. I do not smile because I do not like change (and have a good life as things are), but because I trust the One who keeps opening windows in my life as doors get closed. Admittedly, I am borrowing from the Dutch writer, Corrie ten Boom, who wrote words to the effect that “God never closes a door without opening a window.” In yielding to worries, one is distrusting the wisdom and goodness of God, in whom all things exist, and whose mind “steers all things through all things,” if I may quote the early Greek philosopher, Heracleitos.

Although none of us sees tomorrow, or knows what the future holds, when we worry we are failing to remember and to trust the all-good Creator. Change comes, and it may hurt--temporarily. But in and through these changes, new opportunities open up, if we will but exercise trust and lovingly press forward into the new life unfolding before us. In God alone nothing is lost, and all changes prepare for a more delightful union.

Forces That Nourish And Disintegrate The Soul: Exploratory Thoughts

(Part II follows immediately after this post) A human being may find himself or herself going through a period of being “troubled,” or “disturbed.” Perhaps one’s nights become occupied by disturbing dreams and thoughts. The person may not know clearly what is happening, although they do not feel right, and may become quite exhausted in the process. In direct terms, one has not sufficiently been communing with God—or to use more popular language, one has not been “praying” to the degree needed for mental and spiritual health. As a consequence of not being grounded in God, one shows signs of mental disintegration. Without active participation in the divine, one becomes (varying with time and circumstances in life): anxious, depressed, angry, worried, self-absorbed, obsessed, lustful, grief-stricken, embittered, and so on. The mind/soul not open to, and immersed in, the divine ground disintegrates under unpleasant weight of its own psychic forces. These negative powers (such as anxiety and depression) are centrifugal forces in the soul, dissipating or exhausting the psyche’s energies. The Apostle Paul writes: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”  Or, in a more literal translation from the Greek (assuming my translation to be accurate): “I am strong through the (one) empowering me.” In the context of Paul’s Letter to the Philippians, chapter 4, the one experienced as strengthening him is what he terms “Christ.” In other words, Paul experiences an inner strengthening of his psyche through the presence of Christ in him. If one thinks he or she “has faith,” but does not experience inner strengthening by the divine (however conceived), then one should suspect that his or her “faith” is mere credal belief. Real faith brings the soul into real contact with the living God. Credal beliefs at best fill the mind with images of what one believes may be true, but does not know through experience, and does not seek to know through genuine self-abandoning faith. What is at work in the Apostle Paul’s experience of Christ strengthening him? Faith as trust effecting union with Christ (the Divine) grounds psychic forces, strengthens them, recharges them. “Faith working through love” is a flow from the divinely-centered psyche outward into action, service, compassion, love, reverence, and so on. Some attitudes dissipate the psyche’s energies, and opposed attitudes concentrate the psyche’s energies. Put more correctly, based on nature: whereas some attitudes and responses to the fullness of reality ground, concentrate, refresh the inner resources of the soul or psyche, the opposite attitudes dissipate or squander these resources. Genuine faith (fides caritate formata) is the most effect means of grounding, ordering, restoring the human psychic forces to “sharing in the divine nature.” Why does trust concentrate the psyche’s energies? Faith as trust grounds the psyche in that which is, in the creative power at work in all things, causing them to be, moving them towards fulfillment; and we call this creative power “God.” Forces or powers such as depression, anxiety, ill-will, hatred are negative or destructive forces, as they dissipate, spend, squander the psyche’s resources. How so?  How does worry, for example, squander psychic energy? Worries remove the mind’s focus from what is (reality: divine, human, material) and spends the energies imagining what might be, or what seems to be. Futuristic illusions have the same effect as anxious worries: they exhaust the mind and its energies, spending them on what is not now, but on what one wishes or fears could be in the future. One could say that futuristic illusions—“dreams” of what could be—are forms of anxiety projected into an imagined future.  In any case, speculations about what could be, or what once was, remove the psyche from the all-nourishing present—the Now, the “Kingdom of God”—and fragment it into imagined realities. In exploring psychic processes, it is ever good to suspend one’s thinking, and return to the truth of direct experience. For in the realm of psychic, spiritual, or mental processes, truth is what one concretely experiences. So one can ask himself or herself:  Right now, is my mind grounding in the divine, or dissipating into speculative “realities”? Am I attuned to the truth of what is, or to opinions about what might be, or might have been?  If right now one’s soul felt troubled or worried by various thoughts (such as, “how can I afford to live?”), what should one do to overcome anxious, dissipating thoughts? Return to the truth of reality, so well symbolized as the I AM that spoke to Moses out of the burning bush. Compared to the I AM, what are these various worries and thoughts but specks of dust, as it were? Worries are mere dross before the consuming fire of I AM. In less poetic words, in the experience of the I AM—openness, trust, love, wonder, awe—anxious and disturbing thoughts are relaxed, let go, abandoned, transcended. In active trust in that which truly is (the I AM WHO AM), the mind feels refreshed, at peace, safe, nourished. Anxious thoughts dissipate and wear down the human person; trust and wonder refresh and build up into Christ. Every human being, having the same “nature” or way of being in the world, works the same way. Each of us is preserved, strengthened, refreshed through living contact with the Divine ground; and each of us is spent or wasted in futile speculations, worries, daydreams. Whatever grounds the psyche in reality is good and life-affirming; whatever dissipates the psyche is destructive and to be avoided. Hence, meditation—Christian, Hindu, Buddhist, for examples—preserve and nourish; daydreaming, worrying, playing “what if” games, and so on—spend and disintegrate the soul’s resources. Immersion in genuine beauty refreshes; trash music or pornographic images waste the soul. So one may ask: How, then, to ground myself on the divine ground? How to become refreshed by the refreshing source? “Turn and be saved,” in the language of the Israelite prophets, or “Turn to Me and live.” In the words of some mystics, “Return to the center.”  Why not now?

They Come In (Part II)

In stark contrast to the good and friendly spirits of deceased loved ones, which one experiences suddenly and unexpectedly from time to time, other forces come in, uninvited, and undesired. Consider a possibility: As the time for going to bed draws near, one is dimly apprehensive, because they come in, night after night, as you sleep. They cannot be grasped, known, or seen clearly. Nor does one know if they are spirits, thoughts, feelings, memories, or some combination of various psychic and spiritual forces. What one knows is the effects they have upon the soul:  they leave one troubled, disturbed, restless. And they do so, not when one is awake and more or less alert, and able to deal with them. On the contrary, they come in when one is not paying attention, not conscious, but in a mental state of sleep-consciousness.

What are these forces that disturb the soul as one sleeps? Or is one actually asleep? Are you asleep, dreaming that you are being disturbed, or are you awake, and being disturbed by forces beyond your mental and spiritual grasp? To the best of my knowledge, they come in as one sleeps; and if one wakes in the night, they seek to continue the unpleasant conversation-battle as one is in a semi-conscious, semi-awake state. One can choose: If this waking up occurs again, rather than try to return to sleep, or try to dismiss the troubling forces, one can arise and seek to be as alert, as awake, as one can be, “watching and praying.”

They come in, uninvited. So one may say to oneself something like this: Fully awake, I shall invite them in for a conversation, and call upon the Almighty, the all-good One, to assist in the examination. But they may be like death in Bergman’s “Seventh Seal,” that cheated at the game of chess by misplacing a piece in the chess game of life. I shall invite them in, as St. Anthony of the desert invited the devil into his cave, to dialogue with him. I must arise, keep alert, and enter into a dialogue with as much light and peace as possible. “Evil loves to hide,” so I shall speak with them in the light. If I try to avoid these unseen critters, they gain all the more power over me.

What are these “critters”? Who are these nocturnal visitors that bring not peace and sweet sleep, but restless dreams and some sense that one doing combat in the night, as one seeks to sleep? What are these forces?

Who are you? Are they parts of me, parts of you? Are they more or less forgotten parts of one’s psyche? Are they memories, past events, persons with whom we have an incomplete, imperfect, even troubling relationship? Are they spirits from a darker world than the mind knows? Or are these visitors perhaps sent by dark forces to torment us? Are they in some sense purgatorial fires, a foretaste of hell if one does not rather surrender to the all-good? If they are purifying the soul, then they are purgatorial.  My own sense is that they are not intentionally purgatorial, or leading one into the bliss of divine union; rather, they are forces of resistance to divine Presence. They are, as it were, temptations not to rely on the all-good, who is available even in sleep to all who but call on Him. Or they are residues of our failures to draw fully on the power of the Good.

What I sense is that these visitors are memories, unresolved conflicts, less than noble responses to others, or to the trials of life. They are indeed parts of oneself, parts that are actively yet hiddenly resisting a full and loving surrender to the all-good God. They arise when the soul is not yet beatified, made supremely happy, fully at home in God. They are, perhaps, part of oneself that are not fully integrated into the conscious life one has chosen. They are evidence of incompletion, imperfection, even the unsaintly—or at the extreme, the demonic—in oneself.  These forces are in me and of me, myself not truly brought into “the Kingdom of God,” not baptized into Christ, not fully immersed in divinity.

So the soul is indeed in-between the rule of God, the Kingdom of God, and the rule of one’s ego, one’s fleeting and even destructive self. True or not? The soul not fully in God is gnawed on by its own forces resisting divine victory, which is the deification of the human being, becoming truly and wholly one with Christ. One wants it both ways: God and self.

Is this true? Who are these nocturnal visitors? Desires, thoughts, memories, actions not truly in accord with one’s being-in-Christ. They are more active in semi-consciousness because one does not overcome them sufficiently when conscious. A primary purpose of meditation is to overcome these forces of oneself contrary to God in the light of divine Presence.  In meditation, “the bottom of the soul comes up,” and one feels, sees, experiences the battle of self-forces against divine love. Meditation is the condition of being wakefully purified and brought into union. If this is true, it makes sense to sit still in meditation before sleeping, before “turning in for the night,” so that one can indeed confront these dark forces of oneself in the divine light by the holy Spirit. Again, I must ask, Why not now?

Ah, I sit quietly, and immediately begin to fall asleep. “The spirit is indeed willing, but the flesh is weak.” One becomes stronger by resisting the pull to sleep, and sitting as alert as possible in the light of divine presence, now.