Today marks the second Sunday of the season of Advent. There are traditionally themes for each Sunday during the four weeks acknowledged by the lighting of a candle. There is some variance amongst those who honor this tradition in regards to exactly what those themes are and the order in which they are honored. In general they encompass hope, expectation of renewal, faith, preparation, waiting, peace, joy, love and adoration.
Each of these themes may carry a different meaning this year as we head into another time of increasing Covid cases and stay at home orders. I know this may be a discouraging time for many people who have to change plans and traditions in order to honor the safety of themselves and others. Yes there is much loss and grief but perhaps we can also use this as an opportunity to lean into the quiet stillness of the season. Perhaps we can allow these themes to make their way into our being in new ways. Perhaps we can cultivate and feed them in order to offer them up to the whole.
May your mind be open.
May your heart be wide.
May your body be at ease.
May you re-member yourself.
Here are a few of the readings from this week's pauses:
"Inner Life of Being
Bearing Christ within me
Waiting, anticipating, listening, watching, allowing, opening, suspended in love,
Attending to, relating to what may be and what may come.
Embrace my inner life, allowing it place in my outer life.
Christ becoming, my becoming,
Flowing into and through the landscape of my body, soul, and spirit.
Come Come Come"
— Alan Krema
"The season of Advent means there is something on the horizon the likes of which we have never seen before ... What is possible is to not see it, to miss it, to turn just as it brushes past you. And you begin to grasp what it was you missed, like Moses in the cleft of the rock, watching God’s [back] fade in the distance. So stay. Sit. Linger. Tarry. Ponder. Wait. Behold. Wonder. There will be time enough for running. For rushing. For worrying. For pushing. For now, stay. Wait. Something is on the horizon."
— Jan L. Richardson
Be patient, my heart.
The time of the cave is coming.
The season of quiet.
The deep drink of stillness
you have been thirsting for.
Secret, luminous darkness.
Fruitful, radiant night.
Your access has been paid.