Advent celebrates the journey inward, a yearly pilgrimage into darkness and waiting, away from bright lights and busyness, far from words and work to be done.
One year, after the edge of a hurricane scoured the East coast, we took our sleeping bags down to a dock and watched the Leonid meteor shower on a freezing clear night. The brilliant sky, with its streaking stars, stayed with me through a year of loss and turmoil, as a sign that I was part of a larger story unfolding. Like Julian of Norwich, I knew “All shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.”
“Keep watch!” the scripture says.* Don’t go back to sleep. God is here. Now. Always. But you have to slow down, put away your to-do list, and listen – for the sounds of distress as well as joy. Long associated with the waiting period before Jesus’ birth, Advent has a cosmic dimension as well. As Paul writes to the church in Rome, creation is groaning as in childbirth, waiting for us to grow up, to pick up our piece of the unfolding story.
Our piece must come from this time of waiting and wondering, this time of unknowing. Instead of waiting for our lives to get back to “normal,” what if the weather turmoil and worldwide pandemic are signs meant for us. What if we are being asked to simplify our lives, not travel so much, eat local foods and compost in the side yard. What if we are being asked to address local issues of racial injustice and economic distress. “Stay awake,” the Advent story begins.
This year, I will be using Without Oars, a new book by Wes Granberg-Michaelson, as my Advent reading. It’s a celebration of pilgrimage as a way of life, an outward expression of the inward journey we can all take at home. I’ve chosen quotes from his book for your reflection this week. May they be an invitation to notice God’s nearness in this season of Advent.
–Marjory Zoet Bankson, Editor of InwardOutward
- How do you experience your journey inward?
- Where are you tempted to “fall asleep?”
- What helps you keep Advent waiting a conscious practice?
