Faith
Arrival
With Thanksgiving behind us, we’ve entered into what feels like the busiest time of the year. In just four weeks, Christmas morning will be here, followed shortly thereafter by 2025.
This holiday season, Thanksgiving-Christmas-New Year, is a stressful time, but there’s a certain peace that permeates the air. Maybe it’s the cold weather slowing us all down, or perhaps it’s the slowdown at work that gets us feeling this way. Though our to-do lists don’t get any shorter, it feels like we finally have permission to set aside some tasks and not be in such a hurry to get everything done.
Though that all may be true, there’s something else that causes us to pause; anticipation. We know of the impending arrival of Christmas, and the joy of the Christmas season. Everything around us reminds us of that fact, and it soaks up our attention. From the music on the radio in stores, to the sudden shift in liturgical decor, to the decorations across town, Christmas is top of mind. For one brief month, the whole world around us wants us to be distracted from our daily responsibilities and challenges and focus on Christmas.
The Messiah is on his way, and will arrive soon. What that means, a child born for sacrifice, connects us directly to the freedom of Easter. His arrival marks the beginning of a new chapter in civilization, where we can all see the great light and experience our hope, fulfilled.
Advent is a time of distraction, holy distraction. There’s plenty to do, and more that still needs to be done, but everywhere we look, everywhere we go, and everything we hear all calls our hearts back to the true joy of the season; the arrival.
Written for Me
Though I haven’t committed to routine self-improvement in the past two years, there was a recent time in my life where it was always top of mind. The last big undertaking was in 2022 when I completed Ascension Press’ Bible in a Year podcast. That was the first time in my life that I read the Bible and truly studied it as a comprehensive work, and the payoff has been huge.
Although the Bible was authored thousands of years ago and 5,000 miles away, it applies to my life today as it did to the authors then. It’s a book of human stories and experiences, that repeat throughout our lives. No matter the situation that I find myself in, I can almost always find a direct relationship to a story or character in the Bible. In those times, it feels as if it was all written only for me.
Filled with dark imagery, unimaginable suffering, and challenges that I hope to never confront, the thread of hope weaves throughout the chapters and verses. At the end of the story, no matter how dark things get, Light returns to assert dominion, the greatest triumph of all.
Overflowing
A good way to think about our lives, especially our spiritual lives, is as a cup. We can choose what we fill it up with. Things of beauty, prayer, the Sacraments, and acts of virtue fill up our cup to the point where it overflows.
When our cup is overflowing, it’s extraordinarily difficult for sin to enter into our lives. We are fulfilled, living life by God’s design, and there is simply no room for temptation to gain a foothold.
In the same way with time and our day, when we fill up our day with the things we must do, there is neither time nor opportunity for anything else. By filling up our spiritual life with these good things and heavenly delights, we can accomplish the same thing.
We carry the same habitual sins into the Confessional month after month, year after year. It can be easy to make small pivots and adjustments to increase our chances of overcoming this sin, but why not just completely snuff it out? Give it no quarter, no room, no attention. Even a giant log is no match for a river with a strong current.
Things of Heaven
For the many hours that I’m awake during the day, there are many things on my mind. I have what I need to do now, what I need to do next, and the random thought of what needs to be done in the future. From meal prep, to instant scheduling decisions, to the project at hand, my mind works all throughout the day.
To put it simply, I spend almost all day thinking of the things of man.
Stress builds through the day as my lists grow, and time runs short. I manage not only my schedule, but the schedule of my four children. I manage my list, and their school list. To my eternal surprise, they usually have their own idea of how things ought to be done.
I wonder how differently I’d approach stress, conflict, and challenges if I spent a few more minutes each day thinking of the things of Heaven. What ratio would be required to improve my self-esteem, my hope, and my attitude?
I am here today with a specific purpose and vocation, but my ultimate objective is not today. I am here to prepare myself and my family for the promises that have been made to us, and to be worthy to receive them. Bringing those promises, and their reality, back into my day could be the pivot point that changes the whole game.
Small Moments
When we aspire to greater things, we tend to fall into the trap of making big plans. I’ve never run a marathon, and frankly never run. So if I decided to run a marathon next summer, it’d be easy to get lost in the planning.
I’d need better shoes, a new watch, the right clothes, the perfect hydration system, an eating plan down to the calorie, and, of course, a daily training plan with tracker. Those things would help me, in theory, go from couch to marathon. But would I do it?
What if instead of dedicating hours to research, hundreds of dollars to new equipment, days to calendaring out the next year of my life, I just grabbed my shoes and went for a run?
This is how we approach prayer. We try to go from fresh out of the Confessional to saint in one big leap. But we don’t need history’s best prayer plan, or the most ingenious sequencing of novenas. You just need to find small moments throughout your day, times when there’s a natural pause, and instead of swiping mindlessly, pray mindfully.
The Plans
For I know well the plans I have in mind for you —oracle of the LORD— plans for your welfare and not for woe, so as to give you a future of hope.
Cloak
In the Bible and Sacred Tradition, there are certain items to which we ascribe special meaning. God has a way of using ordinary things to bring into reality the extraordinary. One such item is the cloak of St. Joseph.
Back in the early days of Jesus’ life, Joseph had to spirit his young family through the desert into Egypt. Tradition holds that it was done at night as Herod hunted down the newborn King. Joseph, like any Jewish man of his time in history, likely wore a cloak to protect himself from the elements. It’s easy to image that cloak shielding his bride and child on their journey. From this understanding, we now believe the cloak of St. Joseph to have special protective properties.
In prayers to St. Joseph, both modern and ancient, the petitioner asks for the protection of Joseph’s cloak. It shielded Jesus from murderous jealousy, and the prayers beg Joseph to wrap us up in this same cloak.
We imagine grandeur in every action of God, and they are. But in His majesty, God chooses the simple. A piece of humble cloth, wrapped around us, is all that’s needed to protect us from the gravest danger.
Drift
Winding down the mind at night is seldom easy. Our racing minds make lists, rehash events of the day, or bother us with endless ideas and anxieties that we could never possibly address in these moments before sleep. Worst of all is the knowledge of how good sleep is for our tired bodies, and our inability to trigger this blissful release.
Mindfulness and meditation is in vogue now, but the Church has always known its myriad benefits. In our hearts is inscribed the desire to love God, to elevate our minds to serve others, and to be connected to our larger human family. Prayer, and its simple repetition, eases the mind and invites peace to calm our chaotic lives.
St. Paul advises prayer without ceasing, and what better way to drift off to sleep than to spend the day’s final moments of consciousness with the God who made us and the saints who so deeply loved Him.
Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence
My favorite Church song is a bit haunting. Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence, like much of our liturgical life, is based on a line from the Book of Habakkuk. Its melody is dark, heavy, and somewhat ominous. It’s without a doubt a song about the return of Christ, a moment in history that will be unrivaled in absolute drama.
The lyrics paint a picture of a great battle, the host of heaven pouring into earth, “rank on rank.” It evokes images of the great medieval battles where combat was hand-to-hand, and massive armies clashed in open fields. Light and goodness pouring forth, finally vanquishing all evil in one last fell swoop.
With victory in hand, the angels turn in veneration at God’s arrival, the end of time now at hand, and all things made new.
Reading the lyrics, there’s reason for fear to stir up in our hearts. It contemplates the reality of the unbridled power of God, unleashed in torrents on His enemies. The truth of His reign acknowledged by all as the forces of evil are vaporized.
It’s for that reason that I love this song. It’s easy to think that the end of the world that Jesus promised is some far off date, and unlikely to happen in our lifetimes. With so much to focus on here, now, today, not taking a moment to pause to comprehend the magnitude of this event is easy. The song brilliantly reminds us of the virtue of fear of the Lord. We will experience this great last battle, and if we are on the right side, it will be a time of complete joy.
We shuffle through life mostly asleep; this is one song that wakes you up. The struggle is real, and the effort is worth it. One day, Truth will arrive, and all of our suffering will be vindicated.
Sacred Silence
Without doubt, there’s real renewal happening in the Catholic Church. The new guard is stepping into the breach, reminding us of the sacred and special nature of our faith. At a time when the public places so little importance in religion, we’re getting back to basics and rediscovering our core identity.
It’s not easy, and not without its downsides. In many parishes, and at many Masses, the weekly liturgy is indeed a time for the community to gather. It’s also, regrettably, a bit of a gabfest. Think of the low roar of conversations as people catch up on the news of the week in the minutes before Mass begins. After a week at work, in the noises world humanity has ever encountered, we enter into a sacred space and bring all that chaos with us.
A non-confrontational, and somewhat polite, way to counter this tendency is to institute communal prayer before and after Mass. This is a tradition of the Church, and one that fits naturally with the liturgy. As the community gathers, they’re immediately swept up into prayer. At the same time, the end result is the same as before, albeit less inappropriate.
There’s little refuge in the world, too few spaces for sacred silence. In the Bible, time and again, God uses the quiet to reveal Himself and His heart. Drown out by noise, He chooses to not pierce through.
Our Churches, and our sanctuaries specifically, are built to be a refuge from the world. They are the physical residence of God among us, the holy of holies. There is true power in communal prayer; that is what the Mass is. But we must not rob ourselves of the true peace found in sacred silence. It’s where God waits, patiently, to share His whole self with us.