Life and death

Today we're in the season of Advent - the period of waiting for the coming of the King, in two senses: the coming of Jesus in such extraordinary circumstances as a crying baby, I believe, to a teenage mum, and his coming again "in great glory to judge both the living and the dead". It's a time full of anticipation and awe.

This afternoon, after a visit to my wonderful dentist and a lunch with my distinguished oldest brother and his wife at The Bull in Fairford (good meal!), we came back to welcome the Holy Family - the pregnant Mary and Joseph, plus donkey - who are doing the rounds of houses in the parish. John, our vicar, brought them round and prayed with us. They'll stay with us until tomorrow when they'll move on until coming to rest finally in the church on Christmas Eve at the crib service.

It's a great way to focus one's thoughts on what is the reason for the season. Tonight Jane's out at a home group, and hopefully I will be disciplined enough to take time out from my usual lapsing in front of the TV for reflection and gratitude. On Sunday, John preached an Advent sermon on preparing for Jesus' coming, which, he said, we could do by watching carefully and serving faithfully. I'm going to try to watch and wait tonight.

This afternoon I also came back to read the news that a good friend (whom I've never met), Alison Davis, died this morning. She is a hero of faith. She was born with spina bifida in 1955. "She later developed conditions including osteoporosis, arthritis and chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. Coping with these permanently disabling and painful conditions dominated but did not define her life. Indeed, they led her to champion the rights of the vulnerable, the disabled and the unborn, first as an atheist and then as a Catholic." You can read her story here: http://www.catholicherald.co.uk/features/2013/12/03/obituary-alison-davis/. "Finally, on Easter Sunday, 31 March 1991, she was received into the Church.  Although Alison knew she had 'come home', being a Catholic brought its own difficulties. She discovered some churches couldn’t accommodate wheelchair users and she sometimes experienced an acute sense of rejection. She learnt that her Faith would not remove the sorrows of life but that it does provide the grace and strength necessary to live with them. A visit to Calcutta over Christmas in 1991, and witnessing the love a pavement-dwelling family had for their tiny baby, brought home to her the infinite value of each human being created by God." 

I came into contact with her through our shared belief in the sanctity of life. I think she contacted me after reading My Donkeybody. It was only over the years that I realised what a remarkable lady she was. She is a real example of serving faithfully, and I am really grateful to have known her. In her last email to me she talked about being "content with life as God has given it, which I think is the secret to a really fulfilled life". She lived a fulfilled life in spite of her limitations, beside which mine are tiny. I believe that Paul's expectation is true for Alison: "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that Day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing" (2 Timothy 4.7,8). I hope I'll meet her then.

Pour forth, we beseech Thee, O Lord, Thy grace into our hearts, that we to whom the Incarnation of Christ Thy Son was made known by the message of an angel, may by His Passion and Cross be brought to the glory of His Resurrection. Through the same Christ Our Lord. Amen.

The present moment

I've recently finished reading Stephen Cottrell's book Christ in the Wilderness which I've mentioned before. He used this quote from Jean-Pierre de Caussade's book The Sacrament of the Present Moment: "The present moment holds infinite riches beyond your wildest dreams, but you will only enjoy them to the extent of your faith and love. The more a soul loves, the more it longs, the more it hopes, the more it finds. The will of God is manifest in each moment, an immense ocean which only the heart fathoms insofar as it overflows with faith, trust and love." I very much like, by the way, the cover picture of Christ longing to gather his children as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings. It shows that look of attentive care which is the essence of love.

A dear friend of mine recently put this picture of Thérèse of Lisieux on her Facebook status. It's not great art; but she's got the point about love being expressed in the small details of life rather than the grand gestures exactly right.

Sunday is Advent Sunday when we look forward with binocular vision - to the first coming of Jesus which we celebrate in four weeks' time and to His return of which no one knows the day or time. It's a season to ensure that we are ready to meet Him whenever that might be.

Our version of one of my favourite Advent hymns is an adaptation by Charles Wesley and others of the original written in 1850 by Reading-born John Cennick. I rather like his last verse, with its reminder that what we're looking for is the destruction of evil and establishment of universal justice and love:
View him smiling, now determin’d,
Ev’ry Evil to destroy!
All the nations now shall sing him,
Songs of everlasting Joy!
O come quickly! Allelujah! 
Come Lord, come!

I'm intending to take Advent and Christmas off from blogging, as it has distracted me from my main business of book-writing. I wish you a joyful December. À bientôt.

Preparing for Christmas

A Facebook friend posted today this message: "Christmas without 'Christ' is just 'M&S'." I thought it was quite apt. (For readers abroad, M&S is the archetypal British High Street retailer, Marks and Spencer - which, like other retailers, relies on Christmas shopping for its profits.)

I've just come across a whole lot of Advent podcasts from 24/7 Prayer Spaces. I wish I'd found them three Sundays ago, because they are so good. And really you want to use one a day rather than catch up with them all at one go. Anyway the first one is by Pete Greig for Advent Sunday, and then, if you want to, you can work through the sequence up to date. (By the way, they're good models for sermons - short and to the point.)

Of the other ones I particularly enjoyed Mary's Song, about the Magnificat, about how focusing on the good God who loves us, whatever our circumstances, and Simeon's Song, which asks where we find Jesus today.

I'm sure we do find him on the High Street and in many unexpected places - even in the darkness. But we need to be looking - and listening - for Him. Otherwise we'll miss Him. But the greatest truth of Christmas is not that we find Him, but that He has come and found us.

There's a rather good blog today, by the way, on the iBenedictines' blog about the corrosive effect of grumbling. "... most grumbling is not justifiable and is corrosive of community. Advent isn’t usually seen as a time for giving up things, but I certainly intend to try harder to give up grumbling. Being nice to be near isn’t just a question of which soap one uses."