Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.
-Simon and Garfunkel "Sound of Silence"
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.
-Simon and Garfunkel "Sound of Silence"
One of my happiest moments in eighth grade was when my parents got a new car--our very first car to have a CD player in it. This was before the time of iPods and satellite radio, when CD players were still a big deal. I all but memorized the few random CDs we kept in the car: Rod Stewart's Greatest Hits, The Notre Dame University Glee Club, the Remember the Titans Soundtrack, John Denver and the Muppets Christmas Carols, and Simon and Garfunkel's classic album, Bookends. Bookends was reserved for those cloudy and cold late November afternoons. I went through high school loving that album. (Before I continue, I would just like to add my humble opinion that Bookends became the defining "chill" album for all other chill artists to follow).
Advent. It starts tonight along with a new liturgical year. So for all of you Liturgical gurus reading, happy New Year! Now for the connection. I feel a bit odd writing this, but I think Paul Simon had something going on about, of all things, the Advent season when he wrote that song.
Advent comes at the darkest time of the year. At least where I am right now, Sunlight is a rarity. On the days it isn't cloudy, the sun is up for only about nine hours (though I guess that's better than Alaska). Yet still, that's 15 hours of night time! Between that, the bare trees, and cold northern winds, I can't help but reflect on the dark things of life. Injustice, sin, violence, greed, thoughtlessness. Our world has a dark side and so often we are content to be apathetic toward it, ignore it, or outright deny it. I think we do those things because we don't want to get hurt. We don't want to trust, hope, or love as much as we possibly can because one or more times in the past we did love, hope, or trust and our hearts were broken. Things didn't turn out the way we planned and we were left in the dust.
I think we have the season of Advent, four weeks before the joy and excitement of Christmas, to take the time to look into the darkness. It is a time for us to come to the better understanding that God not only cares for us when we are doing well and on top of the world. Just as much, if not more, God cares for us and calls us when we are in our darkness, when we sin, when we despair. God didn't give the gift of Jesus for only the culture's winners and success stories. He came for the tired, confused, ignored, and lonely as well.
I like to imagine that in the quiet hours of late evening, in the sleepy town of Nazareth, the angel Gabriel came to Mary to ask her, very humbly and simply, to bring hope into this dark, messed up world. Thankfully, she was open and courageous enough to say "yes" to her vocation. After her "yes" to god, she spoke up into prayer from silence:
"My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord; my spirit rejoices in God my savior....He has shown might with his arm, dispersed the arrogant of mind and heart. He has thrown down the rulers from their thrones but lifted up the lowly" (Luke 1:46-47, 51-52).
In this Advent season, at least for me, I feel it is important to add a bit more time each day for silence. In that 10-15 minutes of silence I hope that I can look courageously into my own darkness so that I can let Christ enter and brighten it. In that I hope to better understand and follow my vocation as a son of God, member of the Church, and brother to the world.
Advent. It starts tonight along with a new liturgical year. So for all of you Liturgical gurus reading, happy New Year! Now for the connection. I feel a bit odd writing this, but I think Paul Simon had something going on about, of all things, the Advent season when he wrote that song.
Advent comes at the darkest time of the year. At least where I am right now, Sunlight is a rarity. On the days it isn't cloudy, the sun is up for only about nine hours (though I guess that's better than Alaska). Yet still, that's 15 hours of night time! Between that, the bare trees, and cold northern winds, I can't help but reflect on the dark things of life. Injustice, sin, violence, greed, thoughtlessness. Our world has a dark side and so often we are content to be apathetic toward it, ignore it, or outright deny it. I think we do those things because we don't want to get hurt. We don't want to trust, hope, or love as much as we possibly can because one or more times in the past we did love, hope, or trust and our hearts were broken. Things didn't turn out the way we planned and we were left in the dust.
I think we have the season of Advent, four weeks before the joy and excitement of Christmas, to take the time to look into the darkness. It is a time for us to come to the better understanding that God not only cares for us when we are doing well and on top of the world. Just as much, if not more, God cares for us and calls us when we are in our darkness, when we sin, when we despair. God didn't give the gift of Jesus for only the culture's winners and success stories. He came for the tired, confused, ignored, and lonely as well.
I like to imagine that in the quiet hours of late evening, in the sleepy town of Nazareth, the angel Gabriel came to Mary to ask her, very humbly and simply, to bring hope into this dark, messed up world. Thankfully, she was open and courageous enough to say "yes" to her vocation. After her "yes" to god, she spoke up into prayer from silence:
"My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord; my spirit rejoices in God my savior....He has shown might with his arm, dispersed the arrogant of mind and heart. He has thrown down the rulers from their thrones but lifted up the lowly" (Luke 1:46-47, 51-52).
In this Advent season, at least for me, I feel it is important to add a bit more time each day for silence. In that 10-15 minutes of silence I hope that I can look courageously into my own darkness so that I can let Christ enter and brighten it. In that I hope to better understand and follow my vocation as a son of God, member of the Church, and brother to the world.
