Inside the Snow Globe

Today, we light the third candle of our Advent wreath. In an era gone by, we knew this as Gaudete Sunday (literally, rejoice) — in it’s origin, Advent included the similar practises of Lent, particularly that of fasting — of eliminating some things that might cloud our awareness of who God has called us to be in our best form. These days, I think of the Advent fast as being one of “tuning in” to what is most important and fasting from the illusions that tempt me like a magnetic vortex.

On this third Sunday of Advent, I find myself inside of a snow globe…with falling snow around and the “to do” list gnawing, I find myself drifting back to Gaudete Sundays of the past. Maybe because we have a new member of the next generation, little baby Eileen, born to parents Sarah and Denny, named to honor the women on both sides of our family who have led us with love, courage, action and presence. Eileen’s arrival reminds me again, that from generation to generation, there are stories to share and love to spread. Ours was not done in volumes of presents under the tree or trips around the world…but in stories told in the kitchen and as we respected the fallow time of winter that was demanded for a fertile harvest.

And so, this week will be my week of Gaudete — rejoicing with the traditions that have given meaning as we craft new memories for the next generation — and for ourselves. In a time that we seem to need the posting of emotion-laden commercials to stir our hearts away from the unanswered questions of the world around us, filling our minds with digital wish lists of new devices that will take us away from the present into a reality that doesn’t require us to act, but only be a spectator.

Living inside the definition of Gaudete Sunday and the third week of Advent is the time of trusting in what we cannot see and believing that the suet pudding crafted in the early days of Advent will be ready by Christmas Eve. It is to trust that there will be enough — that we are enough — that we have what we need. It is to go out in the middle of a snowy Kansas Sunday and find just the right tree. It is to make Lucy rolls for the feast of lights on St. Lucy day and to remember that no one believed that Juan Diego had seen the vision we know as Guadalupe. Gaudete Sunday is time to bless the empty stable and to clear out the clutter within so that we can be ready for God’s answer to apparent chaos. In the midst of it all, God arrives — if there is room in our inn.

Gaudete Sunday
The desert and the parched land will exult;
the splendor of our God will
Strengthen the hands that are feeble
Make firm the knees that are weak
say to those who are frightened, “Be strong, fear not!”
Here is your God who comes
Then will the eyes of the blind be opened
the ears of the deaf will hear
Then will the lame leap like a stag
Then the tongue of the mute will sing
Isaiah 35

We have God’s promise…and we think we need so much more — Go find the stable…clear it out and get ready to bless the empty space so that those who could see what was invisible to those who could not see can arrive again in our stable at the foot of our Tree of Hope.