A Little Light-heartedness

Monk tasting wine from a barrel
Sneaky Goings-On in the Cellar

Today is St Nicholas’s Day, so tonight Quietnun will be making toffee for our sweet-toothed friends. She doesn’t know that yet. It will be a nice  surprise for her (pity there’s no way of conveying irony in type).

Monks and nuns have always understood that a little light-heartedness in the cloister is a very good thing. There’s a charming letter from St Boniface in which he refers to giving a barrel of wine or beer “for a merry day with the brethren”. That’s exactly the right spirit. Advent is a time of preparation but its penitential character is sometimes exaggerated. There is a kind of “aching joy” about it all: we are joyful in hope, but experiencing the “not-yet-ness” of things means the joy is not complete.

Digitalnun is experiencing aching joy of quite a different kind. We rolled out the first phase of our revamped web site at the week-end. Most of it is working well, but the carefully crafted headers and quotations are not appearing as they should. Somewhere between trial and release the @font-face arguments ceased to work as they should, and one page is stubbornly refusing to enable links properly. We’ll try to get all that right before we  move on to the second phase.

In the meantime, thank you for comments about iBenedictines. One reader finds our minimalist design a little too bleak so we may revisit that in due course. Just don’t expect anything too soon!

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Humility and Assurance

St John the Baptist by El Greco
St John the Baptist

On the Second Sunday of Advent our eyes are on John the Baptist. What a strange mixture of humility and assurance he is. Or rather, how his humility confounds our ideas about both.

It was precisely because John was so humble that he could be so assured. Like Moses in the Old Testament, he was “the humblest man on earth”; and his humility and assurance came, like Moses’, from his sense of the nearness of his God.

One who is close to God tends to see as God sees, and that perspective is utterly transforming. John looked at the world, saw the beauty and holiness of its Creator and wanted everyone and everything to share that transforming vision. Hence his passion and his joy, his severity and tenderness. He could not contain himself, so near was our salvation. If he were silent, the very stones would speak. “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”

This Advent the grace of sharing that transforming vision, of repenting, of turning again to God, is offered to each of us, if we will but accept it. Only the molehills of pride and self-sufficiency stand in the way, but we know how easily we stumble over them. Let’s ask St John the Baptist, with his humility and assurance, to show us the right path. For, as he himself would say, there is no other Way but One, Jesus Christ our Lord.

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Waiting in Hope

There is a sentence in the first preface of Advent that never fails to make me shiver. In our current translation it reads:

Now we watch for the day,
hoping that the salvation promised us will be ours
when Christ the Lord will come again in his glory.

Surrounded by the commercialism of the “Winterval” being celebrated in our shopping malls or the flurry of Nativity plays and special Services that already dominate our church noticeboards, it is only too easy to forget. We are not awaiting the birth of the Christ Child at Christmas, as though it were something that has not yet happened (although we shall recall that event through our liturgical remembrance of it); we are awaiting those two comings of Christ of which St Bernard wrote: his coming now to our souls by grace and his coming in glory at the end of time.

Christ coming now to our souls by grace is all right, rather nice in fact; but that bit about coming again in his glory is more problematic. We are jerked into an awareness of the danger of presumption. As the preface says, we are “hoping that the salvation promised us will be ours”. We cannot take it for granted, yet in practice most of us do.

How many of us are thinking about the final coming of Christ this Advent? If we do think about it, how many of us are eagerly awaiting it? I suspect that many of us think of the Final Coming as an event far distant in the future, which might not even happen. Perhaps it would be worth thinking about what we really mean when we pray the preface at Mass. It might possibly transform our Advent.

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