The Joy of Waiting:
An Online Advent Day for Silence,
Respite and Reflection
Saturday, December 2, 2023
9:00am―2:00pm Eastern Time (USA)
Facilitated by Carl McColman
Advent is a holy season of silence, waiting and preparation, but for so many of us, it is also a busy time filled with parties, concerts and hard work preparing for the festivities of Christmas.
You are invited to join a circle of friends on Zoom for this online retreat dedicated to the qualities that make Advent special and can help us to navigate the many activities of the season.
We will draw on a variety of sources, including Celtic spirituality, the Psalms, and the wisdom of several great mystics. Our time together will include meditations, silence, prayer, and journaling, plus optional opportunities for shared discussion and reflection.
Cost: $30. Scholarships available.
Carl McColman is a spiritual director, retreat leader, blogger, podcaster, and widely known speaker and teacher on mystical spirituality and contemplative living. He is the author of many books, including The New Big Book of Christian Mysticism, Eternal Heart, and Unteachable Lessons. Carl’s approach to spirituality and mysticism is inclusive and expansive; he is dedicated to exploring the common ground between faith traditions, with a particular interest in the connecting points between Christian, Buddhist and Pagan wisdom. Carl lives with his wife, artist Fran McColman, in Clarkston, Georgia, near Atlanta.
A reader of this blog wrote to me last week and asked:
I am writing to ask if you have any good recommendations for spiritual reading during Advent.
There are some wonderful books to explore for Advent. Some are new, some are classics, some are specifically “Advent-y” and others are simply books I’d like to recommend. So, here goes!
We’ll start with the Advent themed books drawn from the wisdom of one of my favorite authors, Evelyn Underhill. Music of Eternity is a new book by renowned Underhill scholar Robyn Wrigley-Carr, which weaves together Underhill’s words and Wrigley-Carr’s own commentary, paired with scripture passages, questions for reflection, and a short prayer for each day of the Advent season. It’s a robust but not overwhelming guide to the splendors of this season. Order from Amazon or order from Bookshop.
Music of Eternity is a wonderful book but it’s not the only Advent-themed book from Evelyn Underhill! If you’d like something a bit small, consider Advent with Evelyn Underhill which clocks in at only 82 pages. For each day in Advent you get a nice excerpt from the writings of Underhill, along with a simple meditation prompt and prayer prompt. If you want a no-frills Advent devotional, this migh be the one for you. Order from Amazon or order from Bookshop.
As much as I love Evelyn Underhill, I recognize that she is somewhat dated (she died in 1941); her language can be stiff and formal (although she had a wonderful heart and it shines through all her British reserve). So if you’d rather have a more contemporary voice to accompany you this Advent, why not Richard Rohr? The popular Franciscan author provides a Bible verse, a thoughtful reflection, and a meditation prompt for each day of the Advent season. As always, his writing is insightful and accessible. Order from Amazon or order from Bookshop.
Okay, back to the past! Caryll Houselander’s Reed of God is my all-time favorite Advent book, and it competed with Music of Eternity to get top billing. So don’t let the fact that this is buried in the list fool you! The Reed of God may not be for everyone: it’s old-school Catholic writing from before Vatican II, so it’s traditional language all the way. But Houselander was a true mystic and her contemplative sensibilities flow on just about every page of this under-appreciated modern spiritual classic. It’s not an “Advent” book per se — it’s a meditation on the Blessed Mother, which to my mind makes it a perfect book for this season. Order from Amazon or order from Bookshop.
If you’ve already read The Reed of God or simply would like a more structured devotional for Advent featuring the wisdom of Caryll Houselander, fortunately A Child in Winter is the book for you. Stretching from Advent through Epiphany, this devotional features a daily dose of Houselander wisdom, paired with a scripture verse, brief commentary from editor Thomas Hoffman, and a brief prayer. Although much of the material in this collection does come from The Reed of God, there’s plenty enough excerpts from other Houselander works to make this an excellent Advent selection. Order from Amazon or order from Bookshop.
I’m so happy that Howard Thurman has his own Christmas book! Now, I know: Christmas is not Advent. But Thurman was Baptist and I believe in being generous toward those whose spiritual practice is not culturally equivalent to our own — so while he may not have thought of “Advent” when preparing this book, naturally any book of Christmas meditations — especially from an author of such contemplative wisdom as Thurman — works as a devotional for preparing for Christmas. After all, that’s what Advent is all about! So here is a chance to “prepare for Christmas” with one of the great Protestant mystics of the twentieth (or any) century. Order from Amazon or order from Bookshop.
Here is the first of two Advent anthologies. While all the books listed above feature the wisdom of one beloved author (or that author and his or her editor), Bill Countryman’s Run, Shepherds, Run is a collection of poems for the Advent and Christmas seasons. So this is not only a chance to savor poetry for your devotional time, but poetry from a variety of voices, including classic poets like George Herbert, John Donne, Christina Rossetti, and Emily Dickinson, and with other lesser known contemporary writers. Order from Amazon or order from Bookshop.
Another Advent/Christmas anthology, this time featuring wisdom from a variety of authors, including both recognized religious voices (John Donne, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Martin Luther) but also writers who, while informed by their faith, are probably better known for their literary achievements (Madeleine L’Engle, Sylvia Plath, Annie Dillard). Socially conscious writers like Dorothy Day, Dorothee Soelle and Oscar Romero round out this devotional. Order from Amazon or order from Bookshop.
For the last two books on my list I wanted to feature a couple of books that, like The Reed of God were not created specifically as “Advent devotionals” but nevertheless lend themselves well to spiritual reading during this sacred time. First up is a brand new offering from the Black Buddhist/Quaker author Valerie Brown. She one me over with her subtitle: “braving” is my favorite new gerund! And how appropriate for these challenging times we live in. Brown offers a gentle but meaningful invitation into hope for this season of hope. Order from Amazon or order from Bookshop.
When I drew up this list of recommended Advent books, I quickly jotted down the titles that came to mind, and when I realized I had nine such books on my list, I figured why not make it an even ten! And I hope readers will forgive me for indulging in a bit of shameless self-promotion; every author is part-huckster, and I’m no exception. But I’ve chose Unteachable Lessons because I believe of all the books I’ve written, it’s the one most suited as an Advent read. It’s relatively short, very personal/from the heart, and is basically a meditation on how life’s wisdom is found through living. As we wind down an old year and prepare for a new, I hope this message might be a blessing for some — maybe even you! Order from Amazon or order from Bookshop.
Advent is almost over. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and the season of Christmas begin the day after that.
Even though the Christmas season is technically shorter than Advent, it always seems to me that Advent is way too short. Maybe that’s because this is a time of much secular hustle and bustle, as we strive to finish our holiday shopping, participate in various end-of-year parties, and so forth. Christmas may be “the most wonderful time of the year,” but Advent seems to be the most busy time of the year.
I don’t mean (or need) to be another Grinch, complaining about how our secular customs this time of year have destroyed Christmas (and Advent). I like gift-giving and parties, so it’s hard for me to complain too much. But every Advent I resolve “this year will be more contemplative, more restful,” and then I’m off on the roller coaster again.
Sigh.
But maybe this is a metaphor for life as a whole. We wait for the coming of God, and yet we busy ourselves in the meantime. We await the birth of love, yet our lives get so frenzied love hardly has a place to grow. We want time for leisure and rest… but not until the work gets done. And the work keeps coming!
Johann-Baptist Metz suggested that if religion could be defined in one word, it would be “interruption.” And that’s what we are always called to do: interrupt the busy-ness with moments of Sabbath rest. Interrupt the frenzy with a loving, calming breath. Interrupt our endless mental chatter with 20 minutes or so of intentional, prayerful silence.
What’s important to remember, as we transition from Advent to Christmas, is that this dynamic of waiting/busy/interruption doesn’t just happen in Advent. It’s a year-long, ever-present reality.
St. Benedict said that a monk should conduct his or her life as if it were a continual Lent. In other words, we should always strive for greater simplicity and repentance, not just during the forty dears leading up to Easter.
I wonder if we couldn’t say the same thing about Advent? A contemplative needs to lead his or her life as if it were a continual Advent. We continually watch and pray for the coming of Christ into our hearts and the heart of the world. We pray, we watch, we rest, we hope. It’s not a bad way to organize life, when you think about it.
I recently got an email from a friend of mine who was reflecting on the theology of the Second Coming. She asked me what I thought, and I had to confess to her I didn’t think about it very much. My spirituality — and, I suppose, my theology — tends to stay focused on the present. But as I thought about her question, I realized that I often hear in the Church this idea that Advent represents not only the waiting for Christ that Mary experienced when she was pregnant, but also our longing for Christ’s return at the end of time.
That may be true, but I also think we need to think in terms of three Advents: past, present, and future. The first was Mary’s Advent; the third is our hope for the final consummation of history in Divine Love. But it’s that “second” Advent, the Advent of the present moment, that interests me the most.
Each one of us is called to be a God-bearer: to bring Divine Love and Mercy and Forgiveness to a world that so desperately needs it. Each of us is called to “birth” Christ anew, in our hearts and in our lives.
So we each are living Advents, embodied spirits of waiting and longing that knows no calendar. The Advent of the present remains with us always. Every day, no matter what season, we are invited to long for the coming of Divine Love, and to give birth to that Divine Love through the ways we cooperate with grace, offering compassion and tenderness to a world that too often seems to have forgotten that such things exist.
So my friends, Advent the liturgical season is about to come to a close. But Advent the spiritual/mystical reality remains in our hearts and our lives. I wish you joy in the longing, and grace in the many opportunities God showers on you to be love and to bring love to others.
And, of course, may you have a joyously merry Christmas!
This is part 3 of a 3-part reflection. Click here to read part one and part two.
Okay, I’m loving The Reed of God by Caryll Houselander so much that I have to give you one more quote for this Advent season.
Only Our Lady has ever lived all the aspects of phases and moments of Christ completely. In some He is newly born. In some He is a child. In some He is homeless. In some He is ignored, unrecognized, mocked, betrayed. In some He is hungry; in some He is naked; in some He is helpless… He remains, being tempted in all those who are tempted: in those who are in mortal sin, He is in the tomb. We should never come to a sinner without the reverence that we would take to the Holy Sepulchre. Pilgrims have travelled on foot for years to kiss the Holy Sepulchre, which is empty. In sinners we can kneel at the tomb in which the dead Christ lies. (pp. 114-116)
The Reed of God
Here, Houselander builds on the fundamental Christian teaching — so often ignored by Christians of the modern and postmodern eras — the Christ abides in us, each of us, all of us, and we abide in Christ. Out of her Catholic devotion to Mary, she asserts that only the Blessed Mother ever experienced the fullness of abiding in Christ. For the rest of us, our “inner encounter” with Christ will be partial, incomplete, and shaped by the unique circumstances of our individual lives.
Some of us relate to Christ with the spontanaiety of a child; others with the responsibility of a laborer.
Others may “crucify” Christ with our self-destructive or unloving behaviors; while for others Christ is “resurrecting” through a commitment to healing and newness of life.
Perhaps most radical of all: even those who are most utterly lost in addiction, sin, abuse, or hatred, still has Christ abiding in them. But in such cases, Christ lies in repose: “dead” because of how the person has chosen to be alienated from love.
It is a mistake to assume that God, that Christ, is absent from those who are sinners, whose lives are filled with hatred or willful violence. Christ is not absent from such persons; if he were, they would cease to exist. Rather, Christ lies in repose in such souls, “dead” because of their sin — but waiting, hopefully, for resurrection.
So when we encounter a person whose life is such a mess of hatred or active addiction or violence, we should not write them off as lost to God. Rather, as Houselander suggests, we should kneel before such a person, reverencing the dormant Christ that resides yet deep within them.
Wow.
If we all could take this perspective to heart, how would it revolutionize our world?
Something to think about, this Advent season — and beyond.
Merry Christmas / Happy Holidays to all who read this blog. Thank you for your support and your engagement with my words. I’ll be on vacation for the next week or so, so it may be January before I return to this blog (unless I get super-inspired in the meantime, which is always possible). Enjoy this Sacred season, and I look forward to connecting with you in the new year!
Disclosure: if you follow the link of the book mentioned in this post and purchase it or other products from Amazon.com, the author of this blog receives a small commission from Amazon. Thank you for doing so — your support keeps this blog going.
In part one of this series we considered the following quotation from The Reed of God by Caryll Houselander.
Because He is in the little house of our being, we will learn to control our minds, to gather our thoughts to silence, and to crown them with peace, just as we learn to control our voices and to move softly when a child is asleep in the house of bricks and mortar. (p. 100)
Houselander is suggesting that as we prepare for the coming of Christ in our hearts, we need to do five things:
control our minds;
gather our thoughts to silence;
crown them with peace;
control our voices; and
move softly.
Let’s look at these one at a time.
Control our minds. We tend to think of the word “control” as having a meaning similar to “dominate.” But if you look at the history of the word, it originally had a meaning closer to “regulate” or “direct,” and I believe Houselander is using the word in this sense. So moving into silence is a matter of directing our minds. To what end? Well, Saint Paul instructs us to let “the mind of Christ be in us.” So the goal of contemplative prayer is to surrender our minds to the guidance of the Holy Spirit. To control our minds, paradoxically, means to relax into the loving direction of the Spirit. And how do we do that? Well, Caryll Houselander shows the way; and the first step is to…
Gather our thoughts to silence. The beautiful thing about silence is that it is always within us. We just usually don’t notice it, because we are so busy focusing on the content of our thoughts. But as Houselander suggests, we need to gather our thoughts to silence; in other words, to learn to pay attention not so much to the noise inside our minds, but to the silence that lies between and beneath our thoughts. As anyone who has any experience with centering prayer, Christian meditation, or any other form of contemplative practice knows, silent forms of prayer are not about making thoughts go away — rather, learning to trust the silence that can be found between and within the activity of our minds and hearts. To notice and attend to that silence is to gather our thoughts into it. As we learn to rest in the silence within us, this leads us to Houselander’s next step.
Crown our thoughts with peace. Saint Paul said, “the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:7). In other words, as we let go of our need to understand the ways of God (which will always be limited by the finite nature of the human mind), we can more easily relax in to the peace of God which guards our hearts and minds — in silence. We typically speak about “peace and quiet,” acknowledging that there is a link between serenity and silence. The “silent night” is the night that belongs to the prince of Peace. Trust the silence within you, and God will lead you to peace. Even when our thoughts are agitated, confused, angry, or even violent, we can meet them with the peace of God which we find in the silence that is always resting deep within us. Thus, we crown our thoughts — all our thoughts, not just the “nice” or “spiritual” ones — with the profound, healing serenity of Christ.
Finally, Houselander suggests that this process of relaxing in to our inner silence, as a way of acknowledging that we are the bodily “house” of Christ, is similar to how a parent cares for a sleeping child. She notes two ways that parents do this:
Control our voices. Once again, remember we are called not to dominate our tongue, but to direct it to Godly purposes. Saint James says “no human being can tame the tongue,” but Saint Luke reminds us “What is impossible for human beings is possible for God” (James 3:8, Luke 18:27). By the grace of God, we can direct our voice, our tongue, to honor God through silence. We can learn to let go of the need to always be talking, always be making noise with our mouths. When we acknowledge that Christ dwells in our hearts, we can learn to let go of the compulsion to speak, and learn to listen instead. And even when we do speak, we are invited to do so gently, peacefully, quietly. Speak softly, and carry a big Spirit — the Spirit of God within you.
Move softly. Finally, Caryll Houselander speaks about “moving softly.” She’s talking about a parent caring for a sleeping child — we move softly to avoid disturbing our baby’s slumber — but I think this is symbolic of maturing in the spiritual life. As we embrace silence and discover God’s peace in our hearts, we realize that we can move gently through life. We can embrace compassion and tenderness, tenderness and self-control, as the defining characteristics of our lives. To be silent in God is to be capable of walking gently with wisdom. It leads to a holier way of being, of doing, of living.
Let me wrap up this reflection with one of my favorite verses in the Bible: Psalm 62:1, which to my mind captures the full spirit of Advent. In the New American Bible that verse reads “My soul rests in God alone, from whom comes my salvation.” But consider how it is translated in the Jewish Artscroll Translation: “For God alone my soul waits silently, from Him comes my salvation.” For God alone, my soul waits silently. The heart of this verse is a word in Hebrew, dumiyyah, which captures the essence of contemplation as well as of Advent. Dumiyyah can literally be translated as “silence” or “rest,” but it also has a sense of “waiting” about it. To rest in God means to wait in silence upon Him. It bears repeating: To rest in God, means to wait in silence upon Him. May each of us discover in these days of Advent our own path toward resting in silence as we wait for his coming, and for his coming again. Amen.
Disclosure: if you follow the link of the book mentioned in this post and purchase it or other products from Amazon.com, the author of this blog receives a small commission from Amazon. Thank you for doing so — your support keeps this blog going.
My Advent reading for this year is The Reed of God by Caryll Houselander. A twentieth century Catholic mystic, Houselander lived from 1901 until dying from breast cancer in 1954. She wrote several books, but The Reed of God is her most enduring work; published in 1944, it explores themes of waiting, pregnancy, seeking and beauty in regard to Mary’s relationship to Christ. Insightful and earthy, it transcends the theological horizons of its time and has come to be regarded as a twentieth century spiritual classic. Poignant in her frank description of life (and faith) during war time, her theme of suffering the apparent absence of Christ (expanding from the story of Mary and Joseph searching for the 12-year-old Jesus when he was in the temple) continues to resonate 70 years later.
So as we progress into the third week of this short, lovely season, I thought reflecting on a few words from Caryll Houselander makes all sort of sense.
To begin…
Advent is the season of the secret, the secret of the growth of Christ, of Divine Love growing in silence. It is the season of humility, silence, and growth. (p. 28)
What does Houselander mean by “the secret”? I think she is referring to the mystery. We are moving into the dark time of the year, the days are getting shorter, the harvest is done, this is a time of letting go, of hibernation, of the old year passing away. But there’s a secret. In the midst of the cold, and the darkness, and the uncertainty, in the silence of Mary’s womb, a new life stirs — and not just any “new life,” but the life, the life of Christ. When things look their bleakest, God is secretly at work.
But because it is a secret, God keeps his mouth shut. The quality of God’s secret is that it comes to us in silence, silence and humility. The word humility means simple, down to earth, of the earth. And Jesus, who emptied himself of his transcendent being with God to take on the form of a baby, born in poverty, in a barn in a backwater town in a backwater province of the empire – that’s humility. And out of that secret, that silence, he literally changed the world, changed all things, forever.
So when we interrupt the noise and the craziness and the chaos of the secular “holiday season” to reconnect with silence, we are creating the space for each and every one of us to imitate Mary, and – entirely by the grace of the Holy Spirit – to open up a place in us, not in our wombs, but in our hearts, where Christ can be once again, born into a world that is so desperately hungry for Him. When we let our hearts be the new manger, the new crèche, where Christ can once again come into our lives, we become what Caryll Houselander called a “house” for Christ.
Let’s consider what she has to say:
Because He is in the little house of our being, we will learn to control our minds, to gather our thoughts to silence, and to crown them with peace, just as we learn to control our voices and to move softly when a child is asleep in the house of bricks and mortar. (p. 100)
Think about it. Houselander is writing these words decades before the modern explosion of interest in contemplative prayer, centering prayer, and so forth. This is a clear reminder that the western contemplative tradition has always affirmed silence as the heart of the mature spiritual life. This is why monasteries are havens of silence, and why churches up until recently were the same.
Houselander gives us a wonderful image: stay quiet inside our “house” — the house of our souls — like parents who lovingly keep quiet while their babies are sleeping. The “baby,” of course, is the presence of Christ, the Son of God, in our hearts. We remain quiet not out of fear of waking the sleeping baby, but rather as a way of lovingly tending to the humble presence of the Holy One within us, given to us in Baptism, fortified by the Eucharist and Reconciliation and all that we do to participate in God’s grace in our lives.
So the key to preparing for the silent night is, paradoxically, to find the night of silence inside of us. As important as it is to cultivate exterior silence by setting aside time when all the gadgets and gizmos are turned off, ultimately it is finding the interior silence that is the key to the contemplative life.
This does not need to be anything fancy, you do not have to become a monk or take a centering prayer class. Although those are wonderful things to do. But it can be as simple as spending a Holy Hour in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament, or dedicating the serenity of your morning walk to the unseen, unfelt, but truly real, presence of God.
Disclosure: if you follow the link of the book mentioned in this post and purchase it or other products from Amazon.com, the author of this blog receives a small commission from Amazon. Thank you for doing so — your support keeps this blog going.
