This past week Lisa and I went to San Antonio. A friend of Lisa’s had always wanted to go and invited us to join her.
We spent our time on the beautiful Riverwalk, as well as at the Alamo, where 188 years ago a couple hundred revolutionaries took on (and lost to) a couple thousand Mexican soldiers in the fight for Texas’ independence.
I had heard the Alamo story before, but never really paid close attention to the details of all that happened during that famed battle.
Certainly, as in the case with nearly any war, there were gaps in grace regarding how and why the battle took place.
That said, one of the things I was most struck by as I heard the story was the deep presence that these people had to ‘the cause.’
For example, listen to these inspired words from Davy Crockett. While perhaps a bit rough around the edges, this famous beaver hat-wearing frontiersman clearly knew about presence and commitment.
It was like I was empty. Well, I’m not empty anymore. That’s what’s important, to feel useful in this old world, to hit a lick against what’s wrong for what’s right even though you get walloped for saying that word. Now I may sound like a Bible beater yelling up a revival at a river crossing camp meeting, but that don’t change the truth none. There’s right and there’s wrong. You got to do one or the other. You do the one and you’re living. You do the other and you may be walking around, but you’re dead as a beaver hat.
As the story unfolded about the grim realities of this battle by the Lone Star Republic, I couldn’t help but think of the level of profound presence they had to have had to what they believed in, hoped for…acting now in anticipation and cultivation of things to come….especially because going in they knew they were vastly outnumbered and their chances weren’t good.
I can’t say that I have previously ever likened the story of the Alamo to Advent, but anticipation, coupled with active devotion is also what Advent is about.
From the west plains of Texas, we can swing now to the far east to make another recent and unlikely connection to Advent, with the celebration of Bodhi Day.
Is anyone familiar with Bodhi Day? It was last Sunday, Dec. 8th, and is a Buddhist holiday that commemorates when Siddhartha -the Buddha- attained enlightenment.
Siddhartha devoted a period to step away from the routine currents of life in order to prepare for, to find his way to, the arrival of holiness.
So, he entered a prolonged time of mediation.
This meditative period, holy in its own rite, was his Advent.
As evidenced by the Advent qualities of deeply-felt expectation and dedication at the external battle of the Alamo and Siddhartha’s internal journey to enlightenment, it becomes clear that Advent can take a myriad of forms.
The question is, do we recognize this throughout the year?
Do we see anticipation and devotion and commitment and yearning to be Advent-agious in our lives?
Something to ponder this time of year as we await the celebration of Jesus’ birth:
does it resonate that there are many Advents sprinkled throughout life?
And here’s another question I’ve been asking myself…what if Advent isn’t actually about waiting for someone or something to come that isn’t yet here?
What if the underlying beauty and message of Advent is that it highlights what already exists that we often overlook, thus making this season more about pulling our distracted selves toward that which has always been among us.
Buddha’s centering was his journey into his soul, to its center, making his way for the first time to a place within which was always there.
Wendell Berry said it well when he wrote:
And we pray, not for new earth or heaven,
but to be quiet in heart, and in eye clear. What we need is here.
Similarly, Richard Rohr said:
We cannot attain the presence of God because we’re already totally in the presence of God. What’s absent is awareness.
What do you think about Advent being as much about realizing that what we need is here and what’s absent is awareness?
Underneath all these metaphorical examples, the Christian tradition of Advent is about the anticipation of the coming of Jesus.
But if you think about it, did Jesus bring anything to the world that didn’t exist before his arrival, or was his purpose more to shed light, to be light.
Light doesn’t create new things, it brings clarity, visibility to what’s there.
What was new about Jesus – a tremendous light in the world – was the way he shed that light on what and who and how we were created to be.
The truths of creation had been intact from the beginning. Jesus was our reset.
What was additionally special about Jesus was that he powerfully personified the two types of presence.
One type has to do with intentions, and one has to do with emissions.
The type of presence we’ve talked most about until now is about intentionality, paying attention, devotion, purposeful action.
We’ve made references to big-time, history-altering stories of this kind…religions and nations created or altered because of such presence.
Here’s a not-so-history-making story of intentional presence, but life-altering for the person, nonetheless.
This is the story of Ric Elias, in a TED talk he entitled Lessons I Learned While My Airplane Crashed.
The story is about a plane Ric was on which was about to crash, and what he learned in those harrowing minutes before the plane corrected itself just in time. You can only imagine the things that go through one’s head in those moments.
Ric says three things went through his head in those moments… life-altering for him, life lessons for us.
First, he is a collector of old wines. He said, “So many things that I hope to do… so many things. Wine that I hope to drink someday I should drink today and not wait. So number one… I should do those things that I want to do.
I should mend those things I need to mend, not wait.”
He said, “I no longer postpone anything in my life. I live with intentional urgency.”
Two…He said, “I don’t choose to be right any more, I choose to be happy.” He speaks of wasting a lot of time on people for whom being right mattered. Ric’s new wisdom: choose not to be right, choose to be happy.
And three… “Have gratitude for what you have.” He said, “Dying isn’t scary, but you have to try to be great in the living.”
You fill in the blank… great dad or mom, a great friend, a great Community member. Ric concluded, “Whatever it is, it’s worth it. And have gratitude for what it is you have.”
How’s that for living with presence? Nothing like a near-death experience to draw us nearer to who and what we were created to be.
That’s the intentional side, the conscious presence that you bring to your life.
The other kind of presence that Jesus had has more to do with what you emit, how others benefit simply from you being there.
This brings to mind a quote that might be the question of the day. Masin Kipp asks: At the end of the day: do others feel loved in your presence? This is the spiritual bottom line.
Think of the people throughout your life whose simple presence made you feel loved.
As I contemplated this, someone whose name hasn’t crossed my mind in decades, someone I never even met, came to my mind.
Her name is Lydia Moore.
Lydia was a doctor in a clinic where I would frequent during my days of being a case manager for chronically mentally ill individuals in Kansas City.
This clinic served the marginalized people of the community, and I was there often, assisting my clients to tend to their health care needs.
I never went into the doctor’s office, and thus never personally met Dr. Moore. But she was legendary in this inner-city clinic.
Everybody wanted her, and those lucky enough to get her adored her. Patients in the waiting room often had to wait a little longer to be seen, because Dr. Moore spent quality time with each person, inquiring about their lives, their well-being beyond the presenting medical issue.
In August 1994, a little over 30 years ago, Lydia was killed in a car accident. It was at that time that I learned that this beloved doctor was only 38 years old.
The outpouring of grief from those she served is something I will never forget.
People felt loved in her presence because she embodied and emitted love…exemplifying ways of being that Jesus exemplified, ways of being that are a part of our creation.
These ways of being, eternal in nature, are fostered by our Advent observances.
In these colder, darker days we are called to slow down, to listen, to appreciate the present, to give our presence to the present, so that our hearts and minds are truly prepared for the good things that await.
I like the perspective of Pico Iyer when he wrote:
It’s only by taking myself away from clutter and distraction that I can begin to hear something out of earshot and recall that listening is much more invigorating than giving voice to all the thoughts and prejudices that anyway keep me company twenty-four hours a day. And it’s only by going nowhere — by sitting still or letting my mind relax — that I find that the thoughts that come to me unbidden are far fresher and more imaginative than the ones I consciously seek out.
Beautiful pearls of wisdom. Or maybe more apropos for our purpose, beautiful points of light.
Speaking of points of light, did you notice the star on the front of your bulletin?
It’s a Moravian star, which we typically see during Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany. It’s especially used as a representation of the Star of Bethlehem pointing towards the infant Jesus.
Today it can be our star of Advent, with the many ways that we find points of light, if we are present and attentive.
In a moment we’ll take time for responses to the Reflection. I’m interested in hearing your thoughts about the idea of Advent deepening our attention to the here and now, and if this diminishes the experience of anticipation for you?
For now, let us end with a blessing by Rev. Sandra Fees entitled Breathed into the World.
Whoever you are, wherever you go,
May you know the stillness of winter
and the call to love.
May you see the moon
silvering the night sky
and let the dark of midnight
plunge you into your truest self
and fling you back out again
to a world in need of who you are.
May there be the familiar carols
you know by heart
and new melodies to set you free.
May there be feasting and frolicking,
kindness and wonderment.
And may there be wise people
to follow a star in the East
and a child to teach us to love,
to let Christmas arrive with its enchantments,
with its glitter, glow, and gold,
to let what wants to be born break through.
May the presence of the holy
crowd out fear, hate, and worry
and proclaim in this moment
that peace and goodwill might yet
be breathed into the world,
and avow that we too can give birth to love,
wherever we go, whoever we are.
Comments are closed