Tag: advent

The Lord’s coming is near. And though we have all been well taught that the word “Advent” means “coming”  there is the danger that we think we are only passively waiting for him to come.  It is not just that the Lord is coming to us, but we are also journeying to him. In fact, as the Advent prayers in the Roman Missal instruct, we ought to run (don’t walk) and hasten, to greet him as he draws near.

The image of the Prodigal Son that comes to mind. His Father saw him and ran toward him, but he too was hastening to his Father with contrition and hope. So too, in Advent we do look for the Lord’s coming. But the Lord also looks for us as we come to him by faith.  We, like the prodigal son, consider our need for salvation, and with contrition, (did you get to confession this advent?), hasten to meet our Lord, whom we know by faith is coming to us.

This notion of our running to meet God is set forth as a consistent theme in the prayers of the Roman Missal.  Consider these prayers and how the theme of our running, hastening, and going out  to meet God, even as he is coming to us, is set forth:

1. Grant your faithful, we pray, almighty God, the resolve to run forth to meet your Christ with righteous deeds at his coming, so that, gathered at his right hand, they may be worthy to possess the heavenly kingdom.  (First Sunday of Advent)
2. Almighty and merciful God, may no earthly undertaking hinder those who set out in haste to meet your Son, but may our learning of heavenly wisdom gain us admittance to his company. (Second Sunday of Advent)
3. Stir up your mighty power, O Lord. and come to our help with a mighty strength, so that what our sins impede, the grace of your mercy may hasten. (Thur of the First Week of Advent).
4. Grant that your people, we pray , almighty God, may be ever watchful for the coming of your Only Begotten Son, that, as the author of our salvation himself has taught us, we may hasten, alert with lighted lamps, to meet him when he comes. (Friday of the Second Week of Advent)
5. May the reception of your sacrament strengthen us O Lord, so that we may go out to meet our savior, with worthy deeds when he comes, and merit the rewards of the blessed. (post communion, Dec 22)

Thus, we are not counseled to “wait on the Lord” in a merely passive sense, as though we were sitting still and waiting for a bus to arrive. Rather, we are counseled to “wait on the Lord” in an active sense, much as when we speak of a waiter in a restaurant “waiting on tables.” Such a form of waiting is a very active form of waiting. Alert and aware, the waiter or waitress carefully observes the needs of others around them and serves their brothers and sisters. The good ones strive to avoid distraction and do their job of serving well and with swiftness.

Notice too how the prayers indicate what it means to “run.”  We do not run aimlessly or in frantic circles. Rather running to the Lord means:

1. Being engaged in righteous deeds (holiness) by God’s grace.
2. Not being hindered by worldly preoccupations and distractions.
3. Learning heavenly wisdom.
4. Receiving the Lord’s mercy unto the forgiveness of our sins.
5. Being alert and ready for the Lord’s coming, the lamp of our soul trimmed (humble and purged of sin) and burning (alive with fiery love).
6. Being strengthened by the Eucharist which is our food for the journey.

St. Paul speaks of running too:

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air. No, I discipline my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize (1 Cor 9:24-27).

Are you running to meet the Lord? Or are you just waiting? Advent involves looking and waiting, but it also means running to meet the Lord who is coming to us. Run, Don’t Walk to the Nearing Jesus!

The text of this song says, simply: Domine ad adjuvandum me festina! (Lord, make haste to help me!). It is composed by Vivaldi, and its running eighth notes creates the image of an energetic and joyful running. Vivaldi also loved to run a melody up and down the scale, creating (here) a sense of running up and down the hills as we hasten to the Lord. (the video goes on to include the Gloria Patri). Try not to tap your toe in the first and third movements of this snip from the Vespers of Vivaldi in G Major!

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I was explaining to a new Catholic recently that the color purple (violet) used in advent is akin to its use in Lent, in that both are considered penitential seasons. Hence we are to give special attention to our sins and our need for salvation. Traditionally Advent was a time we would, like Lent take part in penitential practices such as fasting and abstinence.

Of course, in recent decades Advent has almost wholly lost any real penitential practices. There is no fasting or abstinence required, they are not really even mentioned. Confession is encouraged and the readings still retain a kind of focus on repentance and a focus on the Last Judgment.

But long gone are the days of a forty day fast beginning on Nov 12. The observances in the period of the Middle Ages were every bit as strict as Lent. St. Martin’s Feast Day was a day of carnival (which means literally “farewell to meat” (carnis + vale)). In those days the rose vestments of Gaudete (Rejoice Sunday) were really something to rejoice about, since the fast was relaxed for a day. Then back into the fast until Christmas. Lent too began with Mardi Gras (Fat Tuesday), as the last of the fat was used used up and the fast was enjoined beginning the next day.

And the fast and abstinence were far more than the tokenary observances we have today. In most places, all animal products were strictly forbidden during Advent and Lent. There were many regional differences about the rest of the details. While most areas permitted fish, others permitted fish and fowl. Some prohibited fruit and eggs, and some places like monasteries ate little more than bread. In some places, on Fridays of Lent and Advent, believers abstained from food for an entire day; others took only one meal. In most places, however, the practice was to abstain from eating until the evening, when a small meal without vegetables or alcohol was eaten.

Yes, those were the day of the Giants! When fasting and abstinence were real things.

Our little token fast on only two days (and only in Lent) really isn’t much of a fast: two small meals + one regular meal; is that really a fast at all? And we abstain from meat only on the Fridays of Lent, instead of all forty days.

What is most remarkable to me is that such fasts of old were undertaken by men, women and children who had a lot less to eat than we do. Not only was there less food, but is was far more seasonal and its supply less predictable. Further, famines and food shortages were more a fact of life than today. Yet despite all this they were able to fast, and twice a year at that, for eighty days total. There were also “ember days” sporadically through the year when a day long fast was enjoined.

Frankly I doubt we moderns could pull off the fast of the ancients, and even the elders of more recent centuries. Can you imagine all the belly-aching (pun intended) if the Church called us to follow the strict norms of even 200 years ago? We would hear that such demands were unrealistic, even unhealthy.

Perhaps it is a good illustration of how our abundance enslaves us. The more we get, the more we want. And the more we want the more we think we can’t live without. To some degree or another we are so easily owned by what we claim to own, we are enslaved by our abundance and we experience little freedom to go without.

I look back to the Catholics of 100 years and before and think of them like giants compared to us. They had so little compared to me, but they seem to have been so much freer. They could fast. And though poor, they built grand Churches and had large families. They crowded into homes and lived and worked in conditions few of us would be able to tolerate today. And sacrifice seemed more “normal” to them. I have not read of any huge outcries from those times, that the mean nasty Church imposed fasting and abstinence in Advent and Lent. (Though certainly there were exceptions for the very young, the old the sick, and also pregnant women). Neither have I read of outcries of the fasting from midnight before receiving Communion. Somehow they accepted these sacrifices and were largely able to undertake them. They had a freedom that I think many of us lack.

And then too, imagine the joy when, for a moment the fast lifted in these times: Immaculate Conception, Gaudete, Annunciation, St. Joseph’s Feast day, Laetare Sunday. Imagine the joy. For us its just a pink candle and a pondering, “Rejoice? Over what?” For them these were actual and literal “feast days.”

I admit, I am a man of my time and I find the fasting and abstinence described above nearly “impossible.” I did give up all wine for this Advent. Last Lent I banished radio and TV. But something makes me look back to the Giants of old, who, having far less than I, did such things as a matter of course.

There were giants in those days!