From Holidays to Holy Days: A Benedictine Walk through Advent
125
From Holidays to Holy Days: A Benedictine Walk through Advent
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Overview
Take a Benedictine walk through the season of Advent with Benedictine monk Albert Holtz. Join him on his daily outings as he heads out of his abbey and through the colorful, noisy streets of Downtown Newark, New Jersey. In these once-a-day meditations, Father Albert points out the often-unnoticed connections between our secular celebration of the holidays and the deeper, spiritual meaning of the holy seasons of Advent and Christmas.
In a string of colored lights, a crowd of shoppers, or the window of a toy shore, readers will uncover the traditional advent themes of watchful waiting, repentance, and selfless love. In the bustling sidewalks and busy malls, readers will learn to see Isaiah, John the Baptist, and even Jesus himself, all speaking their ancient messages of peace, hope and good will.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780819223166 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Church Publishing, Incorporated |
| Publication date: | 08/01/2008 |
| Pages: | 125 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.40(w) x 8.40(h) x 0.50(d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
From Holidays to Holy Days
A Benedictine Walk Through Advent
By Albert Holtz
Church Publishing Incorporated
Copyright © 2008 Albert Holtz, O.S.B.All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-8192-2316-6
CHAPTER 1
Sunday of the First Week
Times and Seasons
This morning I celebrated mass for the first Sunday of Advent, marking the start of a new season in the church's calendar and the beginning of a new liturgical year. This afternoon I'm on my daily walk, heading down the hill from the monastery toward the downtown shopping district. From the window of the big Rite-Aid drugstore across the street, the Santa dolls and Christmas tree ornaments greet me like old friends—they've been there since the day after Halloween.
Storekeepers have a different calendar from the rest of us. They mark "seasons" by changing the merchandise displayed on their shelves: summer is replaced by back-to-school, which is replaced by Halloween, and Halloween by the Christmas holidays. Each year they seem to start the Christmas season a little earlier, hoping to squeeze in a few more shopping days.
As I cross Washington Street, the boxes of tinsel and the inflatable Santas that I see in the Rite-Aid window ahead start me thinking about the deeper implications of the idea of "season." When biblical writers wrote about a "season" they used the Greek word kairos, which is often translated "time," but they meant a time for some specific purpose—an occasion or an opportunity. It's the word used in the familiar passage in Ecclesiastes: "... and a time for every matter under heaven. A time to be born, and a time to die" (Eccles. 3:1–8). Paul writes to the Galatians, "So then, whenever we have an opportunity [kairos], let us work for the good of all" (Gal. 6:10). In fact, every moment of our lives is a kairos, a sacred "season," a chapter in the unfolding story of God's love for the world. For a Christian, life is made up of millions of unique moments, each one a kairos, an opportunity that will never come again. Every task we start, every decision we make, whether trivial or great, is a special time, a chance to build up the kingdom. Every encounter with another person is a unique kairos, a season for loving. Whether we're working, cooking supper, or relaxing in front of the television, each moment is a part of the story of God's loving presence in the world. It is all kairos.
"Time" or "season" in the Bible usually conveys a feeling of urgency, of an opportunity not to be missed. It is not surprising that the word comes up in various biblical readings during Advent. Paul uses it when he writes to the Corinthians: "Behold, now is the acceptable time, behold now is the day of salvation" (2 Cor. 6:2). In this morning's second reading at mass, Paul tells the Romans, "You know what time [kairos] it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers; the night is far gone, the day is near" (Rom. 13:11–12).
As I walk past the shops and glance into their windows full of Christmas decorations and gift boxes wrapped to look like presents, they all seem to be sending the same message: The "season" is upon us and we had better act right away. Interesting, I think, how the holiday "season" echoes Advent's biblical kairos; both of them carry an urgent message, a challenge that demands an immediate response. The time to act is not tomorrow. It was not yesterday. It is today, right now.
Since I'm great at procrastinating, the Advent readings sometimes unnerve me with their warnings that the hour is at hand or that now is the time to rise from sleep. This is especially true when it comes to spiritual things. I find handy excuses: "I have to finish this project first, then I'll do my spiritual reading." "Tomorrow I'll get more serious about praying." "Pretty soon I'll have to start to try to control my short temper."
As I continue to make my way past store windows filled with all sorts of holiday merchandise, I see the store owners' message clearly. A three-foot high Santa Claus figure in a store window seems to be calling out the biblical warning: "Albert, it's the season!" Then a Christmas tree decorated with blinking lights sparkles its message: "This is the season! Act now!" Everywhere I look on Market Street this afternoon, the idea is the same. This is not a time for delaying. Or, as Saint Paul would say, "Behold, now is the acceptable time, behold now is the day of salvation."
Reflection
Your life is made up of millions of unique moments, each one an opportunity that will never come again. How might you use Advent to make yourself more aware of these special opportunities in your own life? Is there some decision or task that you have been putting off but that you could address right now as a response to Advent's urgent call?
Sacred Scripture
"Take heed, watch; for you do not know when the time [kairos] will come." (Mark 13:33)
Rule of Benedict
Let us get up then, at long last, for the scriptures rouse us when they say: It is high time for us to arise from sleep. (Prologue, v. 8)
Monday of the First Week
Holiday Music
I'm strolling along a crowded sidewalk on Broad Street across from the new Prudential Center sports arena. An amplifier is pouring loud rap music onto the crowd passing the electronics store. Even though it's only the first week of Advent, I would really prefer some Christmas music. Of course, several radio stations have already started playing their traditional mixture of songs about snowflakes and mistletoe interspersed with traditional religious carols and hymns. When the two kinds of Christmas music are mixed together like that, I've noticed that the non-religious songs—about chestnuts roasting and partridges in pear trees—start to resonate somehow with the sacred songs and begin to echo the deep religious themes of Advent and Christmas. "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town" starts to reflect the joyful longing that underlies "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel." Sentimental songs like "I'll be Home for Christmas" start to pick up the sincere warmth and love of "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear." The lyrics of "Silver Bells" begin to blend with the message of heartfelt peace and gladness of "Joy to the World."
As I continue down the noisy sidewalk thinking about Christmas songs, it occurs to me that the act of singing itself is such a deeply moving human experience that many cultures consider it something sacred and mystical. I remember reading a creation myth that told of how the world was actually sung into existence. Then I start to picture the scene in heaven at the first moment of creation. Surely, I think to myself, God's words of creation could not have been simply spoken like so many simple instructions; no, they must have been sung to an exquisitely beautiful melody. "Let there be light" was no spoken command but rather the first line of a spontaneous love song that is still overflowing from the Creator's heart.
As I keep walking, the sun is reflecting from the windows of some buildings on the other side of Broad Street. I start to imagine the sun and the planets in their silent march across the heavens, still echoing the divine song of creation, as do the birds and other animals with their songs and cries. All our human music, too, is simply an echo of that first music that still resounds in our hearts: a raga from India, an Andean song played on a charango, a complicated piece on a Senegalese kora harp. Each of these is an echo of God's own voice on the first day of creation. So when we hear a holiday song that is not about Jesus but about a winter wonderland, we can still hear in it the harmonies of heaven, traces of the Lord's own voice celebrating joy, contentment, and longing, the very themes the church echoes in her liturgy during Advent and Christmas.
I'm at the corner of Branford Place, threading my way through a small crowd of teenagers gathered around a pushcart, sorting through CD's of rap, hip-hop, and reggae. A young man is presiding watchfully over the scene as a reggae tune blasts from the boom box he has chained to his cart. It's not at all what you could call "Christmas" music or "sacred music." But as I turn left up Branford place toward the monastery, I think I can hear in its exuberance a faint echo of the first melody ever sung, the one that goes "Let there be light!"
On my way up the hill I start to hum a beautiful Gregorian chant tune, the song for vespers in Advent: "Conditor Alme Siderum ("Dear Maker of the Starry Skies").
Reflection
Take a favorite Advent hymn and meditate on its words. Here are two verses of a modern carol first published in The Oxford Book of Carols in 1928:
People, look east. The time is near
Of the crowning of the year.
Make your house fair as you are able,
Trim the hearth and set the table.
People, look east and sing today:
Love, the Guest is on the way.
Angels announce with shouts of mirth,
Him who brings new life to earth.
Set every peak and valley humming
With the word, the Lord is coming
People, look east and sing today:
Love, the Lord, is on the way.
—Eleanor Farjeon
Sacred Scripture
Praise for God's Surpassing Greatness
Praise him with trumpet sound;
praise him with lute and harp!
Praise him with tambourine and dance;
praise him with strings and pipe!
Praise him with clanging cymbals;
praise him with loud clashing cymbals!
Let everything that breathes praise the Lord!
Praise the Lord! (Ps. 150:3–6)
Rule of Benedict
We must always remember, therefore, what the Prophet says: "Serve the Lord with fear," and again, "Sing praise wisely"; and, "In the presence of the angels I will sing to you." Let us consider, then, how we ought to behave in the presence of God and his angels, and let us stand to sing the psalms in such a way that our minds are in harmony with our voices. (Chapter 19, "The Discipline of Psalmody," vv. 3–7)
Tuesday of the First Week
Salvation Army
Up ahead, just outside the main entrance to Newark's Penn Station, stands a man in a heavy winter coat and a dark blue cap. Beside him, hanging on a tripod, is a red bucket labeled "Salvation Army."
I slow down so I can watch this interesting fellow with his pleasant, peaceful expression set off by rimless glasses. Although the commuters rushing past don't seem to notice him, he appears quite content to just stay right where he is, as if he knows that he's doing something worthwhile. He stamps his feet a couple of times on the cold sidewalk and gives his handbell another shake.
Watching him I start to think about how the holidays bring out people's generosity: the Children's Christmas Fund, Toys for Tots, food drives, and other charitable collections have been a traditional part of the holiday season for centuries.
For Christians, however, bringing comfort to the poor and afflicted is not just a seasonal whim but is at the very center of Jesus' message. Again and again the gospels show him being moved with compassion. The story of the miracle of the loaves and fishes, for instance, begins, "At the sight of the crowds, [Jesus'] heart was moved with pity for them" (Matt. 9:36), and the raising of the widow's son starts with Jesus' being "moved with pity" (Luke 7:13). During this first week of Advent, the church reflects on various signs that the kingdom is already present among us; surely one of the most powerful of these is people's generosity toward their less fortunate brothers and sisters.
Now I'm curious: will someone actually come by and put in a contribution? Just then, a woman in a threadbare coat and an inexpensive knit hat slows down to put something in the red bucket, smiling at the man as he gives her a cheerful thank you. The generosity of this woman reminds me that Jesus' point is not simply that I should feel compassion for others. The holidays fill many of us with warm and generous feelings of "good will toward all." Of itself, however, compassion is not a sign of the kingdom; it is not even a virtue—it is just an emotion. Nowhere does Jesus say that on judgment day God is going to ask me how I felt about anyone. Nor does he promise that the divine Judge will congratulate me with the words, "When I was hungry, you felt bad for me; when I was thirsty you felt sad for me, when I was in prison you felt awful about it." No, just as compassion moves Jesus to take action—to heal, or forgive, or feed, even to restore to life—it has to move me to compassionate action like this woman's.
Her simple generosity reminds me that I will become Christlike then, not by feeling compassion for a needy neighbor or for someone sick in the hospital, but rather by doing something to help. Saint Benedict reflects this idea in several places in his Rule for Monks. For example, he warns that "[the monastery cellarer] must show every care and concern for the sick, children, guests and the poor, knowing for certain that he will be held accountable for all of them on the day of judgment" (RB 31:9). He calls for actions, not just feelings.
A middle-aged man in a dark overcoat and a white scarf pauses at the Salvation Army bucket. Reaching into his pocket he pulls out a small wad of bills, peels off a couple and drops them in. Another pleasant "Thank you!" from the man in the blue coat as he rings his handbell a couple of times.
These generous people are good reminders for me to move beyond the mere warm, charitable feelings of "the Christmas spirit" to real works of charity. During Advent we wait and pray for the coming of the kingdom, but the kingdom becomes present on earth not because of the way people feel but because of the way they act. If I want to help bring that kingdom to its completion, I will have to go out of my way, forgetting my own comfort and convenience to visit a sick friend, postponing my own plans to take some extra time with a student, and ignoring my preoccupations to give encouragement to someone who needs it.
Just then, another woman comes by and tosses something in. The man with the rimless glasses smiles his thanks. I realize that I'm getting cold standing here on the sidewalk, so I turn from the man and his red bucket and continue on my way, encouraged and challenged by the generosity of three people who have just helped make the kingdom a little more present in Penn Station Newark. From behind me, the sound of the Salvation Army handbell seems to follow me on the cold wind.
Reflection
As we await during Advent God's ultimate act of compassion, the coming of our Savior, we have plenty of opportunities to be compassionate to others. Think of one or two steps you might take to put compassion into action during Advent. You may want to ask God to point out to you someone who especially needs your help during this holy season.
Sacred Scripture
"Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him." (Luke 10:31–34)
Rule of Benedict
You must relieve the lot of the poor, clothe the naked, visit the sick, and bury the dead. Go to help the troubled and console the sorrowing. (Chapter 4, "The Instruments for Good Works," vv. 14–19)
Wednesday of the First Week
Christmas Wreaths
The clear night sky is strewn with bright pinpoints of cold light that stand against the blackness of space as I make my way back to the monastery from the school's residence hall. I've just spent an hour helping a couple of students prepare for a test and then stayed to pray Night Prayer with the sixty-some boarders. Now I'm heading for the pedestrian bridge that will take me through the school to the monastery on the other side of King Boulevard.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from From Holidays to Holy Days by Albert Holtz. Copyright © 2008 Albert Holtz, O.S.B.. Excerpted by permission of Church Publishing Incorporated.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Contents
Introduction
Sunday of the First Week: Times and Seasons
Monday of the First Week: Holiday Music
Tuesday of the First Week: Salvation Army
Wednesday of the First Week: Christmas Wreaths
Thursday of the First Week: Preparing
Friday of the First Week: Memories
Saturday of the First Week: "What Do You Want for Christmas?"
Sunday of the Second Week: Street Decorations
Monday of the Second Week: Traffic Jam
Tuesday of the Second Week: Wrapping Paper
Wednesday of the Second Week: Christmas Trees
Thursday of the Second Week: Holiday Worries
Friday of the Second Week: Manger Scene
Saturday of the Second Week: Christmas Cards
Sunday of the Third Week: Joy
Monday of the Third Week: Home for the Holidays
Tuesday of the Third Week: Peace On Earth?
Wednesday of the Third Week: Santa Claus
Thursday of the Third Week: Looking for the Right Gift
Friday of the Third Week: Holiday Crowds
Sunday of the Fourth Week: Act Now!
December 17: Poinsettias
December 18: Homecoming Party
December 19: Holiday Cooking
December 20: Vacation Time
December 21: Putting Up Lights
December 22: Holiday Hospitality
December 23: Visiting
December 24: Some Assembly Required
December 25: Christmas Presents
December 26: Stopping Christmas
December 27: Holiday Dinner
December 28: The Letdown
December 29: Bells
December 30: Returning Gifts
December 31: New Year's Eve
January 1: New Beginnings
Epilogue
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