Dancing with Advent shadows
Fr. Ben Berinti, C.PP.S.
“A shoot shall come out from the stock of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots.” Isaiah 11:1, NRSV
Weeks before the night would fall on the first Advent Vigil of the season, I spent pieces of several days simply sitting in our church, taking in the expanses of our worship environment. As I entered the spaces of the sanctuary and assembly with my eyes, I tried to bring my spirit along with them. My imagination began to play with visions for the upcoming season of Advent, wondering how we might be called as a community into a deeper, richer, more moving experience of worship through the profoundly stirring symbols leaping forth from the Advent scriptures. Oh yes, there is the standard fare of wreath and colored candles in churches everywhere, often dragged out without much thought or grace. But how could we, a community of complexity, re-envision our space so as to create an environment that would welcome us into the mysteries of this blessed season?
The premier spokesperson of the season, the prophet Isaiah, sets before us a plethora of images — sights and sounds and visions, a feast too sumptuous to be savored in such a short number of weeks. Yet, as I stared at the expansive wall to the left of the altar and font, from the myriad of Isaiah-imagery, a vision of the root sprung forth — the root of Jesse, stretching forth from a stump — wispy, scraggly, wild, forceful, aching to be reborn into a living tree, aching with the pangs of pregnant desire for growth and rejuvenation. This root of Jesse, coming to life in my mind’s eye, at once became united with the beautiful “vine and branches” of John’s Gospel.
In time, through no small engineering feat, the “Jesse tree” was mounted. A few days before Advent was to break onto the horizon, I again sat in the quiet of the church, and suddenly, in the midst of my admiration, I was overcome with the power of the shadows, now dramatically being cast by its roots, as they danced across the expanse of white wall. I was drawn into the subtle movements of the shadows, gently entering their dance steps, not unlike a shy teenager stepping into the embrace of his first date at a school party, and I became increasingly aware that these shadows, perhaps even more than the branches and roots of the tree itself, were a powerful signpost along the spiritual path of this Advent season.
In our often overly brilliant lights of the Christmas season, we miss the shadows. And yet, it seems to me, that there is much for us to learn while we dance with and among the shadows of Advent before we embrace the powerful Light of the Nations at Christmas. As Jan Richardson tells us in Night Visions: Searching the Shadows of Advent and Christmas, “But the sacred presence is there, breathing in the shadows. I believe that this is the gift that God holds out to us in this season: to carry the light, yes, but also to see in the dark and to find the shape of things in the shadows …”
While we are moving toward the celebration of the Light of the World, first we must spend time with the shadows of this season. To do so, however, may first stir our fears.
The shadows in our own lives — those of our personal choices and decisions, those in our families and workplaces, those that are cast within our nation, our church, and our world — like those that danced before me on the wall of the sanctuary, may seem larger than life and out of proportion. In this way, they may cripple us, overwhelm us. Shadows strike us as sneaky, deceptive, always trying to frighten us with unwelcome surprises. Often, the shadows are where we lurk when we are ashamed of who we are or what we have done. Yes, to enter the Advent dance with the shadows can be frightening.
And yet, if the sacred presence is “breathing in the shadows,” and if the shadows are indeed “God’s gift” held out to us in this season, then we must move beyond our fears and shame and allow the beauty of the shadows to speak to us, to guide us, to prepare us for what lies ahead at the dawn of Christmas morning.
The invitation I’d like to offer is to enter the Advent dance of the shadows — to explore those hidden, perhaps feared and fearful aspects of our lives, of our relationships with others, our world, and our God. Take time in these often brilliantly lit days and nights to embrace the shadows dancing behind the glitz and glitter. Beware of dressing up the darkness, the emptiness, the shadows prematurely. Advent is the time for us to explore why it is and for what reasons we need Christ to come — what we want Christ to bring about, to heal, to embolden out of the shadows of our lives.
As Jack Boozer so eloquently says, “In this strange season when we are suspended between realization and expectation, may we be found honest about the darkness.” If we are honest about the darkness, about the shadows, perhaps then we will be more fully perceptive of the Light when He comes!
Faithful Feedback:
We celebrate Jesus as the Light of the World at Christmas, but have you ever had an experience in your life when you discovered the presence of God “breathing in the shadows?”
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