Ben Camino's Ironic Advent Meditation 2018 #1:
Advent Imperatives
I have a friend who is prone to loading me up with imperatives. And they are not usually nasty, wearisome things like "take out the garbage," "make sure to get to work on time," or even "please don't wear those jeans again." They are nice imperatives. Like "remember to look at the sky," "breathe deeply," "reflect on your blessings," and "commit your ways unto the Lord, and He will direct thy paths" (OK, in truth, that's never been one of them, but I have a feeling it's lurking in the background).
Today, for example, I got this brief list of imperatives: Enjoy hike. Be safe. Inhale deeply. Look at peeking blue sky. Consider hope. And, a little later, enjoy the concert. Still later, I got this: "communion?" but I think that was a legitimate question not a command for me to communicate. But, ya never know. Once you start imperating, sometimes you just think you can command what you will, as Augustine commanded the Lord to do to him.
How did I do with all those commands? Well, I sort of enjoyed my hike. I guess I was safe except when that one car kept coming at me and I had to move to the other side of Dimond Street. I assume I breathed, but I know for a fact that I forgot to inhale deeply (although I may have done so accidentally when the car wasn't slowing down). The sky really was quite majestic, if gloomy (and believe me, Ben Camino is all about majestic gloom). Massive cloud formations loomed with a very rare glimpse of the peeking blue. Finally, towards the end, things cleared to the west and lo He came with clouds descending. Well, not exactly. What I mean is, the sun came out for awhile. Consider hope? Well, my usual m.o. is to move from hopeful to not hopeful several times a minute on average, so I assume that there were some hopeful moments. But I'm pretty sure they didn't come from considering hope. I was probably thinking about the ridiculously nerdy kids I saw in the park with shields and some kind of spear things (with lots of padding) playing some kind of game that could easily have originated in Viking times of something. I'm not making this part up. This actually happened. And it made me hopeful for humanity.
Six people, seven counting me, were not inside watching the NFL (Colts game sucked anyway) or binge watching old Law and Order episodes or playing some kind of shield and spear game with their virtual Viking Wii game. We were, perhaps, heeding some unspoken or untexted inner imperative to be human animals. Even if it meant taking a long walk on a winter's day in a deep and dark December (Simon and Garfunkle) or playing an archaic live-action war game of some sort bashing each other (on shields) with foam padded spears (It's called Dagorhir, as it turns out, as in the rather embarassing picture above).
Don't get me wrong. Human life, especially the flourishing life like Wendell Berry and four other people, requires some imperatives. I just need it simplified a bit. That's all I'm saying. Like I said to my friend, how about just "take luck" (Brian Regan referencehttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9do7HRaGd00), I can maybe handle that. Or "eat your key lime pie." I know for a fact I can do that one without requiring too much focus. That slice of pie was amazing.
Anyway or anyways as Jennifer Lynne Ricke and some other friends of mine like to say, that would suit me just fine. "Give what thou commandest Lord, and command me one thing at a time and especially command me to accept good fortune and eat delicious pie." I think I could get the hang of that.
Unfortunately for me and you, dear reader (fellow prisoner of the Ben Camino universe), today's gospel reading sounds annoyingly like my imperious friend, with the Lord slinging out one obligation after another on me and my fellow would-be happy holiday shoppers.
Jesus said to his disciples:
“There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars,
and on earth nations will be in dismay,
perplexed by the roaring of the sea and the waves.
. . . . . . . .
But when these signs begin to happen,
stand erect and raise your heads (that's one or two?) because your redemption is at hand.
“Beware (that's two) that your hearts do not become drowsy from carousing and drunkenness
and the anxieties of daily life,
and that day catch you by surprise like a trap.
For that day will assault everyone
who lives on the face of the earth.
Be vigilant (three) at all times
and pray (four) that you have the strength
to escape the tribulations that are imminent
and to stand before the Son of Man.”
I realize that we have several options as to how we respond to these disruptions/instructions from the one who claims to be the boss. And, if you know Ben Camino, you know that he sympathizes with all of the above (OK, there's nothing above, but you get my metaphor) EXCEPT for the one that says, well, I'm going to go ahead and have my Pumpkin Spice Advent anyway(s) or my two minutes of inspiration for busy holiday shoppers and pass that off as a "good enough Advent." After all, peace on earth and Juniper Lattes and stuff. But, sad to say, there has never been a "good enough Advent."
In another reading on another day, we will hear the big Advent imperative which is "Prepare Ye." In modern English that means, "You all Prepare." That don't pay me the big English professor bucks for nothing. I translated that like a boss.
Advent candles, wreathes, calendars (with or without chocolate or whiskey) can obviously be rather annoying and Ben Camino is on record as being easily annoyed. Yet, they can (if we let them) help point towards the ultimate point of Advent (and prepare children for a mature Advent later on). Prepare. Take some actions that get you ready, and Somebody is assuming that the same old same old isn't enough. Advent is a beautiful . . . disruption. Things will change radically (the sky will be falling, for example), and we need to prepare by changing too. Lift up our heads, be worried (I'm good at that one, Lord), be vigilant, pray.
Of course, this assumes that we take the voice in the gospel reading for the first Sunday of Advent seriously. And I know for a fact that I have had lots of readers over the years that do NOT. Or, like me with hope, they move back and forth between some kind of belief several times a minute, or an hour, or a day. Please stay with me. Today's meditation is specifically my best effort at reminding those of us who want to "celebrate" (?) Advent what it might mean for us. But there are three weeks still before Christmas in which I and some other friends will be talking about despair and hope, faith and doubt, sorrow and joy, God and nothing, in ways that maybe you haven't heard before. Or maybe you have. I don't take anything for granted. Or for granite as my writing students sometime say.
For now, for some of you, some of these imperatives might be a bit much. The Christ who commands may seem more like a bully not worth paying any attention to. I don't think so, at least not most of the time, but I get ya. So, for you, I still think there are some very worthwhile spiritual exercises you could be doing. I suggest that you start here, in the words of my friend and sometime spiritual director: Enjoy hike. Be safe. Inhale deeply. Look at peeking blue sky. Consider hope. And, enjoy the concert (even if it's just one in your earbuds from Spotify).
And if you are not in the habit, try getting quiet, opening up the palms of your hands, and whispering thank you for those nerdy kids in the park playing Dagorhir.
How did I do with all those commands? Well, I sort of enjoyed my hike. I guess I was safe except when that one car kept coming at me and I had to move to the other side of Dimond Street. I assume I breathed, but I know for a fact that I forgot to inhale deeply (although I may have done so accidentally when the car wasn't slowing down). The sky really was quite majestic, if gloomy (and believe me, Ben Camino is all about majestic gloom). Massive cloud formations loomed with a very rare glimpse of the peeking blue. Finally, towards the end, things cleared to the west and lo He came with clouds descending. Well, not exactly. What I mean is, the sun came out for awhile. Consider hope? Well, my usual m.o. is to move from hopeful to not hopeful several times a minute on average, so I assume that there were some hopeful moments. But I'm pretty sure they didn't come from considering hope. I was probably thinking about the ridiculously nerdy kids I saw in the park with shields and some kind of spear things (with lots of padding) playing some kind of game that could easily have originated in Viking times of something. I'm not making this part up. This actually happened. And it made me hopeful for humanity.
Six people, seven counting me, were not inside watching the NFL (Colts game sucked anyway) or binge watching old Law and Order episodes or playing some kind of shield and spear game with their virtual Viking Wii game. We were, perhaps, heeding some unspoken or untexted inner imperative to be human animals. Even if it meant taking a long walk on a winter's day in a deep and dark December (Simon and Garfunkle) or playing an archaic live-action war game of some sort bashing each other (on shields) with foam padded spears (It's called Dagorhir, as it turns out, as in the rather embarassing picture above).
Don't get me wrong. Human life, especially the flourishing life like Wendell Berry and four other people, requires some imperatives. I just need it simplified a bit. That's all I'm saying. Like I said to my friend, how about just "take luck" (Brian Regan referencehttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9do7HRaGd00), I can maybe handle that. Or "eat your key lime pie." I know for a fact I can do that one without requiring too much focus. That slice of pie was amazing.
Anyway or anyways as Jennifer Lynne Ricke and some other friends of mine like to say, that would suit me just fine. "Give what thou commandest Lord, and command me one thing at a time and especially command me to accept good fortune and eat delicious pie." I think I could get the hang of that.
Unfortunately for me and you, dear reader (fellow prisoner of the Ben Camino universe), today's gospel reading sounds annoyingly like my imperious friend, with the Lord slinging out one obligation after another on me and my fellow would-be happy holiday shoppers.
Jesus said to his disciples:
“There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars,
and on earth nations will be in dismay,
perplexed by the roaring of the sea and the waves.
. . . . . . . .
But when these signs begin to happen,
stand erect and raise your heads (that's one or two?) because your redemption is at hand.
“Beware (that's two) that your hearts do not become drowsy from carousing and drunkenness
and the anxieties of daily life,
and that day catch you by surprise like a trap.
For that day will assault everyone
who lives on the face of the earth.
Be vigilant (three) at all times
and pray (four) that you have the strength
to escape the tribulations that are imminent
and to stand before the Son of Man.”
I realize that we have several options as to how we respond to these disruptions/instructions from the one who claims to be the boss. And, if you know Ben Camino, you know that he sympathizes with all of the above (OK, there's nothing above, but you get my metaphor) EXCEPT for the one that says, well, I'm going to go ahead and have my Pumpkin Spice Advent anyway(s) or my two minutes of inspiration for busy holiday shoppers and pass that off as a "good enough Advent." After all, peace on earth and Juniper Lattes and stuff. But, sad to say, there has never been a "good enough Advent."
In another reading on another day, we will hear the big Advent imperative which is "Prepare Ye." In modern English that means, "You all Prepare." That don't pay me the big English professor bucks for nothing. I translated that like a boss.
Advent candles, wreathes, calendars (with or without chocolate or whiskey) can obviously be rather annoying and Ben Camino is on record as being easily annoyed. Yet, they can (if we let them) help point towards the ultimate point of Advent (and prepare children for a mature Advent later on). Prepare. Take some actions that get you ready, and Somebody is assuming that the same old same old isn't enough. Advent is a beautiful . . . disruption. Things will change radically (the sky will be falling, for example), and we need to prepare by changing too. Lift up our heads, be worried (I'm good at that one, Lord), be vigilant, pray.
Of course, this assumes that we take the voice in the gospel reading for the first Sunday of Advent seriously. And I know for a fact that I have had lots of readers over the years that do NOT. Or, like me with hope, they move back and forth between some kind of belief several times a minute, or an hour, or a day. Please stay with me. Today's meditation is specifically my best effort at reminding those of us who want to "celebrate" (?) Advent what it might mean for us. But there are three weeks still before Christmas in which I and some other friends will be talking about despair and hope, faith and doubt, sorrow and joy, God and nothing, in ways that maybe you haven't heard before. Or maybe you have. I don't take anything for granted. Or for granite as my writing students sometime say.
For now, for some of you, some of these imperatives might be a bit much. The Christ who commands may seem more like a bully not worth paying any attention to. I don't think so, at least not most of the time, but I get ya. So, for you, I still think there are some very worthwhile spiritual exercises you could be doing. I suggest that you start here, in the words of my friend and sometime spiritual director: Enjoy hike. Be safe. Inhale deeply. Look at peeking blue sky. Consider hope. And, enjoy the concert (even if it's just one in your earbuds from Spotify).
And if you are not in the habit, try getting quiet, opening up the palms of your hands, and whispering thank you for those nerdy kids in the park playing Dagorhir.
Where is "Dimond Street"? That feels important for me know.
ReplyDeleteAlso, this has all of the things that I've come to desire and expect of Ben Camino. And since hope for fulfilled longings are a part of Advent, I consider this a reminder that some hopes can and will be met.
...I'm known by some as Annie Dimond, but blogspot doesn't have to know me like that, I suppose.
ReplyDelete