On Not Rushing Past the Pain
“I feel sad for Jesus,” my son said. We were visiting the church, and I hadn’t noticed that he was gazing up at the crucifix.
Startled by his honesty and worried that the violent scene would upset him, I found myself rushing past his emotion. “Don’t worry, baby—Jesus is in heaven with God now.”
“Still,” my son persisted, “It must have hurt when they hammered him.” And that is how I found myself the sole audience of a profound eight-word homily, preached by a child with the same number of years to his age. I needed this reminder not to rush past the pain.
I think we would all categorize Advent as more joyful than Lent, at least theologically speaking (wait in joyful hope!), but the truth is that there isn’t one of us who doesn’t carry sorrow with us into these holy weeks. Perhaps Thanksgiving reminded you of someone missing from the table. Perhaps the holidays are putting extra strain on already tenuous relationships. Perhaps you are facing financial difficulties that the Christmas advertising just won’t let you forget.
There is room for you here, for all your doubt, all your loss, all your sorrow. And when I think of Advent, that’s what I imagine: all of us bedraggled folks crowding into that holy stable alongside the shepherds and the angels, all of welcomed, all of us bathed in light. We don’t have to rush past our pain on the way there. There is room for it.
Once I’d recovered from my son’s statement, I launched into incarnational theology mode. “Do you know what that means, baby?” I said, “It means that we are never alone in our pain. It means that whenever we feel any kind of pain, in our bodies or in our feelings, Jesus feels it with us.”
My son paused for a moment, considering. “So,” he said, “that means when I trip, Jesus trips?”
I couldn’t suppress a smile when I answered, “Kind of! Yes!” And isn’t that what Advent is, really? A reminder that when we trip, Jesus trips, too? A reminder that when we see someone else trip, it’s Jesus there, too, in need of a hand? Advent, which starts tomorrow, is a call to look inward, and a call to look outward as well. A call to acknowledge our own pain, and to acknowledge the pain of others. A call for each and every one of us to be drawn into the loving arms of God. A call for each and every one of us to be the loving arms of God to others. Let’s begin.
Advent Resources
I’m always honored to make this journey to Bethlehem with you, and I have a few free resources that I hope will provide some bread for the journey.
The first is my free Advent devotional on the gorgeous Advent homilies of my very favorite saint, St. Óscar Romero. I don’t know if I can properly express the effect he has had on my life and my faith, and these Advent homilies were my first introduction to his unbelievably brave and loving faith. There are excerpts from his four Advent homilies and the feast of Christmas, along with meditative prayer suggestions for reflection. The Scriptures he preaches on here are the same ones we’ll hear this year. In case you missed it, here’s the link.
I’m so looking forward to leading a virtual contemplative Advent retreat with incredible iconographer Kelly Latimore on December 14th. Thanks to the great generosity of the Jesuits, it is free! It’s called “Room at the Inn” and will be a meditative journey with the Holy Family through visio divina and Ignatian contemplation of Scripture. You can sign up here.
The Jesuits are also offering a daily email series starting December 1st that will introduce you to 25 inspiring women and men from the Ignatian tradition. I wrote one, and I’ve seen the list (of featured people and contributors!), and I am just really excited to have this little dose of spiritual goodness in my inbox every day. This series is also free, and you can sign up here.
Advent with Kids
Long ago in days of yore, pre-Covid, I had all kinds of liturgically themed Pinterest boards that I would trawl for craft and celebration ideas for my kids. There are so many beautiful and meaningful traditions, and I was excited to DO THEM ALL! And then, of course, I got overwhelmed, and then Covid happened, and I haven’t exactly repositioned my crown as queen of Advent activities. But I’ve also learned that that’s okay—all of this depends so much on your kids’ ages and personalities, and on your personality and, ha, how much free time you have. There’s no wrong way to do it! Here are a few simple things we are planning this year.
Each night we light the Advent candles and sing one verse of “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” and the kids really like it (in part, I think, because I got a fancy candle snuffer from Buy Nothing that they love using—whatever works!). Our parish is having an Advent-wreath-making event on Sunday after mass, so I bet we’re going to have TWO Advent wreaths at our house because neither one of my kiddos is going to want to miss out on that!
I also just ordered the Mary on the Mantel kit from my friend Erica’s shop, Be a Heart. We’ve never done Elf on a Shelf, but this is an alternative to it—Mary moves to a new location in the house each day as she journeys to Bethlehem, and there’s a new suggestion for a loving action tucked into her bag for the kids to find. It comes with a book (written by my bestie Shannon K. Evans!), a map of the Holy Land, a Mary doll, and a baby Jesus.
Finally, Erica also has a free Advent guide with loads of prayers and activities for kids. It’s so amazing that I kind of can’t believe it’s free (no is paying me to say this—I’m just excited, not in small part because it will save me from the wilds of my Pinterest boards!)
Well, this newsletter turned into a bit of a novella, and I’m impressed if you made it this far! I’m so grateful you’re here and wish you and yours a beautiful, blessed Advent.
May your soul feel its worth,
Cameron