First Sunday of Advent

O quickened little wick so tightly curled,

Be folded with us into time and place,

Unfold for us the mystery of grace

And make a womb of all this wounded world.

~~ Malcolm Guite, from "O Emmanuel"

A walk through Advent with Charlotte Mason

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Just published at Amazon: An Advent-themed 24-day tour through Charlotte Mason’s book Ourselves Book II. There are also readings for the twelve days of Christmas, drawing on her essay “The Eternal Child” which ends the book Parents and Children.

The title Honest, Simple Souls is taken from the chapter “Praise,” near the end of Ourselves.

So, too, do honest, simple souls who bear affliction willingly, or who live their appointed lives with the sense that they are appointed. All of these ways of giving praise we recognise and bow before; but the duty would seem to pass us by as incompetent persons. We are not angels, we carry no harps. But the duty of praise is not for occasional or rare seasons; it waits at our doors every day. (pp. 194-195)

Let’s open the door to praise, both in this rare season and beyond.

Christmas C.M. Countdown, Day 7

Let's move into Ourselves Book II, Section II: Conscience in the House of Mind. We're up to Chapter IX, if you're keeping track. This is where Charlotte Mason explores the Book II version of "Free thought is a loose cannon...beware."

Not that she wants us to be dumb sheep, unable to think for ourselves. Actually it's the opposite: she's cautioning us against what we'd now call (mis)information overload, and against little seeds of ideas, chance opinions "in the air" that we can't shake off.  "I hate that political figure." "Why?" "He's bad. He hates women." "How do you know?" "Everybody knows that." Financial and real estate updates are particularly bad for delivering no real news at all: the market drops sharply, then comes back a bit, and the headlines shout about the "increase."

But if our own Reason can't be fully trusted to discern truth, then what other defense do we have? Only a sort of "long obedience in the same direction," an ongoing search for wisdom that the writer of Proverbs also stressed. "We must labour to get knowledge as the foundation of opinions," and "we must also labour to arrive at principles whereby to try [test] our opinions" (p. 59). If an uninstructed Conscience is "open to every prompting of inclination" (p. 61), then the opposite is true: an educated Conscience is solid, dependable. It is more aware of history, able to see patterns and parallels, because (it is also true) there is nothing new under the sun.

Mason says that the uninstructed conscience is "continually straining out the gnat and swallowing the camel" (p. 60), which sounds like a pretty good description of our culture's obsession with trivia, and of our inclination to accept whatever slant our favourite news feeds take on an issue. She suggests that we broaden our sources of information (p. 65). If we read only the news sources that agree with the opinions we have accepted, we miss "the side-lights of other writings, or the illumination cast by history and literature." If we hear only quick news digests, we won't get enough detail to form a fair opinion.

The strange thing about situations where stray opinions go viral, as we'd say now, is that they often lead to suppression of free thought and speech. Mason says that "the uninstructed conscience leaves its possessor open to bigotry, fanaticism, panic, envy, spite" (p. 67). I like her use of the word "panic" there. It reminds me of a local news source that over-uses the word "scramble" to amplify almost any story, making life sound like an ongoing game of candy toss. People are scrambling to get flu shots. Canada Post workers are scrambling to deliver the backlog of parcels. Christmas shoppers are (always) scrambling for one thing or another. If you can inject a bit of panic into the situation, it becomes more important, because we don't want to be the losers in the scramble!

And the opposite choice of words? Calmness. Slowness. Careful examination and study. The humility to know when we may be wrong, when the evidence shows it's time for a paradigm shift. But, also, the trust in tested principles, and in the One who laid them out for us.

Christmas C.M. Countdown, Day 5

"...do we recognize that the proportion of Love must be preserved as duly as the proportions of Faith?" (Ourselves, Book II, p. 21) 

An instructed Conscience-judge is not tolerant of court employees who take time off for personal distractions. Anyone caught humming "I Just Want to Be Your Everything" will be severely scolded, and that includes friends to friends, princes to courtiers, even parents to children. Why?

"Over-fond and exclusive" relationships, besides being unhealthy, "shut out other claims of duty and affection" (p. 21). They can even be dangerous. Being exclusive is good in certain matters, Mason admits, such as in being faithful to one's spouse.  Deep loyalty to friends is admirable. But to be obsessed with any person, and needing to control their actions as proof of mutual love, is "unchaste."

In Chapter IV, Mason gives a literary example of friendship-done-to-excess, from Marlowe's play Edward II. Here's a slightly more recent example: the shapeshifting character Odo, employed as the space station security chief on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. Odo is a loner; he seems to be part of no recognizable species. He is excited when  he finds that there are others of his kind, that he is, in fact, part of a "Great Link," a melding of all such beings. This, in itself, is fine; it means that Odo has a "family"; it could even be taken as a metaphor for the Body of Christ. But this newfound connection causes conflict. Vulcans can perform mind-melds, but this species can body-meld or "link" with each other; and in Odo's case, his fascination with linking causes him to ignore relationships, his job, and time itself. Odo eventually regains his sense of proportion, but these events cause others to question his loyalties; and (SPOILER) his initiation into linking eventually threatens the existence of his species (think virus).

(Now here comes the real spoiler. If you've never seen the ending of Deep Space Nine, and still plan to, don't read this.) During the series, Odo also finds true love with the space station's second-in-command, Major Kira. Although their relationship has a lot of bumps, they both discover something about love: they cherish, but don't need to possess each other. In the last moments of the final episode, Odo makes the decision to sacrifice his happiness with Kira to save his species (although they caused a war and don't seem to deserve his help) by fully entering the Link, possibly forever. (It looks like he's swimming out into a lake.) She understands and accepts his choice. That is love.

"Let Christ himself be your example as to what your attitude should be. For he, who had always been God by nature, did not cling to his prerogatives as God’s equal, but stripped himself of all privilege by consenting to be a slave by nature and being born as mortal man. And, having become man, he humbled himself by living a life of utter obedience, even to the extent of dying, and the death he died was the death of a common criminal. That is why God has now lifted him so high, and has given him the name beyond all names, so that at the name of Jesus “every knee shall bow”, whether in Heaven or earth or under the earth. And that is why, in the end, “every tongue shall confess” that Jesus Christ” is the Lord, to the glory of God the Father." Philippians 2:5-11, J.B. Phillips New Testament

Christmas C.M. Countdown, Day 4

The Baby of the Nativity scene is newborn, small. But babies grow, and we need to see the Christ as not only increasingly "older," but as larger, deeper. Not only the Lamb, but the Lion. In Prince Caspian, when Lucy meets Aslan again, she says, "You're bigger." He answers, "Every year you grow, you will find me bigger." 

Those who have read Ourselves Book I are familiar with the divisions of our inner selves: the House of Body, House of Mind, and House of Heart, governed by the Conscience and the Will; and also the Soul, "that within us which has capacity for the knowledge and love of God..." (Book II, p. 4). In the House of Body, the Conscience oversees the work of four quaint-sounding servants: Temperance, Chastity, Fortitude, and Prudence. 

How do we learn to employ Temperance and the others wisely, but not let them run riot (like the Appetites of Book I )? Life lessons, Mason says; but also books. Books, books, books, to read and re-read: yes, Mason fans, re-reading wonderful books is good. "The book that helps us deserves many readings, for assimilation comes by slow degrees." And not in a checklist of "temperance stories" or "prudent characters," but given to us naturally, bit by bit, as we're drawn in by stories, poems, plays, biographies. We read about characters who embody Fortitude, who are saved by Prudence, who choose to be Chaste. We also recognize the fainthearted, the spendthrifts, and the gluttons. And we pass all those images on to our Conscience-judge.

What happens if we let any one of those servants get out of control? "There is no freak [i.e. health fad] of the moment," Mason insists, "...for which Reason is not capable of being enlisted as special pleader." Reason is an expert loophole-finder and explanation-giver, but he misses the big picture: the One who created those principles for our good, not for our obsession. Mason herself was very much concerned about health, wool clothing, un-fusty rooms, and all the rest of it. But she's talking here about the opposite of carelessness, which is over-caring, over-doing the self-concern. To draw a parallel from the world of clothing, there's a post on the Minimalist Wardrobe blog that says, essentially, "Stop counting your clothes!" The more we agonize over getting such things perfect, the harder it is to hear the voice of One saying, "Don't worry about what you will eat, or put on...God cares for sparrows and lilies, and He's got this one too." No overworries. No underworries. 

Reading, and then re-reading: we assimilate the mind-food, and we grow in grace and wisdom. It's a gift that keeps on giving.

Six Weeks Till Christmas: Stop, Look, and Listen

In just under six weeks, those of us who observe Christmas will find it upon us again. The season of Advent begins on December 2nd.

I chose that word "observe" deliberately. Its roots mean "to watch." Sometimes it means to comment, sometimes it means to watch silently. Sometimes it also means to follow a rite, or respond to a rule. There's a distinction between being an observant child and an observant Christian.

The subway warning "Mind the Gap" implies both observing a physical reality and heeding the cautions of those who are concerned with our safety. It includes a verb, something we're supposed to do, even if that's only keeping our eyes open.  As that other childhood rule said, "Stop, Look, and Listen." We passively observe the days, months, years flying past, and there's nothing we can do about that. Even if we watch attentively, it doesn't slow them down. But we also observe by doing something to mark the seasons. To say that we've noticed, whether it's by marking a Calendar of Firsts or by addressing a stack of Christmas cards.

The Jewish world has just celebrated its New Year; and in the church year, the long season of post-Pentecost, post-everything-else is drawing to a close. In our part of the world, the days are getting shorter and the sky is often grey with threats of snow.  Of course the stores have jumped ahead with Christmas, but in our private (or communal) calendars, we can choose not to turn the page just yet.

What do you do in these last pre-Advent days? How do you observe them? Do you try to catch up, make up for lost time? Or are you preparing madly for December? 

A thought as Advent ends

"In deepest night, in darkest days,
When harps are hung, no songs we raise.
When silence must suffice as praise,
Yet sounding in us quietly, there is the song of God."

~~ Susan Palo Cherwien, "In Deepest Night"

Quote for the day: Begin it early enough, hold it long enough

"Never before within our memory has it seemed so important to keep the Long Christmas; to begin early enough and hold the festival long enough to feel the deep, moving significance of it. For Christmas is a state of mind quite as much as a festival; and who can establish and maintain a state of mind in the rush and turmoil of a single day, or two days? Around no other time of year has been built so much of faith, of beauty…It is a time when man walks abroad in the full stature of his humanity and in the true image of God. He walks with grace, with laughter, and a great awareness of brotherhood." ~~ Ruth Sawyer, The Long Christmas (1941)

From the archives: A non-stupid Christmas

First posted December 2009; edited slightly.

The one thing I've noticed about typical Christmas celebrations is that there are very few typical Christmas celebrations...especially among those whose Christian beliefs have played a larger-than-normal part in how they celebrate. (Think about the irony of that...) Or don't. Sometimes that makes for very surprising variations--devout Christians who don't "do" Christmas at all, or those who celebrate Christmas for fun but don't pretend it's the birth of Jesus, or those who plan the whole thing as a big birthday party for Jesus, or who celebrate the Old Testament holidays in the autumn, or those whose Christmas does center around church but who also include secular customs like Santa and stockings.

And then there are the Charlie Browns who are just tired of the "whole commercial racket," wish the whole thing was over, and take everybody to the beach for Christmas.

I'm thinking about something we saw a bit of on TV once called "Christmas Confidential," about the dreadful holiday excesses and National-Lampoon-style house decorations and inflatable nativity scenes and spangled office-party outfits (makeup to match) and Santa Claus bikinis and church performances with more cast members than a small town and people stampeding at shopping malls and food, food, food...

All that seems kind of far removed from our Crayons' excursion to the thrift shop (everybody got tiny stuffed toys, figurines, and Mama Squirrel got a bell that she's threatening to ring for school time)...or the bead bracelet that Ponytails made me...or the Voskamps' "praying to be a womb for God" around a wooden Nativity spiral...or Bread and Honey's musings on "Pretending to be Mary." Or families who give just one present apiece (because they have ten children), or three presents (because that's what Jesus got), or no presents. 

Or from the reality of those who are having very quiet holidays (or barely noticed them) because of family griefs, illnesses and other stresses. Or people who have to work on Christmas or who are exhausted from the last week behind a cash register or a shampoo chair. 

The fact that we barely set foot in a shopping mall this past month doesn't make our Christmas any holier than anybody else's. It's an everybody-makes-their-own-choices kind of culture now anyway...and I guess in some ways that's good, it means that the Neighbourhood Decorating Committee isn't going to harass us about our lack of lights, and it means that it's okay to have frozen green beans with Christmas dinner instead of that thing with the french fried onions. Who's going to tell? But I will continue to plug for a non-stupid Christmas.

Whatever that means to you.

On the third Sunday of Advent: Come, hidden Wisdom

On the third Sunday of Advent, I invite you to wander over to Malcolm Guite's website, and enjoy his poem "O Sapienta."  (It's at the end of the post, along with a sound clip.)

"Come, hidden Wisdom, come with all you bring,
Come to me now, disguised as everything."

Quote for the day: Second Sunday of Advent

"The exciting quality of Christmas rests on an ancient and admitted paradox...that the power and centre of the whole universe may be found in some seemingly small matter, that the stars in their courses may move like a moving wheel round the neglected outhouse of an inn...And it is extraordinary to notice how completely this feeling of the paradox of the manger was lost by the brilliant and ingenious theologians, and how completely it was kept in the Christmas carols." ~~ G.K. Chesterton, "The Christmas Ballads," reprinted in The Spirit of Christmas 

Something to read today (it could change your Decembers forever)

In Defense of Advent, by Greg Wilbur, on the CIRCE blog.

2022 Updated link

A sample:

"Imagine the difference this type of celebration makes. Instead of endless gatherings, fighting traffic at the mall, retrieving the daily stacks of catalogs from the mail, and the family pressures and stress, these four Sundays and the weeks in between are intended as a quiet and reflective time to examine your heart, make peace with God and your neighbor, seek reconciliation and repentance for sin, and make room for Christ."

First Sunday of Advent

"During the long days before Christmas, he could scarcely wait to put the Babe in the manger, and often made the trek to the silver drawer of the sideboard to peer at the infant resting safely in tbe bowl of a gravy ladle. At a time when his friends had stopped believing in Santa Claus, he was still believing in the powerful reality of the small tableau..." ~~ Jan Karon, Shepherds Abiding

Book Review: The Ecumenism of Beauty

The Ecumenism of Beauty. Edited by Timothy Verdon (Paraclete Press / Mount Tabor Books / ISBN 978-1-61261-924-8 / 128 pages/ full-color illustrations / Hardcover / $28.99) [Published May 1, 2017]

www.paracletepress.com
Paraclete Press, Mount Tabor Books: Brewster, MA, and Barga, Italy

"The last fifty years have seen a rediscovery of the role of the visual arts in the lives of all Christians. In tune with this ecumenical age, this book shares the belief that beauty and art can bridge differences." (from the publisher's description)

At the risk of just doing a cut-and-paste book review, I want to share the vision behind this book:

Other contributors to this book include Orthodox, Anglican, and Protestant artists, scholars, and clergy who will participate in a two-part symposium, The Arts and Ecumenism—What Theology Risks in Artistic Creation. Part one will take place in May of 2017 in Paris, Strasbourg and Florence. Presentations will discuss Catholic and Protestant approaches to art through history, theology and liturgical contexts...The US portion of the symposium will take place in October, 2017, in New Haven, CT, at the Yale Institute of Sacred Music on the topic of Sacred Arts in North American Context, and in Orleans, MA with academic presentations, musical performance and an art exhibit on the theme: The Word in Color, Action, Music and Form.

It sounds like some big and important things are going on this year! The Ecumenism of Beauty is a sort of preview of what will be shared at these events, including photographs of the works of art that will be discussed. After reading the book of Clyde Kilby's essays earlier this year, I was really looking forward to reading how some of those ideas might be playing out in the meeting point between today's church and today's art.

Unfortunately, I can't give this book all the stars I would have liked to. If I have to nail down one reason, it's my probably unfair position as a Protestant trying to pass judgment on a book written by and published by Roman Catholics, in an area (visual art, particularly liturgical art) that is not something I am very knowledgeable about. As an under-educated but interested observer, the discussion didn't seem all that...ecumenical...to me. I've been part of a variety of churches, some more liturgical than others; so I'm not very opinionated on highly-decorated or less-decorated worship spaces. However, I found the overall tone of the essays somewhat dismissive of those who prefer to worship without what they see as visual distractions. Perhaps the authors felt those Christians would not have much to say on the subject of liturgical art, particularly in churches--which is, for the most part, the "beauty" referred to in the title.

I may come back to this book when I'm feeling less distracted myself. I did enjoy looking at the included art, though again some of it just puzzled me.

If liturgical and contemplative Christian art is something that excites you, you will probably want to get a copy of this book and also stay tuned in as the European and U.S. symposia take place.

Statement of disclosure: I was sent a free e-copy of this book by the publisher for purposes of review. Opinions given here are my own.

In the week when Christmas comes: Christmas Eve!

Photo found here

Let every pen enfold a lamb
Sleeping warm beside its dam,
     In the week when Christmas comes.

~~ from "In the Week When Christmas Comes," by Eleanor Farjeon

In the week when Christmas comes: Friday

Let every night put forth a star
To show us where the heavens are,
     In the week when Christmas comes.

~~ from "In the Week When Christmas Comes," by Eleanor Farjeon

In the week when Christmas comes: Thursday

Let every steeple ring a bell
With a joyful tale to tell,
     In the week when Christmas comes.

~~ from "In the Week When Christmas Comes," by Eleanor Farjeon

A real-time view of three days before Christmas:

8 a.m.: Lydia has just left for school, and I have just fed Muffin a bowl of lettuce and carrots. I'm reading through the blogs on my feed, including why we need to teach arts instead of subjects at Circe, a poem by Malcolm Guite, and a pantry post from Coffee, Tea, Books, and Me. I have butter softening on the kitchen counter (for whatever I might need it for).

9:45 a.m.: Mr. Fixit has gone on his usual Thursday treasure hunting, after we both spent a few minutes clearing snow. Lydia had mentioned that we were low on some things, but I didn't see how that could be, until I checked the flour and the white sugar. Oops. Some creative compromising was required, but I do have the baking plan figured out now, and the table is  covered with pre-measured bowls of flour, raisins, and chocolate chips. There is also a loaf of stuffing bread already going in the breadmaker. (It has to dry out for a couple of days.)

12 noon: one load of in the washing macine, one in the dryer. Most of the baking dishes done. Bread out. Three kinds of sweet things and one orange-cranberry loaf out of the oven. Ingredients collected for fudge-making later.

I need some lunch and some Christmas music.

2 p.m.: Mr. Fixit came home and we got everything swept, boxed, folded, hung, dried, and/or put away. I had a bit of time to check e-mail and read Overdrive library books (I'm trying to reach my Goodreads goal).  Muffin came out of his cage for a human-visit.

4 p.m.: We decided to have an easy dinner, so there's a pan of frozen cannelloni in the oven. Mr. Fixit is going around the corner to check our mailbox, because for the second winter in a row, Canada Post refuses to bring letters to our door. While he's out, he's going to pick up Lydia at her stop and save her the walk home. She gets picked up at our house now, but the dropoff point is a few blocks away.

6:30 p.m.: Dinner is over, the fudge is made, and Lydia is studying for a last-day-before-the-holidays history test on World War II. I am still working on library books.

10 p.m.: Some people are probably watching Christmas movies. We watched an episode of Star Trek: Enterprise and tasted the fudge.

And how was your day?

In the week when Christmas comes: Wednesday

Let every doorstep have a song
Sounding the dark street along,
     In the week when Christmas comes.

~~ from "In the Week When Christmas Comes," by Eleanor Farjeon

In the week when Christmas comes: Tuesday

Let every hall have boughs of green,

With berries glowing in between,

     In the week when Christmas comes.

~~ from "In the Week When Christmas Comes," by Eleanor Farjeon

Mr. Fixit and I went to Giant Tiger this morning. For anyone who doesn't know, that's a Canadian discount store chain which, as I usually put it, is where you buy flip-flops. But they have groceries too, and we needed to get a few basics. Strangely enough, it's also where we find our favourite brand of frozen cabbage rolls (doesn't everyone want cabbage rolls on Christmas?). And we found a small frozen cheesecake, someone else's Christmas request...stay with me here...and we replenished the lettuce for the guinea pig, and picked up some juice and canned goods and organic rice crisp things (for company). And a small cheap floor mat for the garage, because Giant Tiger is where you find small cheap floor mats for the garage. We came out with several full bags, and feeling happy enough about it all.

We made a stop at the bank, and then dropped into a large-but-upscale chain grocery store next door, because Mr. Fixit has sometimes found holiday meat items there, and he thought it was worth having a look. If Giant Tiger is a bit, excuse the expression, lower on the food chain than the store where we usually shop (like, Walmart), this place was a few notches above. What's the difference, besides the prices? I don't know...maybe it was the huge amount of expensive chocolates and party food in your face everywhere you turned. Or the smell of the lilies in the floral department as you went out the door. Definitely a change from the discount store.

The fancy store didn't have what we were looking for, but it was no big deal, we'll find something. I was more struck by the every-day-ness of the discount store vs. the as-classy-as-a-big-city atmosphere of the other one. That kind of "classy" is a bit too demanding for me...I imagine that food (and the lilies) all standing in spotlights like movie stars, bowing and waiting for the proper amount of applause. I think I prefer every-day-ness, even at Christmas. 

In the week when Christmas comes: Monday

This is the week when Christmas comes,

     Let every pudding burst with plums,

And every tree bear dolls and drums,

     In the week when Christmas comes.

~~ from "In the Week When Christmas Comes," by Eleanor Farjeon

The gift of the longest-possible Advent: a whole week for it to be The Week When Christmas Comes.

Yes, we have snow--plenty of it, unlike last Christmas. Lydia's school was even closed one day because of bad weather.

Yes, we have decorations. It's not looking too bad.

Yes, we have things to make cookies with, although nobody's done any baking because Mama Squirrel and Mr. Fixit have been down with colds and didn't want to "share the love."

But it's still too easy to focus on what isn't, what we'd rather have, what we could have done. I think everyone has some mental version of Dickens that comes to visit over holidays..It might be just a scrap of something missing, or a major discontentment, or outright grief. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or not at today's rather blunt Vivienne Files post. Under the portrait of a glum-looking woman painted by Chagall, Janice adds this note:  "She's NOT Feeling Christmassy... Some years, you just don't..."  Is it a coincidence that the imagined character's "accent colour" is a somewhat Grinchy green?

Then I read Brenda's post "Beauty With or Without an Audience," and things made more sense. If beauty is important, then we need to make beauty, even if it goes largely unseen. Even if those who do see it rush past (like the legendary crowd in the subway who didn't stop to hear the famous violinist, although you can read the true version of that here, since we try not to do Tonypandy at the Treehouse). Sometimes we make the extra effort simply as an act of faith.