Advent 6: Benedictus

They shall not live who have not tasted death.
They only sing who are struck dumb by God.
(Joyce Kilmer, “Poets”)

And so Zechariah became one of the poets,
hymning the God of Israel with new voice,
for those who have most wept will most rejoice,
while others full of grace who did not know it
could never pen a hymn if life depended.
Grace rarely makes such strict demands of us;
the sweetest song can fall without a fuss
straight on a childless priest, his life upended
with the hope of joy, while the one with seven sons
goes home to richest blessing without song.
The one struck dumb will pen an epic long
before the the news can reach the minstrel’s ear,
and grace will always find alert the ones
who’ve lost their voice and now have ears to hear.

Advent 5: Last Things

Hospital room. While my uncle and I tried
to tend to my grandmother’s needs, we heard
behind the curtain divider
a granddaughter and grandson discuss
cremation plans
and how the west has avoided death
while the east (both fresh from travel) takes
the wiser path, rubbing
face and hands in body ash
and staring death’s immanence in the eyes.
“What a drain on public money,” they decried,
to describe their grandmother’s dying days.
I fetched pillows and poured water into
polystyrene cups (she never drank from those
when she had a choice)
and tried to stare my last enemy down.
Where is your victory? Where’s your sting?
All I could muster as prayer was, Come.

Advent 4: Airport Christmas

We always move around and so
fittingly our Christmas is mobile,
each returning to their homes, like Joseph
and a heavily expectant Mary, carrying
the hope of the world in her womb.

We depart carrying gifts in shopping bags
or catch up on forgotten things at airport stores.
And when we arrive: reunion, but
no birth, Messiah forgotten where we left Him
and hope still swirling at the baggage carousels.

Advent 3: Longing

O Lord, restore us deaf and blind,
Unclose our lips tho’ dumb.
(Christina Rossetti, “Advent”)

At my desk, while
a quiet internal road ebbed
and flowed with the business traffic
of the common afternoon,

and wind
kicked up dust from the gravel carpark
and tossed hair
into plaintive matts, and threw
clothes into disarray

I saw
on computer screen a chiselled Christ
embed an Auschwitz prison wall
and mothers cried to Him, How long?
before I resumed my chores.

My heart is weak and does not long;
I chisel comfort on my wall.
O Christ who pleads as mankind bleeds:
make me long. How long?

Advent 2: Last Things

And what have we done?
The year will pass regardless, yet
opportunity arises now to ask
if our deeds have sown death or life,
if life
has sprouted from our dying deeds.

Dying, however my breath may deceive,
I must ask if my hands have turned to tend
my own grave, or a garden; if my steps have bent
towards the straight, or the bent,
roads towards our inevitable death.

With clenched fist or cross taken, all of us walk
towards a year that, one year, will not renew.
And so in these dying, flowering
let the last things be our first things
as we tend our new year.

Advent 1: Pine

Early evening, cool of day, we walk
in the garden to find
evergreen branches to weave a wreath of hope.
My son is distracted. Not tall enough to reach with me,
he stands to watch but soon
decides instead to help
pile the compost heap with grass.

Evergreen and humus: these symbols arrest
as I finish my gathering and crush
fallen leaves to settle the soil
where it sits and brews in ever-cycling growth.
The constant, the growing, the long slow wait of growth
all have their moment in our pining Advent days.

And so this is Advent

Today is the first Sunday of Advent – and of a new church year! Having just launched my book “The Swelling Year”, I’m a little behind in my own plans for how to mark the season here at The Consolations of Writing, but I thought I’d begin by sharing some of my favourite Advent resources for those who are on the lookout for a devotional resource for themselves or their families.

1. Names of Jesus Advent Calendar (from Sweet Honeycomb)

This gorgeous hand-made calendar is a lovely alternative to chocolate and Santa. Each day, turn over a number to see a name for Jesus and read a passage relating to it. You also get daily devotionals emailed to you with online purchase. Great for families or individuals alike.

2. Biola University Centre for Christianity, Culture and the Arts’ Advent Project

Twice a year these people do a seasonal devotional series, in Lent and Advent. They combine art, music, poetry and scripture to create a visceral devotional experience that I always appreciate.

3. Young Oceans – “Advent” album

Many bands claim to release Advent albums that are basically Christmas albums. There’s a few that capture the longing that Advent is all about. This is one of the best.

4. Walter Wangerin Jr – Preparing for Jesus

Wangerin is a gifted storyteller, especially when it comes to capturing the magical everydayness of the Bible story. These devotions open up the many stories contained in the Advent story in delightful and profound ways.

5. Rachel Mann – In the Bleak Midwinter: Through Advent and Christmas with Christina Rossetti

This one is brand new for Advent 2019. I’m just about to start it so can’t vouch for it entirely. But I know Rossetti well enough to be confident.

Know some other great resources? Drop me a comment to let me know. I’d love to hear about them.

Meanwhile, have a blessed Advent everyone. Maranatha! Come Lord Jesus.

Lie down in chaos

Anselm Kiefer - Man under a pyramid
Anselm Kiefer – Man under a pyramid

He gives His beloved sleep.
(Psalm 127:2)

The bed decked in a week’s laundry, and
a million miniscule things left undone,
Sleep still says, “Rest your weary head.
The day is long, tomorrow longer,
and after that who knows.
For now, this minute, lie down.
In chaos, be still.”
So I am still,
and the chaos does not overwhelm me,
and the chaos will not overwhelm.

Daily Reset

“…dirt [is] matter out of place.”
(Mary Douglas, Purity and Danger)

When the day’s settling is done, I seek
order in domestic chaos, restoring
categories I never previously held:
that these trains belong together and those
trucks do not; while this bus driver
does not fit that car, nor
does that book belong in
the middle of a gleeful floor.
But what to do
when categories are stretched beyond
rational recognition? For instance, what
to do with an unaccompanied sock
keeping company with a lone building block?
And the day must leave unsolved the mysteries
of where the baby monitor went or why
those DVDs are now room-mates with a train.
I calm the room like the baby who wakes
as the last Lego block is returned to its place,
while the unsorted debris of my own fractured day
must sit in its chaos, held in unuttered prayer.