There’s a reason I need Advent. I suck at waiting. I’m no good with patience. I’m the kind of person who, with my eye on the horizon, wants to be there rather than here. To dwell in this present moment, rather than keeping my eyes on the future takes practice. And to be honest, I’d rather not.
There are days like today that I look around and see the world as it is, the church as it is, and wish that we could be somewhere other than we are. There are days like today that I see the hunger and pain in peoples’ eyes, the loneliness so many are experiencing – young, old, in between – and long for a solution. I long for the end of the struggle. I long for reprieve.
In my own life, there are so many things that I want to accomplish. Yet, for whatever reason, I have to be satisfied with the reality that these things are incomplete. Perhaps “satisfied” is a stretch. I’m not satisfied that the garage is not yet clean; the article is not yet written; the Christmas shopping is not yet done. I am coming to accept that these things are not yet done. But day by day, hour by hour, we move towards completion.
In Advent, my mind often turns to John the Baptist and his bold message, “repent for the Kingdom of Heaven is within our grasp.”
Repent, turn around. You are looking ahead for the next promise, the next big thing, that which will change everything. You’re so focused on the horizon, the outside intervention that will fix everything you think is broken.
I think about John crying out in the wilderness, the people following him, looking at him for all the solutions to their woes. Was John going to lead the revolution? Was he going to restore God’s people to whatever they thought their rightful place was going to be? John cries out in the wilderness amongst those who are looking for answers outside, and what does he say? “Repent. Turn around. Turn around and see that the Kingdom of Heaven is within our grasp.”
Gathered there in the crowd, John reorients our gaze. He causes us to look inward. To look around the crowd. He tells us to slow down a little, to look one another in the eye. “The Kingdom of Heaven,” he suggests, “is within our grasp.” God works through great power, it is true, but more often than not, God works through people. Ordinary people doing extraordinary things with great love. God works through communities of people we can see, we can hear, we can touch. God works through communities of people committed to building the kind of world that God dreamed from the very beginning – a world of justice and joy, compassion and peace.
But how will we know what such a world, such a kingdom looks like?
Repent. Turn around. Look each other in the eye. Look each other in the eye, for in that moment of connection you will find, “shekinah,” the dwelling place of the Lord. In that connection, you will see and be seen as you experience the mystery of the divine spark, the meeting of I and Thou. Look one another in the eye, and remember why you are here. You’re here for each other. You’re here for the love of others, for the love of God’s good Creation.
Look each other in the eye. Breathe deeply of God’s breath. Dwell in this moment, as the Lord dwells in you (as the Lord dwells in us) know that God’s kingdom is here amongst us. Know that you are, and that you are becoming the heavenly city.
The cry of the prophet in the wilderness is a cry of repentance because I – because we – often forget how close God’s kingdom is. We grieve the loss of how things were; all the while forgetting to stop, slow down, and to find God’s very presence right here. And so this Advent, I am hearing John’s call to repentance ever more clearly.
Stop. Turn around. Find God in your neighbour’s eyes. And may they, when they look, find God dwelling deeply in you.
Editor’s note: “Shekinah”, Hebrew:
“The indwelling presence of God in this world.” Arthur Green, professor of Jewish thought at Brandeis University, USA.
