Friends,

Today marks the 20th anniversary of the death of my father, Bruce.  Several months ago, my brothers and I began to acknowledge that this day would be a milestone for all of us, especially my mother.

In the burial office, we pray for the comfort of those who grieve, that through the assurances of the life we share in Christ through our baptisms, death will not be the final word to the lives we lead.  In praying for comfort, this might suggest that grief is a kind of fever and, with time, the fever will break and life as we know it will return.

But the lives lived by those who remain after the death of a loved one continue to be lived IN TIME, with the same days of the week and months given to us each year.  The great baseball player, Jackie Robinson, had his jersey number retired by all the teams of Major League Baseball a few years back.  He will always be # 42.

But we do not retire the date of your loved one’s death.  February 12th will come around next year.  The date is not sealed away and kept from being marked by new events, be they banal or celebratory, traumatic or ridiculous.  On the anniversary of your mother’s death, a young couple gets engaged.  They have no idea anyone has ever suffered on that day, when all is joy, all is grace.  You navigate the anniversary of the day carefully, while those around you are unaware of the tenderness, of what the date holds, why you appear to be holding your breath. 

I am grateful that the Church takes the calendar so seriously and that the Christian year is mapped out in real time, in ordinary days.  When we celebrate Easter, we teach that it is not simply the first Easter which we celebrate, but all the Easters that continue to take place in our world.  When the anniversary of a loved one’s death approaches, you are not simply remembering the first loss, but also noticing how you experience their loss on this day, with your life now, even as it has new riches and depths that your first and most raw grief would not have believed. 

My father died the day after my parents’ wedding anniversary and so kept that day from lasting harm.  I recall, even now, that on the day of his death, I was grateful for such a final kind gesture by him.

Blessings as we enter Lent,

Brian +

Friends,

Yesterday (December 1) marked the 93rd anniversary of Charles de Foucauld’s martyrdom in the Saharan desert in Algeria.  Foucauld lived in the desert for fifteen years, attempting to imitate the life of Jesus in its simplicity, solitude and prayerful witness.  He had gone into the desert, hoping to find both converts to the Christian faith and fellow pilgrims willing to join him in his desert isolation.  He died without one convert or student.  Years later, well after his death, a community of Little Brothers and Little Sisters of Jesus, emerged that still carry on his desert quest and simple life.

When I consider Advent as a time to begin again, to watch again, I am reminded that Foucauld remained faithful where many would have given up because no one was showing up.  We are called to watch and wait in this season.  Our watching and waiting is not simply a stage direction given to us who know how the Christmas pageant will turn out (“Look, a baby!”).  Our watching and waiting is also happening in real time and what new thing will emerge is not yet known to us.  For that kind of work, it is helpful to follow Foucauld’s witness and to stay connected to a community, like the community of faith that surrounds us at All Souls.

During this Advent season, I will also offer my reflection on sabbatical on Thursday, December 10th at 6:30 p.m. in the nave at All Souls.  The reflection is entitled, “With Thomas Merton in America”.  Lewis Sorrells will have some Thomas Merton books available for sale at the conclusion of the evening.  I hope you will be able to attend.

In thinking of Foucauld and his faithfulness, let me conclude with a quotation from Merton’s Raids on the Unspeakable

“Do not depend on the hope of results, when you are doing the sort of work you have taken on, you may have to face the fact that your work will be apparently worthless and even achieve no worth at all, if not perhaps, results opposite to what you expect.  As you get used to this idea, you will start more and more to concentrate not on the results, but on the value, the rightness, the truth of the work itself.”

Have a blessed Advent,

Brian +