Watching the Sky

See anything?

Jesus said to his disciples:

"There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars,

and on earth nations will be in dismay,

perplexed by the roaring of the sea and the waves."

– Luke 21:25

The readings for the first Sunday of Advent include a passage from the end of Luke's Gospel that, at first glance, can seem a bit grim and foreboding. There's no talk of a prophecy involving a cuddly child, an improbable birth, and a new era of peace. Instead, the Church has selected a passage that foretells upheaval and calamity, events that seem more capable of shaking faith than strengthening it.

Thus I was surprised when the Jesuit who presided at a special Advent Mass for members of the Jesuit Connection, a group of young alums of Jesuit schools who reside in the Boston area, chose to focus his homily on the verse that appears above. While his preaching went on to address topics as diverse as the hectic pace that easily creeps into December, the pitfall of being too inwardly-focused in one's contemplative habits, and the place of "end of the world" passages in the context of cultures both ancient and contemporary, he kept returning to this notion of seeking signs in the sky.

As I stare out my office window at the end of a reasonably busy workday, I see a mostly clear sky fading gently into darkness. Aside from a few stray clouds tinged slightly reddish-yellow by the light that casts lengthening shadows everywhere else, a subtle shift from a darker to a lighter shade of blue is what catches my eye, drawing my gaze from the heights to the horizon. The view reminds me that I beheld the same process, occurring in reverse, earlier this morning as I ran 7 miles just before daybreak. Thankfully, the weather was calm, the streets were free of snow and ice (thanks to oddly mild temperatures), and there was no dismay or perplexity in sight. But were there any signs?

Perhaps so: in this act of observation and recollection, it occurs to me that the spiritual growth that I desire, the changes that I wish to achieve, and the "goals" that I have for this Advent season are not to be attained in sudden or grandiose fashion. Instead, it seems that they may creep into my life at an infinitesimal pace, as subtle as the movement of light during dawn and dusk. Perhaps I should spend more time noticing the rising and setting of the sun (or the moon and stars, for that matter)... that I may become more acquainted with the graced timing of the sky, as well as the ongoing turns of my own spiritual cosmos.