Last night I was looking forward to today. I was looking forward to returning to St. Paul’s Anglican Church, after two weeks of being ill, and not being able to attend. I always miss going to church, but during Advent I particularly miss it. Advent is probably my favourite church season.
Today is the third Sunday of Advent called Gaudete Sunday. Gaudete is just a Latin word for rejoice. Many churches refer to today simply as Rejoice or Joy Sunday. I like the sound flow of Gaudete more than rejoice or joy, and when you’ve spent eight years of your life studying Latin, you’ve got to take advantage of every opportunity that arises to use it.
I went to bed last night, with a good feeling and looking forward to lighting the third Advent candle, the one for joy, that’s on my table top Advent wreath and the first candle, a joyous event, in my menorah. The menorah was a gift from a former flatmate, who appreciated my horrible latkes because I tried to make a Channukah celebration for her when she couldn’t get home to be with family.
I was looking forward to wishing friends a Chag Channukah Sameach!, and reminiscing on FB with my friends about Channukahs past. One of my favourite memories was when Ilanna came to my home and made latkes so we could enjoy the dinner, and then chanted the blessing as we lit the candle. This is one of the times of year that I am so glad that I have been blessed to be active in the interfaith community, and I went to bed happy.
Like many people I wake with my radio alarm. It starts quite softly and gradually the volume increases. This morning, the first words I heard were, “12 killed in a shooting targeting the Jewish community celebrating the first night of Channukah on Bondi Beach, Sydney.” I sat bolt upright. My first response was to pray. I prayed not only for those people in Australia, but for my friends Shelly and his daughters, Paul and Sheilagh, Ilanna, Rebekkah, Judy, Friedelle, Lisa and the very loving people at Beach Hebrew Institute, Adath Israel, and Beth Tzedek synagogues that have always welcomed me with love and open arms. Inviting me to participate as much as I can and helping me to understand what was new to me. After I prayed, I cried. Actually the prayers and the tears probably combined. I continued to cry while I prepared to go to church and celebrate our day of joy.
I have not yet contacted any of my friends. I don’t wish to intrude upon their pain, but I will begin to reach out to them before sundown. I just wish to let them know I love them, and I am here to stand with them.
I have always experienced Channukah as the Jewish holiday that people are happy to share. Rather than gathering in their homes to celebrate, this holiday is taken into the community and others are invited to join in. As someone once said to me, “We love to share our candles, our calories, our music, our fun.”
My favourite Channukah song was written by Peter Yarrow, of Peter, Paul and Mary. It is called Light one Candle. This year, in particular, the chorus is very appropriate:
Don’t let the light go out. It’s lasted for so many years. Don’t let the light go out Let it shine through our love and our tears
Tonight I will light the third Advent candle on my table and I will say Gaudium Omnibus. I will also light the first candle in my menorah and say Chag Channukah Sameach. I will do the best I possibly can to keep the light shining bright.
When Amazon first introduced its “next-day delivery,” and people began to expect instant gratification I would joke and say, “Advent is good preparation for the apocalypse.” Some of those who heard me actually thought it was funny and would giggle too. A few years later it didn’t seem so funny. The World Health Organization had declared a pandemic, and suddenly “next-day delivery” was a thing of the past. There were product supply shortages and logistics difficulties. For a few people the apocalypse had arrived, and they found it so difficult to be patient. This impatience branched out into other areas of society, health care, meeting the needs of seniors and people with physical or mental challenges, food shortages, travel, and the list goes on. However, although some of us lost family, friends, colleagues, or acquaintances, most of us survived and did our best to return to what we considered our normal lives of yore. Yet, much of the old normal couldn’t be retrieved. There are still, some 3 and half years later, shortages in some areas of life, some businesses and services don’t even exist anymore, and there are still logistics problems.
I have a new appreciation for Advent. Although it has long been my favourite season, since those days of limitation it has become even more wonderful for me. It is a time when we focus on getting ready. We take time when there is excitement in the air of what is to come. It’s that anticipation that causes the excitement and gives us the patience to wait. In the waiting, we get to decorate, to visit with friends, to enjoy snowball fights (when there is snow) to drink eggnog, coffee, hot chocolate and to eat treats.
We also get to reach out to those who don’t look forward to the future. We get to share food, warmth, shelter, medical care, a smile, a listening ear, a hug, and a compliment, and we take time to accept what others have to offer.
I love this season of twinkling lights–some electrical and some the glow of candles. I love hearing the advent stories, being reminded of promises made and then kept, and the promises still to be fulfilled but the certain hope they will be fulfilled. I love this time of inward reflection that leads to outward expression, and waiting. I even love the sentimentality of some of the modern Christmas/Chanukah movie craze that follows the theme of abandonment, family, closeness, cynicism and reaching out–because saccharine though they are, they can, if for a short time, give a warm glow–and for some, those super sweet movies are the only warm glow around.
Unlike in days of yore, when people fasted for the four weeks of Advent, the modern season can also be a time of overindulgence. There can be too much to eat, and there can be too much to drink. For a stress eater like myself, while working on a thesis and getting too little exercise, this is not a good thing. Eggnog is one of my favourite drinks–and it doesn’t matter if it’s with or without.
Today’s first Sunday of Advent church service stressed the waiting and the hope. The sermon stressed reaching out to others, being and working in community, and both giving and receiving hope and comfort. Two of the choir members sang a perfect duet anthem, Mary’s Son, the Prince of Peace. This is the first church I have attended with more male voices than female voices. It’s quite different.
Following the service we went to the church hall to enjoy coffee, treats and birthday cake for a member who enters a new decade today, and to view a beautiful nativity display. I think there were about 13-14 different creches. They were from various countries, made from different materials and were made by people of different ages. It was interesting to see the different expressions of nativity. I hope that the display is done again next year. When I put away my Christmas things I will make sure my various nativity sets are at the front and not the back of the storage shelves.
Sometimes new ways of waiting can be found. This year I received a new Advent calendar. Each day’s box contains 40-50 pieces of a bigger jigsaw. Mine is a nativity scene, and today I was able to do the first part when I returned home from church. I found it an excellent way to relax and reflect on the morning’s events.
Tonight at 7:00 I hope to join others for something I’ve never experienced before. The churches in town are participating in a joint Advent walk. I love when various church traditions join together for activities, and I’m quite looking forward to this one. We start at St. Celia’s Roman Catholic Church, then move on to St. Paul’s Anglican Church, and finally end up at Grace United Church–where there will be more food. Each year the order of churches. changes.
Many of us are waiting during this particular Advent in different ways. We are waiting to see what transpires with many governments, and one large government in particular that is changing leadership. We are waiting to see what emerges within the context of our faith-filled hope. One of the concerns that I and many others far more intelligent and knowledgeable than I hold in the midst of this waiting, is the usurpation of Dietrich Bonhoeffer to the Christian Nationalist cause. The Bonhoeffer being vocally, cinematically and journalistically portrayed by some is the very antithesis of the Bonhoeffer that lived. So, it seems to me to be fitting to conclude my ramblings about my love of the season of waiting with a few stanzas from one of his poems:
Waiting Is An Art
Celebrating Advent means being able to wait. Waiting is an art that our impatient age has forgotten.
Those who do not know how it feels to anxiously struggle with the deepest questions of life, of their life, and to patiently look forward with anticipation until the truth is revealed, cannot even dream of the splendor of the moment in which clarity is illuminated for them.
And for those who do not want to win the friendship and love of another person— who do not expectantly open up their soul to the soul of the other person, until friendship and love come, until they make their entrance— for such people the deepest blessing of the one life of two intertwined souls will remain forever hidden.
Whoever does not know the austere blessedness of waiting— that is, of hopefully doing without— will never experience the full blessing of fulfillment.
For the greatest, most profound, tenderest things in the world, we must wait.
It happens here not in a storm but according to the divine laws of sprouting, growing, and becoming. -Dietrich Bonhoeffer translated from the German by O.C. Dean Jr.
This past week, my writing has been focused exclusively on my thesis. Even with that focus I still didn’t get much done. That is because it was a “bad head week”–so writing, which never comes easily to me, was more of a slog than usual. In my head injury group, everyone was saying the same thing. It was a bad head week. It didn’t matter if the head injury was caused by accidental trauma or was caused by illness. No one could pin down why it was such a “bad head week,” everyone just said–it was a “bad head week.”
These bad weeks are getting fewer and further apart for me–I hold this as a sign of ongoing recovery. My way of dealing with them now is to push myself to do what I feel I must do and also to push myself to do what I’ve been looking forward to for such a long time, it would break my heart not to do it. Then I rest as much as my head says I need to rest. So, I decided to use one of the other “tips and tricks” I’ve been given and I switched from doing lots of daily writing to recording my experiences vocally. I was often seen with my phone to record observations and reflections. Being oral rather than writing is itself a bit of a different experience. But here goes…
My week began with a medical appointment in Toronto. I was fortunate that I could get it this past Monday because I had already determined I was going to go to Knox College for its 180th anniversary and meet with my advisor on the Tuesday. Whenever I have a two-day excursion in Toronto, my good friends Erin and Jay put me up. They even have one of my favourite lower-alcohol IPAs in the house for each of my visits.
This past week, Jay was out of town and so Erin said I’d have to go to “Theology on Tap” with her. This is a group that she and I initiated 12 years ago, where people from the church and community can gather together to discuss theology and have their favourite brew. I say brew because tea, ale and everything in between is enjoyed. Most often, the group starts by reading a book, 1-3 chapters at a time, and then the members discuss their thoughts and responses, although the jumping-off points have also been articles, lectures and movies. This is one of the few activities in Toronto that I really miss. It’s great to sit and talk with informed people about theology. This was even true on Monday night when I had not familiarized myself with any of the subjects they were discussing. It was still so nice to be there and hear thoughtful discussion.
The next day was the 180th birthday party at Knox College, University of Toronto. It was a lovely day with an incredible service of worship led by the chaplain Rev. Tim Kennedy, who combined the anniversary with All Saints Day. It was attended not only by faculty and students but also by alumni, and some individuals from both Toronto School of Theology and UofT. We were reminded that we are called to go forward living the faith passed to us by the Saints who have gone before.
Of course, like any great birthday party, there was cake–and what a cake.
I returned to Port Dover immediatley following my meeting with my advisor. Tuesday night, a good friend of mine stayed over at mine. It wasn’t a visit, as such, but rather I was a place to stay while she attended a luncheon reunion with several of her elementary and secondary school chums near here. However, since we were together we decided we had to order pizza for dinner and watch the American election results together. We flipped back and forth between CBC and CNN because we like to see and hear different aspects of elections when we are watching the results. She’s about numbers, I’m about analysis and consequences. Unfortunately, PBS sound broadcast was not working properly for several hours, and that was the station on which we could compromise. When it was finally restored we rejoiced.
On Wednesday I woke up in my own bed with two little faces staring at me. They made it very clear that they do not like me to go away overnight. I took my friend to a local diner for breakfast and then another mutual friend drove her to the nearest GO station, so I could go into my writing group. That day also saw the final haulage of demolition materials from the bathroom in the morning and because of the noise, I joined my writing group from the kitchen. The good news is, the destruction has been completed, and the construction is about to begin.
I had a business luncheon meeting to attend after my writing group, and I joyously found myself eating in Riversyde83 Foodhub. I had never been to this lovely little food and coffee place. It describes itself as:
“Riversyde 83 is a project of Church Out Serving, a unique-to-Norfolk charity with a community focus. Experience our hospitality in the café eatery! Explore with us all-things food in the community kitchen! Browse the array of products in the marketplace! Or host your event at one of the on-site spaces! And, because we are a charity, foodhub proceeds and donations will support community food services and programs.”
Riversyde83
I would recommend it to anyone who’s looking for a place for a good lunch, but remember to make sure you go when you’re not in a hurry. It is a place of opportunities.
Thursday and Friday were regular writing days with my banjo lesson thrown in for good measure. I don’t know why my teacher continues to put up with me but I am most grateful that he does. It’s one of the great joys of my weeks. Friday after lunch there was an online meeting, and then I relaxed for the evening with my hand quilting and a good mystery.
Saturday was a day of housework. That’s quite a challenge when you’ve got a renovation on the go–even a small one. My little washroom reno isn’t that monumental, but it’s at the top of the stairs, and that means the debris gets dragged through the house. But as said above, we are now on the upside of the work. Part of the day’s housework included some shopping, and while doing that shopping I had to buy feline diet food. Poor Scotch was told to lose a pound in August and somehow, I don’t know how she has gained 1.5 pounds. We will try this and hope it works. I swear the poor little girl feels mortified. Butter is fast, agile and strong, just like all sleek cats. I can tell Scotch is feeling a bit jealous.
For those of you who have never seen a bathroom stack circa 1940.
Today, I questioned whether I should go to church or stay at home and rest because it was another “bad head day,” but in the end, I decided I’d go. I’m so glad I did. It is a very dreary and wet day here in Port Dover, and walking into the little church filled me with both physical and spiritual comfort.
Today is Remembrance Sunday, and the service was respectful, thoughtful and emotional. Bishop Barry made a point of stating that this day is not one for celebration but for commemoration. His sermon was also political as he reminded us of the various responses, including his own, to the results of the election south of the border, that Christian Nationalism is not Christian and the importance of fulfilling our Christian responses to the oppressed, the poor, 2SLGBTQ+ people, and others. The Remembrance, the readings and the sermon combined to instill a message of call, comfort and being in a community loved by the great I AM, upheld by Christ and guided by the Spirit.
As usual, following the service we had a wonderful time in the Church Hall with food, coffee and fellowship. The calories, as usual, were wonderful. I also bought my dinner there. It was a delicious home-made pea soup. I have enough for tomorrow too. I also bought a red pepper spice soup for later in the week.
The final surprise of this wonderful morning was that the people who arrange the flowers on the altar decided I should get to take them home today. I was stunned and touched by their kindness. I arrived home to discover my beautiful Waterford cut glass vase has a crack in it, so I resorted to using my beautiful Nova Scotian cut glass ice bucket. I did my best, but it doesn’t have quite the height these flowers need to show off their real splendour.
My “bad-head week” forced me to approach the past seven days in a different way than I usually do. I’m appreciative of that change. It was good to see my life and its relationship with the rest of humanity, and the earth with new eyes.
I have had one of the most eventful autumns of my life. The events have not been catastrophic or unexpected, they have simply been numerous. Most have been enjoyable but all have felt rushed. In the last five weeks, I have had only four days at home alone to catch my breath.
I have covered the eastern half of Canada from Sydney to Winnipeg, much of it driving, some of it flying (and wishing we had better/more frequent train service in this county) and all of it interesting.
I have seen a beautiful moose that courteously stayed on the side of the road rather than trying to cross it. He gave a call that I am going to assume was a love song because he had a romantic look in his eye. (Unfortunately, I was driving and couldn’t take a picture.) I have seen cruise ships come into the harbour–and the thousands of people who disembark to walk around the city. Their very presence changes the nature of the community they have come to see.
I’ve seen touching acts of kindness and cruel acts of bigotry.
I have gone underground. I just went into a couple of chambers of the coal mine, but it was enough for me to be in awe of those who went down before the sunrise and came up after the sunset. It made me appreciative of all that has been done in this country by those who came before me to give me a life as comfortable as I have in this era.
I have seen the beauty of the changing colours the ebbing and rising tides, and the different geologies and geographies of this land. I have had local maple syrup from a variety of regions, lobster, scallops, perch, venison, chicken, bannock and bison, corn, wheat, apples, pears, squash, pumpkin, a variety of dairy, egg, and cheese products. I enjoyed several locally produced ales with my meals and my meals and snacks reminded me of the abundance of resources we have.
I have seen the homeless, the addicted, the afflicted, the ignored, the despised, the removed, and the ones who have lost all hope. It reminded me of how unwilling we appear to be to share our abundance, and I should probably count myself in the number of those who could share more than I do.
I have attended the baptism of a three-week-old infant and conversed with a 106-year-old man in a long-term care facility. I have attended a birthday, a graduation, a funeral, a dedication and visited a hospital. I have also worshipped in churches, outdoors, in a synagogue, and in a mosque. In each situation, I have found learning with joy and learning with concern.
I went to an agricultural fair and saw the wonder of what can be accomplished when humanity works with other speices. Determined faces struggled to accomplish the best possible results before showing their produce and animals, and there was pride on the part of some stock who showed off by plumping feathers, raising their heads, or simply striking a pose. I saw delight in the eyes of those for whom so much of this was new.
In an other area of the Fair there were screams of joy and fear. The midway held such excitement, and there were tears because one more ride wasn’t possible and the ice cream got dropped.
I have seen cities whose buildings blot out the sky and cities that blend with their surroundings. I’ve seen industrial hubs and transportation hubs. I have experienced kindness and generosity, as well as rudeness and contempt.
I have experienced sorrow and celebration, grief and gratitude. I have been to a graduation where I saw a myriad of diverse national “special occasion” clothing and I was amazed and awed. I was unable to approach people and ask permission to photograph, but I tingled at all the colours that were so enlivening and lent so much joy to the occasion. I have been amazed at what I have encountered, and I have been so thankful.
While all of this has been happening I have joked and said my body has begun to hate me. My eating habits, my sleeping habits, and my exercise habits keep changing, sometimes on a daily basis. I get bloated and dehydrated, go hungry and hurry when I do get to eat and sometimes overeat. Even this has been a time of reflection.
I thought of those whose routines are non-routines because of constant change and the need to leave unsafe places. They could be unsafe places because of natural occurrences, perhaps natural occurrences resulting from the way we have changed our climates. Or they could be unsafe places because of the bombs and artillery that humans tend to lob at one another, or unsafe places because of persecution for no reason other than being who one is.
These five very rushed, very eventful, very demanding weeks have been good for learning, experiencing and relating. But I will be glad to get back to my nice boring home life for the next several months. I am glad to have the freedom and ability to get back to my nice boring home life for the next several months.
Mundane Musings 