Reading – Ripple Effects

I started this annual post at Christmas time in 2008, calling it Reading the Season. As the song goes, this might be ‘the most wonderful time of the year’, but it could well be the most distressing to many. In the hustle and bustle of the Season on the heels of that perennial frenzy called ‘Black Friday’, I hope Ripple Effects can be a respite from the busyness by offering a reading suggestion that could bring some quietude and to slow down the running wheel, hopefully the heart rates as well.

Henri Nouwen wore many hats, priest, speaker, writer, professor at Yale and Harvard Divinity Schools, and in the last ten years of his life from 1986-1996, quit his university teaching to live and serve as pastor among a community of intellectually disabled men and women, L’Arche–Daybreak in Ontario, Canada.

Twelve years before he made that life-changing commitment to L’Arche, in 1974, Nouwen spent seven months in a Trappist Monastery, the Abbey of the Genesee, in Upstate, New York. He started a diary in June as he began this experience and ending with the last entry on Christmas Day. He was searching for peace and quietude and to practice the contemplative life away from his busy commitments. His entries show his utter honesty with himself and total humility with God, and was always open to love and appreciate those around him. The monastery wasn’t cocoon living, he was in touch with world events and could grasp firmly the role of history in the present, and the continuity of the past in one’s personal journey. I’m glad to find too that he’s an avid bird watcher, and from nature, he gleans deeper understanding of self and God.

I’ve highlighted many passages, these are some of them. As a birder, I find this so intriguing. It may sound somber and serious, but I can also see the humour in it:

This morning Father John explained to me that the killdeer is a bird that fools you by simulating injury to pull your attention away from her eggs which she lays openly on a sandy place… I have asked pity for a very unreal problem in order to pull people’s attention away from what I didn’t want them to see.

Sometimes it seems that every bird has institutionalized one of my defence mechanisms. The cowbird lays her eggs in some other bird’s nest to let them do the brooding job; the Baltimore oriole imitates the sounds of more dangerous birds to keep the enemies away, and the red-wing blackbird keeps screaming so loudly overhead that you get tired of her noise and soon leave the area that she considers hers. It does not take long to realize that I do all of that and a lot more to protect myself or to get my own will done.

I wonder if I really have listened carefully enough to the God of history, the God of my history, and have recognized him when he called me by my name, broke the bread, or asked me to cast out my nets after a fruitless day? Maybe I have been living much too fast, too restlessly, too feverishly, forgetting to pay attention to what is happening here and now, right under my nose. Just as a whole world of beauty can be discovered in one flower, so the great grace of God can be tasted in one small moment. Just as no great travels are necessary to see the beauty of creation, so no great ecstasies are needed to discover the love of God. But you have to be still and wait so that you can realize that God is not in the earthquake, the storm, or the lightning, but in the gentle breeze with which he touches your back.

And a thought that for me brings a new perspective on Advent:

Advent does not lead to nervous tension stemming from expectation of something spectacular about to happen. On the contrary, it leads to a growing inner stillness and joy allowing me to realize that he for whom I am waiting has already arrived and speaks to me in the silence of my heart. Just as a mother feels the child grow in her and is not surprised on the day of the birth but joyfully receives the one she learned to know during her waiting, so Jesus can be born in my life slowly and steadily and be received as the one I learned to know while waiting.

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Reading the Season in Previous Years:

2023: Reading the Season: Babe or Man, Man or King? A Poem by Luci Shaw

2022: Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s God is in the Manger

2021: Sabbath Poems by Wendell Berry

2020: Jack by Marilynne Robinson

2019: ‘A Hidden Life’ – A Film for the Season

2018: A Verse from Madeleine L’Engle’s The Irrational Season

2017: A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle

2016: Silence by Shusaku Endo

2015: The Book of Ruth

2014: Lila by Marilynne Robinson