What Advent is Like
Dear Friends,
Among my unpopular opinions is this: Standard Time is far superior to Daylight Saving Time. I have lots of reasons to maintain this ridiculous belief. One of them is the fact that each morning I take my dog out for a walk, and before the time change it was pitch black—I almost got hit by a car, twice!—despite the fact that I wear reflective clothes and a headlamp. But I brave the reckless drivers for the sake of Cota and his floppy ears. He's a good boy, and a terrible walker, but we both seem to enjoy the quiet time together all the same.
Since the time change, things have been better. For one thing, I haven't almost been hit by anyone in too much of a hurry before 6 a.m. For another, I get to pay attention to the sunrise while I walk.
This morning, I was out a little earlier than usual, and I saw something that stunned me. I turned a corner, which leads to one of the downhill sections of my neighborhood. From there, Signal Mountain looms in the distance. Because I was out earlier this morning, the mountain looked quite different. All around me it was dark. But the sun was just starting to shine on the top of the mountain. Off in the distance it was glowing red like embers, brighter than anything around me. And it served as a beautiful reminder that the sun with its brightness and warmth would soon engulf the rest of the world. Signal Mountain was only the beginning.
This is what Advent is like. A season when the darkness is real—a presence around us that we just can't shake. Political unrest, personal hurts and pains, illness and death, injustice. All of it so very real and seemingly unshakable. But off in the distance, just over the horizon is the mountain, and it's already glowing red with the light of encroaching dawn. In Christ's death and resurrection, the victory has been won. And Advent tells us that when "he comes again in glory to judge the living and the dead," the darkness around us cannot stand. The darkness will be defeated, once and for all.
God Bless,
Fr. Quinn+