BLOG POST | What we call the beginning is often the end, and to make an end is to make a beginning

WHAT WE CALL THE BEGINNING IS OFTEN THE END, AND TO MAKE AN END IS TO MAKE A BEGINNING

What we call the beginning is often the end / And to make an end is to make a beginning. / The end is where we start from. […]

We shall not cease from exploration / And the end of all our exploring / Will be to arrive where we started / And know the place for the first time. / Through the unknown, remembered gate / When the last of earth left to discover / Is that which was the beginning; / At the source of the longest river / The voice of the hidden waterfall / And the children in the apple-tree / Not known, because not looked for / But heard, half-hearted, in the stillness / Between two waves of the sea. / Quick, now, here, now, always— / A condition of complete simplicity / (Costing not less than everything) / And all shall be well and / All manner of thing shall be well / When the tongues of flame are in-folded / Into the crowned knot of fire / And the fire and the rose are one. -T. S. Eliot “Little Gidding” Four Quartets
 

            And, as Eliot gives poetic witness to the story of salvation and how Christ’s tragic death was in His modest, holy beginning, I begin at the end, knowing it for the first time, or at least more completely because I know the beginning.  In the Easter story, we have the culmination of the Christmas story:  The fulfillment of the Old Testament promises and prophecies and the fruition of the New Testament prophecies and ministry of Christ Jesus.  And, even though we can witness the Crucifixion and be deeply moved to a change in our hearts and spirits, isn’t it so much more accessible to welcome that shift, knowing that it was a baby, a human child, who grew up to minister to us all, and then hand over His life for our own redemption?  In the Old Testament we hear and read that one who hangs on a tree is cursed, and that is precisely what Christ did:  He allowed Himself to hang on a tree, without just cause, to bear the curse of death for us all.  So, again, even though it is our new year as Catholic Christians—our liturgical year begins anew with Advent, so Happy New Year to you all!—it is informative to look upon that manger with eyes that have seen the depth and the weight of the fullness of the Christmas story, made complete in the death and resurrection of Christ.  This is what I like to draw my kids’ attention to, as we journey through Advent:  This is the beginning but the end is made perfect in this beginning and without the end, this Holiest of nights would thereby be imperfect:  We cannot have the glory of the resurrection without having the Holy birth, and the Holy birth is undone in its inherent miraculous nature, if we do not have the Glory of Easter to look toward.

            While, I walk my children through this Holy Season, I find things to connect the life and ministry of Christ, but I keep it relatable and accessible, and I invite the Holy Spirit to write those moments of connection for me.  As we come to a close of Advent and mark the Winter Solstice, one of the points I want to revisit with my children is the darkness of the season; how and why we sit and wait in silence, and how the depth of meaning is weighed and measured in that silence and darkness.  In so many ways, this Holy Night is a culmination of our journey, this Advent season.  The shortest day of the year falls just shy of the birth of Christ who is the Light of the world.  And, the longest day of the year, is just shy of His cousin’s birthday, John the Baptist, who was called to lead all to Christ—to the Light.  These men shaped our faith tremendously by their witness, testimony, conviction, and, in the case of Christ, acceptance of the Cross, which fulfilled the Scriptures.  In Isaiah 45:3 we read, “I will give you treasures of darkness, riches hidden away, That you may know I am the LORD, the God Israel, who calls you by name.”  Christ is the treasure of darkness born on a starlit night without the convenience of ample light, and yet, His humble, sacred birth informed the treasure of darkness for us for all time, and of course, we know the weight of that darkness—the depth and other side of it, the impending Cross in the shadow of the manger—as it was the beginning of His call as Savior, and how He spent His final hours in a garden well after nightfall begging for the Cup to pass Him by, if it be His Father’s will.  And, we’re fortunate, living in the Age of the Church, because we know the ending, or at least this time between the first and second coming, but I think it is good for us, especially as adults with responsibilities and careers and children and obligations to remember what we know:  The darkness may be heavy, at times, but it is informed by the Light, and the Light is in the darkness, and there is a treasure in that darkness, which will be revealed, if we allow it all to be informed and blessed by God.  I think that is one of the lessons Advent has brought to my consciousness as an adult:  There is darkness, no matter how strong my faith and how excited I am about each liturgical season, and I do get excited about the seasons because of the inherent gifts of the season, and it was easier, before I was influenced by the blessings of marriage, children, and more life, if you will, to tap into each season—it was me and my own experience coupled with what I was hearing in the Scriptures and receiving at Mass, and it was easier to connect, in some ways, when I was hearing it for myself.  When I’m hearing it as a wife and a mother, I have more to consider and relay, and though this seems obvious, I think it is important to acknowledge and give to God:  How has my growing in relationship with others changed or shaped me, and how do I present that to Him?  Then again, I didn’t know depth of darkness, until I feared for my children whether from illness or other circumstance, and in this fear is the place where faith meets reason:  Blind faith is not a best parenting practice, in my opinion; rather, my faith informs my reason and my reason informs my faith:  because these both come from God and have their origin in Him, they need to be in balance in order to be in harmony.  So, for myself, I pray with God and seek His will and guidance, and I listen to how reason guides me and how my faith informs it.  Regardless of the outcome, if I know in my heart I am following God as best as I am able, I am at peace, but when I start to worry what people might think or how it might look, I am caught in a tangled web and ensnared:  I am never going to make everyone happy with my decisions or life, but if my life is pleasing to God, then I feel filled up with the peace of the Holy Spirit.  This is a daily practice and commitment for me:  Just like Mary said “Yes.”, I have to say “Yes.” each day to allowing God to help me write the words on the page because it is tempting to take off and do it on my own.  But, in that solo work I find a lot of darkness and loneliness, so I (usually) quickly turn the light on by asking God to join me, again.    

            If the theme of darkness resonates with you, sit with that in prayer and let God bring to light what you need to bring to the Light, so that you can restore you inner-peace and repair your relationship with Him.  In my prayer time with God, I like to picture myself in a dark room, maybe it’s a cave, and in that cave one candle is burning, and it is very quiet and peaceful.  There is no decoration in the cave, save a magenta cloth over a rock upon which the candle is burning.  I take my time in here and just leave behind what is disturbing my peace and relationship with God and/or others, what is no longer serving me, and I hold my hands out in offering to receive what He has for me.  In this Holy Season of waiting to approach a tiny babe on bended knee, I think about the sacred silence of that night, and I wonder what Mary would most have wanted on that night?  A soft blanket?  A real bed?  The safety of walls from the outdoors?  The ability to save her precious Son from His fate?  I wonder how she may have felt delivering the Salvation of the world; surely, she knew His life would be simultaneously magnificent and terrible.  How did she do it?  How did she raise her son, the Son, to go out into the world and fulfill the prophecies?  She is brave.  “God give me strength like that of Mother Mary, that I may be quick and wholehearted in my “yes” to you.”

            At the close of your Advent(ure), take note of your journey and see where you have been.  If it felt disconnected, this year, what was it that brought about the most significant piece of that disconnect?  Give it to God and continue on the journey with the Wise Men to find the Christ child laid in a manger and preparing to bear the weight of the world, for all time, on His shoulders.  Your Salvation has come to set you free.  Invite the darkness to speak to you, so that the treasures hidden within can be revealed to you.  Then, give thanks.  Or, as we saw in the Old Testament with Judah (whose name means “Praise”) give praise and thanksgiving, and ask God to transform any of the brokenness by offering it to Him because He can do that for you. 

            One way I re-committed to my own faith journey and education of my heart, was by listening to the Bible in a Year podcast by Ascension Press.  If, like me, you’re saying “what is a podcast?” or “I’ve heard of those, but I don’t think they’re for me.”, I understand!  I have never before listened to a podcast, I don’t even listen to books on tape—I’m a tangible book kind of person—but this podcast has really caught my attention and interest, and what I appreciate about it is the careful connecting and pairing of the readings each day, so that you are not simply reading sequentially, but you are reading in Genesis and Psalms and then you’re in Numbers, Deuteronomy, and Proverbs, and so on, so that the heart of God is revealed to you as it is simultaneously related to other parts of Scripture, and it gives you the opportunity, in my opinion, to connect the pieces with some substance—the background and footnotes—of the time period, so that the word of God is illuminated in an inter-connection.  It is beautiful.  So, if you have a desire to link arms with God and find yourself on a journey to His heart and hear the story of Salvation as Scripture reveals it, attend Mass—attend daily Mass, if your schedule allows—and subscribe to the Bible in a Year podcast, or make a commitment to yourself to read the Bible in its entirety.  It will re-shape and illuminate your life, and it will give you the gifts of the darkness. 

            As the Holy Spirit moves in and around you, ask for the awareness to recognize Spirit at work.  Sometimes Spirit is most present in our prayers.  Sometimes in our silence.  Sometimes in our recognizing we have been holding the line at a grudge, and we may have even forgotten what we were so upset about, so if Spirit is softening a painful memory or a desire yet unanswered or a broken relationship, welcome it and pray over it that it may turn from strife for you to benediction.  This is the power of the Holy Spirit.  Embrace it for the blessing of your life.

            After attending Mass with my husband and children one day, I was moved to share with them how the one thing I would fight and move mountains for, in this life, is their Salvation, and how I am immensely grateful, humbled, and moved that I do not have to seek tremendous wealth to buy it:  I took them to the font, had them baptized as infants, and now, we continue our faith journey and continually keep our eyes on the Cross as we walk with God.  So, when they look upon the manger, I hope they will recognize the wood of the Cross in that simple manger and see that the end was in the beginning and the beginning is made perfect in the end, and together they are one.  I hope that for you, too.  Merry Christmas, friends.  May the peace of Christ, the Light of the World be with you this Holy Season and remain with you throughout the year.  He loves you; keep coming back and inviting Him into your life—it is good.

“In the beginning was the Word,
And the Word was with God,
And the Word was God.
He was in the beginning with God.
All things came to be through him,
And without him nothing came to be.
What came to be through him was life,
and this life was the light of the human race;
the light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness has not overcome it.” 
John 1:1-5 NAB