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Starting
Point Motes of misery made merry by Gods dancing
sunbeams
The following reflection is one of a series by Elizabeth West
of Harefield, Australia, on the O Antiphons, the alleluia verses from the
Liturgy of the Hours traditionally recited during vespers in the latter days of
Advent.
By ELIZABETH WEST
At is really quite amazing how much
a bad hair day strips one of the desire to pray, as if God has somehow been the
cause of all the difficulties, glitches and crises that happen. Such was my
day, and when I trundled off to prayer this evening, it was with particularly
ill grace.
We began as usual. O God, come to my assistance, we
said, and feeling particularly truculent, I did not take kindly to the
invocation. No help had been forthcoming through the various crises of this
day, and in that darkness of mind, the spirit of Christmas seemed far away.
Bah Humbug, said my soul to the psalms. Cancel
Christmas, said my spirit to the thought of cooking still to come.
O God! Cant they keep in tune, said my irritable self as
voices collided in their search for harmonies. So did I groan my way through
the first half of office. During the readings I abandoned all pretence of being
present to prayer, and simply looked around. Like Pigpen, my gloom hung around
me, clouding everything in view.
Peering through its shadows, it was obvious that the small part of
the world that I inhabit was alive and active. Everything was going about its
own business. No ant, beetle, bug or bird paid the slightest bit of attention
to me, or to the gloom I carried. It was all extremely irritating. If no one
paid attention to my fit of the blues, I could not even have the satisfaction
of stomping on them!
So came the readings. I continued my glowering. However, by
fortuitous chance -- or dare one say the grace of God -- a stray blast of
sunlight cut through a clump of dust kicked up by the sheep in the paddock. It
showed up every mote, and dust became something other -- shining specks held
suspended in the stillness. It was extraordinarily beautiful. And with the
ah! that sunlit dust evoked, a croaky chorus invoked the antiphon:
O Rising Sun, splendor of Eternal light and brilliant Sun of Justice,
come and light up the darkness concealing from us the path to life, and
with the singing came the realization that even motes of misery are made merry
by the light of God.
There are times when I think I hate the way God picks us up, dumps
us in the middle of our own realizations and then sits back and quietly laughs
while making sunbeams dance through dust. The singular capacity of grace to
draw one out of misery into laughter can be a real irritation sometimes. But
would I change it? I think not. We sang our plea that Christ the Rising
Sun, splendor of Eternal light and brilliant Sun of Justice come and
light up the darkness surrounding us, that our paths may be made straight and
clear. And without asking, so it was and is.
Grace freely given. For me it came in dust from dry paddocks,
sunlight, and the croaky voices of a convent choir. In such little ways does
this Sun of Justice lighten the dark places, lift us from our self-centered and
sometimes violent passions, and direct our feet on the way of peace.
Sr. Elizabeth A. West is a member of the Australian Province of
the Little Company of Mary. She is the retreat director for the Overdale
Retreat Centre in Harefield, Australia. Her e-mail address is
ewest@lcm.org.au
National Catholic Reporter, December 15,
2000
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