…to grasp eternal things”
That phrase is one of many descriptions of advent by boyish-faced Jesuit priest Alfred Delp, written from Tegel prison in 1944. Accused of treason by the Nazi regime, he was held in solitary confinement and handcuffs even in his cell – a cruel reminder of his destiny as a traitor. This week I have been reading his final sermon, written as the handcuffs clunked , and smuggled out of the cell in his washing. Not surprisingly, he says that he “sees this year’s advent with an intensity like never before. When I pace back and forth across my cell, three steps forward and three steps back, hands in irons, ahead of me an unknown destiny”
Image: heiligenlexikon.de
From that tiny cell, the theology just kept coming, like flares fired into the darkest of night skies:
To wait in faith for the fruitfulness of the silent earth and for the abundance of the coming harvest, means to understand the world- even this world- in Advent.
Advent is one of the primeval tides of the human soul, in which we become conscious of reaching out to grasp eternal things.
The promises of God stand above us, more valid than the stars and more effective than the sun.
Light the candles wherever you can, you who have them. They are a real symbol of what must happen in Advent, what Advent must be, if we are to live.
This, surely, is guerrilla theology – sent out as a raiding party from the present to plunder the future and bring back vital supplies of hope?
After leading an advent meditation on some of this last night, I called into the church to fetch something and noticed the effect you see in the photo below. Looking outwards, an illuminated star suspended inside the church appears to hang outside in the street. It is not so. If we want advent hope to go beyond the walls of the church we have to carry it there ourselves.
