Advent Poem for Anna
on the occasion of her discovering her vocation to become a nun and her searching for a home
I wrote this poem for a friend of mine who came to faith at the same time as I did, years after we met in college. She actually played a role in the development of my vocation and God used me to help her discover hers. Part of that story is written down on my other blog here. In any case, following the excitement of both of us discovering our vocations, I wrote her this poem in the homeless shelter in Beaune, France as I stopped there for a few days rest as I was walking my first camino in Advent 2020. I had a dream about her one night which made me want to write and encourage her in her search.
Advent Poem for Anna
Welcome to Advent, its The Way
Welcome to joy, redeeming Life
Abandonment, and yes, to strife!
You saw the star, heard the chorus,
Your head's in Heaven. Brontasaurus!
So follow, follow, follow, run!
Taste, test, see, the Son!
He's your Man so costly, free
He's your Beaux. He's your tree.
He'll conquer you, and inch by inch.
He sees where you have laid your trench.
It. Will. Not. Stand.
'cause He's the Master
He's the King.
He's the lover.
He is Being.
He sees more beauty.
Smells more stink.
He binds with bread,
And breaks with drink.
What gifts bring with you, to the cave?
Your virtues, strengths?
Oh these please save!
Bring your vices, bring your fears.
Bring your weaknesses and tears.
Bring your foolishness and Child,
Give them to the meek and mild!
Do offer them without restraint,
with these He will make you a Saint.
Our Christmas is to get a cross.
To hug a death, embrace my loss.
It kills our vices, fears disperse.
Our weaknesses... well they get worse!
The Fool, Our Youth, a sword unsheath'd.
Our Christmas sign, Our Advent wreath.
So hurry, hurry, gather, bring!
Wait, Watch, Pray, Sing!
A miracle nativity.
He'll visit you in Poverty.
The foreign stable's where He sires.
A bride fulfilling His desires.
Come to Bethlehem!
This poem itself was also autobiographical, at least regarding the latter half. I had been really struggling with my new life as a pilgrim, how difficult I was finding it, how it exposed my weaknesses more than let me use my strengths, and I stopped one evening along the camino at the Cistercian Monastery in Citeaux. A monk immediately took interest in me and asked me to stay a few days. I gladly obliged and I confessed with him the following day and we spoke for at least two hours following the confession. His name was Fr Raphael and he had wisdom to offer. Everything he was telling me seemed to be answering the questions I had and I walked away from our meeting convinced of my need for a basic psychological shift in terms of how I was framing weakness, suffering, trial, and even vice. All of these things can bind us to Jesus Christ. Fr Raphael told me, all Saints are called to excell in specific virtues, and Jesus wants to make you a Saint in the places where you are naturally most weak, the places where you are most vicious, he wants to triumph there the most. I spent the next week walking in silence and often thinking of what he told me, I tried to summarize the jist of that message in the second half of this poem. Talk to monks!