Advent, the experience of absence. God does not go away
God is first and foremost a person to be related to, not a truth to be accepted.
How did Mary feel when "the angel departed from her"? Can I - a man and a priest - be able to empathize with this unexpected situation for Mary? It seems a little unfair. He came with such news, certainly amazed her, maybe frightened her a little, left a handful of information, received her permission, and then left. What must she have felt? And yet this solitude was certainly necessary, at that moment Mary's advent began. Expectancy. What will her life be like from now on?"
No, it was not easy for her. Suddenly, in the middle of the day, in everyday life, an angel comes and tells her about the Child, and in addition an extraordinary child, and she – although "married to a man named Joseph of the house of David" – is still a virgin. So, she asks the angel a practical question: " How can this be, since I have no relations with a man?"
The angel explains to her that the Most High will cover her with a shadow. Did it really explain so much to her? Has anyone ever heard of the shadow of God? Can the Lord have a shadow? After all, only material, opaque objects have a shadow. Or perhaps, as a devout Jewess, did she remember the psalmist's words about the shadow of the Lord's wings that give salvation? In the Old Testament, the metaphor of the "shadow" appears many times in the context of the relationship with God. It is a figurative term for God's presence. Sometimes it is man who lives in the shadow of God, in the shadow of His wings (as the psalmist repeatedly repeats), or in the shadow of His hand, as God Himself will say to Israel through the mouth of the prophet Isaiah, "In the shadow of my hand I have hidden you." But this closeness, this presence of God, can be even more radical. "The LORD is your guardian; the LORD is your shadow at your right hand." (Ps 121:6, Ecumenical Bible).
One Jewish theologian comments on this passage from the psalm: "God is a shadow at your right hand; as the shadow follows the hand, so God follows you. So, I should study God's word and take it seriously, without waiting for God to become alive to me. God did not die unless we died to Him. For those who live for Him, He also lives." What does this mean for us?
It is not enough to complain about God's supposed absence, about his absence. For faith to grow in man, a personal relationship between man and God is necessary. God is first and foremost a person to be related to, not a truth to be accepted. One must build a relationship to God in oneself, as one builds a relationship to man. God does not abandon us, God does not die, God does not leave – as some prophesy – because he is not capable of it. God only moves away from us by our distancing from Him. God draws near to us when we approach Him. This paradox can be well expressed by the question that we often ask: why did You leave me? But we should ask ourselves: why did I leave You?
Or does man leave God precisely because he has never known Him as a person, has never entered into a personal relationship with Him? Or maybe – unfortunately, it is highly likely – the Church did not give him the experience of God as a person, someone to love, to talk to, and even to bargain or quarrel?
"If you know God as a person, you will not treat Him as an institution." Can this observation not be applied to the Church? Does the Church know what she is? Does the Church know who she is? For more than an institution, it is the Mystical Body of Christ, the dwelling place of the living God.
Is it possible to "leave the Church"? Is it possible to "withdraw from Christ?" Is it possible to "amputate" from the Body of Christ? However, it is difficult not to ask whether those who want to leave the Church know that the Church is Christ in her deepest essence. It is the Body of Christ. Have they ever experienced such a Church? Did we, the Church, give them such an experience?
I keep thinking that a faith that is based on experience is not too easily criticized. Faith without this support in a moment of crisis has nothing to appeal to. The Polish philosopher Janusz St. Pasierb asked: ""Is Christianity in our implementation and in our message a great adventure with God, risky and a bit crazy, or a boring routine, a dull template, brainwashing in lukewarm holy water?" ("Open Time"). Or perhaps the experience of the Church's sinfulness was stronger than the experience of Christ in the Church? And when the crisis of the Church's credibility came, was there nothing to lean on?
"If you know God as a person, you will not treat Him as an institution.” Wouldn't it be possible to say, "if you know the Church as the person of Christ, you will not treat Him as an institution". It is possible to leave from an institution, not from Christ.
The angel gives Mary the experience of the living God. Besides, for the Jews, God was not and is not an idea. He is the Living One, before whom one must face oneself as one who lives. Recently, I returned to listening to the songs of Leonard Cohen, whose name indicates that he came from a Jewish priestly tribe. In his last album released during his lifetime, there is a song whose chorus is: "Hineni, hineni / I'm ready, My Lord". This mysterious cry "Hineni, hineni" is the twice-repeated words that Abraham spoke to God: "Here I am."
Do we not hear the echo of these words of Mary's "Here I am"? Perhaps she, imitating Abraham, cried out to the angel: "Hineni", that is, "Here I am"? The time of God's absence is primarily the time of our absence from Him. It is necessary to stand and cry out: "Here I am!", "Here I am!". My seminary spiritual director began every meditation that he led with the same invocation: " Let's put ourselves in the presence of God.” Let us hide in his shadow, in the shadow of his wings. Let us look at our right hand. Don't you see God moving behind it shadow? The angel is gone. It is true. But the Lord remained.
Until Tomorrow
fr. george