The Wonder Report: Nov. 25, 2022

Repeat the Sounding Joy

Happy Friday!

We’re still stuffed to the gills with our Thanksgiving bounty and ever-so-grateful to be entering the season of Advent. It takes diligence in our culture to resist the earlier and earlier surge of Christmas momentum for a slower season of reflection and waiting, and we don’t always succeed. This year, I’m looking to nature for clues. I hope you’ll join me.

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Fields and Floods, Rocks, Hills, and Plains

During a children’s program last week at the library where I work, someone asked the children what season it is. They all shouted: Winter! And no one corrected them.

Of course they could be forgiven for being wrong about the season, especially considering the temperatures had been dipping into the 20s and their parents were already bundling them up in their tiny parkas and tightly knitted stocking hats. But the calendar has us still firmly in autumn, with the winter solstice still a month away.

Experts call this the difference between the astronomical seasons—those based on the position of the earth relative to the sun, that change slightly each year—and the meteorological seasons—the ones based on historical temperatures changes and aligned with our months for better record keeping.

According to nature, though, the line between what has been and what’s to come is never drawn so starkly. How many times—despite our memories and ideals about the perfect spring day or the perfect winter afternoon—have our days been more of an amalgam of the seasons: hotter than usual, record-setting cold, snow in June, shirtsleeves in February? So often that we’re frequently left in the curious position of trying to figure out what to wear and whether to cancel or continue on with our plans.

We’re in a similarly curious position as we once again celebrate Advent. We wait anew for the birth of Jesus, though he long ago came to save the world. We long for him to return in the glory of his kingdom, even as we look around at a fiery sunset, the faces of our children, or the sacrificial love of friends and know that it has already come, at least in part.

In nature, we find this familiar tension between what is and what’s to come beyond just the changing seasons and alternating weather patterns. The Nicene Creed, which we recite each Sunday, reminds us that “through [Jesus] all things were made,” perfect and whole, though corrupted by sin. Then in Romans 8:19, we remember that all “creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God” when “the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.” As we wait again for Messiah, both as baby and as king, nature itself shares in our longing. Or as the hymn “Joy to the World” describes it, the “fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains, repeat the sounding joy.”

I wonder … what is one sign from nature that you’ve noticed recently that might help you navigate the already/not yet of Advent?

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For Further Reflection

• “All Creation Waits” by Gayle Boss offers a beautiful overview of the historical roots of Advent that were tied to the cycles of nature and the fears and hopes that come at the beginning of the dark season.

• The Lost Words by Robert Macfarlane and Jackie Morris invite readers to reconnect with nature through art, poetry and wonder. The book is technically for children, but I am using it to help me wait this Advent season.

• “Making the House Ready for the Lord” by Mary Oliver invites all of creation to prepare the way for Jesus.

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Well, you’ve come to the end of another Wonder Report. Thanks again for joining me. It’s a privilege to share this space with you and to enter into these conversations together.

As always, if you’d like to send me a note or ask a question, you can hit reply and end up in my inbox. Or you can also leave a comment on this newsletter, which will live in the archive over on Substack. I can’t always respond quickly, but I always respond.

Until next time,
Charity

P.S. I mentioned last week that I plan to write about Jamie Smith’s new book, How to Inhabit Time: Understanding the Past, Facing the Future, Living Faithfully Now. I decided to start that in earnest in the new year so that I can ease back into a regular writing practice with some reflections on nature and Advent. That will also give you time to buy and read the book if you’re interested in joining me.