The weather is currently mixed, some cold, some unseasonal warmth, rain now, snow later today. But there is no mistaking the season. Each morning we have heard the urgent honking of the geese overhead.
The seasonal change sets me to thinking about time—the fourth dimension. We live in three dimensions: length, breadth and height. The fourth dimension is how three-dimensional things appear over time. Our Christmas tree is a case in point. For the last forty-some years we have added to our little store of decorations (each with their own set of memories, some happy and some sad). Each year that we decorate the tree is a snapshot, a moment on a timeline. Our impression is that these snapshots occur one after another. Life moves from A to B. Time is how we mark change and life is constant change. In part, a successful and rewarding life is how we negotiate change— from infant to child to teen to adult to middle age to old age, with all that life brings in changes from day to day.
A fifth dimension exists too. It is the dimension of eternity, of the divine, of spirit, of perfection and changelessness. Mystics, sages and adepts in all the great traditions have told us that the way to live with the endless changes of life is to tap into the spirit where there is no change. Change is of time, and eternity is beyond time. Taiji (yin and yang) is in the fourth dimension, wuji (emptiness) is in the fifth dimension.
In Advent we look at that strange, often scary, sometimes beautiful Jewish literature that scholars term “apocalyptic.” “The End is near,” announces the sage. “Be ready!“
“Know that the Realm of G*d is near.” “This generation will not pass from the scene until all these things have taken place.” “Notice the fig tree. When the leaves come out, you know without being told that summer is near.” “Watch out! Don’t let that day catch you unaware. Keep alert at all times.”
Apocalyptic, at first glance, gives us a linear view of time. Time is a limited quantity. It began at some point in the past and will end at some point in the future.
But a second glance gives us a different perspective. What if the metaphors of apocalyptic writing are not taken literally and linearly but rather as ways of speaking of the eternal present? What if apocalyptic tells us not to be ready for some future event that we may or may not see, but to be ready at each moment, for every second is the eternally present. Each moment is change. Each moment is trial. each moment is joy. Each moment is when the Child of Humanity comes. But, in each moment we can also tap into the eternal, the divine, the transcendent. Each moment is a window on eternity.
How do we open that window? Mindfulness, meditation and prayer are some of the the keys of eternity. Make this a good Advent!
+Ab. Andy