Astaire was describing the state of being in love. Anyone who has truly fallen deeply in love knows how powerful that experience is. We say love “makes the world go around.” So, if you think of heaven, don’t think of it as a geographical place somewhere beyond the last galaxy. Think of it as a state of existence or state of being.

To be “in” heaven is to be totally and completely united to God, the source of life and of all goodness for eternity. It is to be forever happy in every possible way and in a manner we cannot imagine now on earth. Heaven is not like your best day on earth: It’s better. Heaven is happiness without end.

Holy Relationships

One of the elements about God and God’s creation is relationship. In fact, everything about God is relationship. God is Father, Son and Holy Spirit. When the Son of God became man in Jesus Christ, he called Mary, “Mother,” and Joseph, “Father.” Because God made us in his image and likeness, our lives, too, are about relationship.

The worst punishment a person created for relationships can have is to be absolutely alone and isolated. We hunger for loved ones and companionship. I have heard ministers say that in heaven there will be no relationship other than our relationship with God. All attention, they say, is upon God. This is absolutely untrue. What a lonely place that would be. We are all God’s family—husband and wives, parents and children. In fact, we are all brothers and sisters.

Because we are united with God completely and totally, we are also united with one another. While we are on earth we are even now the family of God. But in our heavenly relationship with God, we will relate to every other person with us in heaven in ways we cannot imagine. There will be no strangers, and the deepest relationships on earth with our loved ones will be even more intense.

Some marriages and parent-child relationships are near perfect, though none are totally perfect. Many of our relationships struggle because we are all fragile. But in heaven, in union with God, every relationship will be perfected. There will be no more resentment, hurt or anger.

All of those things will be healed once and for all with no residue. Every relationship will be healed. It may be hard to imagine, but a murder victim and his or her murderer will be totally united with one another. Aborted fetuses and their mothers will be united in total and complete love for one another. If we struggle with this idea, it’s because we are not yet in perfect union with God.

What about the marriage relationship? Jesus was asked a question about a woman with seven husbands or a husband who married three times. Now what happens? Jesus gives us a hint of an explanation in his words: “People are not given and taken in marriage” (Mt. 22:23ff). Jesus is not saying that such relationships don’t exist. Rather, he says that the intimacy of a marriage relationship is only a hint of what real love will be in heaven.

With a child who is adopted, who comes first? Is it the birth mother or adoptive mother? They both do. There is no competition in heaven, only total love and total healing. There is no jealousy, rejection and pain. When our souls are reunited with our bodies, they will be “glorified.” Imagine being perfect. Every person with an injury, mental disability or handicap is restored to complete wholeness. There is no imperfection in heaven.

Lessons in Heaven

I emphasize relationship because this is what gives us the greatest joy even in our earthly existence. But there is so much more. Every question we have had will be answered in heaven. We will see God’s perfect plan for us and know how we were always in his hands even when God seemed a million miles away. How can that happen?

Because we will be perfectly united to God who is all knowing, almighty, and—most of all—love itself.

The key element is that love is the central concept that best describes our relationship with God. Therefore the most perfect description of heaven is perfect and eternal union with him. We can best understand God’s love by our loving relationships with each other—imperfect as they yet will be. 

We know that heaven is not a place or location. It is union with God. This union perfects us as humans, but in spirit. There remain no imperfections and nothing that could detract from that perfect union with God.

If we are all in perfect union with God, then we are all in perfect union with each other. We cannot comprehend that in terms of experience, but it makes sense based on what we know of God and what Jesus has revealed to us. Heaven is perfection—no matter how we look at it.

Love One Another

I’ve talked with more than a few Christian fundamentalists. Their concept of heaven could best be described as “union with God—no one else.” Their rationale is that once we have completed our earthly journey, we don’t need anyone else to make us happy. Others would just get in the way and detract from our giving glory to God. Whenever I hear that explanation, I think they have created a rather insecure God who wants all our attention for eternity. It is such a shrunken image of the magnificence of heaven that God has prepared. John spoke God’s word in a perfect statement that answers the question: “Beloved, let us love one another, because love is of God” (1 Jn 4:7).

Amazing, isn’t it? God is telling us to love one another. We might automatically assume that our most important love should be directed to God. But no! God says that our love must be directed to one another!

Think of it this way: What mother or father would not be ecstatic to see how much their sons and daughters love one another? What could make them happier? Would loving parents tell their children that they must concentrate on them and not one another? Truly loving parents would say, “Loving one another is the greatest gift you could give us.” And so it would appear that heaven will be union with God and with each other in perfect love. It means that eternity will be the revelation not only of all God’s love and goodness, but also of all that we have meant to each other. It pleases God when we love one another.

The story of Christ’s birth has been told and retold so many times it could have lost its luster generations ago. But it hasn’t—not even close. If anything, in this world of war, famine and natural disasters, holding on to something as simple and as singularly important as the Nativity story is a necessity to our faith.

And perhaps nowhere on earth is the Nativity story told with more flourish and faith-based exuberance than in the annual celebration of Las Posadas, a tradition held throughout Mexico and Guatemala.

A holy history lesson: The roots of Las Posadas stretch deeply into Latin culture. It originated in Spain, but it’s been a yearly celebration throughout Mexico for over 400 years. The tradition commemorates Mary and Joseph’s difficult journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem in search of a warm place to stay the night. (Posadas is Spanish for “lodgings” or “accommodations.”)

Beginning on December 16 and ending nine days later, on December 24, Las Posadas commemorates the nine months of Mary’s pregnancy. Each night, one family agrees to house the pilgrims. And so it begins: At dusk, a procession of the faithful takes to the streets with children often dressed as angels and shepherds. Religious figures, images and lighted candles are a part of the festivities.

The group representing the Holy Family stands outside a series of houses, singing songs, asking for lodging. They are refused time and again until the group reaches the designated house. Finally, the travelers are permitted to enter. Prayer and song continue in the home, and festive foods are shared. The evening ends with a piñata in the shape of star.

The tradition continues each evening with a different house as the chosen Posadas. The last night—Christmas Eve—usually features a midnight Mass. The nine days of Las Posadas is more than just a feel-good tradition: It deepens faith and strengthens ties within the community at a holy time.

Just as Mary and Joseph faced the cold weather—and even colder innkeepers that night—participants brave the elements in bringing their love for the Christ Child to their streets. Las Posadas isn’t about being somber and still during Christmas: It’s about pilgrims and a pilgrimage, rousing song, prayer, and deep faith—all of it in motion.

Darkness is powerless to the light, as this theologian explains.

Steadfast love and faithfulness will meet; righteousness and peace will kiss each other. Faithfulness will spring up from the ground, and righteousness will look down from the sky. —Psalm 85:10–11

The darkness will never totally go away. I’ve worked long enough in ministry to know that darkness isn’t going to disappear, but that, as John’s Gospel says, “the light shines on inside of the darkness, and the darkness will not overcome it” (1:5). Such is the Christian form of yin-yang, our own belief in paradox and mystery.

We must all hope and work to eliminate darkness, especially in many of the great social issues of our time. We wish world hunger could be eliminated. We wish we could stop wasting the earth’s resources on armaments. We wish we could stop killing people from womb to tomb. But at a certain point, we have to surrender to the fact that the darkness has always been here, and the only real question is how to receive the light and spread the light. That is not capitulation any more than the cross was capitulation. It is real transformation into the absolutely unique character and program of the risen Christ.

What we need to do is recognize what is, in fact, darkness and then learn how to live in creative and courageous relationship to it. In other words, don’t name darkness light.

Don’t name darkness good, which is the seduction that has happened to many of our people on both left and right. They have not been taught wisdom or discernment for the most part. The most common way to release our inner tension is to cease calling darkness darkness and to pretend it is passable light. Another way to release your inner tension is to stand angrily, obsessively against it, but then you become a mirror image of it. Everyone can usually see this but you!

Our Christian wisdom is to name the darkness as darkness, and the Light as light, and to learn how to live and work in the Light so that the darkness does not overcome us.

If we have a pie-in-the-sky, everything-is-beautiful attitude, we are in fact going to be trapped by the darkness because we are not seeing clearly enough to separate the wheat from the chaff (the more common “liberal” temptation).

Conversely, if we can only see the darkness and forget the more foundational Light, we will be destroyed by our own negativity and fanaticism, or we will naively think we are apart from the darkness (the more common “conservative” temptations). Instead, we must wait and work with hope inside of the darkness—while never doubting the light that God always is—and that we are too (Mt 5:14). That is the narrow birth canal of God into the world—through the darkness and into an ever greater Light.

Reflection: In what parts of your life are you trying to push away darkness instead of living with it as a teacher and transformer?

We all have family traditions we cherish. This author shares 10 ways to adapt them as our young children become adolescents.

I recall the painful mall conversation. A few short years ago, my 14-year-old daughter begged me to change Christmas traditions. “Mom, it’s not that we don’t like traditions. We’re almost adults. “

“We loved the traditions when we were younger,” my 12-year-old daughter added. “We just want to change them so we’re not embarrassed. And we want to include our friends.”

Change was difficult because I loved all our traditions. So why did I agree? I recounted Luke 2:11: “For today in the city of David a savior has been born for you who is Messiah and Lord.” The new, age-appropriate traditions helped our adolescents express the deeper meaning of Christmas, serve others, and demonstrate the importance of the Church and Christ.

Here are 10 child-friendly Christmas traditions my husband and I celebrated with our children when they were younger and how we adapted them to adolescent-friendly traditions after the “mall talk.”

Which of these traditions can you enjoy with your family this Christmas season?

Advent Devotions and Wreath

Our children are bombarded with a myriad of “Christmas” messages about Santa, elves, and getting gifts. It’s critical that parents keep the meaning of Christmas alive. Young children can learn that Advent means Jesus’ birthday is coming. An Advent devotional for children, such as Light for the World: A Catholic Kid’s Guide to Advent and Christmas, along with an Advent wreath, celebrates the foundation of Christmas—Jesus’ birth.

As your kids enter adolescence, choose Advent readings or an Advent devotional that’s age-appropriate. Developmentally, they can understand and apply the Christmas message. Let them light the candles. Ask them to read the Advent devotional or find one they’d like to share. The real message of Christmas can be countercultural. So don’t give up training your teens in religious traditions.

Christmas Ornaments

Beginning at baby’s first Christmas, purchase an ornament that is representative of the year. As ornaments are added annually, store each child’s separately; list the year and who it’s from. As children decorate the tree with their ornaments, you’ll hear them recall, “That’s the year I made my first Communion.” These ornaments become family heirlooms when your kids move away, so buy yourself an ornament so your tree won’t be empty along with your empty nest.

Let early adolescents select their own ornaments. Help them recall the past year’s highlights, like camp, babysitting, Confirmation, awards, or sports. With increasing prices, designate a budget. Our daughters spent months hunting for their ornaments.

‘Happy Birthday, Jesus’ Party

Create “Happy Birthday, Jesus” invitations with your children that are handmade or computer-generated. Ask neighborhood children to bring canned food gifts to donate to the homeless or families in need. During the party, read the Christmas story, sing “Happy Birthday” to Jesus, serve birthday cake, and play fun Christmas games.

Early adolescents enjoy going door-to-door (with supervision) to collect canned food from neighbors for the needy at Christmas.

Ensure teens articulate whom the food is for, such as Catholic Charities. Bring along several double-bagged grocery bags. Then deliver groceries to the organization you choose.

Christmas Cards and Letters

For families with young children, send a religious Christmas card, photo card, or family letter that recounts God’s blessings. Children can draw Christmas pictures to send with cards.

Christmas is especially busy, so turn the family cards over to your adolescents. Have them design an original Christmas card, write their own section for the family letter, or create your family’s Christmas photo card. This will ensure they like every photo.

The ‘Perfect’ Christmas Tree

Decide what’s more important: the perfect tree or time together. Some parents let their children decorate the tree, but later rearrange ornaments and hope the kids don’t notice. If you treasure a “perfect” tree, provide miniature trees for children to decorate.

Let older kids invite a friend to traipse along with the family to choose a tree, followed by a decorating party. Whether they’re decorating a fresh or artificial tree, serve hot chocolate and treats.

Santa Photos and a Gift for a Needy Child

When you take your kids’ pictures with Santa, plan enough time to purchase a gift for a needy child. Many service organizations sponsor a community Christmas tree with names of children and gift ideas. Save money from recycling cans throughout the year for the gift. Let children scour the mall for the best present.

When adolescents outgrow Santa, they can demonstrate the Christmas message by donating a Christmas tree or bringing gifts to a needy family. If the recycling money comes up short, plan how they can earn the money. They may choose to give or volunteer at an organization like the Society of St. Vincent de Paul. Blessing others helps teens celebrate the true meaning of Christmas.

Nativities and the Journey to Bethlehem

Young children learn best through experiences. The story of Jesus’ birth is no exception. Purchase a child-friendly Nativity set that children can play with. Find a local church that performs an outdoor live Nativity. Bundle up and bring hot chocolate to make this treasured memory a valuable way to emphasize the Christmas story.

For adolescents, find a more in-depth experience, such as “Journey to Bethlehem,” an outdoor, walk-through drama portraying the birth of Christ. Encourage adolescents to help or volunteer to care for manger animals, become an actor, and invite friends.

Sharing with Others

In anticipation of new clothes and toys, help children select items they no longer use or that don’t fit. Give them to someone they know or donate them. Our daughters blessed a family with four girls with their outgrown clothes.

Let teens choose recipients for their outgrown clothes, video games, DVDs, and old toys. Help a family who’s recently experienced a disaster, like a fire or flood.

Many religious education classes organize community service projects. Teens select projects and work on them together. Some collect blankets, socks and underwear, or coats, while others help with food baskets.

Christmas Mass

Many Catholic churches offer an early Christmas Eve Mass with a Christmas play or homily designed for children. Some tell the Christmas story during the youth Mass. As children get older, consider an evening Mass.

Adolescents may prefer midnight Mass. They may become weary of the same old Christmas Mass. Maybe this year they can hand out bulletins, become altar servers, or help with the youth Mass.

Christmas Morning Pictures

Parents treasure photos of little ones dressed in pajamas sitting before the Christmas tree. Such sweet recollections as these make this tradition harder to give up.

But don’t try this with your adolescents. Take Christmas photos when your teens are dressed up for school events. Snap group photos around the Christmas tree when their friends come over.

Hopefully some of these traditions will inspire your family and generate ideas for adapting your celebrations. Change can be difficult, especially when connected to emotionally laden traditions. Begin to make changes gradually as your children enter early adolescence.

And, by the way, it’s OK to keep traditions that are special to you.

The idea of a live Nativity scene might seem common nowadays. But in St. Francis’ time, it broke new ground and opened up ways to deepen our spirituality during Christmas.

The first time I saw the Franciscan shrine of Greccio, Italy, was in 1972. I was living in Assisi with the Franciscan Sisters of the Atonement at St. Anthony Guest House and working on my first book, Francis: The Journey and the Dream.

It was my first sojourn in Italy, and I knew very little about the geography of the country outside of Assisi itself. And though I was writing about the places of importance in the life of St. Francis, I’d not actually been to any place beyond the environs of Assisi. So, whenever any of the guests would say they were taking a day trip to Perugia where Francis was in prison, or Mount La Verna in Tuscany where St. Francis received the sacred stigmata, or Gubbio where he tamed a ravenous wolf, I would muster the courage to ask if they had room for one more. Little by little, I began to understand the geography of St. Francis’ world.

‘The Belly Button of Italy’

Then one day someone said, “Let’s go to the Rieti Valley; it’s not that far, and Greccio is there, the place where St. Francis began the custom of the Christmas crèche.” I was all ears and eager to go, and later that morning we were climbing up the winding mountain road to the friary of Greccio, a short distance from the town of Rieti, which is the geographical center of Italy, the umbilicus, as the Italians call it, the belly button of Italy.

As we continued the steep climb, I began to see glimpses of the friary, which looked to me like a huge wasp nest clinging to the side of a cliff. It seemed that the smallest tremor might loosen its precarious perch and bring it crashing into the valley below.

The actual town of Greccio was about a mile away from the solitude and mountain setting of the place where the friars lived, as always seemed to be the case of towns that were near the friars’ places of solitude. Francis himself made it so, in order that the friars could live in silence and solitude, away from the hustle and bustle of the world of commerce and frenetic activity.

A New Kind of Christmas Celebration

But what makes Greccio unique in the life of St. Francis is what happened there at Christmastime in 1223, three years before he died. He came there wanting to celebrate Christmas in a new way, a midnight Mass with a real ox and donkey and with townspeople gathered around witnessing this live Christmas crèche. Christmas was the dearest of feasts because it revealed the profound humility of God in choosing to become a little baby, helpless and in need of us, just as we were when we were newborn babies.

For St. Francis, Christmas was linked inseparably to the Passion as well, because to become a human being means suffering and death. And there is already suffering in the Incarnation in God’s becoming human, leaving behind the trappings of divinity, emptying himself, as St. Paul says in his Letter to the Philippians, “becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross” (2:8).

And all of this sprang from profound love. St. Francis’ first biographer, Brother Thomas of Celano, said of Francis, “Indeed, so thoroughly did the humility of the Incarnation and the charity of the Passion occupy his memory that he scarcely wanted to think of anything else.”

Jesus embraced both “the humility of the Incarnation and the charity of the Passion” because he came to love us by becoming one of us. Love was the reason for the Incarnation. And love is what Francis wanted to celebrate at Greccio by telling the people of the village and the surrounding countryside that he was going to celebrate Christmas by reenacting the first Christmas at midnight Mass at the friary.

In doing so, St. Francis hoped that people would see themselves in the Christmas scene. It would not only be about something that happened 1,200 years ago in Bethlehem, but it would be something that was happening then and there to them. Their ox and donkey would be in the crèche, their children would see Christmas happening in Greccio, and everyone would see that the Christ Child comes to us in our own place and time at Christmas.

And, in fact, a knight of Greccio by the name of John of Velita said that at one point in the Mass the baby Jesus appeared in the crib and seemed asleep. Francis then went to the crib and took the baby in his arms and seemed to wake him up.

Becoming Christlike and Childlike

The Mass was being celebrated by one of the Franciscan priests because Francis himself was not a priest but a deacon. He could therefore not preside at the Mass though he could proclaim the Gospel and preach, which he did at Greccio with charming words about the Poor King and the little town of Bethlehem. St. Bonaventure says that he called Jesus “the Child of Bethlehem, aglow with overflowing love for him; and in speaking the word Bethlehem, his voice was more like the bleating of a sheep. His mouth was filled more with sweet affection than with words.”

And Brother Thomas of Celano, in his Second Life of St. Francis, wrote: “Francis used to observe with inexpressible eagerness, and above all other solemnities, the birth of the Child Jesus, calling it the feast of feasts on which God, having become a little baby, hung upon human breasts. He would avidly kiss pictures of those infant limbs, and his compassion for the child overflowed his heart, making him stammer sweet words, even like a child. The name Baby Jesus was for him honeycomb-sweet in the mouth.”

At that first Christmas crèche at Greccio, St. Francis wanted to show everyone there how close God was to them, how humble God is, how like a child is God who loves us unconditionally. God is not removed in some faraway, mystical place; God is with us, and we can love him with affection and overflowing love, as God has first loved us and continues to love us. For St. Francis, a personal love of Jesus is the heart of Christian spirituality. And he himself was in constant conversation with Jesus.

Brother Thomas of Celano says, “Jesus he bore in his heart, Jesus in his mouth, Jesus in his ears, Jesus in his eyes, Jesus in his hands, Jesus in the rest of his members. . . .” And gradually St. Francis became transformed into the Jesus he loved and adored. He was Christlike in his words and in his actions. Two years before he died, he became a living image of the crucified Christ, bearing in his own body the wounds of Christ. The humility of the Incarnation became the charity of the Passion.

Connecting with the Crèche

What, then, does Greccio say to us today? What is its effect on our lives, this new Christmas that became, in the end, a new Passion?

The most obvious effect of what St. Francis did at Greccio is the custom of the live Christmas crèche, which has spread throughout the world. But there is more, and it has to do with prayer and theology.

One of the gifts of St. Francis’ celebration of Christmas at Greccio is that it reveals how Francis and the early brothers meditated. They would take some scene from the Bible, like the birth of Jesus, and imagine it prayerfully and as visually as possible. Then they would place themselves in the biblical scene.

Through the live Christmas crèche, St. Francis makes Christ present to us in our own place and time, wherever we are when we, too, enact an image of the miracle of the Incarnation of God.

For example, they would be a shepherd, one of the Wise Men, Mary, or Joseph. They would then try to feel what the character was feeling. In so doing, they would be flooded with emotions that would move them to thank God, to praise God, to love the baby, this little Word of God reaching out to them for their care with welcoming arms. This imagined scene would be filled with the grace of the original event, and the friar meditating would be moved to act, to change or improve his life, to love God more fully.

The early friars would then show others how to meditate this way, and Francis himself would be the model of how to do so. He loved staging little dramas that would enact what he was feeling. He would begin to sing or dance, sometimes taking two sticks and pretending they were a violin and bow he was playing to celebrate the God he loved.

So intense was St. Francis’ love of God that, two years before he died, while praying at Mount La Verna, he was transformed into the living image of the crucified Christ, no longer playacting but bearing the real wounds of Christ in his own flesh, as did the modern Franciscan St. Padre Pio. Both of these stigmatics bore the graces of the passion of Christ in their own bodies, so that they performed miracles of grace in the lives of others whose lives they touched—miracles of healing, miracles of changed hearts.

A Place of Grace

Greccio has its own grace: the grace of the truth of the Incarnation, that God did indeed become human and was born from the womb of Mary, a poor young woman of Nazareth. She became the womb of God and brought God into the world as a human baby who grew and matured as does any human being. Greccio shows how precious is our humanity, a humanity that through grace is the very image of God. And we in turn can rejoice in knowing that God delights in us enough to become one of us.

And finally, St. Francis, like the great medieval artist Giotto, did in his own life what Giotto did in his art. Francis made the Nativity of Christ take place in Greccio, a 13th-century Italian town. The scenery, the people, the animals, the clothing, were all of the time and place.

Giotto did the same thing in his fresco of the Nativity on the ceiling of the lower Basilica of St. Francis. People could look up and see Bethlehem as Assisi: The scenery, the costumes, the characters were all Italians like them. And the people, most of whom were illiterate, understood what the artist had done. He had brought the story of Christ’s birth to them in their own visual language: the place where they lived, the time in which they lived. Christ had now come to them as an Assisian.

And that is the gift of Greccio as well. Through the live Christmas crèche, St. Francis makes Christ present to us in our own place and time, wherever we are when we, too, enact an image of the miracle of the Incarnation of God.

Advent doesn’t only offer the promise of Jesus’ coming and of a world renewed. This season also gives us several weeks to practice how we might live toward that vision. Throughout history, we have always been tempted to bring about the world we want on our own terms and our own timetable—but that is the way of bloody revolution and repression. On the other end of the spectrum, it’s foolish to think that we don’t have to put forth any effort, that God will do everything for us. God made us to be active cocreators, not lazy bystanders. Advent invites us into active, attentive preparation rather than forceful, impatient goal-seeking or passive, wishful thinking.

The wonderful adventure of running an interfaith spirituality center, as I do, is that I often encounter insights from other traditions that help me understand my own Catholic tradition better. I recently encountered a wise saying from the Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu, which I think captures perfectly the wisdom of Advent waiting: “Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.”

The Power of Waiting

This saying comes out of the Taoist idea of wu-wei, variously translated as “non-striving,” “non-forcing,” and “right action.” Like Advent, the wu-wei philosophy counsels us to wait actively but without forcing our vision on the world. Farmers can’t make the seed grow, but they don’t sit by and do nothing in the meantime: They tend the soil, guard against pests and predators, and ensure the seed has everything it needs to thrive. Like all pregnant women, Mary would need to wait nine full months for the baby Jesus to be knit together in her womb. But that entire time, along with her fellow miracle-bearer, Elizabeth, she readied herself for his coming.

Waiting in this way helps you pay careful, patient attention to your surroundings—especially to the rhythms and cycles of the natural world—so that when you do take action, you generally need less effort and no coercion, like trimming a boat’s sails properly to catch the wind. You work with the grain of reality, not against it, since going against the grain of things almost always requires violence of some kind or another—or at the very least, a lot more work.

This may sound easy, but in practice, it’s a fine art to discern what is the right action at the right time. There is no easy, hard-and-fast rule book or recipe for this, and yet it is essential for being a good parent, spouse, friend, coworker, or citizen. In fact, I would say that this patient, non-grasping attentiveness is both a fruit and a form of prayer.

Like prayer, I believe wu-wei and the Advent season both come down to a fundamental question of trust. Are we just fooling ourselves into thinking a better world is possible, or does this vision come from a source that we can rely upon? If we believe that we are alone in a cold, indifferent, or threatening universe, then it’s tempting to think that we have to chisel out our future on the strength of our own willpower or else just collapse into despair because, after all, aren’t we just deluding ourselves? If, on the other hand, you believe that divine love is actively at work in the world, you’ll feel the wind at your back.

Trusting in the goodness of Providence is hard for us mere mortals. I imagine that’s why creation is hard-wired with such an amazing drive toward healing and thriving; it’s hard to spend any significant time in nature and not have some sort of profound spiritual experience. And just to make sure we got the message, God sent a baby, born in Bethlehem so many years ago, to show us the way.

Those who hoped Jesus might force large-scale social change were bitterly disappointed. His way was radically different: more mustard seeds and patient, trusting wu-wei than violent revolution. That message isn’t any easier for us to hear now than it was 2,000 years ago. But given the alternatives, I still think a little Advent wu-wei would do wonders for our world.

Tips: Go with the Flow

1) Think of all the essential pivot points of your life: meeting your beloved, choosing a career path, or taking a road less traveled. To what extent did you plan and calculate these events? To what extent did Providence put them in front of you?

2) Like Lent, Advent is a perfect season for the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Were there any times when you harmed a relationship by pushing too hard to get your way?

3) With what sorts of things are you struggling right now? What if you decided, in the words of Baron Baptiste, to stop trying so hard, but rather to “try easy”?