Recently, I ordered “60 Experiments in Looking,” a deck of cards from a group called We Are Just Looking. Their mission is simple: to celebrate the slow, mindful, and creative observation of ordinary moments — because that’s most of our lives. Why would anyone want to miss that? The cards are meant to help us “rewild” our attention. Each invites a simple act of noticing: find a moving shadow. Look for something red. Trace the shape of a cloud. They’re small practices, but powerful ones. Because, as the creators of Just Looking say, “every scientist, artist and person who was once a child knows, once we start looking, whole new worlds begin to emerge from hiding.” In Matthew 24, Jesus is preaching about a whole new world, God’s kingdom to come. This section of Matthew comes at the end of a long, apocalyptic speech, warning of the onset of hatred, sacrilege and suffering, a disaster that will happen so quickly, Jesus advises, don’t stop to get your coat. The disciples have been pressing for details: When? What will it look like? How will we know? And Jesus, in his maddening way, refuses to give them what they think they need. The timing of God’s coming realm, he says, is something “no one knows.” So instead of providing a timeline, he gives them a task: Wait expectantly. Keep awake. Watch for the signs. Don’t miss what matters.
Some signs will be obvious, he tells them – wars and rumors of wars, famines and earthquakes – and others will be small and subtle, like the way the branch of a fig tree becomes tender before it puts forth its leaves, signaling summer is near. The world is full of hints, if we have the eyes to see them. And the greatest sign of all, the one we wait for this Advent, will come not in thunder or flame, but in the quiet cry of a newborn child. A baby born to poor, displaced parents in a borrowed manger because there was no room for them elsewhere. Slow down. Wait. Pay attention. ... Read the rest of the commentary at pres-outlook.org. |
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