This is Ad Te Levavi Week and this Sunday was Ad Te Levavi Sunday. It takes its name from the opening Introit and Gradual...
Ad te levavi animam meam non confundentur...
I will lift up my soul to you, my God, and confide in you; I will not be ashamed, nor will my enemies. mock me.
This Sunday, the second Sunday after my mother's passing, when life is still raw and wet like hand prints in cement. I barely sang along, but lifted my heart to these words. I need this Advent. I say there is nothing left to fear, but of course this is not true. In a weakened state, in a weakened world I realize there is still a great deal to lose, much to dread. I would rather lose a limb than my eyesight. There is a contest in me of how much I could lose, what would matter, what would I trade? I think, losing a parent is enough, but then it seems that God or someone else decides what enough is, and it very often doesn't measure out fairly.
And yet, we do lift our eyes. The Greeks and the Mesopotamians and eve nthe Israelites saw in a ravished world the hand of a ravishing God, And yet, when we lift our voice and our eyes we are lifting them to one who is beyond this, one who relieves it and redeems how we cannot say, for the redemption is different for all of us.
Tonight, the last night of the full moon, the sky finally cleared and I could see it. I dedicated my life to mr practice and demanded to be upheld despire everything happening and all the sudden changes. This world is rough one where, when I mourn, I feel I am not alone, but that we are all lamenting something. I lament every day and lifte my eyes. I witness myself as unconfounded and pray I will continue to be.
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