Nights That Never Happen
Simone Riva - Advent teaches us that the disruptive event of Christ's coming, which our hearts await, continually recurs as the source of our questioning.
Advent begins, and here we are again, challenged by waiting. But waiting for what? In one of his homilies, Pope Francis effectively summed up the challenge we must face:
"Look deep into your heart, look into your innermost being, and ask yourself: do you have a heart that desires something great, or is it numb to things? Has your heart retained the restlessness of seeking, or have you let it be suffocated by things, which end up atrophying it? God is waiting for you, seeking you: what is your response? Are you aware of this situation of your soul? Or are you asleep? Do you believe that God is waiting for you, or are these truths just ‘words’ to you?" (Pope Francis, August 28, 2013).
While life often finds us stunned in a whirlwind of answers—frequently to questions left unasked—and surrounded by the persistence of hollow, far-fetched rhetoric, the Church offers a time to delve deeply into what is truly capable of moving us. This ensures we do not lose sight of what makes life worth living.
There is an expectation placed upon us that we cannot ignore. The dramatic aspect of this waiting is captured beautifully in the words of Alda Merini:
"There are nights / that never happen / and you search for them / moving your lips. Then you imagine yourself sitting in the place of the gods. And you cannot say where the sacrilege lies: whether in the rejection of adulthood, which forgives nothing, or in the desire to be immortal in order to live infinite waits for nights that never happen."
A subtle, even gentle suspicion tends to take the place of hope, insinuating that waiting for oneself is futile. It feels better to concern oneself with other things, with other people. Yet, waiting only finds its true possibility in the coming of the One who has kindled life within us.
It is here that we may encounter the most radical objections. "If the answer has already been given, why continue to ask?" some inquire. "If the Son of God has already entered history, why still wait for Him?" others exclaim. The method of Advent challenges the very root of our temptation to resolve unfinished business and close open loops—even those within ourselves—just so we can get back to our own affairs. But our affairs are not enough; they do not suffice. They are boring, perhaps especially when they are successful.
This is the blessed paradox of the human being who wins and loses. This is why God has placed our hearts in a condition of perpetual asking: so that what grasped us in life, what makes us live, remains the event of each day, and not merely a memory of the past.
Don Giussani stated this with remarkable clarity:
"Encountering a different kind of humanity comes first not only at the beginning, but at every moment that follows the beginning: a year or twenty years later. The initial phenomenon—the impact of human diversity, the amazement that arises from it—is destined to be the initial and original phenomenon of every moment of development. Because there is no development if that initial impact is not repeated, if the event does not remain contemporary. Either it is renewed, or nothing proceeds, and immediately the event that has occurred is theorized, and one gropes in search of substitutes for What is truly at the origin of diversity. The originating factor is, permanently, the impact with a different human reality. Therefore, if what happened in the beginning does not happen again and is not renewed, true continuity is not achieved: if one does not now experience the impact with a new human reality, one does not understand what happened then. Only if the event happens again now will the initial event be illuminated and deepened, thus establishing continuity and development." (Luigi Giussani, Qualcosa che viene prima, from Tracce, November 2008. Notes from the speech to the Assembly of Leaders on January 26, 1993).
Looking deep into one's heart, coming to terms with the nights that never happen, and being reawakened by the renewal of what happened in the beginning—these will be our most loyal friends this Advent. They are unwilling to give us any respite, and therefore, they remain resources of true hope, waiting for our true selves.
