Thank God That He Has Permitted Us

Advent Is A Time Of Waiting, Of Expectation, Of Silence. Waiting For Our Lord To Be Born. A Pregnant Woman Is So Happy, So Content. She Lives In Such A Garment Of Silence, And It Is As Though She Were Listening To Hear The Stir Of Life Within Her. One Always Hears That Stirring Compared To The Rustling Of A Bird In The Hand. But The Intentness Which Which One Awaits Such Stirring Is Like Nothing So Much As A Blanket Of Silence.

Tradition! We Scarcely Know The Word Anymore. We Are Afraid To Be Either Proud Of Our Ancestors Or Ashamed Of Them. We Scorn Nobility In Name And In Fact. We Cling To A Bourgeois Mediocrity Which Would Make It Appear We Are All Americans, Made In The Image And Likeness Of George Washington.

Love Casts Out Fear, But We Have To Get Over The Fear In Order To Get Close Enough To Love Them.

Turn Off Your Radio. Put Away Your Daily Paper. Read One Review Of Events A Week And Spend Some Time Reading Good Books. They Tell Too Of Days Of Striving And Of Strife. They Are Of Other Centuries And Also Of Our Own. They Make Us Realize That All Times Are Perilous, That Men Live In A Dangerous World, In Peril Constantly Of Losing Or Maiming Soul And Body. We Get Some Sense Of Perspective Reading Such Books. Renewed Courage And Faith And Even Joy To Live.

What We Would Like To Do Is Change The World...by Crying Out Unceasingly For The Rights Of The Workers, Of The Poor, Of The Destitute. We Can Throw Our Pebble In The Pond And Be Confident That Its Ever Widening Circle Will Reach Around The World.