Sister Susan Doubet is a member of the Benedictine Sisters of Erie and is currently a research assistant for Joan Chittister, OSB. She is a former subprioress, secondary teacher/administrator and has worked in numerous areas of communications for over 25 years. Sister Susan has been blogging since 2007 at Light through Stained Glass Windows.Fifth Week of Advent
February 14, 2021
Susan Doubet, OSB, Benedictine Sisters of Erie, PA
The first time I fell in love was with Michael Grimm, son of a Protestant minister and the smartest kid in our 6th grade class. Although this early attraction didn’t “go anywhere” as they say, I still remember it as my first wonderment for something beyond myself.
Since then, of course, I have fallen in love many times: with people, with the glories of creation itself, with ideas and causes that have formed and changed my life. Primary among these is monastic life itself and a spirituality that goes deeply into the mysteries of human life and life beyond life. (e.g. Are we spiritual being on a human journey or humans on a spiritual journey?)
By the time February rolls around we have a bad case of “the Febs.” As in, “How long is this winter going to last?” Or, “If I don’t see trees with leaves on them soon, I’m going to scream!”
A Christian Unity event recently included an interfaith prayer service particularly for an end to all violence, especially in our state and in our county. Despite a lake effect snowstorm that blanketed our area for 24 hours preceding the event, Jewish, Christian and Muslim local leaders attended, along with many members of their congregations. Our Benedictine musicians provided the music and several of the readings were done by women religious of Erie. You don’t know commitment until you’ve held and attended an event in 6-8” of snow!
The holiday decorations with a display of lit candy canes on one house and Christmas lights on neighboring row houses were still up in early January, which gave a surrealness to the twilight gathering in the winter cold and snow. Nearly 75 people braved the elements and the sadness of yet another Take Back the Site for Nonviolence prayer vigil, held in the streets of Erie, at the site of each homicide that occurs in the city.
If you could hear what was going on in our dining room this week you’d hear rather unusual greetings being passed around: “Happy feria days,” “Ah, we’re back to ordinary time,” or “Wasn’t it nice to have nothing special at Morning Prayer!” This is the way a follower of the liturgical year welcomes in Ordinary Time! Those glorious ordinary days—a break from weeks of celebration, hoopla and special events—in both the civic and church year. It is time to “be,” to get back to the everyday, the humdrum, the routine, which holds its own great holiness, surely as much as the major feasts and seasons do. 
During the winter it takes a person with a hardy disposition to spend time in one of our hermitages in the woods which adjoin our monastery grounds. You can’t drive a car out to them, your only choice is to either to carry what you need or use our very large sleds to transport your belongings. One year an Anglican vicar from a small village in England made a winter reservation and arrived for a month’s sabbatical. He trudged back to the monastery for Evening Praise and supper every night and, it seemed, all was going well. 
In the year 2000, at the turn of the millennium, the National Catholic Reporter newspaper ran a contest, inviting artist to produce a rendition of Jesus for this time. The winner, “Jesus of the People” was painted by New England artist, Janet McKenzie. You can see it here.
This week always feels like liminal space to me: being in an intermediate state, phase or condition. The actual Christmas day is over; anything associated with New Year’s is still a bit away. It’s a good time to note that December holds much more for the celebrating Christian than Advent and Christmas. There are some wonderful feasts interspersed throughout the month, a number of them during this in between week.
Aren’t we glad that Christmas falls late in the week this year so that we can have nearly a full fourth week of Advent? This week also brings the Winter Solstice. Here on the Great Lakes Plains where I live, it’s really not the cold or the snow (we average nearly 100” a season) that make the winters rough, it’s the dark, the overcast skies, the lack of sun.
This week we have the haunting question, not just for John the Baptist, but more often for us, Who are you? and a quick follow up, What do you say about yourself? 
The beginning of the fortieth chapter of Isaiah is a frequent part of the Advent readings, as it is this Sunday: “Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. …Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain.”
Our local amusement park has a new roller coaster. The ride itself is terrific but it is preceded by an equally important part of the experience: waiting excitingly in line. This Advent my friend is on the far-too-common roller coaster ride of a cancer journey. A large part of it is, of course, the ups and downs of the latest results.