About this time last year I advocated restoring Bible Sunday.  Let’s have another go at this theme.

The Anglican Church of Canada used to have an annual Bible Sunday to give thanks for God’s Word Written.  This day was always early in December on the Second Sunday in Advent.  In order to reinforce our attention to the Advent of Christ, it was decided to move Bible Sunday.  Unfortunately, Bible Sunday got moved out of existence.

I am happy that Bible Sunday no longer detracts attention from Christ’s Advent.  I am not so happy that Bible Sunday simply disappeared.

Surely Bible Sunday can be restored to some other time in the church calendar.  It could be any time of the year that does not conflict with a major festival.

My suggestion is that we consider the Sunday closest to St. Jerome’s day (September 30).

Why St. Jerome?  1600 years ago Jerome translated the Hebrew  Old Testament and the Greek New Testament into Latin.  That made the Bible available throughout the Roman Empire, which is to say most of Europe and North Africa.

Anglicans make specific reference to Jerome and his translation in the Thirty-nine Articles.  After listing the books of the Old Testament, Article VI continues, “And the other Books (as Hierome saith) the Church doth read for example of life and instruction of manners” and then goes on to list the books of the Apocrypha.

The Calendar in The Book of Common Prayer on September 30 describes Jerome as “Doctor, Presbyter in Rome and Bethlehem, Translator of the Scriptures.”

My mention of Jerome’s Day as an appropriate time to focus on the Bible is a secondary suggestion.  My primary suggestion is that each year one day be designated Bible Sunday and that on that day the prayers, scripture readings, hymns and sermon celebrate the Bible.  This would be a restoration of a day that we used to observe in the Advent season.

 
Almighty God our Father,
who inspired St Jerome to study and translate the Holy Scriptures,
may we your people find in your sacred word
the food of salvation and the fountain of life,
in the name of your Son and our Saviour, Jesus Christ the Lord,
who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit
ever one God.
Amen.

I almost didn’t write this. Indeed, if you check with the people who send the Thought & Prayer to you each week, they will tell you I sent a message saying “it’s not going to happen.” My excuse was I didn’t have enough time or inspiration, but the truth was more towards the latter. Yes, I had procrastinated on doing this, but I was uninspired. When the time came to write something, I didn’t have a sufficiently upbeat or aspirational thought in my head. As the kids say, “I wasn’t feeling it.”

I can blame some of my malaise on the calendar. As November deepens and atmospherically starts behaving like a moody gloomy roommate – rain and blustery winds, frosty mornings, fading daylight at one end of the day and darkness when we rise at the other…. Oh, forget the poetic imagery. Like I said, I’m not in the right mindset for it. The fact is this time of year can feel heavy. The colourful drama of fall has given way to joyless bare branches, the sun (when it appears) no longer gives a warm embrace, and the  full force of the secular Christmas season (for better or for worse) is already on the store shelves.

For many, November holds its own unique kind of hope. As it gets darker, we’re invited to find glimmers in the little things: the return to wearing a cozy sweater or favorite winter coat, the comfort of a fireplace, the return of yummy, rich and creamy winter meals (hmmm, mac & cheese, hearty stews, roasted veggies instead of salads). Some folks joyfully reconnect with indoor pastimes that have been put away through the warmer months. Others begin to feel gleeful anticipation of what Advent and Christmas will bring.

For me, the busyness of November brings a version of recrimination and doubt, the kind that a jaunty wool scarf or the prospect of tinsel will not dispel. November often pulls me in two directions, as I try to attend to those things I’ve left incomplete through the fall, while looking ahead with a mild panic toward the things that will need doing once the calendar page turns to December The countdown to the secular year end and to Christmas grates upon me. Some of you will remember I have confessed an existential dislike of countdowns. You may also recall I treat the season of Advent as a personal calling to wait, hold back, pace myself. I make a point of finding an Advent observance that holds me in a place of grateful conversation with God about how much He loves the world, about how much He loves me. I am looking forward to that.

And I fully admit most of my struggles, at any time of year, are “champagne problems.” TBTG, I have the internal resiliency and external resources to pick myself up and get motivated. As I moodily scrape a frosted windshield at dark o’clock in the morning, I remind myself that at least I have a car … and a home … and warm gloves.  As I grudgingly put on that colourful scarf that supposedly will brighten my mood, I acknowledge that my blessings far outweigh the things that trouble me, and the things that trouble me only take up as much mental space as I allow them.

Perhaps this Thought and Prayer reveals more about me than it speaks to you, the reader. But I want to say, to those of you who are feeling especially dragged out and uninspired right now, remember it’s a time of year when your psyche may be at a low ebb. The sluggishness of the day may feel like a prescription for your mood, but it isn’t. The worry that envelopes you (like an old blanket as you lie on the couch binge-watching episodes of Lost when you should be writing a Thought & Prayer, for example … about no one in particular) – that worry that envelopes you may feel like a permanent truth, but it may also just be fatigue masquerading as personal insight.

I do believe that small moments of joy—a kind word, the pattern of frost on a window, a judicious re-write of your to-do list, the sunlight that teases you with a fleeting appearance — are worth noting and celebrating and that they can make a difference, if only because we must engage our imagination and mindfulness to find them. And remember, like this murky messy month of November, this time of year doesn’t have to be about perfection, but rather preparation and transition. You may find it chaotic or daunting or uninspiring, but you’ve got this. Keep going. Be kind to yourself. Be patient with others who may feel the pressure of rain and grey clouds crowding in. You’ve got this. God’s got you. The light is coming.

[This content is intended to offer general encouragement and support for feelings of sadness, lack of inspiration, or mild emotional challenges. If you are experiencing persistent depression, anxiety, overwhelming stress, thoughts of self-harm, or severe psychological distress, please seek help from a qualified mental health professional. No motivational content or casual support can replace professional diagnosis and treatment.]

Prayer:

O God,
You are the light in our darkness,
the warmth in the chill,
and the hope in seasons of weariness.

As November’s days grow short and its skies grow heavy,
lift our hearts from the weight of gloom.
Restore our spirits with the promise of Your abiding presence,
and help us to find joy in the small blessings
that so often go unnoticed.

Grant us grace to lean on You when our energy wanes,
and courage to persevere when our hearts feel low.
May we bring light to others in their struggles,
even as we seek Your comfort for our own.

Through Jesus Christ our Lord,
who renews the weary and restores the broken,
Amen.

(Anonymous)