Behold, I make all things new.
The liturgical year begins on the first Sunday in Advent, beginning the sacred year anew. However, in our culture this is the day of the New Year. A somewhat arbitrary point, originally associated with the Winter solstice, on which we start the calendar year over—the wheel turns anew.
We normally live in a very linear view of time, ever focused on the future and tied to the past, rarely does the present get its due. Sacred time is seen as cyclical, the ever returning, and in a way essentially never changing. Of course, we live with both concepts, and it is on this day that the two mesh. The turning of the year to go through the cycle of months again, and the newness of a new cycle.
If we live within the bounds of linear time, the weight of it can grow very heavy indeed. What a marathon life is! Hadn't we ought to have accomplished so much more by now? How much life is over, how much life is left? It is into this state that the eternal strikes. The transcendent cuts through time like Alexander's sword slicing through the Gordian knot we are hopelessly tied up in. And we know that we have always and will always extend beyond it's bounds. The touch of the Divine renews us, it frees us from the confining horizons we live within. It makes all things new.
The path of Gnosis is a long one, a linear path, and a cycle of cycles. It leads to and revolves around a mystery, a mystery beyond understanding, that transcends the cosmos, yet is found within you. It is the Gnosis of this that renews us, the little epiphanies that give us light and renewed strength for the journey.
Readings for the day.