A REFLECTION FOR SATURDAY BEFORE THE FIRST SUNDAY OF ADVENT
Brothers and sisters in Christ,
On this quiet Saturday before the First Sunday of Advent, the Church invites us into a threshold moment — a gentle pause at the edge of a new liturgical year. The coming season is not simply a countdown to Christmas; it is a school of longing, a training ground for hope, a slow and deliberate reorientation of the heart toward the mystery of God’s coming. Advent is, in many ways, the most monastic season of the year, even for those far from cloister walls. It whispers of watchfulness, interior renewal, silence, and steady perseverance — virtues that resonate deeply with the Cistercian tradition.
Today is a fitting time to prepare ourselves, to look inward before stepping forward. Cistercian life is often described as custodia cordis — the guarding of the heart. The monk remains alert to God’s presence in the ordinary rhythm of the day: work, silence, prayer, and study. He learns not to sleepwalk through life, but to “keep watch” with an attentive mind and a receptive heart.
Advent invites every Christian into this same sacred vigilance.
Watchfulness is not anxious waiting, nor is it passive. It is an active readiness, a leaning forward of the soul. It asks us to notice the subtle movements of grace in the midst of daily life — the quiet nudge toward generosity, the whisper of conscience, the restlessness that calls us back to prayer. It asks us to live as though Christ truly is near, not metaphorically, but really, intimately, urgently.
For the lay faithful, watchfulness in Advent can be lived by creating small spaces in the day for recollection:
a moment of stillness before turning on a phone
a candle lit before the evening meal
a slow, mindful reading of Scripture or the Office
an act of kindness done deliberately, as an offering
These small choices become monastic in spirit, cultivating an interior posture that is awake to God.
The Cistercian tradition cherishes silence — not as emptiness, but as presence. Silence is the monastery’s first teacher. It trains the monk to hear the Word beneath words, to hold his life gently before God, to let the Lord speak in the quiet places where noise cannot reach.
Advent carries this same invitation. The season is full of quiet expectancy: Mary pondering in her heart, Israel longing in the night, creation holding its breath for redemption.
Our world offers little silence, yet the lay Christian can reclaim some part of it:
turning off the radio in the car for ten minutes of stillness
walking without headphones
observing a simple “quiet hour” in the home
praying the Psalms slowly, letting them linger
In these moments, we become students of holy silence. We learn to listen for God not merely in words, but in the spaces between them.
Monastic hope is not an abstract optimism; it is a hope grounded in the promises of Christ. The Cistercians have long spoken of Advent as a season of desiderium, of longing for God. St. Bernard, the great Cistercian abbot, taught that the heart expands through holy desire, and that this desire is itself a gift — a sign that God is already at work within us.
To hope in Advent is to allow our longing to become prayer. It is to acknowledge our need, our incompleteness, our yearning for a peace we cannot manufacture. It is to believe that God is faithful to His promises and that His coming — past, present, and future — is always an act of mercy.
Lay members of the Church live this hope through patient endurance in daily trials, through the offering of fears and uncertainties to the Lord, and through acts of generosity toward those who carry heavier burdens. Hope is not merely felt; it is enacted.
Cistercian spirituality treasures simplicity — not for its own sake, but because simplicity clears the way for God. Advent, too, is a call to simplicity: to travel lightly, to discern what truly matters, and to set aside whatever distracts us from grace.
For the lay faithful, Cistercian simplicity in Advent may look like:
choosing fewer but more meaningful preparations for Christmas
making time, not things, the centre of family life
practicing gratitude for small blessings
giving to those in need with humility and discretion
Simplicity is not deprivation. It is a spaciousness of heart, a willingness to let the essential shine through.
We may not all live within cloister walls, but the Holy Spirit desires to carve out, within each of us, a kind of monastery of the heart — a place of encounter, fidelity, and quiet joy. Advent is a privileged time for building this inner cloister.
To live Advent in a Cistercian spirit is to embrace:
watchfulness: attentive to God’s nearness
silence: open to His voice
hope: anchored in His promises
simplicity: uncluttered for His coming
charity: shaped by His mercy
These are not tasks reserved for monks; they are the treasures of the whole Church.
On this threshold day, we stand with the whole Church ready to begin again. Advent does not ask us to be perfect. It asks us to be willing — willing to wait, to listen, to hope, to simplify, and to make room for the God who comes quietly, humbly, persistently.
May we enter this season with the calm, steady resolve of the monastic heart. And may the Lord who draws near find us waiting with lamps trimmed, spirits lifted, and hearts prepared.
Come, Lord Jesus. Kindle in us the watchfulness of the monk, the hope of the Church, and the quiet joy of those who know You are near.