Commit to Silence in the Final Days of Advent, by Constance T. Hull

Earlier this week, my teenage daughter and I attempted to finish Christmas shopping as quickly as possible. I do not particularly enjoy shopping. I find the experience to be a mix between sensory overload and annoyance at the completely unnecessary amount of things that are mass produced for consumption in this country. Perhaps it is simply the fact that I am cranky in my early forties, or it is my growing discontent with the lies of materialism and consumerism that we have been fed our whole lives.

This all came to the forefront when my daughter and I stopped at a church to spend an hour before the Tabernacle with Our Lord’s Real Presence. As we entered that sacred space, my head was swirling with images from the stores I had been in and the online stores I’d browsed. My mind played Christmas music in an endless loop with ever-increasing volume the longer I sat in the darkened church. …

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