By Fr. Dedert Duarte
The relationship between Christian liturgy and the cosmic rhythms of creation has always amazed me since I first began studying theology. The deeper I go, the more I realize that we do not celebrate the mysteries of Christ apart from the world but within the very heartbeat of creation itself.
The liturgy moves gently with the earth’s seasons, and although not perfectly aligned everywhere due to different climates, the Church’s year still echoes the natural cycles that shape human life. Advent and Christmas unfold in the deepening darkness and the slow return of light; Lent mirrors the bareness and austerity of late winter; Easter bursts forth with spring’s renewal; and Ordinary Time stretches like a long green season of steady growth. Even the sacraments rely on the simplest gifts of nature—water, oil, fire, bread, and wine—so that grace may touch us through creation’s own language.
Yet our modern lifestyle often pulls us out of this harmony. Consumerism and materialism hijack the sacred seasons, urging us to rush, to buy, to accumulate. We fill our homes with objects that soon break or are forgotten, adding to the waste that burdens the earth. We compete with bright lights that consume energy and warm an already-fragile climate, while endless parties tempt us into eating far more than we need—not to mention the calories that seem to rush to our waist faster than we rush to Midnight Sales. We grow more hurried, more distracted, and less attuned to the gentle rhythm the Church offers us. At times I wonder whether we are still living the liturgy we so beautifully celebrate. The Church gives us four quiet, patient weeks of Advent, yet we sprint through them as if the goal were simply to arrive quickly rather than to be transformed slowly.
But ecological spirituality is born from the liturgy itself, from the willingness to slow down, to breathe, and to let creation teach us once more. Advent calls us not to hurry but to wait, not to consume but to hope, not to overwhelm the darkness with artificial brightness but to let the true Light find us.
Perhaps the most faithful response to this season is simply to reclaim patience: to buy less, waste less, listen more, and rediscover wonder. For Advent is not the season of rushing; it is the season of readiness.
It is the time when the earth grows still and invites us to do the same, whispering to our restless hearts, “Be patient. The Light is coming—and perhaps it is time to dream of a green Christmas.”
