Advent is a school of patience, but also a school of active hope. Psalm 122 reminds us that our spiritual journey is not a lonely march through the desert. We walk together – with the saints and with the sinners – writes Fr. Piotr Kwiatek, a Capuchin, doctor of psychology, and the initiator of “psalm therapy”, in the Heschel Center KUL commentary on Psalm 122 sung on the First Sunday of Advent, November 30.
As Fr. Kwiatek recalls, at the beginning of Advent, “the first candle is lit in the church, and we, immersed in the gray darkness of everyday life, slowly awaken to vigilance. It is not a sudden jolt, but a gentle pastoral alarm: ‘Wake up, but don’t forget that you may rejoice.’”
Advent on the threshold
“Liturgy has something of a brilliant, wise teacher: every year it returns to the same Words, yet each time shows them in a completely new light,” writes the author of psalm therapy. He calls Psalm 122 “a surprisingly relevant mirror of our inner pilgrimage.” He points out that “it is a story about the joy of the road, about shalom (peace) as both the goal and the path, and also about the community that carries us when our strength fades. It also contains that strange, paradoxical truth of faith: that we are already standing at the goal, even though we are still on the way.”
Joy from the announcement (Ps 122:1b–2)
Commenting on the passage of the psalm – “I rejoiced when they said to me: ‘Let us go to the house of the Lord.’ Our feet are already standing within your gates, Jerusalem” – Fr. Kwiatek notes that “this sentence says everything about the nature of Advent joy. It is not the joy of possession – of Christmas, which has already happened, but the joy of the announcement.”
He adds that positive psychology has long confirmed the biblical experience: “people draw happiness not only from achieving a goal, but from the process of preparing for it.” Beyond that, “Advent is the time when the Church gives us pastoral permission: you can rejoice already now, because something Great is approaching.”
“Today, in a culture of instant gratification, the ability to rejoice in waiting is a countercultural gift. Whoever can wait with hope is not a slave to screens or notifications,” writes the commentator for the Heschel Center KUL.
Fr. Piotr Kwiatek emphasizes that Psalm 122 conveys “a deep communal dimension,” as evidenced by the word: “Let us go…”. Furthermore, “the psalmist seems at the same time to recall, imagine, and experience. And precisely in this strange tension lies the whole mystery of faith: we live in what already is, and in what is not yet. Advent is a time in between. We stand at the threshold.”
Craftsmen of Shalom (Ps 122:6–7)
“Pray for the peace of Jerusalem: May those who love you prosper. May peace reign within your walls, and security within your palaces” – Fr. Kwiatek calls this passage “the heart of the psalm, its climax, and at the same time the key to Advent.”
He reminds that the Hebrew word shalom means far more than the absence of war; “it is fullness, harmony, integrity, and well-being on every level: body, spirit, relationships, and social life.” “As we walk toward God, we always enter the space of shalom, even if our inner being still trembles with anxiety,” he notes.
Fr. Kwiatek adds that today the psalm’s words about peace sound profoundly expressive. “When we look at images from Jerusalem, Gaza, Bethlehem – places we know from the Gospel, and which are burning again – the psalmist’s prayer ceases to be a metaphor,” he stresses. He adds: “Psalm 122 is therefore not a prayer for a geopolitical truce, but for a transformation of the world beginning from the inside: from peace dwelling within the human person.”
Moreover, “the psalmist calls for prayer for peace, but not passively.” The word “pray” is “an action that requires effort, and at times spiritual struggle.”
Peace for the Brothers (Ps 122:8–9)
“Because of my brothers and friends I will say: ‘Peace be with you!’ Because of the house of the Lord our God, I pray for your good.”
Commenting on these words, Fr. Piotr Kwiatek notes: “This is not the prayer of an egoist. This is the prayer of a person who, in the depths of the heart, understands: my salvation is connected with yours. In Catholic tradition we speak of communio sanctorum – the communion of saints, but also sinners, because we are all on the way.”
“In Advent, when the world rushes horizontally in a pace of consumption, the psalm reminds us: true joy is born vertically – in prayer – and horizontally – in care for another. You do not have to save the world,” stresses the Capuchin. “It is enough that today, in your thoughts, you sincerely pray for someone whom you find difficult to love. This, too, prepares the way for the Lord. It is building peace in the small but fundamental cracks of our lives.”
Advent as a school of patience and active hope
The joy accompanying the Advent season “does not wait for the end of the journey. It is in every step. In the announcement, in the waiting, in the very fact that we walk and have not given up, and that we still believe, despite everything.”
As the Heschel Center commentator reminds, “peace is not something we receive as a gift under the Christmas tree. Peace requires inner and outer work. It is shalom: fullness, integrity, harmony.”
The author of psalm therapy encourages that in Advent we should not try to be perfect. He writes: “Do not try to do everything. Choose one – one relationship to heal, one area where you seek peace, one person for whom you will pray. And do it consistently. Day after day. Because Advent is not a sprint. It is a march – long, slow, sometimes tiring. Yet in the end – the psalm promises – we will stand. We will stand at the gates of Jerusalem. And then we will understand that the whole road was already part of the goal.”
Summing up, Fr. Kwiatek encourages: “Do not wait for the moment when everything is put together, when you finally arrive, when at last you are ready. Rejoice now. Because you are walking. Because someone walks beside you. Because God waits at the end – but also accompanies you in every step.”
Piotr Kwiatek OFMCap – doctor of psychology, priest and friar of the Krakow Province of the Order of Friars Minor Capuchin. He completed a three-year Gestalt therapy program in Philadelphia (USA). He also trained at the Albert Ellis Institute in New York in Rational-Emotive Behavioral Therapy (REBT). He teaches courses on positive interventions at SWPS University – studies recommended by the founder of positive psychology, Prof. Martin E.P. Seligman.
He is the author of books in the positive psychology and faith series, as well as Psalm Therapy and Workbook for Psalms. Creator of the free “Dobroteka 2.0” app supporting well-being; more: www.piotrkwiatek.com
Heschel Center KUL
We publish the full commentary
First Sunday of Advent
Existential commentary on the psalm
from the liturgy of the day for Sunday 30.XI.2025 (Psalm 122)
Fr. Piotr Kwiatek OFMCap
Peace that ripens on the way
Advent on the threshold
We begin Advent. In the church the first candle is lit, and we, immersed in the gray gloom of everyday life, slowly awaken to vigilance. It is not a sudden leap, but a gentle pastoral alarm: “Wake up, but don’t forget that you may rejoice.”
Liturgy has something of a brilliant, wise teacher: every year it returns to the same Words, yet each time shows them in a completely different light. Only a week ago we sang Psalm 122, but in the context of the Solemnity of Christ the King we heard only a fragment – a call for God to reign in our lives. Today, on the first Sunday of Advent, we receive the full version. It is the same Word, but how different the questions it awakens in the heart! Last week we looked at the throne; today we ask: How do we live in waiting? How do we not lose joy when the road is still long?
Psalm 122 ceases to be only the song of an ancient pilgrim approaching Jerusalem and becomes a surprisingly relevant mirror of our inner pilgrimage. It is a story about the joy of the road, about shalom (peace) as both the goal and the way, and also about the community that carries us when strength wanes. It also contains that strange paradoxical truth of faith: that we are already standing at the goal, even though we are still on the way.
1. Joy from the announcement (Ps 122:1b–2)
I rejoiced when they said to me: “Let us go to the house of the Lord.”
Our feet are already standing within your gates, Jerusalem.
This sentence says everything about the nature of Advent joy. It is not the joy of having – of Christmas already accomplished – but the joy of the announcement. The psalmist does not say: “I rejoice because I am there,” but: “I rejoiced when they said to me.” Joy is born from the word, from the promise, from the news about something wonderful that is yet to come. Positive psychology has long confirmed this biblical experience: people draw happiness not only from reaching a goal, but from the process of preparing for it. Planning a trip is often richer in positive emotions than the vacation itself, and preparing for a holiday can be more beautiful than that one longed-for day (Loewenstein, 1987). Advent is a time when the Church gives us pastoral permission: you may rejoice now, because something Great is approaching.
In this joy there is also a deep communal dimension: “Let us go…”. Whoever says “let us go” knows they are not alone. And joy so great that it barely fits in the soul must spill outward. Rabbi Simeon ben Gamaliel of the Tannaitic generation commented that whoever has not seen the joy of pilgrims ascending to the Temple has not seen true joy in life (Talmud, Sukkah 51a). Today, in a culture of instant gratification, the ability to rejoice in waiting is a countercultural gift. Whoever can wait with hope is not a slave to screens or notifications.
“Our feet are already standing within your gates, Jerusalem.” The psalmist as though simultaneously remembers, imagines, and experiences. And precisely in this strange tension lies the whole mystery of faith: we live in what already is, and in what is not yet. Advent is a time in between. We stand on the threshold – neither here, nor there. A gate is a place of passage. Our feet are standing – this is not a metaphor detached from the body. Pilgrims really walked; feet hurt, dust gathered, sweat ran down the forehead. Faith does not happen only in the head. It happens in the body that rises before dawn, that covers kilometers, that kneels at the altar. Advent is an invitation to embody faith: not only to think about God but to go to Him. Concretely. Step by step.
2. Craftsmen of Shalom (Ps 122:6–7)
Pray for the peace of Jerusalem:
May those who love you prosper.
May peace reign within your walls,
and security within your palaces.
This is the heart of the psalm, its climax, and at the same time the key to Advent: prayer for peace. The Hebrew word shalom means far more than the absence of war; it is fullness, harmony, integrity, and well-being on every level: body, spirit, relationships, and social life (Mishnah, Uktzin 3:12). Walking toward God, we always enter the space of shalom, even if our inner being still trembles with anxiety.
Today these words sound painfully relevant. When we look at images from Jerusalem, Gaza, Bethlehem – places we know from the Gospel, and which are burning again – the psalmist’s prayer ceases to be a metaphor. “Pray for the peace of Jerusalem” is no longer a poetic verse from centuries ago but a cry for salvation. We see shattered homes, tearful mothers, children learning fear earlier than the alphabet. But it is not only their war. Every conflict, regardless of geography, is in essence the drama of a human being who has lost the ability to listen and to empathize. And there are also silent wars that cameras will never show. Wars in the walls of our homes – words sharper than grenades, cold distances between spouses, long silences between parents and children. Wars in hearts unable to forgive. All these are places where we must cry for shalom. Psalm 122 is therefore not a prayer for a geopolitical ceasefire but for a transformation of the world beginning from within: from peace taking root in the human person.
The psalmist calls for prayer for peace, but not passively. “Pray” is an action requiring effort and often spiritual struggle. The rabbis said that whoever prays for peace for another, receives peace first (Talmud Bavli, Bava Kama 92a). This is not magic, but a deep spiritual principle: a person who blesses ceases to be a slave to anger. When the psalmist asks for peace for Jerusalem – the City of Peace – he truly asks for the realization of its name, for a return to what it was meant to be from the beginning: a place of encounter between God and human beings. And we, entering Advent, do the same. Our prayer for peace is an invitation for shalom to enter our “walls” – those of stone and those of the heart. To touch our “palaces” – our deepest desires and values, often abandoned in daily haste. For prayer for peace is never an escape from reality. It is the bravest immersion in it – an act of faith that God can still transform a world divided by humans themselves.
3. Peace for the Brothers (Ps 122:8–9)
Because of my brothers and friends I will say: “Peace be with you!”
Because of the house of the Lord our God, I pray for your good.
This is not the prayer of an egoist. It is the prayer of a person who, in the depths of the heart, understands: my salvation is bound up with yours. In Catholic tradition we speak of communio sanctorum – the communion of saints, but also of sinners, because we are all on the way. The philosopher Martin Buber wrote that true life and meaning are born in the “I–Thou” relationship, not in the isolated “I–He” (Buber, 1923/2000). Psalm 122 is an I–Thou prayer: to the city, to the brothers, to God. We do not pray “for them” but “with them,” because we know that our good and our shalom cannot be isolated.
In Advent, when the world is rushing horizontally in its consumerist sprint, the psalm reminds us: true joy is born vertically – in prayer – and horizontally – in care for another. You do not need to save the world. It is enough that today, in your thoughts, you sincerely pray for someone whom you find difficult to love. This too is preparing the way of the Lord. This is building peace in the small but fundamental fractures of our lives.
Questions for meditation and reflection
Joy of waiting: What do I truly await with joy in my life, and am I able to rejoice in the waiting itself, or only in fulfilment?
Inner walls: Where have I lost peace? In which “walls” of my life (relationships, decisions, in my body) does unrest, fear, or conflict reign?
Apostolate of Shalom: For whom today can I cry from the depth of my heart: “Peace be with you!” – and what will this cry change in me?
Therapeutic-spiritual exercises:
Before you answer a difficult message, react to criticism, or move on to the next task – pause.
On the inhale say: “Lord…”, on the exhale: “grant me peace.” Repeat five times. This is simple grounding in the here and now, reducing reactivity (Kabat-Zinn, 1990).
Choose one person with whom you have a difficult, tense relationship.
In your thoughts, from the depth of your heart, say: “Peace be with you! I pray for your good.”
Use the words of the psalm as a therapeutic tool for changing perspective and reducing inner hostility.
Sit in silence and imagine Jesus entering your “Jerusalem” – wherever you feel the greatest chaos today.
Do not speak – simply listen and allow Him to enter that space.
Summary
Advent is a school of patience, but also a school of active hope. Psalm 122 reminds us that our spiritual journey is not a lonely march through the desert. We walk together – with saints and sinners, with the living and the dead, with those who love easily and those who struggle to love. Joy does not wait for the end of the road. It is present in every step. In the announcement, in the waiting, in the very fact that we walk and have not given up, and that we still believe, despite everything.
Peace is not something we receive as a gift under the Christmas tree. Peace requires inner and outer work. It is shalom: fullness, integrity, harmony. And it begins with concrete walls – your home, your heart, your relationships. And community? It is not a luxury for the well-organized. It is a necessity for those who want to survive. “Because of my brothers and friends” – we pray not only for ourselves, because we know that our salvation is intertwined with theirs. There is no solo road to Heaven.
In this Advent, do not try to be perfect. Do not try to do everything. Choose one – one relationship to heal, one area where you seek peace, one person you will pray for. And do it consistently. Day after day. Because Advent is not a sprint. It is a march – long, slow, sometimes tiring. Yet in the end – the psalm promises – we will stand. We will stand at the gates of Jerusalem. And then we will understand that the whole road was already part of the goal. That we were at the goal from the moment we began. “Our feet are already standing” – these words are not the psalmist’s mistake. It is a confession of faith. Faith allows us to live in two times at once: in what has already been fulfilled and in what is coming. In what we see, and in what is not yet visible.
When you leave the church in a moment – or put this book aside – take one thing with you: joy from the road. Do not wait for the moment when everything finally comes together, when you finally arrive, when at last you are ready. Rejoice now. Because you are walking. Because someone walks beside you. Because God waits at the end – but also accompanies you in every step.
It is worth remembering that Jerusalem – the city of peace – is not only a place on the map. It is a promise inscribed in our DNA, a cry engraved in the soul. Our Lord comes to fill us with shalom. He is the One who truly knows how to place the thrones of our hearts in order. And as Jesus taught, it is those who make peace (eirēnopoioi) who will be called children of God (Mt 5:9). May these first days of Advent be for us a time of joy flowing from the certainty that we are already on the way – and that is what matters most.
Bibliography
(kept exactly as in original, only translated where necessary)
Buber, M. (2000). I and Thou (J. Dąbrowski, Trans.). PAX Publishing Institute. (Original published 1923).
Kabat-Zinn, J. (1990). Full Catastrophe Living: Using the Wisdom of Your Body and Mind to Face Stress, Pain, and Illness. Dell Publishing.
Loewenstein, G. (1987). Anticipation and the valuation of delayed consumption. The Economic Journal, 97(387), 666–684.
Mishnah. (2012). Pirke Avot 1:12. In H. Danby (Trans.), The Mishnah. Oxford University Press. (Source referring to the ethos of Aaron – “loving peace and pursuing peace”).
Mishnah. (2012). Uktzin 3:12. In H. Danby (Trans.), The Mishnah. Oxford University Press. (Source on shalom as “the vessel that can contain blessing”).
Holy Scripture of the Old and New Testament. Millennium Bible (5th ed.). (2003). Pallottinum Publishing. (References to Ps 122; Jn 14:27; Mt 5:9; Mt 24:42).
Babylonian Talmud (Bavli). (n.d.). Tractate Sukkah 51a. Sefaria Library.
Babylonian Talmud (Bavli). (n.d.). Tractate Bava Kama 92a. Sefaria Library.