Time is measured in many different ways. We look to nature to know the beginning and ending of each day, but often we use major events as markers. I can remember when I was serving in New Orleans, people judged time by “before Katrina” or “after Katrina.” We can mark time spiritually before or after Sacraments or conversions, especially if they were dramatic ones. The Church has kept time liturgically by the cycle of telling the most essential of stories, the greatest love story in the world, that of God and the human soul along with the life, death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus.
In the Church’s seasons we find a variety of themes: celebration, purification, etc. Many different cultures share these same themes, but the Church offers us a theme—an entire season—dedicated not to a particular task, but a non-task: The Church’s season of Advent is a season of waiting. Waiting, in our lives, is often what happens in between the “real” or “important” events of life. You may tell the story of the errands you had to run that day, but you tend to not talk about waiting in line, or you may recount the road trip to see friends, but don’t talk about the traffic lights and, if you do, it is always in frustration. We despise traffic because it delays us to getting to the actual events of our lives. I guess in some ways, waiting is life’s bookmark.
Celebrating the idea of waiting in our rushed and hurried society seems outdated and ancient. Indeed it is, but for the Christian waiting becomes an active part of our spiritual lives — time filled with that desperate hope of a hurting people. The ancient prophets inform us “The days are coming, says the LORD, when I will fulfill the promise” (Jeremiah 33:14). They basically said, God’s not done with us yet.
Advent in its beautiful ordinariness, in its quiet reflection, in its falling light of the late afternoon, is telling us yes, wait, but do not be passive! Look to the horizon, be alert, for just when we thought the dawn would never break, the warm green street never return, we hear once again the story of that small family, in the middle of nowhere, beautiful in their poverty, adorned by kings and shepherds promising us, “Judah shall be safe and Jerusalem shall dwell secure.” Happy Waiting!
I’ll be seeing you,
Elliot