We see a house on our drive to school each morning that has had the words “This too shall pass” chalked on their brick wall since March. And it’s true. But with its truth comes a doggedly tired, ragtag people, eagerly searching the horizon for signs of life.
I look to this wall every day because I am waiting for this to pass. Waiting has become the name of the game, lately. To say that waiting in the age of live coverage and ever-enticing clickbait, is a muscle we don’t flex often, is an understatement.
And, here we are.
Mixed with the waiting, this year has been an experience of collective grief, and I would add, a loss of naiveté. What was once safe, expected, unspoken, has been shaken up, sifted through, splashed across the news, and played for us in ways I do not even recognize and am learning to grapple with. I say this not to dwell in pessimism, but to remind myself and maybe you, that we are playing the long game. The unfortunate truth in these circumstances is that there is no quick fix.
We are always on the way.
This has been our story from the beginning: When our hopes are realized, often it is not before they are turned completely and utterly on their head. Prayers are answered in ways that, if asked, we would not have recommended and definitely wouldn’t have preferred:
Like the 40 years wandering in the desert or the three days in the tomb before the resurrection. The arrival of Emmanuel during an unstable political climate under Cesar Augustus, in circumstances that made travel complicated if not unsafe, loss of an innocence previously taken for granted in a variety of ways; all smack of the unlikely (and somewhat familiar) circumstances into which Jesus chose to enter humanity.
Good news—Advent is around the corner and God is is about to meet us in our humanity again!
Instead of the usual, go-to plans (parties and pageants that have already been canceled), we are heading into a wilderness of sorts, in which it feels like we are in search of the Light in a much more palpable way than ever before. This year we will not have the option to busy ourselves with the autopilot traditions and invitations that pop up that we have in years past. Rather, I suspect this season will necessarily shift much more to traditions that fuel us, internally, and it makes all the difference in the world. Arguably this is the way preparing for the Christ should hit us each year, but this whole 2020 experience has landed many of us in the same wayfaring boat.
It’s the difference between hopping in the car to get to an old, familiar haunt; and the excitement, wonder, bewilderment–even, of leaving home with a new destination in mind.
Both are good, and yet our expectations and experiences of the two are nothing alike. One voyage invites us to check out, while the other heightens all of our senses. Was that the turn? What is this item on the menu? Where can I find an umbrella? What river is this? How do I ask about where to find the bathroom?
Like any good wayfarer, we know we must travel light and pay close attention as we strike out on this journey to which we are called. I suspect, at least I hope, that this is the case this year as we begin keeping watch for the Christ child as we head into Advent at the end of this month.
“This too shall pass.”
God willing, this unusual opportunity to embrace the unfamiliar will likely not appear to us in the same way again in our lifetimes. I’ll speak for myself in saying that I will be ready to embrace business as usual whenever possible. Because honestly, had we been asked, no one would have opted for this particular experience of Adventing. And, here we find ourselves: Desperate for the Light.
In what unexpected way might God already be wayfaring with us as we attempt celebration without a familiar ritual?
For so long many of us have succumbed to the belief that when our house, or guestroom, our Christmas shopping is ‘just right’ we will be prepared to welcome Christ. But maybe it has less to do with things being ‘just right,’ and more to do with the timing being just right. If that is the case, this is our year.
Maranatha, come!
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For a collection of timely Advent resources I’ve compiled, click here.
Maybe, like me, you are approaching the Church’s new year with a voracious appetite to be fueled up. In many respects, I wonder if our experience of preparation and celebration might not take on a simpler appearance for the changes that have come about in the midst of the ongoing pandemic? And if we might not be richer for it?
In the spirit of waiting, I’m contributing to the BIS chats series today on Fertility/Infertility, today. Click here to read more on Seasons of Fertility.:
This highly-regarded and tightly-gripped plan always leads us to really important conversations. In light of which, and with a healthy dose of hindsight, I am beginning to understand that through the years my own understanding of the gift of fertility has been evolving…