All the little mile markers have been passed. The Halloween Candy and costumes were surreptitiously mutated into garlands and blinking icicles. The slant of the advertising began to change ever so slightly, from "buy this, you need it!" to "buy this for someone, they need it, and you might need one too!" There have been television spots featuring frightening men and women with an OCD like attraction to sales, and a manic longing to make Christmas a reality, sooner rather than later. Finally, with Thanksgiving out of the way, our brief homage to gratitude has given way to a bacchanal of desire and the paradox of saving by means of spending.
I entered into this season sick; not some sort of high-minded world-weariness, but a honest to goodness respiratory infection, with coughing and aches and the like. It's not a big deal, but it has kept me out of the stores for the large part. It also seems to complement my own sense of impending disappointment.
Not disappointment with Advent, I love the season. I love immersing myself in the hopeful language of the prayers, the call to reflection and introspection, the yearning and even begging for the Savior to come. I love the songs which echo with strains of resurrection and redemption. I crave the promises of an enduring peace they contain. My disappointment seems to be rooted in the reality of what Advent will lead to, Christmas.
It's not that I'll be let down by the telling of the Christmas story, the children carrying the creche to its place, or the soaring anthems of the late-night Christmas Eve worship. It's not as though I have onerous visits to make, I enjoy spending time with family and friends. I'm certainly not dreading tacky and awful gifts, my circle of exchange is small and thoughtful. I'll be let down by Christmas, because with all that Advent promises, all we'll get is Christmas.
The great trumpets to announce a new day, will probably not blow this year. The quivering earth, the rattling stars, the falling of the heavens, the end of injustice and hate are all still off in the future. We will sing Magnificats with gusto and put them away with a pile of wrapping paper on Christmas night. If the greatest presents are presence, then when all the visiting is done, I will still be left wanting.
For if this Advent is leading to another Christmas, then the best I can hope for is a powerful rebirth of joy in my life. A joy that comes from knowing that the first Advent had momentous consequences for the whole world because it ended with Incarnation. It was that gift that makes me yearn so longingly that this Advent would end with Restoration. That the Incarnate one would be that way, here, now with us. And that all of God's waiting people, who long for the days when stars are falling, will see each other, face to face once more, and know just how impoverished our giving is compared to the gifts we have received.
Because in that great company of souls waits a dear brother named Gerald. He was my father, and his presence would be greater than all presents combined. Because if we could meet face to face, then I could do the same with the Christ we are all waiting for, and there would be no more occasion for tears ever again.
Amen! Come Lord Jesus!
