Reflection for The First Sunday of Advent
Almighty God, give us grace to cast away the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which your Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the living and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal; through him who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. – Collect for the First Sunday of Advent
This coming Sunday marks the beginning of Advent, the season of preparation and expectation that leads us to Christmas. But the church asks for a different kind of preparation and expectation than the world at large, an antidote to the hectic bustle and commercialism on display seemingly everywhere else. The parish where I was raised put a sign right inside the front doors, so you couldn’t miss it: “Slow down. Be quiet. It’s Advent.”
Our scripture, prayers, and hymns in this season use images of sharp contrast–light and dark, sleeping and waking, death and life. Yet those same scriptures, prayers and hymns argue that our Christian life is anything but sharply contrasted; that it is actually fuzzy, uncertain, and in-between. Because above all, Advent is a season of waiting–waiting, not just to celebrate the arrival of the infant Jesus at Christmas, but waiting for the second coming of Christ, “when he shall come again in his glorious majesty”–whenever and however that will one day come to pass. Our whole lives, it turns out, are about waiting.
Waiting can have so many different textures, waiting for a birthday, waiting for a diagnosis, waiting for a delayed train. Advent makes room for all of them. What does it mean to wait for God? Joy and expectation, fear and trembling, questions and uncertainty–you will hear all these emotions in our worship life this season, and throughout our programming in the month of December.
What ties it all together, I believe, is hope. The birth of Jesus Christ at Christmas time brought new hope to our weary world. So if you need a companion in joyful hope for all that is to come, or a companion in confusion and grief–help to hope that life will and can change–I hope you’ll visit us here at the Cathedral. We’re waiting, just like you.