A Case for Advent over Christmas
I love looking over my older writings at various seasons of the year, and one of those is during Advent. Like here, and here… and here… (oh and here too!)and I’m sure there’s more but I can’t seem to find them right now!
This year upon reflection, I think I may have enjoyed Advent more than Christmas. The planning, the anticipation, it was all so sweet. I’m late posting this, but here is the sermon I gave during advent in early December:
“May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable to you oh Christ our lord:
One of the really cool things about my role in this sacramentalist position is that I now get to study readings that I might not have otherwise. And I’ll be honest- I’m not familiar with Baruch.
In doing some reading I have found that this particular book of the Bible is considered apocryphal by some- and others find it to be this wonderful gift. I’m going to fall within the latter.
Advent is this time that makes waiting beautiful, and I don’t think I really got that until a few years ago. Previously it was just that time when we would sometimes get advent calendars- and only in the rare years we could afford them, and even then my brother and I often had to share one. Splitting in half those milk chocolate candies, taking in the rare treat before heading off to school. I now know that we actually could afford those things. My mother was just simply being cheap and we were not poor like she made us out to be.
Now as an adult the waiting comes in different forms. In trying to get the better jobs. In wanting the relationships we feel we deserve. And while I personally am the type of person who is always always striving for more, I have to be reminded that I have already come so far. That there is meaning in rest. In waiting.
‘Take off the garment of your sorrow and affliction, O Jerusalem, and put on forever the beauty of the glory from God.
Put on the robe of the righteousness that comes from God; put on your head the diadem of the glory of the Everlasting;
for God will show your splendor everywhere under heaven.
For God will give you evermore the name, ‘Righteous Peace, Godly Glory.’
It seems even harder now to rest- someone I knew suddenly passed away, my age, of a heart attack. It doesn’t make any sense. All while the downtown of my home puts up these beautiful lights – these twinkling lights for Christmas. And as I sat in the grief of knowing that someone who had once been a friend and was a champion of my town the only thing I could do was to get out of my element and go to a couple of yoga classes.
At the end of these classes, we rest. We ground ourselves on the floor. In the first class there was this reiki healer, someone who laid her hands on us. And I realize this may be too woo woo for this audience here, but I could feel her energy as she moved around us. And at the end of the second class I went to that week, when we laid on the ground- I could feel these waves of lavender scented air moving over us. I peeked my eyes open to see the instructor fanning this cloth among us, taking the time to do something extra for us at the end of this class. This moment of connection and care.
And in the rest of our readings the message continues- God loves us. And in doing so, he gave us the most precious gift of all. It’s something we’ve all heard so many times that I have to wonder does one more voice saying it make any real difference?
And then I see that there is still loss in this world. There is loneliness. There is pain. There is a sense of where is God in this for me?
And I come back to Advent. This time of beauty in waiting.
I think about the simple moments in my life of waiting. Not just for the better job- but waiting for the days when I didn’t have to split a chocolate with my brother. Or even the years when there were no chocolates. We didn’t have to have those chocolates. Now I can guarantee you that my mother was not thinking about Baruch and the Biblical waiting of advent, but perhaps there was an unintentional lesson there. About the beauty in sharing and waiting for the small things. Those small things weren’t so small to me then, it’s only in hindsight that they become small.
God’s promise does not say when better days will come, only that He loves us. And that love is the constant. We can make those better days, not just for ourselves but for others. We get to be the Light of Christ.”
Readings for the Second Sunday in Advent (with Baruch)“
This season I really realized the beauty in the waiting. I took my kids to New York for their first time up here- and while so much of it was magical, I think a lot of the magic was in the planning and the anticipation of it all.
And I got myself some really nice presents, too, along with those for my kids!
Afterwards I realized… there was a bit of emptiness in it all. Don’t get me wrong, I love the items I got for myself and I’m so proud that I could do it because it felt like the culmination and proof of some very hard work that I put in this year. At the same time, isn’t there more?
For 2025- now that I’m realizing how much Advent means to me now, Advent- which begins our liturgical season, for this year I’m going to seek more balance. More time truly taking care of myself, more time in the gym (which I had sorely let go of this past year), more time with friends, less money spent on just junk- whether it’s too much Starbucks or eating out or even clothing, and more money put away in savings.
And, also, more time with people that I love. My children, of course, but also taking time finding the right romantic relationship. I’ve been single now for over two years- perhaps the longest time ever in my life. I think that has allowed me to realizing that discernment wasn’t just for the religious part of my life but also all aspects of it. And discernment for my friendships, making sure that those who I am around the most are those who truly want the best for me.
I hope it goes without saying that all of this also means a closer relationship with God- but just in case, every day is another step closer in that walk.
