This season, we must embrace the feeling of discomfort that comes with waiting. Not because we don’t love Christmas, but because it’s worth waiting for.
People think I’m a Scrooge.
My sister and I lament each year to each other that people are decorating for Christmas earlier and earlier. When I was growing up, decorating the day after Thanksgiving was considered early, and now it’s the norm, even among Catholics. Those of us who wait until even mid-December are the odd balls.
And I look like a Scrooge. I don’t play Christmas music until at least after the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. We don’t put our tree until Gaudete Sunday. And as the world around me celebrates earlier and earlier, I feel like the grouchy mom who tells us kids they can’t have that cookie before dinner.
This morning, I realized that’s exactly what I was.
But I’m not the mom who withholds a wonderful treat so that her kids will eat their boiled spinach.
I’m the mom who wants her kids to not fill up on stale potato chips so that they will have room for the steak dinner.
Trying to embrace Advent and pressing into the riches that this season has to offer is not the behavior of a Scrooge. It’s the posture of a Christian who recognizes that some things are worth waiting for.
Is waiting easy? No. Is it uncomfortable? Yes.
Amidst a world that desires the cheerful music of Christmas and the warmth of a decorated tree, it looks odd to forego these pleasures for a time. But that’s precisely why we have Advent. Our body, hearts, and minds must be trained to wait.
This season, we must embrace the feeling of discomfort that comes with waiting. Not because we don’t love Christmas, but because it’s worth waiting for.
This is my favorite season. I love the rich traditions of the Church: the Advent wreath, Gaudete Sunday, the O Antiphons, the turn of the readings from December 17 toward the infancy narratives. I love the feasts that we celebrate during this time, like the Immaculate Conception and Our Lady of Guadalupe, glimpses of light and hope in the waiting. I love praying with the daily readings from Mass, the prophecies, the writings rife with expectation and hope. We have no idea what it was like to wait for the Savior. We have no idea what it is like to live in a world without the sacraments or without Christ in the tabernacle. So I strive this season to enter into that longing, enter into that expectation.
I am an impatient, rash person. And I need this time to exercise my waiting muscles. We all do. Because we are not good at waiting. And if you question that, look outside at the Christmas decorations.
Advent is a microcosm of life. Our lives are one big time of waiting for Heaven. Ultimately, these eighty or ninety years are nothing compared to the life that awaits us with Him (hopefully). This life is only about the next. It’s not that we’re sitting around twiddling our thumbs while we wait. We serve Him, we love Him, and we do everything we can for Him now, so that we can join Him in the next. But this life isn’t the feast. It’s a big wait for the feast.
That’s Advent. During this season, we’re constantly reminding ourselves that we were not made for this life. We were made for the next. Whatever happens today is passing, and all that matters is whether it brings me closer or farther from Heaven.
Is it easy to postpone celebrating? Of course not. But it’s a small reminder to us that the story of my life is much bigger than my pleasure here on earth.
Are the days dark, seemingly crying out for Christmas lights? Yes. That’s the whole point. And not putting them up right away is one way to enter into that longing for Christ. They’ll go up eventually, of course. And they can stay up through the whole dreariness of January!
I love Christmas as much as the next person. And that’s why I wait.
I’m not asking you to save room for boiled spinach. I’m asking you to save room for the feast: not just Christmas, but heaven.
“We implore your mercy, Lord, that this divine sustenance [the Eucharist] may cleanse us of our faults and prepare us for the coming feasts.” Prayer After Communion, Wednesday of the First Week of Advent.
Image credit: Photo by Elena Mozhvilo on Unsplash
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