Advent, a time of contemplation and anticipation.
In the church calendar New Year occurs with the first Sunday of Advent. But Advent II was two days ago, and now we’re rolling swiftly toward Advent III. There are only four of them, so we’ve already zoomed past the half-way mark. Just like the rest of the year, liturgical time seems to have taken on its own sense of urgency, surging ahead with no regard for my own increasing need to move more sedately.
My brain, my bones, my very soul cry for slowing down. That’s what I’ve always expected to happen during Advent: dragging, darkening days and nights, the will-it-ever-get-here anticipation of Christmas teasing me from the future. Yet now that I appreciate and actually desire these leading-up days, they pass with breathtaking speed.
I think there is something perversely wrong about this; shouldn’t time zoom along when you are six and drag with appreciated delay when you are sixty-two?
Well … never mind what I think might have been a better design; this is the one we have.
So my task — the invitation of Mystery itself — is to immerse myself in these racing days for just what they are: a brief time devoted to prophecy, anticipation, fear, trust, promise and hope (at least those) …