Madeleine L’Engel called it “the irrational season,” and this year, is it ever. Hope hovers on the horizon as the possibility of a vaccine becomes more real, our Executive Branch transitions and lessons learned during this Pandemic imprint multiple new ways, some good — some not — of being community as we emerge into whatever’s next.
A friend “laments” traditions gone by the wayside these past nine months: no parades, no parties, little travel, no hugging, and topping it off for now, a Thanksgiving fast instead of a feast. We enter Advent with healthy skepticism, as CovidTide is teaching us to be realists. Neither hope, nor denial is a good strategy.
Yet there are some precious Advent traditions that I will keep this year. I’ve already given my daughter’s boyfriend his annual Advent calendar; a tradition begun when, unfamiliar with the patience-inducing chocolate-a-day ritual, he ate the whole thing in one sitting. I’ll light my Advent candles each evening in prayer, inviting members of my congregation to join me via Zoom each Sunday night. And, long ago having tossed aside the admonitions of certain “Advent Police,” the tree will go up soon, the house will be decorated, and all the Christmas CD’s will be in rotation.
Like the catsup commercial soundtracked by Carly Simon’s “Anticipation,” and Frederick Beuchner’s marvelous meditation on holding one’s breath right before the orchestra begins the performance — for me — the Advent Season may be the best part of Christmas. In this already and not yet time, we know the light is returning, and the advancing approach is sublime, the hopeful interim thrilling, the wait: worth it.