By Heather Melton, (she/her) UTO Staff Officer
Time for a confession—I’m not great at Advent, but I admire those who are. I love seeing folks decorate their tree for Advent, only to transform it for Christmas, or those who hold out on the Christmas decorations at all until Christmas Eve. In my house I spend the day after Thanksgiving packing up all the turkeys, roasting the pumpkins for later use, and setting up my nativity scene, all while listening to Christmas music. This year is different; this year, I’ve been thinking a lot about the lessons that Advent teaches us, the mournful hymns, the “O Antiphons,” the journey of Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem, the yearning and longing for light and hope. As we open doors on our chocolate Advent calendars and light candles, I’ve started to give thanks for the connections to the wilderness and the longing of Advent.
Growing up, Advent and Lent were tied together in a way I didn’t understand and didn’t know how to ask about. Perhaps because we used the same liturgical colors for each, but it just didn’t make sense to me. In Lent, we were trying to be better people, better disciples, in preparation for Jesus to make all things new. Lent was, in my mind, an individual endurance sport. Advent for me as a young person was just about waiting for a baby to be born, waiting for the Incarnation, waiting on Santa, waiting on presents. I didn’t get it until the church where I worked in my early 20s changed out the purple for blue and had a whole educational program around Advent. They did Advent “Lessons and Carols,” waited to put up a tree (which I happily went with our Zoroastrian Iranian caretaker to pick out in the lot on Dec. 23 and listened to him tell me stories of the Magi from his childhood), and made Advent about waiting. That’s when Advent became special and different from Lent in my understanding.
Advent is about preparing for the Incarnation. It is about longing and hopefulness about the coming of Jesus again into our world, into our hearts, and into our actions. I don’t know about all of you, but this Advent I find my heart longing. My kids have started teasing me a bit as I point out every beautiful fall tree, the first snow on the Sandias, or the return of the sandhill cranes to the sometimes pond across from our house. I realized the other day as we chatted about the fog settling in over town that all of these ways we are paying attention to nature, the passage of time, and giving thanks for them is a way of preparing—it is a way of bringing hopefulness into the world around us. I find that it is easy to get sucked in to the sadness, outrage, fear, and anxiety of our times, but our faith compels us to rise out of that thinking to give thanks, show love, and hope for Jesus to come again.
This Advent, since my kiddos have entered middle school, is a bit different then years past. This year they gave up a Saturday and their “share” bank to go and buy gifts for two kiddos on the giving tree at their school. They are collecting food for those in need. They volunteered for the day at their elementary school to help little kids at a book fair. We are clinging onto hopefulness by showing up as signs of God’s love in the world. Emmanuel is a Hebrew word that means “God with us” or “God dwelling among the people.” I wanted my kids to know that God is with us, and that our job is to remind people that God is also with them, God is dwelling among us. As we show kindness, gratitude, and joy, we are helping to bring God among us again. Advent isn’t just about the chocolate, but about preparing for Jesus, being like St. Nicholas and helping those in need, and loving others as God loves us. Advent is a reminder that the world is hurting, that we may be hurting, but that God has not abandoned us, God dwells among us. I hope that this Advent you may also find joy, hopefulness, reasons to practice gratitude, and opportunities to be a sign that God is dwelling among us while also seeing signs of God in others.