The Waiting Game

Although I grew up thoroughly religious, and occasionally Christian, Advent was a non-issue. I remember people lighting funny-colored candles during Sunday morning worship service, but so often some song-and-dance routine was going on down front: baby dedications, handbell choirs, lay people solemnly trudging up to read the Bible. The rituals around Advent seemed part of the showbiz, keeping things interesting. Is what I would have thought if I had any conscious thoughts about it.

I'm more curious and skeptical about my religion now. Once I started poking around, I discovered an entire year-long calendar of stuff in the official Church orthodoxy, of which Easter and Christmas are just the standouts. But there's more.

Like Advent. Advent formally starts the fourth Sunday before Christmas. Some years that can be as early as November 24, but this year it's December 2. Advent is meant to be a time of anticipatory waiting, not just for Christ's first coming, but also for his next coming.

I've become increasingly aware of Advent in the last few years, and this year I'm making a point to... care, I guess. I have a book of Advent readings, and with startlingly little thought, I volunteered myself into leading Advent reflections in my weekly small group (which starts tomorrow, which is why I'm ruminating on this four days before go time).

As with many of my religious dabblings, I don't go in with a lot of expectation. I don't know what I'm doing, and I don't have a goal other than to fiddle with the knobs and see what happens. Sometimes that turns out to be meaningful, and sometimes I get done and feel no less bewildered than when I started.

Is that a dumb way to do religion? I can't tell. It might be. But I like experimenting, and I like simple hope, free from disappointment.

Which I suppose is a very Advent-y thing to be doing.