But why?
What's the deal with the candles?
What's the deal with Advent at all?
To begin, let's take a bit deeper look into what Advent even is. The word 'Advent' is derived from the Latin word, 'adventus,' which is a translation of the Greek word 'parousia' which means 'arrival or coming.' It's during Advent that we celebrate that God came down to us. God arrived into time and space clothed with skin and bone and lying in the arms of young, Jewish parents.
During the season of Advent, we spend the four weeks leading up to Christmas waiting. Waiting for the time when we'll gather together on Christmas day with our friends and family and celebrate the birth of a baby. Waiting for the day when that boy will return again, not to a manger, but as King over all things.
But how are we to wait?
What does waiting look like?
My first thought is to look to my kids. After all, my kids are waiting and they remind me of it daily. My kids are waiting to tear into the presents that are already starting to accumulate at the bottom of our Christmas tree. This type of waiting is intense but short lived. For the next three weeks, my kids will daily ask me when they can open their presents. Then, after opening more toys and clothes than they need, these new shiny presents will find their homes in toy boxes, storage bins, and dresser drawers as my kids quickly move on to the next thing to catch their interest.
Is that how we're to wait for Christmas?
Are we to focus intensely during these next three weeks, only to shelve that excitement for the rest of the year?
Is there another way?
I also have some close friends who are waiting. They have recently found out they're pregnant and so they wait. They wait, not to tear into a gift, but to gaze into the eyes of a tiny human who will grow to call them 'mom' and 'dad.' And their waiting is different. Their waiting isn't short lived. They don't wait for something to be forgotten and stuffed in a drawer with all the other things they've waited for before. My friends waiting is filled with anticipation, it's dripping with possibility. They wait to hold their little one in their arms as they softly sing lullabies into a warm, tiny ear. They wait for the day they'll be able to walk their kids to the bus for the first day of school. They wait for the first baseball game, the first significant other, the day they get to walk their precious little girls down an aisle toward someone they're already praying will take good care of their little angels. They wait with the understanding that life will never be the same.
This kind of waiting is different, it's filled with life, with anticipation.
Which brings us back to Advent.
We will spend the next few weeks waiting. Each week, we'll light another candle on the Advent wreath as we wait. And we wait, not like children waiting to consume what's piled under a tree, but we wait to celebrate a baby. We wait in anticipation knowing that, because of this baby, nothing will ever be the same. Because of this baby, the blind will see, the sick will be healed, the dead will be raised. Because of this baby, we can have life and have it to the full.
Photo: Joe O'Meara
