Hushed waiting*

There’s something special about the first substantial snowfall of winter.  It begins almost like dandelion fluff, but rapidly clumps into something more like drifting petals of spring blossom.  Eventually it settles on the ground, and as it piles up the outlines of the world soften and the sound of traffic is muffled and we enter a time of waiting.

The snowfalls ends, and it’s time for snowmen and snow-fights and snow angels.  And a day or two later, life returns to normal: either the snow melts, or after the fun we shovel and plough our way back into motion.  A few snowfalls later, a dirty crust has built up, and melt has turned to ice, and we are ready for spring. But still the memory persists of the hush that accompanied the snowfall, the suspension of time when all we could do was wait.

Advent is like that time.  A time of hushed waiting.  God, God’s very self, is about to come to earth.  Advent is a time to stop, to catch our breath at the wonder of it all.

“Let all mortal flesh keep silence,

and with fear and trembling stand;

ponder nothing earthly minded,

for with blessing in his hand

Christ our God to earth descendeth,

our full homage to demand.” †

This is, perhaps, the most potent of all time. We wait, we wait in holy silence, for the gift that is God among us.  

It’s like pregnancy, necessary time to get ready for the change that new life will bring.  That’s why the ancient church set aside this time, four weeks (or in some traditions forty days) of solemn preparation, not only remembering the first coming of Jesus Christ as savior, but also awaiting his second coming as gracious judge.  It’s serious, hallowed time.

Of course, everything around us is saying the reverse. 

“Christmas is here
Bringing good cheer” ‡

Da da-da da, da da-da da,

beating its way insistently through the malls and into our brains.

We have to hurry: there is shopping to be done and cookies to be baked and cards to be sent.  And before we know it, Christmas will be here, the food and the gifts and the family gatherings.  And then trees to take down and bills to pay and a new financial year. Da da-da da, da da-da da, da da-da da, da da-da da.

But no. Christmas is not here. Not yet. It’s Advent, and there’s no point being so busy having a shower or painting the nursery that we miss the baby’s birth. As if the baby would really care.

So stop.  Take time. Listen for the hush. For Christ our God to earth descendeth, our full homage to demand.

* Thanks to members of the book group of St James, St James who named Advent as a time of  "hushed waiting.”

† Liturgy of Saint James (fifth century); trans. Gerald Moultrie (1829-1885), 1864.

‡ Peter J. Wilhousky, 1936.