Today marked the First Sunday in Advent for those of us in the west, and I had the curious pleasure of creating my first advent wreath. I didn't grow up in a traditional church, so I had never heard of Advent before becoming Anglican a few years ago. The Advent season consists of the four Sundays preceding Christmas and the weeks thereof. Although it's a time we remember Mary preparing for the birth of her child, and thus prepare for Christmas, it's also a season for Christians to anticipate the second coming of Jesus, and from a strictly orthodox perspective it's a penitent season, a mini-Lent. Obviously being penitent is difficult in weeks before Christmas; it would be much easier once the Christmas credit card statements roll in!
As a child I heard adults comment on the true value of Christmas as time spent with family and scoffed: Christmas about about gifts! Age has transformed me into one of those adults, however, one who not only doesn't get excited about the gift-giving-and-receiving aspect, but dreads it. For nearly ten years now I have subscribed to a philosophy of simple living, prompted by my realization (upon getting my first job) that every thing I bought cost not money, but hours of my life. I believe firmly that the more we focus on what we lack and what we want, the more miserable we are. For this reason I have come to greatly appreciate orthodox Christianity's season of Advent, as a way of focusing on the things which matter, instead of the hassle of the 'ordinary' season. The Christmas furor is made worse, I think , by the fact that people these days are constantly plugged in; between computers, tablets, phones, cars, and now even watches, turning off is more difficult than ever. And yet the soul requires rest as surely as the body does; it needs moments to reflect, to listen. Where will we find the time for that this season, when on top of the rest of our business is added a stream of parties, of prompts to buy things, of activities? We agree to event after event, thinking that the more the merrier, but when there are so many different parties with so many different people, isn't the *special* character of parties lost? Do they not risk turning to one great long blur of "Things to Buy/Bake For"?
For my own part, I impose limits on myself -- a modest gift budget, a set number of parties. I have tried to choose gifts are more than just 'stuff'; I find items that will strengthen my connection to others, like a book we can talk about, a tool we can learn to use together. With every year Christmas becomes more for me a thing of celebrating the renewal of tradition. There is nothing to me like the smell of some of my kin's signature dishes, or dancing the old dance -- trimming the tree with friends and family, singing songs and drinking piping hot cider, repeating the old moves but with different flourishes, and sometimes with new people, remembering those who have passed on, and celebrating new friends and new additions to the family. How long does this continuity extend? When I look forward to Christmas, I am partaking in a tradition shared by agricultural civilizations in the northern hemisphere for eons, the anticipating of the solstice, that moment when the sun reaches its nadir and begins to rebound. When I build a wreath, I share a moment not only with European Christians for hundreds of years, but Europeans for hundreds of years prior, who prayed to their god for the return of the light. There's so much in the air this season, the beauty of the Christian story --the yearning for days of peace and goodwill toward men. This is a season where we seem more prepared to listen to the better angels of our nature. Getting distracted by the buying and the planning would be a waste, yet we persist.
Does Advent mean anything to you? How do you keep the season, stay focused on the deeper meanings?
As a child I heard adults comment on the true value of Christmas as time spent with family and scoffed: Christmas about about gifts! Age has transformed me into one of those adults, however, one who not only doesn't get excited about the gift-giving-and-receiving aspect, but dreads it. For nearly ten years now I have subscribed to a philosophy of simple living, prompted by my realization (upon getting my first job) that every thing I bought cost not money, but hours of my life. I believe firmly that the more we focus on what we lack and what we want, the more miserable we are. For this reason I have come to greatly appreciate orthodox Christianity's season of Advent, as a way of focusing on the things which matter, instead of the hassle of the 'ordinary' season. The Christmas furor is made worse, I think , by the fact that people these days are constantly plugged in; between computers, tablets, phones, cars, and now even watches, turning off is more difficult than ever. And yet the soul requires rest as surely as the body does; it needs moments to reflect, to listen. Where will we find the time for that this season, when on top of the rest of our business is added a stream of parties, of prompts to buy things, of activities? We agree to event after event, thinking that the more the merrier, but when there are so many different parties with so many different people, isn't the *special* character of parties lost? Do they not risk turning to one great long blur of "Things to Buy/Bake For"?
For my own part, I impose limits on myself -- a modest gift budget, a set number of parties. I have tried to choose gifts are more than just 'stuff'; I find items that will strengthen my connection to others, like a book we can talk about, a tool we can learn to use together. With every year Christmas becomes more for me a thing of celebrating the renewal of tradition. There is nothing to me like the smell of some of my kin's signature dishes, or dancing the old dance -- trimming the tree with friends and family, singing songs and drinking piping hot cider, repeating the old moves but with different flourishes, and sometimes with new people, remembering those who have passed on, and celebrating new friends and new additions to the family. How long does this continuity extend? When I look forward to Christmas, I am partaking in a tradition shared by agricultural civilizations in the northern hemisphere for eons, the anticipating of the solstice, that moment when the sun reaches its nadir and begins to rebound. When I build a wreath, I share a moment not only with European Christians for hundreds of years, but Europeans for hundreds of years prior, who prayed to their god for the return of the light. There's so much in the air this season, the beauty of the Christian story --the yearning for days of peace and goodwill toward men. This is a season where we seem more prepared to listen to the better angels of our nature. Getting distracted by the buying and the planning would be a waste, yet we persist.
Does Advent mean anything to you? How do you keep the season, stay focused on the deeper meanings?
