A Treatise Against Advent Passivity

When I think about Advent, I think WAITING.  In our modern times, waiting often conjures up images of passivity – standing in line at the DMV or grocery store, trying to make time pass by doodling around on our phones or considering our to-do lists.  As I have considered this state of “waiting” further, however, I have begun to realize just how active waiting can be.

Consider pregnancy (a very apt metaphor given why we celebrate Christmas).  Pregnancy is much more active than passive, and birth is an odd mix of the inevitability of the natural process and extremely hard work on the part of the mother.  During pregnancy, the mother must make an effort to nourish her body, get adequate rest, and make preparations for the new baby.  It can be a challenge to be present in, much less enjoy the waiting, but the waiting is utterly necessary to prepare both mother and baby for the birth.

Similarly, plants typically go through a “waiting” period each year – a hibernation of sorts.  Trees, through complex mechanisms known and unknown, sense the colder weather and shorter days and understand that they must store up their sugar energy in order to survive the winter.  In order to do this, they first absorb nutrients from their leaves into their branches, trunk, and roots.  As different nutrients are absorbed, the leaves change color, resulting in a spectacular show each autumn.  When the tree is stockpiled with energy, and the leaves have done their work, the tree grows a layer of cells between stems and leaves to signal the leaves to drop.  The tree spends the winter bare, no life in it as far as our human eyes can see.  But it has been preparing, waiting, storing up things in its heart, in preparation for the coming of new life.

For us humans, time marches on in a linear fashion.  We are here in Advent whether we like it or not, much as the trees are now forced to rid themselves of leaves and mothers for whom the labor pains have started are now in a process which cannot be reversed.  What can we learn from the trees and from Mary and other pregnant mothers?  How can we be present, striking a balance of quiet rest and contemplation, while also preparing for the beauty of new life?