advent at the drivethru window

As a child, my faith tradition did not emphasize Advent. As I’ve grown, I’ve come to realize that part of adulting is exploring various traditions with curiosity, learning to practice habits that provide me with a helpful posture toward myself and others. We need not be suspicious of practices that are foreign to our experience. Discovery can lead to the traditions of the generations that follow us. I now love the practice of Advent, and relish the process of pause, of reflection, of longing, of lament, and of hope that it invites me to cultivate as the year closes.

This year, I am fascinated by the way I observe Advent happening around me. In my own life, I have learned that the magic of Advent is often lost when it is approached as an added list of things to do. Many of us tell ourselves that to prepare for the birth of the Messiah, the birth and life that changes everything about the way we live, we need to find 10 minutes daily to read an extra passage or section of scripture. We add this need to read to days already expanded beyond capacity with extra baking, Christmas shows, shopping, wrapping, and festive gatherings. This, “add it to the list!” approach to Advent seems distinctly American. Always winning, always willing to work harder, to conquer everything, we approach Advent as a quick add on that might have the potential to radically change the way we live. We can’t order Advent transformation at a drive thru window, but that doesn’t stop us from trying.

We dabble in many new practices in this way. Meditation and contemplative practices are all the rage in some circles right now. Like Advent, contemplation loses its power when approached as a magical-perspective-altering-game you can quickly master. Contemplation is not a 5 Hour energy shot for the spirit; it is an invitation into an entirely different way of knowing oneself and one’s surroundings. It requires time and intentional surrendering to the action of the Divine, rather than a commitment to our own control.

We can’t help ourselves, really. When many of us give, we give out of our excess. We might give generously, but often after we first establish we have plenty to meet our own needs. We welcome folks into our homes with great hospitality, but only after we have worked to make sure everything is perfect, creating a controlled environment in which we can be ‘authentically joyful.’

We are missing the boat. Hospitality, generosity, contemplation and Advent require a change in the way we think about our own effort, our own sufficiencies. Sure, we can fake it til we make it. We can curate a perfect party without pausing to create space for our vulnerabilities to mingle with those of our guests. We can write big fat checks at the end of the year without pausing to think about how much we think we deserve, or how much of our security comes from hoarding wealth. We can download an app and force a 5 minute contemplation without embracing the possibility that silence, solitude and stillness can be more valuable than speaking, socializing or productive action. We can rush through Advent readings, distractedly praying that we won’t miss the pause this season offers, without ever accessing the need, the fear, the disappointment, the hunger that rumbles beneath our satiated lives.

I do it too. I cram these practice—that promise life—on top of habits already determined to take everything I have. I cannot commit to a contemplative and generous and hospitable season of Advent waiting because I am already committed to manic productivity and action.

Each way of life demands our all, and neither plays well with others. The great news is that we have a choice to recognize the impact of our daily practices. We can begin today to pay attention to our lives. If we find ourselves constantly insufficient, searching for value and belonging in the midst of exhausted movement, rarely fully present or connected, perhaps our habits are delivering all that they can.

Advent offers a different pace. It will cause more frustration if we simply add Adventing to a life pace already strained to the breaking point. Instead, in the week before us, consider allowing the time spent reading and reflecting in silence to inspire all your other movement or stillness. Allow yourself time and space to know what the Messiah promises to do, and to feel your need for Immanuel. Creating such time and space might mean forgoing other practices that fill your days. I suspect we will find that it is out of such an embrace of our own hungry souls that we will find abundance.