For years I was a bit of an Advent purist. Or maybe a lot of one. It’s my favorite liturgical season, and I wanted to share that love with others. I earnestly tried to convince more of the people in my life who didn’t grow up observing Advent that there’s a benefit to waiting for Christmas cheer (and then celebrating all 12 days of Christmas).
But it was getting a bit ridiculous. One year I didn’t decorate until we returned from visiting family, a few days before Epiphany. I left the decorations up until Lent, which didn’t really make up for anything. In the past few years, my Christmas-loving husband and I have found ways to compromise. We have gotten a tree early on in Advent and placed on it a simple strand of lights and ornaments representing hope, peace, joy, and love each Sunday until Christmas, when we turn up the festive level.
This year I feel Advent’s longing in my flesh and bones. It is my first holiday season without my father, who died in April. And several people close to me are facing serious illness and prognoses that weigh heavily. My default pattern would have me revert to a pursuit of Advent purity to regain some sense of control. (Can I get an “Amen” from my Enneagram Ones?) Instead, I’m trying to embrace life’s mix of sorrow and joy.
Earlier this month I joined my housemates in riding Chicago public transit’s holiday train. For the two year old, any train is a thrill. And before his eyes arrived one decked with multicolored lights, where he was greeted by people in elf costumes handing out candy canes. Because of the joy the occasion brought him, the Santa-laden tunes piped into our train car did not grate on my ears. I even sang along.
Such moments remind me to be grateful for the time I have with the people I love, whether they want to wish me a merry Christmas on December 1 or not.
Note: Parts of this post are adapted from one I wrote for the Christian Century in 2015.
Book update
I’m working with a publisher on the details of a book contract for What You Sow Is a Bare Seed: A Countercultural Christian Community during Five Decades of Change in the Church. I hope to have it signed before the end of the year. (I’ll give more details when I submit my manuscript.)
Reading & listening
Chocolate City: A History of Race and Democracy in the Nation’s Capital by Chris Myers Asch and George Derek Musgrove
I picked this book up while in D.C., in part to expand on the places where my endnotes were “My memory, circa 1998.” I enjoyed this meticulously researched and well-written work, which has implications beyond the handful of people who join me in the middle of a Venn diagram of D.C. natives and history nerds.
I’ve been listening to Steve Thorngate’s album After the Longest Night, with original songs for Advent. They include positive language for darkness, and beautiful traditional words such as the O Antiphons while avoiding supersessionism. It’s available as a digital album or CD.
I love every bit of this. Remembering my first excursion on the Holiday train, the many faces and fetes of advent, the approaching joy i have with solstice!, the reminder to be in the both /and. So excited to hear more about the publisher!~ Merry, Merry!