Nothing, as I have recently learned, is more exciting than anticipating the arrival of a child, especially of the first-born. The waiting, of course, is full of anxiety. My wife has begun “nesting,” constructing a crib (then taking it apart, moving it, and reassembling it), moving the guest-bed, and preparing a list of necessities. The sacrifices that we know we will have to make have already begun to become present, but still we speak of the future lack of sleep and solitude with joy because with a child comes hope, and in that hope we have found our meaning.
The Church, too, finds her meaning in a Child, which is perhaps why she has long chosen to begin her liturgical year with the season of Advent, a season in which we are called to prepare for the Child’s arrival. At first glance, this seems ridiculous. Advent is, after all, a season that is literally filled with darkness as winter creeps in and daylight fades away. The cold, dark winter night has long symbolized for man his ultimate demise. And this season of death is our new year in which we are to celebrate the imminent arrival of Christ? Yet Holy Mother Church does begin her year here, and with good reason; indeed, she begins her year with Advent precisely because of the environment.
Among the oldest of prayers for Advent are the antiphons sung in “Veni, Veni, Emmanuel,” intoned by monks and nuns a millennium ago, with no electricity by which to read or keep warm in the cold, dark December nights. In these antiphons, the faithful beseech Christ by different titles: Emmanuel, Key of David. The verse that may most embody why we celebrate Advent in December, though, may well be “O come, thou Dayspring from on High,” for when we witness the sun rising ever earlier to beat back the cold dark night to offer its warmth to us, we are reminded of the true Son, whose radiance illuminates us, irrevocably destroying the shadow of death in the passing of the old and offering the warmth of new and eternal life.
This Advent will be special for my wife and me. For the first time we will understand the hope and anxiety of the People of God, who waited so long for a Child. And the fervent prayer of the Church, paralleling the Hebrews’ wait, is now more fully ours as we await the fulfillment of our marriage vows. Though sacrifice may be required, though we may experience some kind of death, we will remain full of hope and awe at the wonders of creation. For although the road must one day pass through Calvary, Advent — the preparation and hope for a Child to be — reminds us that life, not death, is the victor. Ultimately, Christ entombed is but Christ enwombed, and on the Day, the Son will rise once more and destroy the night forever.
[Editor’s note: This Advent reflection was written in 2006. Edward Gregory Dodge will be 20 months old on the Feast of the Immaculate Conception.]
