Advent and the River

I have been sitting here for some time trying to decide what to write for my first Advent reflection. Today is the first Sunday of Advent: the first of four Sundays preceding Christmas. A purple candle was lit upon the Advent wreath and a hymn was sung entitled “Come, O Long-Expected Jesus.” Outside frost was glazed across the grass and the mud was hard and cold, preparing for the coming of snow. Over the window frame of the front room in my apartment, coloured lights are strung, and the glow reflects in the open glass and out into the darkening sky of November.

Christmas is on its way; all the signs that accompany its coming have begun to arise. December is only a few days from our midst. Despite this, I don’t know what to write. Despite this, I am not quite in the spirit; the spirit of Christmas is still distant rather than intimate. It is far away and I am watching it descend while I think of Advent-related ideas upon which to reflect.

So what is Advent really about? There is one standard answer that comes to mind when I seek a definition for Advent. It is a single, simple word: waiting. I have written on the theme of waiting in relation to Advent before, and it really does encompass the essence of the Advent season. Throughout Advent, we are literally waiting for the birth of the Messiah, for the arrival of the long-expected Saviour. I think it is easy to lose the reality of this waiting, because we study the birth of Jesus and the familiar story from such a distance and with a historical perspective, or with the mindset of those who listen to a story of long ago.

But it is more than a mere story. And from the viewpoint of history, it is more than a list of facts or an objective account of events. It is also more than a remembrance, or at least it can be. If we really reclaim the spirit of Advent and the spirit of Christmas, it is a reliving. It is an experience that is ours and ours alone- ours personally. Not a tired old celebration or series of rote traditions that occur once a year, but something entirely new and re-invigorated. Something transformative and real.

Does Advent really have the power to transform us, from so many years away? I have lived through more than a few Advent seasons and more than a few Christmas Eves and Days. This year may be different, it will certainly be unique, but can the story realistically be re-innovated when it has been heard and felt so many times?

I think this re-innovation is a very realistic possibility, because we are different every year, and because Advent is a journey. Heraclitus, an Ancient Greek philosopher, said: “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.” This quote comes to my mind often, and I think there is much truth to it. As each individual processes along their individual journey of life, they are constantly transformed and changed by the things they experience and the people they encounter. I would not go so far as Heraclitus in denying any continuity of identity, but I certainly think his words hold true for the river, which we could extend to refer to life itself. I think that there are many things we stop seeing because we have seen them before. And yet if we look closely, there is always some new beauty or truth to these supposedly tired things, and there is always a new way of seeing available to us. This also makes me think of how the Bible is called “The Living Word.” Although the actual content remains unchanged, it is capable of yielding new fruit because it is inspired by a Creative Force that transcends the bounds of space and time.

The quotation of Heraclitus can be applied as well to the season of Advent specifically, and to an understanding of Advent as a journey. If Advent is a channel- a period of waiting- through which we must pass to reach the joyous celebration of Christmas, then it can be likened to the river in which the unnamed man is stepping. This river, with its irrevocable current, can carry us along to our destination. With the season of Advent, the destination, the goal in mind, is ultimately Christmas. And by Christmas, I don’t mean to invoke only the day itself and all its festivities, but the coming of Christ over which those festivities rejoice. In Advent, then, we prepare to receive the hope and joy of new life that entered into the world with the little Bethlehem baby. This is the destination, and the truth and glory of this destination do not alter. And the yet the river- the way that we get there- is never the same. Each Advent we have a new opportunity to discover a new facet of this joy and hope, and to discover it in a new way. Each Advent we are uniquely confronted with truth.

So perhaps if I don’t know what to write to open this Advent season, it’s because I don’t yet know where this particular Advent will take me. However, with openness and trust, such uncertainty can be a beautiful thing. For while we must take that first step into the river and while the river has the strength to carry us along, there is One who directs the current and who uses this truth that it is “not the same river” to unfold to us truths which we have never seen before.