An Advent reflection

Commonweal, Dec 4, 1998 by Richard R. Gaillardetz

On a hectic December morning several years ago, as I was getting ready to go to work, into our bedroom marched my then two-and- half-year-old son Brian, clad in nothing but a diaper, and holding a bottle of milk like a royal scepter. He looked at me, and in a triumphant voice proclaimed: "Jesus is coming!!!" But before I could congratulate myself for our having done such a fine job in Advent catechesis, he immediately followed that proclamation with a second: "Go! Go! Power Rangers!!" And with this solemn invocation of the superheroes of the day, he did an about-face and marched back into the living room.

There is a way in which this brief encounter sums up the challenge of the Advent season: the confrontation between our faith and a culture often tone deaf to the values of Advent. One fundamental aspect of this confrontation (and it need not always be a confrontation) between faith and contemporary culture is the impact of modern technology on our experience of time.

The clock may be the most important machine of modern technology. Until the late thirteenth century, most clocks were either sundials or water clocks, both of which kept time by careful alignment with the rhythms of the natural world. With the advent of the mechanical clock in the fourteenth century, and its mass production in the nineteenth century, time became separated from natural rhythms, both internal (heartbeat, breathing, hunger patterns, for example) and external (the cycle of day and night, the annual seasons, etc.), to which premoderns aligned themselves. Once time could be measured in independent units apart from the consideration of internal or external rhythms, time began to appear "under our control." We are now encouraged to "make the most of our time," or to "use our time wisely." Human activities are increasingly measured by their time-efficiency.

Alongside clocks we might include microwave ovens, cell phones, pagers, home computers, and a myriad of other devices that modern technology offers us in our quest to conquer time. Let us consider but one, the microwave oven. Many of us now rely on microwave ovens for a good share of the cooking. At first the microwave oven was employed primarily to warm up left-overs, but now we have packaged microwave meals that help us save time by eliminating much of meal preparation. What microwaves offer us is a more efficient use of time. But they also change the way we "spend" time, for the time spent preparing a meal is also the best argument for its leisurely consumption. A meal which requires no preparation also lays little claim to sustained dinner interaction. Microwave meals are made, not just to be prepared quickly, but to be consumed quickly.

This is the paradox of our age: We can easily become so trapped in an endless spiral to purchase more technological gadgets which promise to help us "save" time that we have lost the ability to "spend" time. We no longer know how to luxuriate in the present because we are obsessed with technologically "banking" our time for some never-quite-realized future enjoyment. Even actively committed Christians tend to see the issue of time as one of finding a place for "religious time" in their busy lives. They will heroically carve out a place for brief daily prayer, Sunday Eucharist, children's catechesis, and perhaps a weeknight parish meeting of one kind or another. But what is forgotten is the invitation which the season of Advent offers us, not just to carve out some time for God, but to undergo conversion in our very experience of time. It is in Advent that we learn, not to master time, but rather to submit ourselves to the flow of God's time. In Advent we can learn the spirituality of waiting.

Advent, it is important to remember, draws our attention to two biblical pregnancies. To one young virgin, Mary, an angel announces the inexplicable - she shall bear a child. To another old and barren woman, Elizabeth, cousin to that young girl, the gift of pregnancy is also given. And in the womb of Elizabeth, the blessed leaps in the presence of the one who blesses. And so these two women wait - and with all the mothers of the world, they teach us how to wait. So let us submit to the pedagogy of mothers and the testimony of fathers and reflect on the lessons that come from bringing a child into the world.

First there is the news that there is to be a child. Often a woman realizes this almost intuitively, sensing the first changes in her body. Then the waiting begins. But it is a peculiar waiting, for there already is a child in the womb. And yet, in the beginning, particularly for the father, there are few discernible signs of what is to come. Therein lies the heart of the Advent spirit.

Advent is a paradoxical season. It is to be a season of waiting, a season governed by anticipation. But what are we waiting for? We are waiting for the Christ who has already come and is to come again. Much like the child in the womb, we believe Christ to be present and yet we wait. We know what it is to wait for a guest to arrive; but waiting on a guest who has already arrived is another matter! And yet that is what Advent asks of us. In faith we must celebrate, even in our waiting, the reality of Emmanuel, God with us.