Advent comes, relentlessly and throughout life, with its words of hope and faith—shepherds and magi, crib and star, Emmanuel and glory—and stirs our hearts to pinnacles of possibility one more time…The real Christmas gift, for which Advent is the process, is learning to hum hope, learning to dance the divine.

-Joan Chittister

In my humble opinion, Advent is a challenge to observe. It goes against all of my natural tendencies: My kids can attest to the fact that I am an early Christmas-decorator. I don’t like cold weather and I can’t handle more than about two consecutive cloudy days, so when the threat of both comes early in November, I bring out the balls and lights and candles to ward off the depressed feelings that come with the impending darkness. It would be easy for me to launch into seven weeks of Christmas celebration: band concerts, Christmas goodies, pine-y candles, Christmas movies, Christmas parties, and Christmas gift buying. Advent presses the pause button—just enough to feel the weight of waiting. Truly an invitation, we can take it or leave it. And as evidenced by the world around us, most of us would rather dive head-first into bright celebration than wait in the proverbial darkness.

This darkness is symbolic and, for those of us living in the northern hemisphere, is a startling reality every year as we make our way towards winter.  We wake up in darkness and spend our evenings in darkness.  Maybe the practice of embracing the darkness can be formative for us. After all, we are in good company! In the Hebrew Bible, we see lots of darkness:

“In-the-beginning” chaotic darkness,

The “Hebrews-enslaved-to-the-Egyptians” darkness,

The “Israel-moved-from-the Promised Land-to-exile” darkness,

And the “valley-of-the-shadow-of-death” kind of darkness.

And even for the Jews living in the years leading up to Jesus’ birth--they were experiencing the darkness of Roman occupation, made worse by the fact their prophets had been silent for centuries.   Where was the Promised Messiah?

Into this darkness God, clothed in skin, was born.  Uninvited by those in Power.  Misunderstood by his own people, unknown to the rest of the world. Just as the Spirit of God hovered over the chaotic waters of the pre-creation, and Yahweh led the Hebrews out of the land of darkness with clouds and fire, like the Spirit-empowered prophets speaking hope to a defeated Israel who was scattered among the pagan nations, God is no stranger to darkness.   

One might even say that the darkness is where God’s work is most visible. Like seeds taking root, the darkness often is a place of beginnings. Celebrating Advent is an acknowledgment that even in the dark, or maybe especially in the dark, God is with us. We allow space for the hurt, the pain, the unmet longings of life—and find in this darkness that God comes to us. God walks with us. God leads us. Our Good Shepherd isn’t far away. In this way, the practice of waiting to celebrate teaches us to hum hope. It’s not yet time to belt it out. For that would be ignoring the darkness around us. But we can hum it steadily—proclaiming that indeed, the Spirit of God is moving.

Even in the darkness. Especially in the darkness. God is with us. Immanuel!