The house lights go off and the footlights come on. Even the chattiest stop chattering as they wait in darkness for the curtain to rise. In the orchestra pit, the violin bows are poised. The conductor has raised his baton.
In the silence of a midwinter dusk, there is far off in the deeps of it somewhere a sound so faint that for all you can tell it may be only the sound of the silence itself. You hold your breath to listen.
You walk up the steps to the front door. The empty windows at either side of it tell you nothing, or almost nothing. For a second you catch a whiff of some fragrance that reminds you of a place you’ve never been and a time you have no words for.
You are aware of the beating of your heart…The extraordinary thing that is about to happen is matched only by the extraordinary moment just before it happens.
Advent is the name of that moment.
~Frederick Buechner, Whistling in the Dark
We are on the brink, waiting, wondering what is to come next.
The moment of silent expectation suspended between what we anticipate will happen and what actually does happen is a moment of sweet tension and longing. Many find Christmas to be an anticlimax to the build up beforehand. In the true spirit of Advent, that can never be the case. The preparation for His coming merely foreshadows the joy we feel when holding Him close, seeing His face and knowing He is God in flesh.
He is with us, He is in us and our hearts, jubilant, beat like His. And sadness flee away.
o come desired of nations,
whom priest and prophet long foretold,
will break the captive fetters,
redeem the long-lost fold.
o come in peace and meekness,
for lowly will your cradle be:
though clothed in human weakness
we shall your god-head see.
o come, divine messiah,
the world in silence waits the day
when hope shall sing its triumph,
and sadness flee away.
(Author M. Pellegrin)