Today Advent begins in the liturgical calendar of the Church: four weeks that are usually described as a time of waiting, a time during which we pause and prepare for the feast of the birth of Jesus.
Someone might ask: Is Advent really necessary? If what’s important is what comes next— Christmas—could we not skip the preamble? Here we would like to emphasize that Advent, this lesser liturgical time (which perhaps does not have the heft of the Christmas season that follows it, or Lent, or Easter) offers an invitation that is especially pertinent for today, one that we would do well to attend. Advent points to the importance of being able to wait, and it would not be an exaggeration to say that we are currently losing the ability to do such a thing, to do it well, and that with this, we are missing the benefits of waiting.
Today we are becoming increasingly unable to wait: we want everything instantly. We live in a world that regards immediacy as an indisputable value. All forms of waiting, therefore, are a nuisance that must be eliminated. We purchase what we need online, so that we do not have to wait to be served at the counter of a store. We download films from digital platforms and watch them in our living room, so as not to have to line up at a theater, wait for everyone to be seated, and for the trailers to finish. We read the news on our phones because it irritates us to wait for the newspapers to arrive at our kiosk or for the time when the television news airs. So as not to waste time waiting for the food to be cooked, we call a delivery service, which in the shortest possible time appears on our doorstep with pizza or whatever we have ordered, hot and ready to be consumed. The so-called "waiting rooms" (the doctor’s, the lawyer’s) are for many people a relic of the past, and when they cannot be avoided, we endure them as if they were real torture chambers! Indeed, we do not find any value in waiting.
And yet, there is something unnatural in our desire to accelerate the results we long for, because many of the essential things in life continue to require, whether we like it or not, patience and the ability to wait. The gestation of a baby in her mother's womb lasts nine months. The ripening of a fruit on the branch of the tree takes weeks. Weaving a friendship can take years, just like studying for a career, learning to master the art of playing an instrument or knowing how to express ourselves in a new language. Savoring a good book may require many hours of slow immersion in its pages, and there are poets who have spent decades retouching and remaking the same poem. It took Michelangelo more than four years to paint the Sistine Chapel, Tolstoy needed five to write War and Peace, the construction of the Taj Mahal lasted 22 years, and 136 years ago they began to build “La Sagrada Familia” church in Barcelona, and it is still unfinished!
It is likely that the modern cult of immediacy is turning us into more efficient people who do more things in less time, but perhaps also more coarse people, because doing things well requires patience, dedication, and a willingness to discover the slow rhythms of nature. And yes, to know how to wait, and even more, to savor the waiting as that which will make us enjoy and value the attainment of what we have hoped for, with patience. Indeed: the great danger of obtaining everything (or almost everything!) in a second by pressing a key on our telephone or computer, is that we can lose the ability to distinguish art from garbage, truth from lies, the deep from the superficial, an authentic love from a passing friendship. Garbage, lies, superficial stuff and passing friendships can be produced in an instant, without effort; on the other hand, art, truth, depth and authentic love cost, they need time to be formed, like the body of a child in the womb of its mother, like a tree that takes decades to grow, like a masterpiece, like trust, like sincerity.
Advent, in short, sends us a warning: "Do not despise the art of waiting." It is an essential warning, and that is why we truly need this season that begins today.
Someone might ask: Is Advent really necessary? If what’s important is what comes next— Christmas—could we not skip the preamble? Here we would like to emphasize that Advent, this lesser liturgical time (which perhaps does not have the heft of the Christmas season that follows it, or Lent, or Easter) offers an invitation that is especially pertinent for today, one that we would do well to attend. Advent points to the importance of being able to wait, and it would not be an exaggeration to say that we are currently losing the ability to do such a thing, to do it well, and that with this, we are missing the benefits of waiting.
Today we are becoming increasingly unable to wait: we want everything instantly. We live in a world that regards immediacy as an indisputable value. All forms of waiting, therefore, are a nuisance that must be eliminated. We purchase what we need online, so that we do not have to wait to be served at the counter of a store. We download films from digital platforms and watch them in our living room, so as not to have to line up at a theater, wait for everyone to be seated, and for the trailers to finish. We read the news on our phones because it irritates us to wait for the newspapers to arrive at our kiosk or for the time when the television news airs. So as not to waste time waiting for the food to be cooked, we call a delivery service, which in the shortest possible time appears on our doorstep with pizza or whatever we have ordered, hot and ready to be consumed. The so-called "waiting rooms" (the doctor’s, the lawyer’s) are for many people a relic of the past, and when they cannot be avoided, we endure them as if they were real torture chambers! Indeed, we do not find any value in waiting.
And yet, there is something unnatural in our desire to accelerate the results we long for, because many of the essential things in life continue to require, whether we like it or not, patience and the ability to wait. The gestation of a baby in her mother's womb lasts nine months. The ripening of a fruit on the branch of the tree takes weeks. Weaving a friendship can take years, just like studying for a career, learning to master the art of playing an instrument or knowing how to express ourselves in a new language. Savoring a good book may require many hours of slow immersion in its pages, and there are poets who have spent decades retouching and remaking the same poem. It took Michelangelo more than four years to paint the Sistine Chapel, Tolstoy needed five to write War and Peace, the construction of the Taj Mahal lasted 22 years, and 136 years ago they began to build “La Sagrada Familia” church in Barcelona, and it is still unfinished!
It is likely that the modern cult of immediacy is turning us into more efficient people who do more things in less time, but perhaps also more coarse people, because doing things well requires patience, dedication, and a willingness to discover the slow rhythms of nature. And yes, to know how to wait, and even more, to savor the waiting as that which will make us enjoy and value the attainment of what we have hoped for, with patience. Indeed: the great danger of obtaining everything (or almost everything!) in a second by pressing a key on our telephone or computer, is that we can lose the ability to distinguish art from garbage, truth from lies, the deep from the superficial, an authentic love from a passing friendship. Garbage, lies, superficial stuff and passing friendships can be produced in an instant, without effort; on the other hand, art, truth, depth and authentic love cost, they need time to be formed, like the body of a child in the womb of its mother, like a tree that takes decades to grow, like a masterpiece, like trust, like sincerity.
Advent, in short, sends us a warning: "Do not despise the art of waiting." It is an essential warning, and that is why we truly need this season that begins today.
