Anxiety and Advent: Between Conception and Delivery
Everybody over the age of twelve seems stressed this time of year. The students in the high school where I teach are finishing their semester projects and papers, taking final chapter tests and preparing for semester exams next week. The musicians and the dancers and actors have Christmas concerts, recitals and plays. Though football is done, basketball and indoor track are in full swing and practices follow school everyday. The teachers are equally busy planning, grading, managing, and trying to make it to the academic finish line of the semester, only to leave school in the afternoon and go Christmas shopping, or home to bake or trim the tree.
Culturally, the ways we celebrate this season are counterintuitive to waiting. We are in Advent; but we are not waiting. We are racing, making list and checking them twice, studying, working, trying to use every available minute to accomplish the most before the deadline arrives. For the students, it’s next Friday. The pressure is off after that last exam. For adults, it’s Christmas Day. By then, the shopping, decorating, cooking and entertaining are culminating.
One of my students said this morning, “Sometimes the worrying is worse than the actual thing.” He’s a pretty smart guy. One of my school’s most accomplished young men, he is musician, scholar, and athlete: he has an upcoming concert, is running track, is managing AP classes, and he’s taking the ACT this weekend. He’s been given the wisdom in the moment to realize that the anxiety of all he is juggling is just that: vaporous dread. The events themselves will occur and he will get through them doing the best he can in the moment he’s got before him. And in a week, it will all be over for him.
My scholars finishing their 5-week composition projects!
I wonder if Mary, the mother of the Christ child felt this way. I know she was a teenage Jewish girl in a culture and time unlike modern America, but surely it wasn’t all peaceful waiting. If she was like every other pregnant woman on planet earth, she felt the anxiety of an impending labor and birth. She must’ve had a “to do” list before the Christ Child was born, gone through the nesting instinct like other pregnant mothers, dreaded the heaviness of the final month and the pain of labor and delivery. She must’ve wondered when and where her labor would start and how long it would take and if she would survive it. I bet she had a particular way she wanted that saddlebag packed when Joseph loaded her up on that donkey and said they had to go to Bethlehem.
I’ve read countless times the story of the angel appearing to Mary and I know well the words of “The Magnificat” found in The Gospel of Luke chapter 1. Mary was told she was favored, to not be afraid, that she would be visited by the Holy Spirit and have a baby and what to name him. She celebrated this favor and pronouncement when she visited her cousin Elizabeth who was expecting John the Baptist. Her famous line, “Be it onto me according to Thy word,” is a breath prayer for all of us who come after her.
Still, she didn’t get a whole lot of detail from the angel (as far as we can read) about the day to day between conception and delivery. She had to live each moment letting the narrative unfold, living in the details, coping with the questions, the anxiety or outright fear, until the day arrived when Jesus was born. Interestingly, He was with her and in her the whole time.
And so it is with us.
Only we can’t seem to stay in conscious awareness of it so we stress about the details, and worry about the deadlines, and experience the darkness even as we carry the peace of God and the light of the world within us.