Waiting with St. Andrew
I am not, on the whole, an anxious person, but this is the time of year when a certain fretfulness arises in my spirit. Perhaps you, fellow sojourner, have experienced similar symptoms: outwardly scoffing at the Christmas light displays installed *before Thanksgiving* while inwardly worrying about when you'll find time to put yours up, or frantically clicking down a rabbit hole of Black Friday "savings", mysteriously overcome with the urge to buy everyone on your list a hitherto unheard of kitchen gadget, even though you KNOW deep down that no one wants that, even if it IS 62% off? Surely I'm not the only one!
The disquietude comes, of course, from the tension between my sincere desire to have a simple, peaceful Advent and a joyful, relaxed Christmas and the culture around me that is in a frenzied panic of consumerism, rushing to celebrate and complete the holidays by noon on the 25th, just in time for the New Year's Resolution sales. As a Catholic, I try to be intentional about keeping the season of Advent as a time of quiet and preparation for my family, but even that small, small way of living differently leaves one feeling behind, and awkwardly out of step with one's fellows. And this is such a tiny sacrifice in the big scheme of things, right? Avoiding holiday festivity until the Holy Day has arrives is hardly martyrdom. But this creeping restlessness of mine testifies to a humbling, undeniable fact: it is hard to wait.
Thankfully those of us who struggle with this are not alone, and nor are we without resources! There are wonderful traditions for keeping the season of Advent in quiet, meaningful ways. The lighting of candles on the Advent wreath and the revelation of a new Jesse tree ornament each night have become highly anticipated rituals for many families, mine included. When the frenzy of the world around me threatens my focus and my peace, I'm grateful to be able to lean into this beautiful heritage.
For the past two years, we've added the St. Andrew Christmas Novena (so named because it starts on his feast day) to our family prayers in December, and it's surprised me by becoming my favorite tradition of them all. The text is simple:
Hail and blessed be the hour and moment in which the Son of God was born Of the most pure Virgin Mary, at midnight, in Bethlehem, in the piercing cold. In that hour vouchsafe, I beseech Thee, O my God, to hear my prayer and grant my desires through the merits of Our Savior Jesus Christ, and of His blessed Mother.
Amen
On the first read through, it doesn't seem too impressive. As you repeat it, though, it gets under your skin. The power of this prayer lies in the specific, potent imagery that puts you right at the foot of the manger in the precise MOMENT of the birth of our Savior. It drives home the reality of it as an historical event, certainly. But, even more so, it hits you with the absolute unexpectedness of an incarnate God joining the human race through the same uncomfortable journey from cozy womb to frigid world that we've all been through.
Yes, it's that phrase "in the piercing cold" that gets me. I've given birth six times, five of those at home, and getting the room warm enough for the baby is always priority during the preparations. The idea of our tiny infant Christ being born into the coldness of a winter night and the shock that must have been to his helpless body for those seconds before Mary swaddled him--oh, it just wrenches my heart. That the omnipotent Creator of the universe would make himself so vulnerable, and that his journey to the cross begins thus...well, it is enough to say that the novena provokes many reflections.
We're so accustomed to nativity scenes with decorous arrangements of shepherds and wise men and piously bowing barnyard animals. They're ubiquitous during the holiday season. And there's nothing wrong with that, except for when over-exposure causes our hearts to grow over-familiar with the miracle and we lose our childlike awe. The St. Andrews Novena brings that cliched silhouette to life, sharpening our dulled wonder at the birth of the Son of God.
The novena begins on Saturday, November 30th, and if you haven't made it part of your family traditions before, I invite you to give it a try this year. It's a powerful way of putting this time of anticipation to good use in actively preparing your mind and spirit to welcome baby Jesus when--after the long wait--Christmas finally arrives.