Advent and Age

If you are tired of the bustle of Christmas shopping, you've come to the right article, because even though Thanksgiving has come and gone, we are not yet in the Christmas season. According to the traditional church calendar, the Christmas season does not begin until Christmas day, and it mercifully ends twelve days later-without benefit of a partridge in a pear tree-the "old twelve days" of traditional farmers. From the fourth Sunday before Christmas (this year, November 29), traditional churches observe Advent.

Aside from the Advent wreath, there aren't many outward trappings of the Advent season, and that is as it should be. Just as Lent is a time of solemn preparation for the joyous festival of Easter, so is Advent a solemn time to look inward and prepare oneself for the joyous festival of Christmas. Although I don't have an Advent wreath in my house, I keep Advent in at least a few brain cells which help sustain me through the pre-Christmas shopping, travel and chaos. If Christmas is for kids, then Advent is the season for those of us who are well-seasoned, who at least can still remember being kids.

Advent is a commemoration of the long, sad generations between the earliest prophecies of the coming of the Messiah and the event commemorated on December 25, which, we know, did not occur on December 25. While Christmas and Easter emphasize circular time, great moments that transcend the moment, Advent roots us very much in historical time. It is a season as much about waiting as about hoping.

I find myself thinking this Advent season about waiting, perhaps without as much hope as I had in previous decades. As I've gotten older, I've noticed that hope and memory seem to blur together, as one Advent blurs into another. Am I hoping for or remembering possibility unhampered by probability? Isn't it time, at last, that I grow up? As I age, am I mellowing or just slowing down, from one Advent to the next?

All across the Internet, I am swamped by news of new fountains of youth to be found in new bottles of herbs or vitamins, and youth seems more appealing as I keep discovering little tell-tale aches and pains that weren't there last Advent.

We have become as unwilling to talk about death as we once were to admit that babies weren't really found under cabbage leaves. Along with that comes a denial of age, and as my generation-the infamous Boomers-has plodded through its decades, our attempts to stay youthful have been well documented. But, we still have to turn to a "golden oldies" channel to hear our music.

Of course, through much of human history, I most likely would not have reached the age I am now at. Science and technology move faster than we can keep up with them. Who are we, as we age? How do we cope with the extra years of work, extra years of retirement, the extra Advent seasons?

In other cultures, age was treated with respect. Here, our battle cry seems to be, "Forever young!" Forever strong, forever healthy... let's face it, forever sexy, granny in tight jeans and gramps in a muscle shirt. Maybe it's time for a new concept of sexiness, one based on the reality that the most powerful sex organ, for women and men alike, is between our ears not between our legs.

I await rather than look forward to a new year, which will probably begin for me as this year did, with old movies, middle-aged memories, and young California wine. I hope that from my darkness, I've brought you a little light, and that you can join me in an inner, quieter Advent, an escape from the commercialized pre-Christmas craziness all around us, remembering that when you bring peace into your own life, you have brought peace into the universe.

You can read an earlier version of this article here.