Tomorrow is the first Sunday of Advent: the four Sundays before Christmas. I have often heard this described as the season of “waiting.” The first Sunday’s scripture readings are always about the Second Coming of Christ for which we have been waiting for 2000 years. I came across the following quote in my own preparations for this season:
A psychologist, William Moulton Marston, embarked to ask three thousand persons, “What do you have to live for?” He was shocked to find that 94% were simply enduring the present while they waited for the future;
waited for “something” to happen;
waited for children to grow up and leave home;
waited for next year;
waited for another time to ake a long dreamed-about trip;
waited for someone to die;
waited for tomorrow…
those who were waiting had no realization that today (now) was practically what they really had.”
I hate waiting. I have become better at it over the years – life is less urgent in these AARP years. Less places to go. Fewer timetables to meet. Fewer bills to pay. Less waiting. But I still hate it.
Learning various chants from various mystical practices has helped to a great degree. I chant within my thoughts mantras for clarity when I get anxious waiting in lines or driving long distances. I chant within my thoughts the Jesus Prayer when my thoughts are obnoxious even to me. I chant a prayer of blessing for the cashier when his or her seeming incompetence would otherwise make my blood boil. I chant requests for forgiveness when I’d rather have hateful thoughts because someone elses words have annoyed or offended me. In fact, it has been through these various practices that my “endurance” of waiting has actually often opened my eyes to the present right in front of me.
I remember waiting in line with a particularly slow and seemingly incompetent cashier at the grocery store. As she oh-so-slowly scanned each item of the people in front of me, and oh-so-slowly moved her eyes between the items scanned and the cash register, and oh-so-slowly (and I must admit gently) placed each item in the proper bags, the smoke gathered in my brain and oozed out my ears. Annoyed beyond reason ( I had no place I really had to go), I began to chant in my mind, “Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy” and when that didn’t work I moved on to: “Lord bless. Lord bless, Lord bless.” Eventually the line moved forward. I was still steaming but at least I was using the energy generated by my anger by attempting to pray.
And the line slowly moved forward. I put my items on the conveyor and watched them move oh-so-slowly toward her shaking hands and into the bags. Shaking hands. I noticed her shaking hands and looked up at her face. Her eyes were red rimmed and dark shadowed. I looked down at her hands and saw how thin they were. Glancing up again at her face, I saw the perspiration on her brow and the weariness in her eyes.
I was so ashamed of my thoughts and at the same time grateful for the spiritual practices which taught me to bless instead of curse. I softly touched her arm and said, “you are in terrible pain, aren’t you?” She looked at me anxiously, and just nodded her head. I told her I understood a bit about pain myself and that I hoped her pain would soon be eased.
Waiting can be just a way to endure the present. It can also be a discipline through which we are awakened to the present and able to see that Christ is right here in our midst, right now.
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