~ This week, I ordered a gift on Amazon. I guess I didn’t pay much attention, because when the confirmation email came, I noticed that the estimated delivery date was between December 28 and January 3. I immediately went back and canceled the order. It’s a Christmas gift! I can’t wait that long! I have Amazon Prime! I expected it the next day!  

But that’s a snapshot of who we have become, isn’t it? We are people in a hurry. We are people say, insistently: Give it to me. Now.

Once, overnight delivery was more than enough. Then we wanted same day delivery. Now, we want everything in 30 minutes—whether it’s a pizza or a paperback. We want our food fast, our dinner microwaved. We can’t wait to get to a phone or a computer—and we don’t, because the phone and the computer are with us, every second, of every day, in our hand or in our pocket. In 2025, we just don’t want to wait. For anything. Ever.

Ah, but now, for four short weeks, we do… wait. The Church presses the “pause” button. In the middle of all the rush and impatience and insistence comes… Advent.

We find ourselves suddenly in a state of suspended animation. It’s the season of expectation. Of longing. Of waiting.

A child is coming, a hope is dawning. In our liturgies and in our lives, we yearn for something we cannot quite name. We pray for deliverance. We cry out to God, “O come, Emmanuel! Ransom us! When will we be freed?”

Like prisoners in a cell, we mark the days. We light candles, one at a time, week by week, to slowly bring forth light. We fold open the cardboard windows of the Advent calendar, day by day, one day at a time, for 25 days.

We hear today, “Be patient, brothers and sisters,
until the coming of the Lord.
See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, 
being patient with it
You too must be patient.” 

Yes, more often than I care to admit, I am impatient, and I wonder and I fear that we, I, have lost something when we don’t patiently wait.

If you ask a child what we are waiting for these days, I think there are two answers. The younger ones will say “Santa” and the older ones will “Christmas.” It’s that simple. For a child, of course, it can’t come fast enough. For the rest of us, we’d probably like more time—a few more weeks to shop, wrap, decorate, and plan. But Advent calls us to look a little deeper.  The question demands an answer.

What are we waiting for? What are we preparing for? John and Jesus both ask that question in the gospel today. John says to Jesus, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?” And Jesus asks the crowds, “What did you go out to see? Who were you looking for?” And the question is asked down through the ages, and faces us all today. What are we waiting for? What are we preparing for?  

Spoiler alert: It isn’t Christmas. It isn’t the presents and the tree, the cards and the parties. No. It is Christ. We are waiting for Christ. 

St. Bernard of Clairvaux wrote beautifully about the three comings of Jesus: in Bethlehem, at the incarnation; at the end of time, for the final judgment; and here and now, through the sacrament of the Eucharist, and the grace of God, and the prayerful awakening of our hearts.

Friends, I believe it is this last one that we need to pay closest attention to. That is what Advent is really about: Christ, the savior, who comes to dwell within each of us. Gracing us with mercy, with humility, with patience, with love. If we make seeking Christ a priority, we will make of our lives an ongoing Advent. We will live waiting and watching in joyful hope for Christ to enter our lives and to be with us, always.

That is the very essence of his name: “Emmanuel.” God with us.

Only by making ourselves ready to encounter Christ today, can we make ourselves ready to encounter him at the end of our lives and at the end of time.

So prepare. Repent. Heal a wound. Put aside a quarrel. Comfort the lonely. Console the grieving. Be more patient. Be more humble. Pray for the poor, the outcast, the forgotten. Give to the poor, the outcast, the forgotten. Advocate for the poor, the outcase, the forgotten. Look beyond. And look within.  And during these beautiful days, do it all deliriously, wondrously, tenderly, with great love.

Yes, Advent is the time when we wait not for Christmas, but for Christ. We wait for him to step into the doorway of the heart. We put out the welcome mat. We light a candle. We stand at the door and invite him in. And we pray and work for him to have a place in our hearts that is worthy of him.

In a few weeks, wise men will be scanning the skies. They will be looking for the sign that the waiting is over, that hope is on the horizon. A star will appear. Light will break through. Christmas is coming, yes. But more importantly, Christ is coming.  That is what all the waiting and wondering and worrying is all about. We cannot lose sight of that. In an age when nobody wants to wait for anything, Advent reminds us: some things are worth the wait! Christ is worth the wait. Christ is worth the welcome.