What are you waiting for?: An Advent reflection

Read these when you have a quiet moment:

" It was the first week of Advent 2005. I was living as part of the Urban Seed residential community in the heart of central Melbourne.
I attended the Amnesty International Candlelight Vigil at the Alexandra Gardens for the condemned Australian Van Nguyen. Having acted as a drug mule in order to pay the debts of his brother, he had been captured and sentenced to death in Singapore. Over three years the case had sparked the usual polarised debate about the death penalty. Having exhausted official appeals and in spite of pleas for clemency, he was to be executed the next morning by the Singaporean Government.
I carried with me to the vigil a heavy wooden cross. The Credo Cross was built by a member of our community the day we heard that one of our close friends, a key volunteer at our open lunch for disadvantaged people, had been found dead from a drug overdose in a laneway close to our home. As most from our households gathered and mourned in silence that day, all that could be heard from our apartments was the sound of banging from the fire escape as the commemorative cross was constructed..
Since that time, it has become an icon for our community, a symbol to cling to, a trusted companion when the pain of the world falls upon us like a hammer. We use it regularly during our prayers and worship gatherings, at weddings and at funerals. We take it with us when we attend the various protests and vigils that regularly take place in the centre of the city.
And so it was with me this night. I held it for Van. The vigil was quiet but moving. We lit our candles and made our prayers for a stay of execution and for the life and souls of the condemned, the condemners and ourselves. At its conclusion I headed home.
Carrying the cross upon my shoulder, I was walking past Flinders Street Station when a group of people carrying a video camera thrust a microphone in my face.
"What does Christmas mean to you?" they asked
I supposed that they must have been Christians, looking for "vox pop" responses, perhaps for some sort of Christmas presentation.
"What does Christmas mean to you?"
"Well…" I started, a little surprised by the interruption. (It can be hard to think on your feet, especially when you’re carrying a cross through a crowded city!)
"You might notice I’m carrying a cross." I continued…. "You see, I am a Christian and it is because of this that I’ve been to the vigil for Van Nguyen, who is to be executed tomorrow."
I spoke of my opposition to the death penalty. I spoke of how Jesus was also victim of a state execution but that through his example of non-violent love he showed a way of life that triumphs over death. That this demonstrated that sometimes power could be weak and that what seems weak can be the most powerful force in the world. "And so", I concluded, "I guess I believe in a world of grace, not the cold, hard, hand of the law."
"Errr OK!"…..the interviewer looked a little confused. "That’s good; but what would you say Christmas means to you?"
There we both stood.
Waiting…
Me, with a cross upon my shoulder, waiting for him to comprehend.
Him, with a camera on his, waiting for an answer he wanted to hear.
Waiting…
It’s Advent again…..what are you waiting for? "
by Kate Allen and Marcus Curnow (Urban Seed, 2005)



Waiting is essential to the spiritual life. But waiting as a disciple of Jesus is not an empty waiting. It is waiting with a promise in our hearts that makes already present what we are waiting for.
We wait during Advent for the birth of Jesus.
We wait after Easter for the coming of the Spirit, and after the Ascension of Jesus we wait for his coming again in glory.
We are always waiting in the conviction that we have already seen God’s footsteps.
Waiting for God is an active, alert -- yes, joyful -- waiting.
As we wait we remember him for whom we are waiting, and as we remember him we create a community ready to welcome him when he comes.
Henri Nouwen,
In Joyful Hope: Meditations for Advent