Monday of the Third Week of Advent

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Waiting and Unknowing

Here we are in the Third Week of Advent and once again I find myself frustrated and anxious by the challenge of connecting the readings of the day not just to one another, but to Advent. The lessons of the season to exercise patience and stillness is not lost on me. Before I begin, permit me to offer a PSA by way of suggesting you read more about Balaam, our friend from the first reading. Balaam was a well-known prophet and sorcerer of his time, with a very riveting and colorful story that features an angel and a talking donkey (think Shrek). Yes, I just went there, but trust me you won’t be disappointed.

Advent is a time of emptying in order to be refilled with the presence of the Divine. As we are keenly aware, this time of year is cloaked in the darkness of diminished daylight, as well as the metaphorical, yet very real darkness that has been the year 2020. This darkness is what we navigate as we wait with unease and restlessness, in the stillness, in the quietude, contemplating the meaning of the present moment as each week of Advent becomes a bit brighter with every candle being lit. So we wait, with hope, in a state of unknowing. Waiting and unknowing. Two profound words reflecting faith as we journey towards the manger.

Today’s readings remind me that there are many times (far more than I care to publicly admit) when I am weary of the waiting, when I am impatient with unknowing. It can be difficult and overwhelming. I find myself uneasy, searching for a rational, concrete explanation or response to my reoccurring question: “What’s the point?” But then Jesus slaps me upside the head and says “I’m not telling you by what authority I do these things.” [sic] Ouch.

This not so subtle rebuke reveals that I’m not going to get a reasonable, measured, humanistic answer. It does however, offer a flicker of enlightenment, indicating that the pilgrimage of waiting and unknowing is a different path of insight. One that can in fact, be nurturing, and indeed valuable. It is an embrace of now. It is an embrace of faith. Do I have the courage and confidence to sit in the present moment of the unknown? Do I have the faith to recognize that within me there is the capacity for compassion, mercy, forgiveness and love without knowing everything I believe…I think…I “need” to know? Do I have faith to wait without having the precise answers to my theological musings?

Maybe this is what it means to actively commit to waiting, to unknowing. It may be that this is a step towards a deeper understanding of the essence of faith…the recognition that we have all that we need for the moment and that it is not ours to hoard or desperately cling to, but rather to share. Perhaps therein lies the joy in which we immerse ourselves during Advent.

Balaam, despite his scheming, maneuvering and conjuring, came to understand that he was at the mercy of God’s ways. Did I mention that you really should read the whole story? It’s epic! Similarly, we have to echo the psalmist’s “Teach me your ways, O’ Lord!” And like the chief priests and elders in the Temple we are compelled to admit “We do not know.”

There is an inherent joy (and relief) in acknowledging that we don’t have to be certain of everything or have all the answers. The waiting is an invitation to live with the now. To live with compassion, wonder, and hope with the unknown.

So I suppose the question I need to ask myself today and throughout the rest of Advent is: Am I able to wait with faith in this moment, in my “I don’t know” as I pause, and sit in quiet awe and delight in the ethereal joy of the Incarnation?

Alexandria M. Egler, Ph.D.

Executive Director,

Mission, Ministry & Interfaith Dialogue