It's no secret to anyone who knows me even a little bit that I love Christmas. I mean LOVE. Truly, I enjoy (almost) all parts of it from the music to the lights to the food to the candles to Advent to chocolate to snow to trees to presents to movies to so much more. I've always attributed this adoration of the holiday to my Papa, who seems to have picked it up from his Mom, my Nana. The same Nana who entered glory on November 19.
There was an idiom I grew up with in Austria: "Vorfreude ist die schönste Freude." Translated, it loosely means that the joy that comes with anticipation is the best kind of joy. To that I say yes and no. In many ways, I get more joy out of the Advent season leading up to the 24th than I do the morning of the 25th when all that's left are presents. The anticipation of my coffee this morning was better than the actual cup of remnant grounds. So yes, Vorfreude can often be more beautiful than the actual event. On the other hand, I strongly believe it is still the thing itself which you're looking forward to that gives the Vorfreude any value at all. When I was on the Camino in 2018 (a month-long pilgrimage trail in Spain), many people would say how they wished we'd never arrive in Santiago because "the journey is the true goal." But without Santiago, without an actual goal or finish line, the pilgrimage was just a long hike. If there was no Christmas marking the birth of the Savior at the end of Advent, all that anticipatory joy would be pointless.
When I think about it from Jesus' perspective, his birth was just the start of a 30-something-year-long odyssey to the cross. Hebrews 12 tells us it was "for the joy set before him" that he endured the cross, and I have to wonder what his joy was anticipating. His birth and life seem to be merely the Vorfreude part, but how in the world can there be joy in horrendous suffering?
My beautiful Nana worked hard for a pain-free, instant-gratification kind of life. She didn't like to wait for things to happen, and she freely admitted it. There was a small sign in her kitchen that declared how she'd been absent the day God handed out patience. But when it came to Christmas, somehow she was able to take delight in the waiting. Her eyes sparkled whenever someone discovered that her little automated Santa Claus could read stories. The light-up reindeer on her balcony made her smile every time she noticed it. Really, the sooner all the decorations could be up, the better, even if it made the wait longer. It heightened the Vorfreude in her heart.
I don't think Jesus took delight in the suffering itself, but I do trust that he fully knew its worth, not just in saving me from my sins, but in the grander vision of God's story being fulfilled. "The joy set before him" had to be looking forward to that day when all things will be restored to their true beauty and ultimate good, when God would be worshiped as he was always meant to be. Nana is getting to live that reality even now, and as I wait to join her someday, I choose to live in the Vorfreude of the Ever-Advent.
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