Advent

Everyone took their places, audience and orchestra members alike. The woman in the second row struggled with her mink, while the man four rows back placed a handkerchief to his mouth as he coughed. Acquaintances waved across the performance hall to one another, while the first violin adjusted the tension of her bow. A second bass player adjusted his music stand, which caused the oboist to slide her chair slightly forward. The conductor enters from off stage, with white tie glistening and tails flapping. The orchestra rises, and audience applauds. After a modest bow, he turns to his fellow musicians, and, with his baton, strikes his music stand. Silence fills the room. Both orchestra and audience are still. The performance is about to begin.

There’s no moment like it, and although it has been years since my father took me out of school to attend the New York Philharmonic, I remember it vividly. I can’t recall what pieces were performed, but can't forget the way I felt. More than any other, it was that moment after the conductor struck his music stand I remember most. The sudden quiet only accentuated what was to come. I sat up in my chair because I didn’t want to miss a thing.

I’m writing this early in the morning in a New Hampshire farmhouse. From my seat, I know I will be able to see the sun rise, but right now it's dark and cold. I know the light will come, perhaps later than I’d like, but it will come nevertheless, bringing color configurations that have never been before, and much needed warmth. It’s like that moment at Lincoln Center long ago. The conductor of another day is standing at his stand, striking the stand with baton, and lifting his arms. The stillness only points to what is to come. Like long ago, I sit up in my chair.

Advent is also such a moment. Although we’re surrounded by a culture that seeks to begin the performance earlier each year, there is much to be gained by the moments before. Silence has a melody of its own. It's a time to take our seats, greet those around us, and then, in reverent silence, wait as the conductor takes his place and strikes the music stand.

The performance is about to begin. Another day, unlike any other, is about to begin. The silence fills our souls, as we sit up in our chairs, eager not to miss a thing.