Advent and the Architecture of Waiting

Advent begins today. In the liturgical calendar, it's a season of waiting — of anticipation, preparation, and longing for something that has been promised but not yet arrived.

For those of us working toward reform in the Catholic Church, Advent hits a little differently.

We've been waiting a long time. Since the Grand Jury Report in 2018. Since the formation of CCOC later that year. Since the Synod on Synodality raised our hopes and the Vatican's implementation timeline stretched toward 2028. Waiting is not new to us.

But Advent teaches us something important about waiting: it's not passive. Mary didn't sit idle. She visited Elizabeth. She pondered. She said yes to something that would change everything, even though she didn't know what it would look like. Advent waiting is active. It's preparation.

I think about this in my work as an architect. There's a phase of every project that clients find frustrating: the period between approval and groundbreaking. The drawings are done, the permits are filed, but the site looks exactly the same. Nothing appears to be happening.

But everything is happening. Underground utilities are being rerouted. Soil is being tested. Materials are being ordered. The foundation is being planned down to the inch. This invisible work is what makes the visible construction possible.

That's where CCOC is right now. The work may not always be visible, but it's real.

This year, our focus groups have continued to meet, to research, to develop recommendations. Our partnership with the Discerning Deacons Project has deepened the conversation about women's role in Church ministry. Our monthly Mass for Social Justice at the Kearn Spirituality Center Chapel continues to bring together Catholics who want to celebrate our tradition of social teaching within the liturgy.

But I won't pretend the waiting isn't hard. There are days when the pace of institutional change feels glacial. Days when I wonder whether the people in positions of authority are listening, or just waiting for the noise to die down.

What keeps me going is the community. The over one thousand people on CCOC's mailing list. The focus group coordinators who volunteer their time and expertise. The parishioners who stop me at Mass and say, "Keep going." The priests — more than you might think — who quietly support what we're doing.

Advent also teaches us about hope. Not the vague, optimistic kind, but the theological kind — the hope that trusts in a promise even when the evidence is thin. That kind of hope isn't naive. It's brave.

So here we are, at the beginning of another Advent, waiting for light in the darkness. I don't know exactly when the groundbreaking will come for the Church we're working to build. But I know the plans are good, the foundation is being laid, and the people doing the work are committed.

Light an Advent candle this week. And while it burns, think about what you're waiting for — and what you're willing to do while you wait.