Advent Avocados

Last summer, I was chatting with a dear friend about avocados. We were preparing a taco night with friends, and we are all fans of guacamole.

Avocados are a test of patience: you have to wait for *the* opportune moment.

You can’t rush it, and you can’t wait too long. (Sure, you can add heat to try and speed up ripening, or put them in the fridge to slow it down, but these are stop-gap measures)

Sure, there are hints for knowing that perfect moment (like denting in the nub at the top), but they are best guesses – the thick skin veils what’s going on inside.

Sometimes the flesh is still hard. And we all know that once it’s open you can’t seal it again. You can try to extend it with some citrus, but it’s going to go brown… faster than we want.

Sometimes, the flesh is already mushy – and even being mashed into guac, the taste of mushy avocado isn’t the taste you want in your guac.

Sometimes that pit is just way too big (and the fruit too small) to have waited so long.

Avocados are tricky.

Yet: that wonderful flavour and texture – for those of us who enjoy avocados, the journey is worth it.

Not unlike Advent: a time of waiting, of paying attention, of dwelling in expectation and hope.
Advent is also a time to realise that the opportune moment is always upon us, in ways that avocados can’t provide: for avocados are now-or-no; while Advent integrates the now-and-not-yet: Advent is not a time of no.

As we begin our Advent journey this Sunday, I hope that we find comfort and hope in the journey. Waiting, with hope, for the promise of Good News to come. As we wait, may we also find ways to bring Good News to those seeking it.

May our avocados be worth the wait; may our Advent be as fruitful as we can make it.