Every year there are more of them; more extravagant, more utterly pointless. I refer to Advent calendars, which used once to be rather a quaint German thing: a way of counting down the days of Advent by opening little windows on a cardboard, paper or wooden Nativity or winter scene to reveal some pointer to Christmas until the pictures culminated in the arrival of baby Jesus – or the worship of the shepherds at the crib – on 25 December. It was the sense of anticipation, opening the windows one at a time which represented the point of Advent, which is a waiting time, until finally we get the big reveal on Christmas Day. It’s the same idea with the Advent wreath, whereby we light four candles for each week of the season, until finally we get to the Christmas candle at the end.
But then Germans, Lutheran or Catholic, have always been good about Advent.
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