Merry Christmas...now what?

Where shepherds lately knelt, and kept the angel's word,
I come in half-belief, a pilgrim strangely stirred;
But there is room and welcome there for me.
---Jaroslav Vajda

So Christmas Day has come and gone; perhaps you have felt some stirrings, some desire, some yearning, to find meaning in the story of the Babe in the manger and his trusting (but undoubtedly 'wondering') parents. One of the great myths of belief is that you may come to faith only once you have it all figured out. God forbid that be the case, else none of us could honestly come. The true miracle of belief in Jesus and the law of love is that we come to the manger to begin our journey, to begin understanding, to begin believing. The manger, the life of Jesus, even the cross, are not the end of faith, the completion of some pilgrimage, but the beginning of the adventure of seeking to believe. You have questions? They are welcome at the manger. Doubts and fears? If Emmanuel, God with us, cannot handle the doubts and fears of humanity, what is God? Weakness? There is strength for you in the human example of Jesus, our brother.
Christmas Day. It's only the beginning of our journey...

Here, and now

'There within a stable, the baby drew a breath.
There began a life that put an end to death.
And all the frozen stillness, mighty voices heard:
God is here among you! Human is the Word!'
---Bob Franke

Today God takes on flesh and becomes Emmanuel, 'God with us'. The Word, the One that spoke the world into being, takes on the cares, labors, sorrows of the common folk and walks for a while among us. At that time, in that place.
Here, and now.

Love, for radical relating

'The King of Kings lay thus in lowly manger;
In all our trials born to be our friend.
He knows our need, to our weakness is no stranger,
Behold your King! Before Him lowly bend!
Truly He taught us to love one another;
His law is love and his gospel is peace.
Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother;
And in His name all oppression shall cease.'
---John Sullivan Dwight, trans.

Well, tonight's the night. The one we've been waiting for, praying for, longing for. The one the angels sang, the one sages searched out of the skies, the one that would turn the world upside down. A King born in a cattle stall? A Liberator for a friend? A Master whose rule is love and peace, in a culture and time when hatred and warfare are the go-to options? A Ruler who who will name slaves brothers, and himself Chain-breaker? A holy deity acquainted with our weakness and need?
Make no mistake about it. The baby born tonight was, and is, a radical, and calls us to a radical, upside-down path. We are not called to that path alone, though. We are called to be in relationship with this radical Christ, and to relate to the world in Christ's way --- the way of love. That call is the song coming from the stable tonight. Will we be still to hear it --- and listen?
Love, for radical relating...

Love, for winning over

'Leave your work and your play-time,
And kneel in homage and prayer,
The Prince of Love is smiling
Asleep in His cradle there!'
--- Herbert S. Brown

You say you want a revolution? Make your planning list, which might include arms and ammo, spies, strong leaders, secret plans, power plays, and more. God planned a revolution, and sent...a baby, smiling in his sleep. Not exactly the world's definition of power, or strength, or control. The rest of Jesus' life was a lot like this, too; never making exactly those strategic moves that would overthrow the powers that were, that would land him and his followers in the seat of power instead. Jesus lived a topsy-turvy life, and preached a topsy-turvy gospel: the last shall be first, the poor will be filled while the rich are sent hungry away, he who would be master must be slave of all. And to think it all started here, with the Prince of Love smiling in his sleep in a royal cradle made of hay.
A lot of years later, we learned that Mary Tyler Moore was the one "who can turn the world on with her smile." Maybe so, maybe so. But maybe she was the second, not the first. 'The Prince of Love is smiling, asleep...'
Love, for winning over...

Love, for fledging-time

'Birds, though you long have ceased to build, guard the nest that must be filled.
Even the hour when wings are frozen God for fledging-time has chosen.
People, look east and sing today: Love, the bird is on the way.'
---Eleanor Farjeon

Tonight marks the turning of the year; the darkest, longest night of all. In times long past, people would gather around fires to fight the dark, watching and hoping for the morning. This dark and cold season is certainly not one for new life, for beginnings, for birth, for fledging-time. Yet in the depth of winter, in the dark, the stillness, the cold; in this forlorn season, Love made its appearance in a straw-filled stable. At just the wrong time, Love made it all right.
Love, for fledging-time...

Love, for offering

'O lay aside each earthly thing,
And with thy heart as offering
Come worship now the infant King.
Tis love that's born tonight!'
---Wilha Hutson

Consider the term 'laying aside'. Laying aside assumes, I think, personal choice; the act of laying aside implies no use of force. It assumes the possession of earthly things; one cannot lay aside what one does not have. I believe it also assumes a thought-based process; rashness might be called 'tossing aside' or 'throwing away' instead. In this season of preparation, in this time of heart-readying, in this Advent, what are you willing to lay aside in order to make your heart an offering? What distracts you, not just in this busy season, but year-round, from offering love its due in your life? Love is born, to the world and in our hearts. Will we make room?
Love, for offering...

Love, for token

'Love came down at Christmas,
Love all lovely, love divine;
Love shall be our token,
Love be yours and love be mine;
Love to God and neighbor,
Love for prayer and gift and sign.'
---Christina Rossetti

What sign marks the believer today? Is it a cross on the wall, a fish on the bumper, a Bible verse T shirt or WWJD bracelet, a Bible in the backpack? Strict adherence to the Ten Commandments? Not cheating, lying, or stealing?
Imagine a world where love was our sign, where love was the only gift and it was everything, where love was token of what we share between heaven and earth and among us treading this earth. Imagine that world.
Love, for token...

Love, for pattern

'He that descended from above,
Who for your sins has meekly died,
Make him the pattern of your love;
So will your joys be sanctified.'
---Yeoman's Carol

We are used, I think, to hearing of how Christmas is about how much God loves us. And it is, it is. And Jesus personified that love for a world starved for it, personifies it still. But if we pack up love's lesson with the Nativity scene and the icicle lights, we lose.We limit our chance for transformation to a mere transaction, set aside an hour in church with candles and soft music, and go our ways for another year.
But in the life of Jesus is the pattern for life. In the love of Jesus is the path of life. We have the chance, through the imitation of Christ's love, to transform our hearts, and our world. What a shame to tape it up in a red and green Rubbermaid and put it in the attic with the dancing Santa. Love, Christ among us.
Love, for pattern...

Joy, like a squirrel's nest

'I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart, (Where?)
Down in my heart to stay.'

I was driving down the street on this absolutely gorgeous morning --- crystal azure sky, crisp air, bare tree-limb silhouettes lacing the horizon. I reflected, as I have before, that in the bare tree limbs were tight clumps of leaves and debris wedged into the crotches high up in the tallest trees. Squirrel nests, some the size of a softball, some larger than playground balls. It occurs to me that the nests are in the same spots every year, then that these nests are actually in the trees year-round. The squirrel nests are always there, evident to me only when the autumn leaves are stripped from the trees by the winds of November.
Joy, I think, is a lot like a squirrel's nest in my life. The 'dressings' of my life --- happiness, good fortune, ease, enjoyment --- are like the summer leaves. They are lovely, lush. But under the leaves? The squirrel's nest of joy is there, unseen in some seasons. In autumn's winds and winter's freeze, when the leaves of happiness in my life may be shed; in that dry season, joy becomes apparent in my life. It has been here all along, good times and bad, unchanging, abiding, not dependent on the warm breezes of summer. There all along.
Joy, like a squirrel's nest.

Joy, for the broken-hearted

'O Come, O Come, Emmanuel. and ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel!'
---12th cent. Latin hymn

'This ain't a song for the broken-hearted
No silent prayer for the faith-departed...'
---Jon Bon Jovi

Oddly enough, these two lyrics, separated by almost a thousand years, both come from a deep well of hard times. In Bon Jovi's 'It's My Life', we (for this is most definitely a crowd anthem) have had enough, and aren't gonna take it anymore. We will rise above what oppresses us in this life, do it 'our way', not bend or break, and make not just a living, but a life. And Jon is right; this is not a hymn that fits the mouths of the beaten, or the broken-hearted. This is the anthem of a people who can still envision winning, or at least breaking even.
The Veni Emmanuel, on the other hand, spoke to the deep despair of a people who had forgotten what the voice of God sounded like. Alone, abandoned, groaning under the weight of exile, Israel was broken, corporately and individually. For four centuries there had been no new word of prophecy for them, no new guidance or reassurance from the One they had trusted. And then, the Son appears. For this people, with enough light for the whole creation. Rejoice! Rejoice, you who can't pull yourselves up by your bootstraps! God's name is Emmanuel: With Us!
Joy, for the broken-hearted...

Joy, nature sings

'Joy to the earth! the Savior reigns; let all their songs employ;
While fields and floods, rock, hills, and plains repeat the sounding joy.'
---Isaac Watts

'All the sounds of the earth are like music.' Although Isaac Watts and Oscar Hammerstein II were separated by some 200 years, their thoughts in these two texts are remarkably similar; there is a kind of joy in creation that longs, aches, to express itself. There is a music in nature, a sacred melody that calls to all creation to dance along. The elements gratefully offer up joy in echo of the Joy that spoke them into being forever ago, and we are called to add our voices to the song.
Joy, nature sings...

Joy, for the unforgiven

'Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
Til he appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.'
---John Sullivan Dwight trans.

Have you ever been unforgiven? Longed for restoration, reconciliation, comfort that was not forthcoming? As I read and meditated upon the first verse of the lovely Christmas solo 'O Holy Night', the sense of dwelling in unforgiveness  overcame me. I have always wondered at the understated power of the term 'pining'; such a simple word for such a deep, soul-wracking longing. Can you close your eyes and feel the pain of a world weighed down under the load of falling short, of standing bent,  unforgiven?
Then. Then, Jesus appears on the scene, 'and the soul felt its worth.' Here in a stable, the world begins to turn upside down. Souls bowed under error, caught in habits and structures that neither work nor make sense, feel worthy. Would it be thrilling? To feel forgiven, worthy? Would it be like a new morning? I imagine it would.
Joy, for the unforgiven...

Joy, to welcome our brother

'This night of wonder, night of joy, was born the Christ, our brother;
he comes, not mighty to destroy, to bid us love each other.'
---Fred Pratt Green

I will admit it. I am not impressed by royalty. Did not stay up till the middle of the night for the royal wedding. Disney princesses don't do it for me. Royal Danish butter cookies are no better than any other brand. So a lot of the songs, and talk, at Christmas about the newborn King don't bowl me over. Kings the world has always had, plenty, too many. Good kings, evil kings, weak kings, sun kings --- there've been all kinds. The royalty of Jesus doesn't particularly distinguish him from others before him.
Ah, but Jesus was not just King, but Brother. Not come in might, but entering our world as the weakest of creatures: a baby human. Come claiming kinship with humanity in common birth, and in a common life to follow. Jesus' spectacular, powerful call? Love each other. Jesus, our brother, calls us to love like sisters and brothers, and to change the world not by might, but by love.
Night of wonder, indeed.
Joy, to welcome our brother...

Joy, echoes of earth

'Angels we have heard on high
Sweetly singing o'er the plain;
And the mountains in reply
echo back their joyous strain:
Gloria in excelsis Deo!'

When I was young and foolish, I treated with disregard (and probably a little derision) the idea that the earth was a living thing, valuable and lovely in its own right. Maybe I judge myself a little harshly; but as I have grown older (and I hope a bit less foolish), I think I have come to treasure the earth more fully as a beloved and sacred creation, valuable on its face, independent of the benefits it provides to the beings that call it home. I have gained a deep appreciation for the reverence of many Native American and other ancient societies who personified nature and earth as a loving family, close by to nurture and to live in harmony with them.
So what's all this got to do with joy? Look with me at the words of this carol, probably originating in the Lorraine region of France in the 18th century, then gradually traveling west to be translated and/or reinvented in English, Scots, and Gaelic. Angels people our songs, stories, movies, trees, and hearths so often at Christmas as to be ubiquitous; at my house, even more so. We are used to the notion of their songs and proclamations. What catches my eye in this stanza is the next two lines: the mountains echo back joy. Now I know what you'll say --- if angels had sung out cursing, the mountains would have echoed that back, too. And you are probably right. My inner vision, however? Those mountains recognized the song they were meant to sing, from the beginnings of time; and giddily, powerfully, FINALLY gave it up! The song was joy.
Joy, echoes of earth.

Joy, throwing open doors

Good Christian friends, rejoice with heart and soul and voice;

Now ye hear of endless bliss; Jesus Christ was born for this;

He has opened heaven’s door, and we are blest forevermore.

Christ was born for this! Christ was born for this!

---Heinrich Suso

This carol always reminds me of the Psalm that begins, “Bless the Lord, O my soul; and all that is within me, bless God’s holy name.” Christian friends, let us celebrate Christ’s birth with our whole beings, all of ourselves, all God has given us being offered back to God in rejoicing. And what endless bliss do we hear of? That Christ was born to open heaven’s door. I find this a fascinating and welcoming picture --- Jesus throwing open the doors that the religious establishment of the day sought so diligently to keep closed.

 If we are honest, we would admit that we now make up the religious establishment, such as it is, and we’re not always comfortable with open doors. Matter of fact, aren't we oftentimes happy with deciding when the doors are open, and to whom? Almost like we forgot that they are not our doors? 

Despite our sometimes ambivalent spirits, Christ is still throwing open doors, offering the fellowship of the Kingdom to all.

Cause for joy --- Christ within us.

Peace, from the winged Prince

"Hail, the heav'n-born Prince of Peace!
Hail, the Sun of Righteousness!
Light and life to all He brings,
Ris'n with healing in His wings;"
---Charles Wesley

If you have ever been ill, then received the appropriate treatment, and gotten well, you know the peace that can come with healing. Imagine the peace that might descend onto the earth were there some treatment or cure for the ills that plague our societies --- poverty, greed, unconcern, self-centeredness. homelessness, violence, enslavement, addiction. In what is perhaps Wesley's most widely-known text, he envisions Christ as a healer, bringing light and life to a dark and dead world, as Sun of Righteousness and Prince of Peace.
Sounds like magic, doesn't it? In those beautiful words, however, there is more than hypnotic power. Jesus, through his living and his dying, provided light, life, and healing; and through his example walking these streets, he provided a path for us to follow. There is peace to make; we've been called to the task, and empowered for it by the Prince of Peace.
Peace, Emmanuel, God with us.

Peace, for all the not-peace

Writing today with the news of another Virginia Tech shooting incident fresh on my mind, I offer a hymn text I based on Luke 1:79. There are all kinds of not-peace; may we continue to long for and pursue true peace for all these situations.

Through war-torn streets where hope is dead,

Fly bombs and anger ‘round our heads.

We raise the cry, “God hear our plea

And guide our feet in paths of peace.”

Through homes where love cannot to be found,

And violence spreads the fear around,

We raise the cry, “God hear our plea 

And guide our feet in paths of peace.”

Through lands where food just will not grow,

And streams of water never flow,

We raise the cry, “God hear our plea

And guide our feet in paths of peace.”

Through minds where illness takes first place,

And wholeness longs for any space,

We raise the cry, “God hear our plea

And guide our feet in paths of peace.”

Through challenges of this our time,

Through rage, neglect, greed’s paradigm,

We raise the cry, “God hear our plea

And guide our feet in paths of peace.”

When things seem worst, we hear the song

Hope sings above the din of wrong:

The song of One who hears our plea.

Christ guides our feet in paths of peace

Peace, prevailing

"And in despair I bowed my head;
'There is no peace on earth,' I said;
'For hate is strong, and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!'
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
'God os not dead; nor doth he sleep!
The Wrong shall fail, the Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!'"
---Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

For those of you with extensive collections of Christmas music, you probably have several settings of this poem, called variously 'I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day' and 'Christmas Bells', recorded by many different well-known artists. What I will wager is that you have never heard a recording that includes the first four lines quoted above. Longfellow wrote this poem, seven stanzas in all, during what must have been the darkest period of his life. Having recently lost his beloved wife to death, he waited word on the fate of his son Charles, a Union soldier gravely injured at the nadir of our country's history, the Civil War. Who could blame Longfellow for the statement, "There is no peace on earth"? For giving up on the promise of peace during a conflict that had silenced church bells far and wide? For doubting that Christmas held a meaning that included a dream of future peace?
Ah, but something in him, something there, heard bells. And they pealed peace. Not right-now peace, and certainly not logical peace; really, a peace that passed understanding. In our world today, peace often lies outside our comprehension. That 's why, here at Advent, and always, we must tune our ears, and hearts, to listen for the bells...

Peace, along the weary road

"And ye, beneath life's crushing load, whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way with with painful steps and slow,
Look now! for glad and golden hours come swiftly on the wing.
O rest beside the weary road, and hear the angels sing."
---Edmund Sears

Not a holiday thought, really, but a true one: if life hasn't crushed you, bent you low, it will. You may be betrayed by institutions to which you've dedicated your life, people you love, your own body. Your mind may betray you as your memories slip away into thin air and heartbreak. The American Dream may betray you as a lifetime of hard work leaves you with broken dreams and disillusionment, and not much else. All of us, sooner or later, find ourselves toiling along a climbing way, weary to the core.
And a little music won't fix all of those wounds and betrayals, won't restore broken minds and bodies to their former selves. But, oh --- just for a while, a minute, an hour, an evening --- to get off that uphill trek, and to rest, and to listen to the song of angels. Not to escape, because sometimes that weary road is life. Not to escape, but to rest.
Peace, along the weary road...

Peace, from the pieces

All the king's horses and all the king's men
couldn't put Humpty together again.
--- Mother Goose

The concept of peace in the Judeo-Christian tradition derives from the Hebrew term 'shalom', meaning wholeness and well-being. The closest Greek word was 'eirene', which can be translated as national tranquility, or even order. By the time of Roman rule, we get our closest-sounding version of peace, the Latin 'Pax'. The strictest definition of the Pax was the rule of law (the Pax Romana was not a time of national tranquility, nor certainly wholeness, for those living under the thumb of the occupying Romans). From the expansiveness of the shalom blessing of wholeness, the definition of peace was narrowed and constricted until it meant literally 'keeping the peace'.
Knowing the original intent of the Hebrew, I will never again let my mind accept only the narrow version of the word. Peace, for me, will always be wholeness and well-being, individually and corporately. for, of course, there is no way I can work for wholeness in my own life without concern for the brokenness in the world around me; no way I can look to my own well-being while my community flounders.
In this season of preparation, what part of your life do you find in pieces? Not whole? Where do you need to seek the wholeness of shalom? Where in this world of ours can you put your hand to the task of furthering the well-being of others? The king's men can't do this kind of putting back together; that is a job for shalom.
Peace, from the pieces...

Peace, with power

For lo, the days are hastening on, by prophets seen of old,

When, with the ever-circling years, shall come the time foretold,

When peace shall over all the earth its ancient splendors fling,

And all the world give back the sound which now the angels sing.

---Edmund Sears

Advent II, and our thoughts turn to peace. As many kinds of turmoil there are, I can envision dimensions of peace. And the beginning of peace, for me, is in a given name for the Baby we fete this season. Emmanuel. God with us. Not over us. Not up there. But WITH us. Feeling our hurts, knowing our pains and fears and sorrows, our hatreds and petty grievances. There is the beginning of peace in a God who chooses WITH us over anything else.

I won’t lie. The complete text of this hymn, written in 1849 by Massachusetts minister Edmund Sears, is one of the most incisive studies of peace, and how we destroy it, that I have ever read. Almost no hymnal includes all the verses, but you can find them complete on several internet sites, and I encourage you to do so . Its power will affect you deeply.

This verse perfectly bridges the time between the Advent weeks of ‘hope’ and ‘peace’. It looks forward to a time when the world will be set right, in tune with the song of the angels, at peace. Sears’ original text called this the ‘age of gold’. Imagine, a time when peace, personified, flings its splendors over the whole world; a time when warring and internal turmoil cease around the globe; a time when we mortals can forget our war-cries and shouts of hate and fear, and fill our mouths and hearts to echo back the peace song the angels have sung all along.

Lo, the days are hastening on…

Hope, for restoration

"shine out, and let your light restore
earth's own true loveliness once more."
---Charles Coffin

I don't know where you are as you read this today, but here where I live, it it one of the most gorgeous days ever. Blue skies, mild temperatures, sun, breezes, still some green in the trees---just lovely. I believe that God created this world as a beautiful reflection of beautiful character, and humankind, in part, to watch over, protect, and preserve this beauty. Through Christian history, however, plenty of Christians have preferred to emphasize man's 'dominion' over the environment, using up precious resources, overworking the soil, and poisoning the air and water, rather than our 'stewardship' of the environment -- the wise care and best use of the earth and her riches in a way that benefits people without hurting our home. Believing that Christians were not long for this world, but would very soon be swept up to Heaven to live with God, did not cause folks to behave any more carefully with this planet, rather treating it as disposable, with a near-approaching expiration date.
But God created the earth, and delighted in it. Jesus spent time enjoying the gifts of wilderness, field, and sea. And I find immense hope that, in the words of this carol from the 18th century, Christ's light can restore the earth's true loveliness again. There is hope in that loveliness, I think. There is hope in restoration.

Hope, like planting bulbs

"Furrows, be glad. Though earth is bare, one more seed is planted there:
Give up your strength the seed to nourish, that in course the flower may flourish.
People, look east and sing today: Love, the rose, is on the way."
--- Eleanor Farjeon

What is it in the heart of a gardener that makes her trust precious bearded iris bulbs to the soil, burying all evidence of their existence, then waiting weeks or months to see if Mother Nature has played a massive joke on her? What makes a potato farmer save the best of the crop, not to eat, but to cut up and re-sow, burying the best evidence of his success, then waiting weeks or months to see if the gamble will pay off in a bumper crop next season?
It's hope, a little crazy for us on the outside looking in. It's hope, a faint glimmer through the long winter when there is nothing else. It's hope, not much, just enough. It's hope, like planting bulbs.

Hope, cast wide

"and the earth shall be filled with the Lord's salvation,
Hope of every nation."
--- Boe and Overby

Maybe my favorite thing about Jesus' story? Its expansive reach. Up to the time of Jesus' birth, the people of Israel had related to their God in much the same way other tribes, or nations, had related to theirs. A local god, a household god, concerned with the day-to-day affairs of that particular people. There were prophetic words here and there about something to come from Israel to be "a light for all nations," but these words were so easy to ignore among so many others. The God of Israel was for the people of Israel, and would not extend himself on behalf of other peoples, went the thinking.
Then came Jesus, upsetting the natural order, loving the whole world. For perhaps the first time, minds were confronted with the idea of boundless love. Suddenly the concept of scarcity did not apply to God's care and concern; it would not run short, even when poured out for the whole world.
What a hopeful thought: there is no scarcity in God, no reason to grasp or hoard the favor of God. Let us prepare ourselves for hope, cast wide.