...healing at Christmas

Hail the heaven-born Prince of Peace! Hail the Sun of Righteousness!

Light and life to all he brings, risen with healing in his wings.

Mild he lays his glory by, born that we no more may die,

born to raise us from the earth, born to give us second birth.

Hark! The herald angels sing, “Glory to the new-born King!”

---Charles Wesley, 1739

There is a danger in the carols of Christmas, one that threatens to deaden us to the wisdom hidden within. This danger is familiarity, the same quality that makes them beloved. Anywhere you go, you are apt to hear some version of this carol, sung or played by a wide variety of ensembles. Many of us could sing this carol in our sleep --- all three verses!

Our familiarity with this carol should not, however, blind us to the message of comfort and hope contained within. Hear these words anew: “Light and life to all he brings, risen with healing in his wings….” We all know that in the midst of the great joy of the season lurk illness, injury, grief, and sorrow. These are part of life, and do not miraculously disappear during Advent and Christmastide. But there is good news, even in darkness! There is one who brings light for our darkness, life for our dead places, and healing for what hurts us. In the middle of this tumultuous existence, Christ comes to meet our deepest needs.

Glory to the newborn King.

...beloved, and loving

All who hunger, sing together; Jesus Christ is living bread.

Come from loneliness and longing. Here, in peace, we have been led.

Blest are those who from this table live their days in gratitude.

Taste and see the grace eternal. Taste and see that God is good.

---Sylvia Dunstan, 1990

Communion. Union. Community. From the Latin communio, ‘sharing in common’. This word, communion, speaks to the deep loneliness and longing for fellowship settled in the souls of so many of us, waking faint stirrings of…hope, maybe? There are so many periods of isolation and sequestration in this busy, noisy life---many of them in the midst of the noise and busy-ness of everyday life. So many days which stretch from end to end with no real human interaction breaking through workaday, rote communication, or days of solitary pursuits.

Into this lonesome landscape shines the chance to gather at the table of our Brother Jesus, eating and drinking of love and sacrifice, telling each other the stories that bind us to Christ and to each other. The table draws us---not strangers but family, not hurried and harried but grateful and blessing, not fearful of rejection but cherished and welcoming. This table calls us empty, and we feed each other. This table draws us, and sends us. This table makes of us beloved, and loving.

Oh, taste and see…