Christmas Day 2011

The night is cold. As cold as ice. Black trees stand still, pasted against a deeper black sky. The stars stand at attention, waiting, holding their breath, yet motionless in the moonless sky. Moist breath escapes into clouds, quickly rising, leaving behind the cold earth. Wooden staffs, like cold metal in the hand, stand in watch over the rising stench of sheep. All is quiet. All is still. The sound of one's breathing is lost in the dull and lonely landscape. And then... a light, brighter than the sun, descends and hovers midair above the ground and declares, "Peace. Do not fear." The radiating warmth of this celestial being begins to melt the fears and slow the beating hearts. But only just begins before he declares his message. "Unto you a child is born. Unto you a son is given." Fear and beating heart return. "In David's City you will find Him." Did he just say 'lying in a manger'? But the question dies on the lips as every anxiously-waiting star begins to race to join the bright one. As they come closer, they increase in speed and heat, and by now it is quite warm. The host is blinding. In a pool of water, one sees the reflection on hands and knees. The sky is full of luminosity. The sky has come alive. All heaven has broken loose. But the light isn't the only sensation, nor is the warmth, nor the rushing wind from beating wings. The music. The music is beyond anything ever heard before. The song seems to fill the air beyond its natural capacity for sound. For a brief moment, the sky has no ceiling, and the lords and ladies of the heavens join the angels' song. Terrifying glory explodes in harmonic beauty and real, pre-earthly joy erupts in resplendent wonder. Unable to stand, the shepherds lie prostrate on the grassy hillside. Hoping the awesome immortal creatures would quickly depart, lest their mortal bodies expire, incapable of receiving such unmediated glory, they forever find themselves longing to hear that brief chorus one more time. As the heavenly host completes their song, or perhaps simply takes their singing elsewhere, darkness once again fills their fields. And yet, was it quite as dark as it was before?

I am almost convinced that Luke thought he needed to add the words the shepherds said to one another after the angels departed. Not having been there, I'm sure he wasn't able to grasp fully the horrifying intensity of the experience. I imagine the shepherds lying stupefied in their fields, unable to move. When they do finally get up, I can't imagine a calm discussion about what to do next. I imagine shared looks of incredulity, followed by all-out sprinting. It is hard to run and belly laugh and weep at the same time, but they must have managed somehow.

We have been to services. We have read the texts. We have had only a very small taste of an experience distantly related to that of the shepherds on that cold night so long ago. And yet we fully know the joy they felt. We have been told the whole story, the good news that even the heavenly choir longs to look into. It is telling that anytime good news is heard, singing is sure to follow. Good news requires good song. And as we sing, as we throw back our heads and raise our voices to the heavens, we invite the angelic choir to join in our praising. As they join their voices to ours, we realize that all of creation has been singing without rest since that cold moonless night. We are the late comers, bringing our small and humble voices to creation's community sing. We join our heavenly governors and lift our hands and praise the Child laying in the manger.

Advent 2011

It is Advent. We have a tree. There are lights on it. It shines in the corner of our living room, invading the darkness behind the two windows on either side. It makes our living room glow. We love this season. On the first Sunday of Advent, we get a tree and my job is to find every "Christmas Decorations" box that tries to stay out of the way 11 months of the year in our garage. Jen then delights to open them all and find the right combination of lights and ornaments and decorations to express our whims and fancies for the given year. This season we have included red balls to an otherwise silver and gold theme. I think it is perfect. It brings cheer to our guests, and Lord willing, to those who walk passed our unveiled windows. That is our hope, at least, that our house and our space would speak something of what sentimentalists call "The True Meaning of Christmas." We want to shy away from sentimentalism, but the sentimentalists' only problem is being an 'ist.' Sentiments are in themselves real and good. If we do not feel different during the Christmas Season, there is something wrong with us, as in malfunctioning organs. This is the season for celebrating the Incarnation of God. Those three words alone are enough to give one goosebumps. How does an infinite and eternal God become incarnate? How does that work? How can He who spoke galaxies into existence with no more than a mere breath, enter into the virginal womb of a teenage girl living in Nazareth on a certain day on the calendar roughly 2000 years ago? This God then is born, with flesh that can be broken, and blood that can be spilt. And then the entire sky full of stars, who, it turns out, have been angels this whole time, descends to sing about it to a flock of sheep and their shepherds. If that weren't enough, one of the angels sticks around for a couple years, and leads a group of magicians from the east to the very house where this God-Child was living. Not to mention all the dreams and annunciations and prophecies and blessings and foretellings and men going mute and babies jumping in wombs for joy...

How often, I wonder, do we read these chapters with glossy eyes, and miss the "Oh my Freaking Word!!" aspect of this story? Perhaps we have wanted to protect ourselves from the Precious Moments Christmas Specials, having grown sick of the Hallmark Cards we see everywhere. Perhaps, though, in reacting to this, as we should, we have swung the other way and divorced our true sentiments from the season. Perhaps not. Perhaps we can still wish someone Merry Christmas and have an echo of the angels song hanging in the air. Perhaps we can welcome family and friends into our homes, not only bearing gifts like the magicians, but desiring to worship the Christ-Child through the gifts as well. Perhaps we do decorate, hanging mistletoe where we are reminded to kiss the Son. I pray we can. I pray we do.

I pray we all celebrate this season like Christians, and that means with red-faced joy. May our songs be loud, may our greetings be warm, and may our eggnog be strong. Let us love our family, let us love our neighbor, and let us love our Lord. It is the season to feel things and to feel them deeply. Feel the joy of salvation, feel the peace of incarnate reconciliation, feel the hope of the Second Coming. Let your heart lift at the sound of a carol, and let your step keep time with the angels song.

Happy Christmas every one. God has blessed us all.