Category: Holidays

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men. And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us. And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger. – Luke 2:8-16

As part of our Christmas decor we have some wooden alphabet blocks that spell out “Noel” and “Joy.” Emma enjoys playing with them, so they are never actually in the right order (at the moment the words “nejy” and “loo” are on display). But Emma likes the words. We asked her recently if she knew what joy meant though. She gave us one of her “they must be smoking something” looks and said, “that’s silly. Joy is just a word. It doesn’t mean anything.”

We think its cute when 3 year olds say stuff like that. But isn’t she just echoing what is pragmatic reality for a lot of people? Joy, like peace, this time of year acquires a certain status as a trendy catchphrase. Much like “boo” or “trick-or-treat” around Halloween, it is an appropriate invocation of the season. Even when we sing along to “Joy to the World,” the usage often seems hollow. We are not consumed by joy – letting it overtake us and responding outwardly to its presence.

The angels though came proclaiming good tidings of great joy. The carol calls for heaven and nature to sing a joy to the world because the Lord has come. True joy cannot be contained, it must be shared. I love the Christmas card image above because it captures a part of this mood. The “I’ve got to tell someone about this even if they think I’m nuts” feeling that comes with being filled with joy.

Joy is so much more than just a word. It is a complete way of being that one cannot help but respond to. So the candle on this fourth Sunday of Advent is a proclamation of joy. Joy as not just an abstract idea or a seasonal word, but as the response of our hearts preparing room for our king.

*I meant to have this up on Sunday, but I’ve been too sick to think the past few days… so better late than never.

“Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds” – Shakespeare, Sonnet 116

“But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” – Romans 5:8

This week of Advent we light the candle representing love (depending on your tradition). As with peace, I find that this too is a word that has been stripped of its meaning in our culture. Not that the many usages of the term or the various ways we evoke the concept are bad, but often they are simply comfortable. We can handle advice that encourages us to unconditionally love our husbands and kids, that our love should be patient and kind, or that our love should flow from our relationship with God. Those expressions of love may be difficult, but we can accept them in theory at least.

What’s harder is the messy love. The love that continues even though someone messes up. The love for people who just aren’t living the way we would like them to live. The love for those who serve us that we may never meet. These sorts of love are more difficult to grasp. They don’t fit into our comfort boxes. They not only take work, they are generally unpopular and often not deemed worth our effort.

So I find myself returning to the rhetorical questions – what if Jesus hadn’t chosen to love us no matter what? Can you picture Jesus saying things like – “they’re just too messed up for me to love them” or “she’s a sinner, I don’t want anything to do with her, if fact I’ll just pretend she doesn’t exist” or “why should I waste my time dying for a cog in the machine factory girl in China.”

I like the assurance that Jesus loves me, but sometimes it’s hard to believe that Jesus loves everyone. I mean really believe – not just intellectually assent to the idea, but believe enough to let it change me so that I love them too.

To love without reservation or alteration. To love the yet messy.

That’s the hard part.

I couldn’t resist the image. As the world reaches its tipping point and the days grow ever darker, we are preparing for the return of the light. We might have shifted the day a bit and turned our focus away from the sun to the Son, but the idea remains the same. The traditions haven’t changed much even if their interpretations have – we drag evergreen branches into our homes and deck them out with candles to represent our hope in the light. This symbolic return of the light is so powerful in the collective human unconsciousness that the celebration of the incarnation of God naturally must occur during this season. It’s Christian, it’s Pagan, it’s beautiful and it is true.

There is something hardwired in our souls that pushes us towards the light. We rejoice in the light and yearn for it as darkness continues in steady progression. At the Winter Solstice we affirm that light will always overcome the darkness – returning to bring new life on this earth. At the Summer Solstice we simply give thanks for the light we have (as opposed to despairing that the darkness is returning). Our deepest desires are manifest in this longing for the light – for comfort, for illumination, for hope. It is simply part of who we are to seek out the light.

The yearnings of our souls for light find confirmation as we remember the birth of “the true light that gives light to every man” (Jn 1:9). Our circles of candles burn ever lower in our attempts to ward off the encroaching darkness by anticipating the advent of light. The soft glow of twinkling lights on boughs of evergreen give testimony to the eternal light vanquishing the darkness. We deck the halls with our intimations of the light, for there can never be too many reminders that light will always prevail.

So joie be to you as you anticipate the return of the light.

For more entries in this Synchroblog on “Darkness and Light as Motifs of Spirituality” enjoy these sites –

Phil Wyman at Phil Wyman’s Square No More
Adam Gonnerman creeps around “In Darkness”
Lainie Petersen at Headspace
Jeff Goins is “Walking in the Light with Jesus”
Ellen Haroutunian at Light is Coming
Julie Clawson walks through Darkness and Light
Kathy Escobar will Take a Sliver Anyday
Susan Barnes at a book look
Joe Miller thinks you can Discover Light in Darkness
Beth Patterson talks about Advent: Awaiting the Ancient and the Ever New
Liz Dyer says What the Heck
Sally Coleman muses about Light into Darkness
Steve Hayes with the Lord of the Dark
Erin Word writes Fire and Sacrifice
Josh Jinno with Spiritual
Motifs of Darkness and Light

So the other day at MOPS we heard a talk about Christmas traditions and putting Jesus back into Christmas. One of the points made was to make sure that your holiday decorations convey to your neighbors that you are a Christian. I was pretty sure the speaker didn’t mean using LED lights so that your neighbors know that you care for God’s creation by not wasting energy. I just smiled at the idea with a “to each her own” response, but as I looked at my house while thinking about this week’s advent theme, I had to wonder if anyone would assume I was a Christian because of my decor.

The decor is simple – some golden stars, a baskets of poinsettias, and a sign that says “Peace on Earth” (and hopefully after Mike’s finals some of those LED lights…). But, I wondered, would the term “Peace on Earth” straight out of the biblical Christmas account be associated with Christianity these days? Are we known as peacemakers – doing whatever we can to bring about peace on earth? My gut reaction to that question is no. In fact many of the Christians I know mock those that stand for peace and instead say that war, judgment, and violence are the more biblical paths. Theirs is the voice that is often heard, so much that I can put a bible verse on my house and it not be seen as a Christian thing. That’s weird to me.

One of my favorite Christmas carols is “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.” It contains the lines –

The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along the unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

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.

But far from it being the belfries of Christendom spreading the biblical message of peace, they are often instead the ones mocking the song and promoting hate. How can their ever be peace when those that claim to worship the Prince of Peace shun his very message?

So as the candle of Peace is lit for Advent today, I find myself hoping it holds some meaning. That it is more than just a ritual or a warm-fuzzy moment, but an awakening to a message Christians have largely forgotten. I pray that we can reclaim “Peace on Earth” not just as a phrase, but as our calling. To have the world see that seeking peace on earth is part of what it means to be a Christian. For as the carol continues –

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men.”

Miracle: David Wilcox 

A bright star in the winter sky
Led to Bethlehem that night
But only three traveled there to see
And the rest just wished they might

Few will chose to follow
Out of all the star invites
Most will hide safe inside
With the lantern turned up bright

Waiting for a miracle

All too often I think this is our definition of hope – waiting around for the miraculous to come to us. Safe in our feel good faith, we light bright lanterns around us to drive away the darkness of doubt and despair. “Daily Bread” devotions, “God loves me” choruses, inspirational verses molded in Made in China polyresin, guardian angel trinkets. All decent uplifting items that serve to bolster our emotional experience of faith and give us a vague sense of hope. What that hope is we can’t describe, but we are sure it will make us happy.

But instead we allow these false lights to insidiously insinuate themselves as the very objects of our faith. We trust more in how they make us feel than in the one we claim to follow. The artifices of faith become our prison, entrapping us in the confines of a misguided belief. We are used to their false light – it’s neon radiance makes us feel good. So we surround ourselves with more and more, preferring the safety of the known (no matter how shallow and hollow it might be) to the true reality of faith. We keep waiting for a miracle, but we are uncomfortable stepping outside into the dimly lit unknown.

But as T.S. Eliot mentioned, those magi following that star had a hard time of it. The journey was difficult. Unsure of exactly where they were going or what they would find when they arrived, they just knew they had to journey on. A distant star, days of toil, endless doubt and questions, ridicule and remorse – these defined their hope. But they didn’t settle for safety or that which confirmed what they already knew. They sought a miracle and that hope sustained their journey.

As Advent begins I ask myself where does my hope lead. Is my hope in the trappings of faith and the season? Is it merely in the idea of deliverance? Such things lead me back into myself and my personal need for safety and contentment. Or does it lead beyond myself into this journey I am called to? Does it push me to follow in the path of love, doubt, hardship, service, and joy? This hope trusts in the way of life Christ called us to and follows that path wherever it may lead. Hope defines us, shapes us, and guides us even through the darkness.

So as we light this candle of hope tonight I wonder if it is a light that shores up the safety of our emotions or which guides us faithfully into the unknown.

Colossians 3:11-15
Here there is no Gentile or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave or free, but Christ is all, and is in all. 

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.

Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful.

I read this verse earlier and the first thing I wondered was – how often are we thankful for the opportunity to show compassion and love and humility?

Forgetting the retail calendar, this week marks the true beginning of the holiday season. Pastors are pulling out the feel-good holiday sermons. Devotionals focus on love and peace on earth. A heightened spirituality is ushered in that will carry us through the next month or so. We will be more apt to give to charity. Allowed to engage religion publicly. And use terms in everyday conversations which are generally reserved for Sunday mornings – thankfulness, joy, peace, love.

But at the same time those feel-good sermons will be crafted to exclude. Forget celebrating that we believe in the Virgin Birth, we want to make sure we tell others they are wrong if they don’t. And those devotions about peace on earth had better not be applied to American foreign policy or your salvation might get questioned. And we’re fine with writing a check to some trendy charity, but you’d better as hell not expect us to give up our prime parking spot at the mall. And by public religion we mean that unless your business prominently uses the term “Merry Christmas” and not “happy holidays” we will boycott you and encourage our friends to do so as well. And by love and compassion we mean loving people enough to tell them they are going to hell unless they start acting and looking like us (oh, and say a payer to Jesus).

Compassion. Love. Thanksgiving. Unity.

Sometimes I wonder if they are just holiday buzz words with no real meaning in our lives. What would happen if we dared to show true hospitality and kindness to those around us? To not draw lines, hold grudges, or point fingers. To not debate the humanity of the Other as if they were not right there listening in. But to truly love others regardless of differences and to the thankful for the opportunity to do so. To stop talking about these seasonal concepts and actually do them.

I’m trying to figure it out. To cut through the hallmarky bs and be real. Half the time I catch myself simply being selfish and stupid and wonder what the hell am I doing. I’d love to find that unity, but most of the time I’m just overwhelmed by the ongoing failure to love. So I’m working on seeking that unity by being thankful for the diversity – to love those who fail to love. But I’m finding it hard to be thankful for things that don’t benefit me. Sad isn’t it. But I’m trying.

So happy holidays, and thankfulness, and love, and peace and all that stuff.

 wherever
The sun shines, brooks run, books are written,
There will also be this death.
– WH Auden