December 13, 2013
The Second Week in Advent

Each week during Advent, we invite people to gather before worship to sing the old Christmas carols that tell of Jesus' birth.   Last week little Aiden asked for Jingle Bells, even though there is nothing religious  about it.   It rises from childhood's wonder, though, and perhaps that isn't a spirit to be ignored.   And sometime during Advent we will sing Irving Berlin's  White Christmas, too. 

The wish for a white Christmas reflects our deep yearning for all that is beautiful and peaceful in our lives.    It is nostalgia for a world "I used to know, where the treetops glisten and children listen to hear sleigh bells in the snow."    Not all snowstorms are lovely, of course.   I remember reading Willa Cather's tales of the terrible winters she experienced out on the Nebraska prairie.   In the midst of these storms, you could see nothing but white in every direction.  She describes it this way in My Antonia:  "The snow did not fall . . . it simply spilled out of heaven, like thousands of featherbeds being emptied."

But for us at Christmas time, it is all loveliness.   Snow covers the earth, and all the impurities, for a moment, are forgotten.  Like heaven, where there is no need for sun or moon, because all is light, a snowy landscape is a world where all our days are merry and bright.   And today is Saint Lucia's Day, the day of light.   Tomorrow, it snows!

Snow

Make it soft, Lord,
this snow that comes
from heaven.
Let it settle gently
on the earth,
as it rests
and waits
for a faraway Spring.
Let me rest, too,
amid this blanket of light
which covers everything--
the unraked leaves,
the ugly litter and debris,
all flaws and imperfections--
like a holy promise.
Make it beautiful, Lord,
this world I love,
which sometimes breaks my heart.
Remind me of how lovely
it can be again.
Let it snow.

--Timothy Haut, December 13, 2013