Advent Visions

December 23: Love

Love. We see it all around, seek it with hunger and passion, grieve its ending. More songs and poems have been written about love than any other subject in the world. But the love that is chosen and lived is more glorious than the romance that bowls us over and convinces us that nothing could be easier. It is wonderful to see it in the lives of those who have been married in vital relationships for long years. But staying in a long love like that requires us to persevere in the face of many obstacles. These include the discovery that living with another human being reveals the dark side of ourselves. Love requires us to go into all those dark places with hope that understanding and forgiveness will give us another day.

Today we light the fourth candle on our Advent wreath. We call it the "candle of Love," and we set its flame to burning in order to announce that our small human loves, beautiful as they are, pale next to the supernova of God's love for us. Many humans say they don't believe in God, but they may still sense that the world cannot long endure without love. And what we need is not the "falling-in-love" sort of feeling. What we need is the love that chooses to be kind when it is not easy, which forgives instead of seeking revenge, which sees a mirror reflection in the eyes of a stranger, which would find some commonality in adversaries and admit its own shortcomings. This comes only by radical honesty and repeated practice.

I wish I were better at that. I do set it always as my goal: to love better. But here, on the edge of Christmas, I am grateful that love keeps coming after us. The message of Bethlehem is that in the heart of the universe is a love so breath-taking that it is beyond our understanding or deserving. But love isn't about deserving. It's more like the air we breathe, all around us. On our worst days, we still breathe it. In our darkest nights, it comes seeking us, calling us, covering us with its fierce tenderness. It's a baby in a manger, helplessly latching on to our hearts. It's a fire and a gift of gold, a wind stirring our souls, a fountain of life. It is hope. And peace. And joy. It will makes us new.

Love

So strong, so fierce, 
Love
is a lion
more powerful than any
evil thing,
protector of all.
So wild, so beautiful,
Love
is the song 
that fills the soul
and makes it dance.
So tender, so helpless,
Love
is a baby
whose little hands reach out
to be held
in your heart.

Advent Visions

December 22:  The Word
(Photo by Jack Hotchkiss)

The Christmas story is a small moment in the Bible, told only in two places.  Luke gives us the story of the shepherds, and Matthew tells about the Magi and the star.  John, the one who had a special place in Jesus' heart, ignores the tales of Jesus' birth altogether.   He opens his version of the story with a magnificent riddle, one that human beings have never fully understood.    Here's what he says:  "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.   He was in the beginning with God.   All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being  in him was life, and the life was the light of all people."

This remarkable "Word" is "Logos" in Greek, from which we get our word "logic."  Great fields of knowledge like anthropology (study of human beings) or psychology (study of the psyche) have "logos" in them.   When John talks about "the Word" he is referring to the logic or reasoning behind the very existence of everything.  It is the idea which was in the Creator's mind that brought the universe into being.   And like most bright ideas, they don't amount to anything until they are communicated, expressed in words.   So what Word do you suppose God used to express his fundamental idea?   Douglas Adams, in his book The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, imagines that a superior race invented a supercomputer that they hoped would answer the question that has plagued philosophers for eons:  “What is the answer to life, the universe, and everything?”  And the answer churned out by the computer turns out to be "42."   It's the central joke in this wonderful novel.    Along those lines, it would be puzzling if God's initial word was "salami," or perhaps "hello."   

But John gives us a beautiful answer.   The great Word, the mind and heart of God, was "love."   And love can never be communicated abstractly, only in flesh and blood.   So what holds everything together, the reason behind our being, can be seen in a flesh-and-blood "word":  it's Jesus.    The one whose love holds the stars together, breathes the wind under the wings of seagulls,  and makes the sun give life to minnows, maple trees, and me.   It's the song at the heart of our carolling, the laughter of a baby, the whispering of lovers.  It's the mystery that touches our hearts most deeply, and brings us all to this stable in Bethlehem every Christmas.   It is that first holy word which "became flesh and dwelt among us."  It still does.

The Word

Listen.
Look East as the sun rises,
feel the wind in your hair,
the cry of the gulls rising
into the glorious blue above.
Listen
to the silence 
on this Christmas morning,
the quiet of a world
being made new 
at root and bud,
the peace of possibility.
Listen
to the breath
of the one you love,
a heartbeat that is life,
a miracle, a gift.
Listen
to the Word 
under and over 
every blessed thing:
Love.

Advent Visions

December 21:  Solstice

Today is the turning of the year.  The Winter Solstice marks the day of shortest sunlight, when the earth tilts farthest away from the sun in the Northern Hemisphere.    From now on the days will get lighter bit by bit.   The word "solstice" means "the standing still of the sun."   It is as if the year comes to balance on this dark day in December, and again on the longest day in June.   This fulcrum of time elicits a primal hope in the return of light which is life.    The ancients paused in this time to light fires, and the tradition of a lighted Christmas tree adorning a home goes far back beyond the Christian era.   In fact, it is likely that early Christians fixed the date of Christ's birth at the time of the solstice to proclaim their belief that Jesus was, indeed, the light of the world.   John's Gospel proclaims this truth in its glorious declaration that "the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."

I still remember an early Christmas in my life when my grandmother fixed small candles to the fir tree in the living room and lit them on Christmas Eve.   Occasionally a flame would singe the needles nearby and fill the room with the scent of pine.   My Great Uncle stood nearby with a pail of water as insurance against a greater fire.   The candles remained burning for just a few minutes of magic, but the memory has lingered for decades.  We still light fires at Christmas.  Often I have saved the stump of the past year's Christmas tree to kindle the fire in the hearth the following year, a tradition which is a kind of balance in itself.   We sit by the fire and meditate and dream and find comfort in the warmth and the golden light, trusting that even in the darkest days something bright will sustain us.   

Here at the fulcrum of the year, it is good, to pause and rest and join the sun in being still, for this restores some balance in our lives as well.   We live in a busy world that prizes activity.   Something about these darkest winter days calls us to sit quietly, to read and visit and stare into the flames of memory and hope.    This is the restorative season of the heart, where we share ancient traditions in order to discover who we are and who we will be.

Solstice

Light the fire 
in the winter night,
and let the blaze leap
with joy.
This small planet 
spinning through space
tilts slowly sunward again,
and carries us around
toward life.
And here we pause
and light our trees,
made to twinkle brightly
as if the stars themselves
could seek their home
with us.
And once a star did fall
on this benighted world,
and that flame will not go out
no matter how great or long
the darkness.

Advent Visions

December 20:  Moon

The moon was beautiful last night.  Nearly full, it shone through the bare branches of our great old maple tree, shining over our Christmas world.   Not bright "on the breast of the new-fallen snow," as in Clement Clark Moore's classic poem.   We will have no snow for Christmas this year.   But the moon will be close to full on Christmas Eve, and on the solstice tomorrow, too.     The old Farmer's Almanac says that there will not be a full moon on the winter solstice again until 2094, so I guess I won't be around to see it.      So I will take some time to wonder at the December "Cold Full Moon," as Native Americans call it.

Our human bodies and minds are intimately connected with the Moon.   We watch it wax and wane through the months of our lives, perhaps never noticing that the word "month" may be related to the word "moon."   Further, as it travels around the earth it tugs not only at our watery planet by affecting the ocean's tides, but it may tug at our mostly-liquid bodies as well.   The word "lunatic" refers to the belief that the full moon ("luna") causes erratic behavior in humans and animals.   Law enforcement officials report an increase in car accidents and criminal acts in the full moon.    Hospitals anecdotally prepare for more admissions and researches have found that during the full moon, restful REM sleep decreases.   And certainly the moon has a romantic tug on our imaginations.  Think of all the love songs about the moon!  And I love the scene in the great Christmas movie "It's a Wonderful Life," when the young George Bailey offers to lasso the moon for his beloved Mary.    Inspired, he  promises that "then you can swallow it, and it’ll all dissolve, see… and the moonbeams would shoot out of your fingers and toes and the ends of your hair…”

We are all creatures made of stardust and moonbeams.  At Christmas we remember that there are forces at work in us and in the world greater, and more mysterious, than we understand.   We make our way through our lives in the light of day, making a living and trying to make sense of our world.   But there is another power, like the moon, which tugs at our inner being.   Its light is not blinding, but soft, glowing in our deepest nights.    We feel it rising and falling, a thing just beyond our reach.   It comes as an ancient and holy tale, a child in the manger, God with us.   Even in our modern world, it draws us back over and over again, like love itself, shooting out of our fingers and the ends of our hair, illuminating our darkness.

Moon

You rise in us,
moon of our being,
silver in the shadowed night.
We whisper in this sacred presence,
as this tug in our bones
stirs some holy wonder.
We look up,
see sometimes just a thin crescent 
of reflected light,
almost devoured by darkness.
And then, we wait to watch
a miracle:
the shining, full,
a longing face looking down,
the love 
at the heart of the stars,
the light of Christmas.

Advent Visions

December 19:   Bells

My wife and I have bells all around us.   There are sleigh bells on the front door, and they jingle merrily whenever anyone comes into the house.   And out on the barn is a large bell, hand-made out of an old oxygen tank.   I ring it every morning when I go out to feed the birds, and its deep tones resonate for a long time as I walk across the yard.   I like to think it announces the beginning of the day to the creatures in the woods and fields around us, its rich sound similar to one of those great Chinese or Japanese gongs that stand in a Buddhist temple, sending prayers for miles out into the world.   One of my favorite acquisitions was an old cowbell I found at the church Christmas fair many years ago.  It was dented and had a bullet hole in one side;  evidently in a prior life it had been used for target practice.  But I grew up in a family with many farmers, and so the sound of cows coming from the fields with their bells clanging is a reminder to me of a more bucolic, peaceful way of life.   

I don't know which bells inspired Henry Wadsworth Longfellow to write a Christmas carol in  the midst of the Civil War.  Perhaps the church bells of Cambridge, Massachusetts, pealed a hope for peace to a man riddled with despair.  His wife had died after being burned in a fire, and his oldest son, a Union soldier, was seriously injured the battle of New Hope Church in Virginia.   Perhaps it felt to him as if the world was falling apart, and he ached for an end to the evil, destruction and death that seemed to be everywhere.     And so when he heard the bells on Christmas day, he took it as a prayer, that "wild and sweet/ the words repeat/ of peace on earth, good-will to men!"   

We may sing about happy jingle bells on a one-horse open sleigh, but Christmas bells also represent an ancient, heartfelt yearning for peace on earth.   On Christmas Eve, we will ring the old bell high in the church tower at midnight, and we'll toll it again to usher in the new year on January 1.  And at home, every time someone comes in the front door, they will enter under a sign that says "Peace to all who enter here" as those sleigh bells ring a welcome.   And I will ring my big old bell in the back yard every morning of my life, praying for peace on earth until the cows come home.

Bells

Let them ring
across the meadows and hills,
echoing over the long river,
rising to the stars.
Let them ring
so that the small creatures
and the ornery ones,
the ones bitter to the heart
and the ones who ache and weep
may hear the prayer, the song.
Let them ring
deep and soulful,
bright and merry.
Let them clang and clatter;
let them cry wild and sweet:
Peace to all.
Peace to all.

Advent Visions

December 18:   Blue Jays

When we think of animals at Christmas time, a donkey often comes to mind.   We imagine the Holy Family making their way to Bethlehem with Mary and her unborn baby on the back of a humble donkey.   Then there were the camels bearing the Magi, and the cows whose manger became the baby's cradle.  But there are old traditions that imagine the birds at Christmas.   The doves in the rafters watched the mother and child, and a French carol imagines the green finch and the philomel singing "Noel" on Christmas day.   Another old legend says that all the animals, wherever they may be, kneel or bow their heads at midnight on Christmas Eve.   This acknowledges that the Christmas story is about the love of God for all of creation--human, furred, feathered, scaled--in all its forms.

I have a special fondness for the blue jays in my back yard.    Over the years I think they have come to recognize me as I fill the feeders at sunrise every morning.   I also dump a scoop of raw peanuts on the woodpile and on a little wooden platform on the far side of the yard.    There is always at least one jay high in the trees keeping watch, and when I start across the yard he sets off the alarm.  Soon a dozen or more jays fly in, all making a joyous racket of gratitude.   They dive down for a peanut and fly back up into the branches to have their breakfast.   Occasionally they don't like the peanut they choose, and they bring it back to the pile and take another.   I've never seen another bird do that!

I offer them a blessing as they gather:   "Pax vobiscum," I say.   Peace be with you.   "Et in terra pax."   And on earth, peace!   It is my prayer that the Christmas blessing touch all creatures, great and small.   As we do open our hearts to all creation, we feel the heart of the Creator and share in a vision for a peaceable realm where, in their own way, all creatures share in offering praise and joy for the gift of life itself.   A few years ago I wrote a carol set to the tune of the Gloucester Wassail.  

The Creatures' Wassail

Refrain:
Sing out, sing out, in every voice
For Christ is born!  Let all rejoice!
Sing birds of the air, and fish of the sea,
And the squirrel on the branch at the top of the tree!

1.   Good news to the wren, and the cardinal, and jay
Who gather with joy on this bright Christmas day,
Make berries your feast;  then take to the wing
And do loops in the sky as carols you sing!

2.  The cow in the barn, the horse in the stall
Proclaim the glad tidings to creatures all,
Sing "Moo" in the morn, join in with a "Neigh,"
And hear an "Amen" from the mouse in the hay.

3.   The dog does bark and chases his tail
To answer  the song of the sweet-throated whale,
The cat purrs content as she sleeps on her bed
For the child who was born in an animal shed,

4.   The skunk and the rabbit make tracks in the snow
They dance to the song of a merry old crow,
The owl hoots with joy in the silver moonlight
For the Savior was born on Christmas night!

5.   The deer leaps with joy as he flashes his tail
The foxes join in as the creatures wassail,
The chipmunk’s asleep in her underground nest--
With a bright Christmas dream she’s  peaceful and blessed.

Advent Visions
 
December 17:   Secrets

The days before Christmas in a home with children is a time of excitement and anticipation.   Wrapping presents and stashing them in an out-of-the-way closet or attic corner is part of the fun.   At a certain age, kids know that there are gifts hidden somewhere, and the impulse is to sneak around and try to find them.   But it is far more pleasurable to resist that temptation and wait for the surprise of having them appear under the tree on Christmas morning.

I love playing Santa Claus to the people in my life.   The act of giving should be a joy, and I always enjoy trying to find something that isn't on a laundry list of "Christmas wants."   Most of the time it works, though occasionally I have given gifts that I can tell are a little off the mark--the Hershey's kisses earrings and the Mr.Peanut necklace among them.   Nonetheless, being a "secret Santa" is a pleasure, and although gift-wrapping is not my forte, it is wonderful to watch as someone tears open a package and discovers the secret hidden inside.   That's why we wrap our gifts in pretty paper and ribbons--to make the discovery of what's inside even more tempting.  

Christmas presents are the best kind of secret.   They come from the place of love and offer the delight of discovering the heart behind the secret.   But keeping a secret can be either a joyful responsibility or a destructive impulse.   Secrets that undermine honesty and diminish relationships don't give much joy when they are revealed.  Often they become a terrible burden that cause heartache and pain.    And then there are the deepest secrets, the ones that we spend our lives trying to understand.   Why do I behave and think the way I do?   What is my purpose in life?   Why am I here at all?   What is the great gift I have been given--the one that will make the world a better place?  To discover those secrets is one of the greatest tasks of our existence, and the path of discovery seems to lead us always through the little town of Bethlehem.

Secrets

What wonders
are hidden
in wrapping and ribbon?
Treasures or trinkets,
they hold a deeper secret.
the one which always touches
my searching heart.
It is the secret at the atom's center,
the one that guides the galaxies
and makes a seed stir to life.
If all our seeking
in this beautiful and perplexing world
helps us to unlock the secrets of life,
it may take us back again
to a star and a stable,
and to the love which holds
the world together,
the greatest secret of all.