The Lord has done great
things for us, and we are glad indeed … Those who sowed with tears will reap
with songs of joy. Psalm 126
My wife and I went out to dinner the other night with some
friends. They’d come up to visit from Texas, and as we enjoyed our time
together, a few tables away was a young child who was absolutely unhappy with
her situation. She was just an infant, so she wasn’t behaving in a bratty or
spoiled manner. She was just plain unhappy, and she let the world know about
it.
One of the things I love about children is their unfiltered
and unfettered capacity to be honest in their expression of pain or joy. It can
certainly be disconcerting for their parents when it happens in a restaurant,
and I suspect there were patrons closer to “the action” who were disturbed by
the incessant yowling that was drowning out the overhead music or the sounds of
Thursday Night Football being telecast nearby.
Such is life, and I like it, because it is real. It is such
a complete contrast with the saccharine story-lines of so many Christmas
specials and Christmas movies. I’m nowhere near as cynical as Jean Shepherd in
his holiday classic, A Christmas Story, but I am a realist. The days are short
and cold; there are precious few signs of Peace on Earth and Goodwill towards
All to be found on the news.
Our visitors received word while with us that one of their
church stalwarts down in Texas passed away in the night – having taken a recent
turn for the worst in her battle with cancer. Holiday cheer is deflated daily
with news of violence at home and abroad. The stock market is careening wildly,
blown (as always) by the high pressure winds of Greed trying to hold at bay the
low troughs of Fear.
Admittedly, the holiday displays of lights and yard decoration
in our neck of the woods seem much more prolific than last year. In fact, I saw
my first set of Christmas lights burning brightly on a home near us … the week
before Halloween!
It causes me to wonder if the outward appearance of
Christmas cheer is genuine, or if it isn’t folks near and far whistling their
way through the graveyard – putting on a brave face as their innards jiggle
Santa-like in the manner of a bowl-full of jelly. There are people, of course,
who absolutely delight in the holidays. The lights and tinsel put them in a
festive spirit; images of the Holy Child cavorting with reindeer, snowmen,
elves, camels, kings, and Dickensian Carolers. What’s not to love?
For myself, I fall somewhere between the extremes. I
separate the world’s manifestation and understanding of the season from the
Church’s experience and expression of the holiday. In the tradition to which I
belong, this is the season of Advent. It’s a season of waiting, patiently
preparing heart, mind, and body to receive the One who comes in grace. When
Christmas comes, it isn’t as a jolly old elf distributing goodies from his
bounty (or charcoal, as the case may be), but a tiny child – who comes empty
and totally dependent on the grace of others to survive.
“… no crying he makes”? What a pile of reindeer foo-foo!
God did not send a baby mannequin, but a real honest-to-goodness infant who
cried when hungry, dirty, or wet, jumped when startled by loud noises, who bled
when cut, who needed the warm embrace of mother and father when cold. It is
this very real human being I have come to love, embrace, hold fast, and share.
I do my civic duty, of course. I’ve hung my lights. Barb
and I put up our tree the other day (earlier than usual) in order to snap some
holiday photos with our friends. We will make the rounds to oo, ah, and
critique neighborhood decorations. I’ve been humming (for weeks) seasonal
favorites (both religious and secular) as I’ve trundled through the shops or
driven down the road.
No comments:
Post a Comment