"The light shines in the darkness"……. John 1:5

Just a few hours ago the Winter Solstice arrived. On this day,December 21st, we recognize that the sun will begin returning and our days will once again grow longer. There was a time in my life when this awe-inspiring fact would have gone unnoticed. Growing up we never spoke of the Winter Solstice. To have done so in a predominantly conservative Christian area of the country would have seemed suspect. After moving to Minnesota where the winter days are even darker than those of my childhood, I began to notice the ways in which the darkness plays havoc with the rhythm of people's lives even with their very spirits. Not long after this awakening I began to come into contact with people who paid attention to celebrations like the Winter and Summer Solstice and their awareness shaped mine.Even many churches, including my own, now fold this celebration into its worship life. For this I am very grateful.

My gratitude comes from a deep place. Knowing that the community that shapes my spiritual life also holds in honor those whose wisdom and knowledge of how the universe works is important to me. The recognition that the date set for celebrating the birth of the Christ Child was placed close to this important celebration held sacred by ancients also is important. It helps me see myself and all others connected through time by a great Mystery that holds us all. It helps remind me that while Christians wait for the coming of the Light of the world we are also waiting for a literal return of light that will nurture and sustain not only the human ones but all the earth. It is a very heady thing to think about!

The light will not return to us right away. Over days that have passed and for a few more to come, we will be held suspended in the darkness that has descended incrementally since the full light of June's Summer Solstice. Mostly we have not noticed its slow ebb. But over the last several weeks we have all felt the slow depletion of light, not only in our days but in our souls as well. The change toward more light will happen just as slowly. But it will happen. On Christmas Day we will be graced by one more minute of sunlight. That day, while presents are being opened, while toys are being played with and new sweaters are being pulled over heads, a little more light will come into our world. We will hardly notice, in fact it is a sure bet we will not even be aware. That is unless we choose to stay awake to the play of light on the snow, the light that edges its way into our over packed and exuberant day. 

That tiny infant born so long ago was also easy to miss. And yet the light that its life shone into the world shines still……if we are awake…..if we choose…to watch and be aware of the ways hands reach out to other hands and hearts are continue to be warmed by a Love born out of the deepest darkness. This is the gift of the solstice. This is the gift of Christmas.

"O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree,
How lovely are your branches!
Your boughs are green in summer's clime
And through the snows of wintertime.
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree,
How lovely are your branches!"

I am sitting right now in the glow of our beautiful Christmas tree. Last week our younger son and I went to the tree lot to choose it and waited while two Boy Scout fathers tied it to the top of our car. We inched our way along city streets and across bridges to finally get it to its new home…..our living room. As we drove more leisurely and carefully than usual we talked about why we were actually doing this…..bringing a somewhat live tree into our house, that is. I explained that it is an ancient, pre-Christian custom associated with creating a reminder that even in the dead and cold of winter, new life will return like the evergreen. We both agreed that this was a tradition worth keeping for a very long time.

Throughout time Christians have affirmed and rejected this ancient custom for all kinds of reasons. But I believe it is here to stay. As long as people need a reminder that life will always triumph, that the branches of a tree that continues to shine green into the world in the midst of winter is a wondrous thing, I believe we will continue to haul trees into our homes. Whether real or artificial, the very act of moving furniture around and making room for a tree in the house stirs up a sense of reflection on all that brings beauty and hope. 

In addition to bringing beauty and a sense of wonder into our living room, the Christmas tree also chronicles our family's life. As ornaments are hung on the branches we can see the history of our family emerge. Ornaments given as baby gifts, others in recognition of special loves we each have…soccer, basketball, fishing, angels. Still others were made by small hands and dated for years in pre-school, kindergarten, elementary school. Each a memory of years gone by but entered into once more when brought out of the storage box and placed with reverence on the prickly branch of the tree.

I am always reminded of this fact each year as we place one particular ornament on the tree.  At the top of our tree a small ornament encases a whirling fan-like object given to me when I was a child by my grandmother's friend, Mame Woods, whose name I would never remember except through the placement of this ornament. As I look up right now it is whirling round and round driven by the small amount of heat generated by the twinkling lights.

So this ancient custom meant to remind us that life will continue even in the darkest winters does more than that. It connects us with our past and helps us name and celebrate the present in which we live this day, this moment, this Christmas.  Bringing this evergreen inside and making room for it at the center of our living encourages us to look for the life that is already present. The life that is real and precious and eternal, clothed not only in green but in the stories represented in glass, paper and plastic hung by metal hooks year after year. 

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree, how lovely are your branches!

Have a blessed weekend………

I am surrounded right now with a low hum of activity. Here in the church office we are busily and steadily preparing for Christmas Eve. Though there is still one Sunday left in Advent, all the many details that go into creating the services of worship that usher people into the Christmas season have been being refined for weeks. Bulletins need to be printed. Music needs to be rehearsed. Liturgy needs to be written, speaking parts assigned. People have been signing up for the last month to be a part of one or more of the many services that will bring the Light of Christmas into the hearts of those in attendance.

It has been my privilege for many years to be a part of the 4:00 Christmas Eve pageant. This service of worship which features our children and youth choirs also tells the story of the birth of Jesus complete with angels, shepherds, Magi and the Holy Family. Those desiring these coveted roles have volunteered to don wings and halos, wear crowns and carry staffs. Only the Holy Family is invited……a new baby in the family makes you in the running for this center stage appearance. 

I have to be frank that the days moving up to the pageant are chaos. Even the rehearsal is chaos. Try bringing children of all ages together in the days moving up to this important day, sugar coursing through their bodies, sugarplums dancing in their heads, and it is nearly impossible to have anything but chaos present. Little bodies and even larger bodies fidget with excitement. Those reading in public for the first time are filled with a certain anxiety. Parents and grandparents, full of pride and anticipation, juggle to see their particular actor in the Nativity story.

I sometimes wonder what St. Francis of Assisi, the purported creator of the first Christmas pageant, would think if he saw the pageants we produce today. They are certainly more elaborate, more polished. Our costumes are finer, our words more well chosen, our choirs better trained. Rarely are live animals a part of the mix, adding yet another level of possible chaos to the tableau. I pray he would be pleased with what he might see. I pray he would experience the same level of awe at how ordinary people, mostly children, rise to become an angel heralding the news of Jesus' birth. I hope he would smile at the commitment of the shepherds to make their way to the manger, staff in hand, eyes transfixed by a baby they will see in a different light than ever before. I hope he would look with humility upon the Magi, knowing that the gifts they offer represent something more than the colored, glass beads glued to a fancy box.

These are my hopes because I know that this miracle happens for me every year. When the chaos of costumes and children transforms into the wonder of once again seeing that a Child can make a difference in the world, not only for me, but for everyone present. At that moment, when we are held in a thin place between what is real and now and what is eternal, the only possible response is to light a candle and sing with a lump in your throat: "Silent night….holy night…all is calm….all is bright………"

In the late afternoon hours of waning light, I walked across Loring Park on my way to the light rail station. It was very cold yesterday. I am not sure the temperature made its way into the double digits. This cold makes for very vivid and clear colors reflected in both sky and earth. The sky seems bluer, the trees darker. The blue of sky reflects on the snow covered ground making a sea of blue that seems endless.

 As I walked, surrounded by the steam of my own breath, I heard the call of the jet black crows calling from the tops of the naked trees.Having learned over this past year that crows have the ability to recognize humans, that they come to not only recognize them but develop a certain like or dislike of we two-leggeds, I was hoping to be on their good side because I was certainly out numbered. In the frigid air their strident crowing was nearly deafening. I slowed to watch them, sitting like royalty at the tops of the trees, singing their song for all to hear. What must their view be like from that vantage point? I might sing loudly too if I could see what they see. Instead I huddled my shoulders around my ears to keep out the cold.

Then I saw what they were most likely crowing about. Sitting in the center of the now frozen lake, a group of their own kind sat in a circle….really, it was a circle….having a feast,eating something, perhaps a fallen squirrel or other smaller bird. I noticed then that every now and then a call would be let out and one or two black forms would swoop from the treetop to take their place in the circle. There was a winter picnic happening right there in the middle of the stilled and solid water. These birds often thought of as greedy rogues seemed to be taking turns, sharing the gift of this cold winter meal. 

I smiled as I continued my walk. It seemed even these scavengers of death had been infused with a little holiday generosity. Perhaps it was just a survival of the fittest mentality but to my untrained eye, it seemed a circle of generosity saying that especially in these cold, winter days we need to stick together, draw our circle closer and share the goodness with which we are blessed.

 I am thankful to the crows for this reminder, for this lesson offered up in the subtle blue of a closing day.

"Crow is crow, you say.
 What else is there to say?
Drive down any road,
take a train or an airplane
across the world, leave
your old life behind,
die and be born again-
wherever you arrive
they'll be there first,
glossy and rowdy
and indistinguishable.
The deep muscle of the world."
~Mary Oliver 
  
 

"The world has tilted far
from the sun, from colour and juice…..
I am waiting for a birth that will change everything."
~ Hilary Llewellyn-Williams

Here in the northern hemisphere, more particularly in Minnesota and regions near, we are experiencing the darkness of December. We have only two more minutes of light to lose before the Winter Solstice on December 21st.  The interesting thing is that it does not get dark sooner in the evening but instead stays dark longer in the mornings. With the fresh snow that fell over night, I watched the neighborhood children run toward the bus this morning, white springing up from their feet as they moved through early morning shadows. Our world,  tilted toward darkness, or away from the sun whichever way you tend to think of it, is the landscape of Advent. We live tilted….toward something….away from something.

As I look out my office window the twisted limbs of the strong oak tree is dusted with snow that clings to its gray branches making a silhouette of jagged edges against an even grayer sky. It is difficult to look at it and remember the full greenness of its alive state. And yet, its roots are still reaching down into the earth, tilted toward the life that will travel through root and branch and limb to form the leaves of next summer. It is in a stagnant time, a dark time, waiting for life to once again course through its full body. It seems almost to be in prayer.

I am blessed to be surrounded by several pregnant women these days. I watch them move in the cold of these days knowing they house life within the darkness of their wombs. While everything seems to be in stillness, in suspension, these women carry a life that will change everything for them. Families will grow. Houses will need to take new shape, find new space for an addition that will alter how things have been done before. Parents, grandparents, friends, neighbors will embrace a newness that will surprise them and change how they relate to one another.

This winter season can be a burden for many, a nuisance to others. But for me, I want to embrace this darkness, this chill that is void of color,lacking juice. In these days when we are tilted from the sun that brings warmth and greenness and life, I believe it is important to remember all that is nurtured in darkness, in Mystery. I want to spend these days waiting in expectation for the return of the Sun…..and the birth of the Child….that will change everything.

"Come, see the north-wind's masonry, 

 Out of an unseen quarry evermore 

 Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer

  Curves his white bastions with projected roof

  Round every windward stake, or tree, or door. 

 Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work 

 So fanciful, so savage, naught cares he 

 For number or proportion. "

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Yesterday Minnesotans experienced the first real snowstorm of the season. It is actually a little early for this to happen. Snowstorms are really more likely in February and March. So this one came as a surprise. Some people even thought of it as a gift. As the snow began to fall it was clear it was going to be a beauty of a snow fall. Tiny flakes blew round and round until, when we woke yesterday morning, there were great mounds of the the white stuff piled along fences, in driveways, along the streets.

In many school districts, December 9th also counted as the first "Snow Day" of the season. Once I saw that our district was closed, I felt the slow warmth that always surrounded me when our sons were in school and a snow day was declared. It was such a magical moment to tiptoe into their rooms, tripping over whatever clothing was strewn about, and bend over to whisper "snow day" into their sleeping ear. As a 'Yes!" was declared, a smile spread across their faces, and they snuggled closer under the covers, sinking deeply into the reprieve that had been granted. No school work today. After sleep there would be hours to play in the gift of white drifts that blanketed the yards and park in our neighborhood. I was usually blessed to be able to stay home also and would spend the day working some but mostly making hot chocolate and soup while rotating the wet clothes in and out of the dryer. The day seemed like one long recess as they laughed, red-cheeked from their snow play.

Everyone, even adults, need a snow day now and then. Snow days are those mini-sabbath moments when you let go of all the 'must do', 'have to', 'ought to' lists that can hold us prisoner. Snow days remind us that, no matter how much we plan or how in control we feel we are, tiny little flakes, each unique and beautiful in their own way, can trump our important work. These little crystals of ice combine to set us on our ear if that is our choice. But if we are wise, if we see the gift held out by blowing winds and swirling flakes, we close our eyes, crawl back into our beds and breathe a smile into the blankets. Our grown up bodies remember what it was like to have an adult whisper:"Snow day." and we reach out to receive the gift we've been given.

Tomorrow will be time enough to do what needs to be done.

"Do not ask who the messenger is. It is you." ~Joseph T. Nolan

The scriptures of Advent and Christmas are filled with messengers of God, otherwise known as angels. Of course, there is John the Baptist who could be seen as a messenger but when we think of this familiar and beloved story, we almost always think of the angels. Angels are often portrayed as ethereal creatures who flit just outside our vision. There are countless artist's renderings of what angels 'look' like….feathery wings, soft features, calmness all around. 

But most of the angels, otherwise known as messengers of God, I have met do not have wings. Some are down right rough around the edges,even crass. And many have not brought calmness but have instead called me to attention which was probably what I needed most at the moment. Like Gabriel, some have even told me things about myself I have not been too excited to hear. And yet, these angels have encouraged me to see the presence of God in places I might otherwise have missed. These messengers of God have been co-workers, family members, friends and complete strangers heralding some good news that I needed to hear at the moment. 

Have you had an encounter with an angel lately? Has someone helped you see the face of God in the ordinary tasks of your daily life? Have you tried your hand…or wing…at being an angel for another? In this season when we suspend so many rational ideas and instead embrace the Mystery that surrounds us all the time, this might be the perfect time to be awake to the angels that might be flitting in the shadows just outside our vision. When we turn to meet those messengers we might, like Mary, be surprised at what may happen to us. 

In Eugene Peterson's The Message, a contemporary telling of the Bible, Mary says:"God took one good look at me, and look what happened."(Luke 1:48) Indeed, when we are open to the messengers of God, those angels who surround us all the time, we must be ready for surprises. Very big surprises! When we choose to let our own wings show, we have the opportunity to be messengers of God as well. And wouldn't that make for an exciting holiday season, and an even more exciting life?

"Into the bleakest winters of our souls, Lord, you are tiptoeing on tiny Infant feet to find us, hold our hands. May we drop whatever it is we are so busy about these days to accept this gesture so small that it may get overlooked in our frantic search for something massive and overwhelming. Remind us that it is not you who demands large, lavish celebrations and enormous strobe-lit displays of faith. Rather, you ask only that we have the faith of a mustard seed and willingness to let a small hand take ours. We are ready." ~Margaret Ann Huffman

Our family loves to drive by particular houses in our neighborhood, those that  seem to have the 'more is better' adage that guides them in their Christmas decorating. We always marvel at the time, energy and expense that goes into the countless decorations that adorn their houses and yards. Our favorite find is a Santa that is always lit and placed in the basketball hoop of one house. Our boys, now both in college, still get a kick out of seeing this Santa hanging in mid-air as if caught in a free fall from his sleigh. Two points!

We are much more subdued in our decorating. A few lights and the same decorations that have given shape to our celebration have become steeped in memories and tradition. Perhaps we are not as creative or as enthusiastic as others but it has seemed to work for our family in setting the tone of our Christmas gatherings. I'd like to think we focus more on the spirit of the people who show up to create a holiday glow to envelop our 'less is more' attitude. 

These words of Margaret Ann Huffman which I ran across in a book of table graces reminded me so much of Christmas nineteen years ago. Our youngest son was born on this day, December 8th nineteen years ago and the presence of this sweet infant boy colored all we did that Christmas. It was a particularly cold December and so we didn't go out much. We stayed in and felt the sheer peace, love and joy of having a new baby in the house. We looked out at the snow, read books, made cookies but, for the most part, did not get caught up in all the things that can overwhelm us at this time of year.

 I still remember the simplicity of that Christmas with great joy. It was an embodied reminder of the true spirit of Christmas. Infant hands and feet held the incarnation of the Holy. In their pure sweetness and beauty we knew God among us as surely as Mary and Joseph did. We did not need bright lights or expensive presents to show us the face of love. We only needed to walk over to the cradle that was crowded in near the Christmas tree and gaze at the sleeping infant whose cheeks were pink with new life, a life that held the promise of the fine young nineteen year old man he has become. The gift of our Christmas was right there under the tree.

And so today, for those Christmas days and his still unfolding life, I am filled with a mother's gratitude. 

"Tell the truth but tell it slant
Success in circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm delight,
As lightning to the children eased
With exploration kind.
The truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind."
~Emily Dickinson

The stories we tell point us toward a truth we can embrace. No story holds the same truth for every person. How we enter into a story depends upon so many things……our gender, our place of birth, our age, our life experience, our biases, our frame of mind at the time of the hearing or reading of the story. These factors and so many more inform how we see truth in a story, how we can allow that truth to transform us.

I am thinking about the story of Christmas when I write these words. This story which helps shape the faith of those who call Christianity home is colored by all these same factors. No one person finds the same equal amounts of truth and transformation as the story comes round again to be told. Here we sit with another year under our belt. Changes have given new shape to how we see the world. Losses have left holes in our hearts. Joys have filled empty spaces left raw by the simple act of living. This year as we enter the Christmas we may find ourselves drawn to the awe-struck shepherds instead of the glamorous magi. We may come to see ourselves more in the patience of the animals surrounding the manger rather than using our heralding voice like the angel Gabriel. Others may find themselves in the place of quiet rest, embracing the newness of life, as did Mary and Joseph on that first Christmas, as do most new parents. All the places where truth can be found in these words depends on what is happening in our lives, what has happened since its last hearing. 

Perhaps I am thinking of this because I just returned from the wedding of my only niece. As I watched the families gather and was awe-struck by the beauty and promise of this young couple, I became aware of how each of us were experiencing the story in which we were all players in very different ways. The young couple were the center of a story they had planned and prepared for over more than a year. Their grasp of ecstatic joy caused them to literally glow. I watched the father of the bride, my brother, choke back tears as the truth of his now grown daughter was held in tension with his memories of the young daughter who first won his heart. As the mother of the bride congratulated the couple with words of love, she also was letting go of a relationship she had honed for over two decades with her only child and taking on a new one with this now married woman.

 And so it went from grandparent to aunts and uncles, from cousins to friends, we all were seeing this story play out from our own vantage point. We were seeing the truth being told for each of us in our own way. The truth I saw being played out was mine, not that of anyone else at the wedding. While we all experienced the joy of the day we could only do so through our own lens, through our own experience.

 Like the Christmas story we will hear in its entirety once again, we will find a new truth that is ours for this year. It won't be heard in the same way by the person who sits near us or those who sit rows away. It will be our privilege to once again open our ears and our hearts to the truth that will be ours this Christmas. And to that I say: "Alleluia!" 

"May you befriend the darkness.
May Sister Night be a tender and fierce companion.
May Longing lie down with you:
may you trace the curve of Desire's face.
and sleep in Memory's embrace.
May the spirits attend your dreaming
till absence gives way to flesh
and the shadows return your touch."
~Jan L. Richardson

As the days of Advent begin to envelop us, here in the Northern Hemisphere darkness is becoming the clothes we wear. On Tuesday I realized I had gone to work in darkness and come home in darkness. The daylight hours are becoming shorter and shorter as we march toward December 21st and the Winter Solstice when the light will begin returning in slow increments. We began this journey in June, the days getter darker, but we are only feeling its depth in these December days.

And so we have the privilege, I believe, of actually living the days of Advent as if the light of the world was slowly eeking away. Intellectually we know this is only a cycle of something much bigger than our human knowing. But the daily living of this darkness can allow us, if we are open to it, to sink into that darkness as we wait with expectation for the Light of the World. It is not without great genius that we celebrate Christmas so close to the time when the sun begins its returning light. If we are aware, we can actually experience the gift of light, not only in the story of Christmas, but also in how we walk through our ordinary days noticing light and shadow,warmth and cold.

How do you allow the darkness to come into your life? How do you find  comfort and hope in it? How do you allow the absence of light to nurture the spark of Spirit that lives and glows within you, within all? Darkness holds seeds and infants, chicks inside eggs and the birth of stars. Darkness can also hold all that is waiting to be born in us. 

Today, I invite you to embrace the darkness and all that it holds forth. Soon its gifts will be bathed in light.