A single gilded word. It shouldn’t be consigned to an Advent or Christmas value. After all, peace something no faith tradition omits, even if none follow through in bringing about its reign.
The golden, gilded age doesn’t usually refer to a reign of peace – it is traditionally mistaken for a time and era filled with seaside mansions and philanthropic achievements. But this card has the truth of it: peace is the substance of a true golden age. No gilding required.
The home is small, the wilderness expansive. The trees and flakes are sparkle rimmed. The skis are set, ready for another foray into the forest; the lights are on. There’s some wood to throw on the fire just outside the door. There are words in the air. Everything needed is here, but nothing beyond it.
Simple isn’t easy, but if I can recognize the holiness of an uncluttered inner and outer space, I just might see in the woods, words, and flakes a glimpse of God’s ever-changing, never-ending love.
It’s on the inside of my birthday card, this map. My son, Colin, marked the places where the various items in my present called home – nuts from the Blue Diamond factory and local growers, olive oil, honey, etc. They come from neighboring communities and were picked up in local shops or farmer’s markets. California offers almost everything within a few square miles and under an hour’s travel.
This is local in another way, too: it’s local from the place my son lives.
I don’t believe that everything is relative, but I do believe that everything is related. This map reminds me of that – and prompts me to honor the connectedness and relatedness of all things.
They come to the feeder every day – at least a pair, usually more. For the cost and effort of putting seed in the feeder and scattering bread crusts on the ground, grace and beauty on the wing is made manifest just outside my window. Every season, in all kinds of weather, they come.
It’s said that cardinals are the spirits of those who have left this life returning in a different form. It’s also said that they signal death, the presence of the Spirit, and imminent change. Any, all, or none of these things could be true. I can’t say. What I do know: beauty and grace are local where I live and breathe just as surely as they are resident in exotic, far away places.
Gracious God, give me an eye to see the beauty you offer, and a spirit to be profoundly grateful for it. Amen.
It’s an odd depiction of the Magi, with a ghostly Jesus pointing the way to some place beyond the starlit Bethlehem in the background. They aren’t headed toward the stained glass window framed city. They are continuing on a path whose end cannot be seen. Their gifts and their attention are for something far more mysterious than a city cut-out; they are seeking in the here and now, not hiding in nostalgic recollection of a manger scene.
Wisdom is not knowledge about past events, and it isn’t appreciation for beautiful tales told by starlight. Wisdom seeks to offer itself to life, to honor what is holy, and to heal the brokenness of the world and her creatures. Just as Jesus cannot be limited by the recollections of his birth, life, death, and resurrection that we honor and continue to find holy, we cannot limit our lives to remembering the stories rather than following the living presence that calls us beyond them.
The wise still seek him – and are willing to continue the journey beyond the known.
I might enjoy what’s in the box, but nothing in it could be the perfect gift.
The true present? That something, almost anything, given with love and received with gratitude, delivers what I most desire in life:
The awareness that this life, all aspects and instances of it, are capable of drawing me into the love of God.
Today, that’s my working definition of Joy.
When the snow falls just right, with enough heft to coat the branches but not enough to break them, something like an outdoor hallway is revealed. I’ve come upon them in many places – the library walkway, Buckmanville Road in New Hope, and Prescott Park in Portsmouth. But none were quite as magical as the ones a few miles up Birch Hill Road in New Durham. Dirt roads leading to the summer cabins on Chalk and March ponds, abandoned in Winter, were natural cathedrals when adorned in white. I spent many hours walking in these sacred spaces, and am much richer for it.
Healing, justice, love. A song, a branch, and a path. If I approached them with the same reverence as a snow-created wonder, surely the world and I would be much the richer for it.
I’ve spent the better part of the afternoon looking out the window, hoping that the expected snowfall will come. But now the sun has set and the street lights shine on bare sidewalks. No snow yet. But I still have hope that the wonder of snow is on its way, so I’m keeping the inside lights to a minimum – just the Christmas tree lights and the bookcase lights.
Wonder is a freely given gift, but an easily overlooked one. I can’t be too preoccupied with my own things or sit in a spotlight if I want experience the wonder all around me. I’ll miss snowfall, starlight, new life, and God knows what else if I forget to look beyond myself.
It’s just a day into the new year, but Christmas season is still with me – the twelve days don’t end until the 6th, and our festive decorations are still brightening up the house. Included in those decorations are the Christmas cards that hang between the kitchen and living room. Walking between rooms, I pass under the well wishes of friends, family, and a few institutions – an arch of love and care that has been constructed card by card for decades. It would be a shame to let the cards go before giving them more than a passing glance…
You might want to share some of your favorites as well…
Readings: Luke 1:46b-55; Micah 4:1-5; Ephesians 2:11-22
So then, remember that at one time you Gentiles by birth, called “the uncircumcision” by those who are called “the circumcision” – a physical circumcision made in the flesh by human hands – remember the you were at one time without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, the he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it. So he came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near; for through him both of us have access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; In whole you are also built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God. NRSV
For Christ himself has brought peace to us. He united Jews and Gentiles into one people when, in his own body on the cross, he broke down the wall of hostility that separated us.
Ephesians 2:14 (NIV)
The Gentiles, who were at one time welcomed into the temple (I Kings 8: 41-43), are no longer allowed into the temple under penalty of death; the wall of hostility divides the Jews from the non-Jews. The writer of Ephesians proclaims peace and unity are now here through the broken body of Jesus.
Last Sunday we lit the 4th candle, the candle symbolizing peace—the culmination of our journey to Bethlehem. Peace on earth, goodwill to all. And yet there remains so many walls of hostility. The Body of Christ introduces a fundamental perspective of community as organic, not structural, organizational or doctrinal—forms of community against which Jesus struggled. These artificial communities, with their rigid systems, were exactly what Jesus sought to replace. He welcomed people into relationships that allowed for differences, tolerated uncertainties, and respected the dignity of every human being. May we do the same as we pray a prayer for unity from the Book of Common Prayer:
O God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, our only Savior, the Prince of Peace: Give us grace seriously to lay to heart the great dangers we are in by our unhappy divisions; take away all hatred and prejudice, and whatever else may hinder us from godly union and concord; that, as there is but one Body and one Spirit, one hope of our calling, one Lord, one Faith, one Baptism, one God and Father of us all, so we may be all of one heart and of one soul, united in one holy bond of truth and peace, of faith and charity, and may with one mind and one mouth glorify thee; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Offered by Bill Albritton, a light on our path to Bethlehem.