A Collective Breath

Christmas Eve is here!  Complete with snow on the ground, making the White Christmas I sing about happily true this year.  The presents are wrapped with brightly colored paper, completed with sparkly shiny bows.  Cards expressing Christmas wishes to all are nearly ready to be given (my theory is that as long as they go out before the New Year it’s all good).  Soon, the house will be filled with the smell of Christmas Eve chili, lemon pie and a mixture of other goodies; complimented by the sounds of children, friends and family. 

The special time of Christmas is not something that is made up of all these wonderful things, though these are exceptionally lovely things to include.  It is a yearly instance where the world seems to take a collective breath and inhale the sweet newness of an infant in a manger; the feeling we get when we hold a tiny new life that is only minutes, days or weeks old.  Thrust into our arms, the baby’s weight is slight, but it fills us with the weight of love and responsibility. 

The pause of peace that occurs around this time of year is reflected in traditions, spontaneous declarations and heartbreakingly wistful wants of peace throughout history and the world.  The town of Turku, Finland, has declared a Christmas peace since the Middle Ages.  The holly and mistletoe, respectively the kissing plant and the plant of peace, are reminiscent of the kiss of peace monarchs would give and receive from their nobles.  The old history of many carols can be traced to the need of peace that only this new life a baby could bring.  In much more modern history, a desire for peace came out again in the Civil War, even amidst Christmas day skirmishes.  The soldiers’ hearts craved that peace should be the order of the day and reflected it in their letters and songs.  After the capture of Savannah, some northern soldiers delivered several wagons full of food and other supplies to the people who were caught in a land desolated by a bitter war.  In World War I, an impromptu peace broke out in several places as men in opposing trenches exchanged songs, a few gifts, and rallied their impromptu football (a.k.a soccer) teams with cheering, ringing foreign sounds of peace through no-man’s-land.  Much more recent is in war-torn Nigeria; a few Muslim and Christian neighbors have declared this very Christmas a time of peace to celebrate together. 

Beyond the kindness to strangers we many witness at this time, these days have a convention of people drawing in a breath and catching in a singular air of the divine.  I think it is more than just sweet traditions and customs that has brought about these singular moments that we know of, and the thousands we do not know of.  I think it is the celebration of an earthly birth of a heavenly king.  The peace our minds and bodies crave catch a whisper from the spirit, quiet amongst the sounds of wrapping, caroling, sledding, shopping, visiting, and cooking; barely heard and yet keenly felt.  It is the whisper that offers peace, the peace of the spirit.  The peace we have so long wanted is rested in our arms as a new born baby, Jesus.  The emptiness in the longing is filled with the hope of peace.  But, I think that it is not just the baby that impacts in such a tremendous way, it is the man as well.  The man that died for us, died for us out of love and returned to us out of love, to offer peace. 

In the hectic moments the next few days presents, I wish you a merry and peace filled Christmas.  That you will draw in a breath and catch a faint hint of the smell of a new baby in a manger, of a man on a cross, of the promise of peace in love. 

I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day
 I heard the bells on Christmas day
 Their old familiar carols play,
 And wild and sweet the words repeat
 Of peace on earth, good will to men.

 I thought how, as the day had come,
 The belfries of all Christendom
 Had rolled along th'unbroken song
 Of peace on earth, good will to men.

 And in despair I bowed my head:
 'There is no peace on earth,' I said
 'For hate is strong, and mocks the song
 Of peace on earth, good will to men.'

 Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
 'God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
 The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
 With peace on earth, good will to men.'

Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime,
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

   

  

Christmas – Music

   As Christmas approaches the CD’s containing Christmas music are being pulled out, and found all over again. Some of the songs are old friends to my ears, tunes I have grown up singing. Songs such as “Beautiful Star of Bethlehem” have been sung every year for as long as I can remember. Music has been part of the family Christmas tradition for years. We sing traditional hymns, carols, and then Tom T. Hall’s Sneaky Snake. I’m not quite sure how that last one got in there, but the kids (old and young) like it.

   Now, in the kitchen, there is a CD player with music sitting nearby in a basket. As Christmas music is pulled out and played, I find the kitchen turning into a combination of my private concert hall and worship service. With one of my favorite songs, Joy to the World, I sing loudly as pots and pans clank and bang. Always on the look-out for what will be a new favorite, I scour stores looking for Christmas songs I have never heard. But, even with all of that, it is the ones which contain the sweetest memories and the truest words ring out which are held precious.
   Come on over, we will have pie, coffee, and listen to Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker. Or mix up some sugar cookies to Country Christmas Favorites. Sitting by the fire, we can have instrumental guitar music playing such favorites as O Holy Night, Away in a Manger, and Silent Night. Decorating and wrapping are best done with the jolly favorites like Grandma Got Ran Over by a Reindeer and some familiar Bing Crosby crooning. Whatever the musical mix you prefer, sing along this Christmas and celebrate the day.

Cause’ the Church Will Tip

You walk in the door, hang up your coat, and then greeting as you go – head to your seat.  Passing rows, familiar faces fill the pews.  Paying attention week after week, you could name the names which seem to be assigned to their particular spot.  I sit behind a couple who sit parallel to the last window, about halfway back on the right hand side. 

What would happen if we moved?  The church would tip and we would slide out and land on the other side of the world!!  No?  Are you sure?

Okay, so we do like traditions and it is easy to become stuck in the familiar.  I don’t know that there is anything really wrong with sitting in the same pew week after week.  But, it was a good reminder to me that I need to hang on to the right things and let the familiar change, if it’s a change of tradition or ritual or the familiar.  Maybe we should all pick a different spot to sit one Sunday – and let the church tip just a little.

Happy Birthday to Who?

Delivery day came for Elizabeth.  She labored and gave birth to a little boy.  I don’t know about you – but in my family when there is a new baby it is a party!  Food, celebration, gathering in to welcome a new life.  It seems that for Elizabeth and John it was the same, Elizabeth’s neighbors and relatives gathered in and “shared her joy.” 

As part of the Jewish tradition, John was to be taken and circumcised at 8 days old.  Everyone gathered in, this was a celebration of this new life and a time to officially introduce the baby, presenting him with his name.  It was common to name a baby boy after his father, so the people started naming the baby Zechariah.  Elizabeth spoke up and said, ‘“No!  He is to be called John,”’ (Luke 1: 60).  Elizabeth spoke up; she acted and stepped out choosing to worship God, not tradition.  Traditions are wonderful things.  They are acts which can provide a steady groundwork for us, a sense of self and culture.  They also can be binding if we allow them.  If we allow traditions to bind us, we let the traditions control us rather than making them change to meet our needs, and then they are enslaving us.  I can just imagine people looking at Elizabeth as she stepped out against tradition – an emphatic “No!”

The people tried to reason with Elizabeth. ‘“There is no one among your relatives who has that name,”’ (Luke 1:61).  Come on Elizabeth, you know the tradition.  If not Zechariah, maybe after someone else in the family?  Grandpa? Dad? Great-Grandpa?  So, then the question was passed to Zechariah. 

I wonder if this time was a sting to Zechariah’s pride?  In this very male led culture, Elizabeth was asked first.  I imagine that that had happened more and more during these nine months.  But, Zechariah asked for a tablet and wrote, “His name is John,” (Luke 1:63). 

Oh Zechariah, how I love that you stuck with it!  Nine months of loss of voice and now he has a chance to share the experience he has reaped!  Zechariah’s lost voice came back!  He started praising God, the words flowed out.  I wonder how his voice sounded, did it sound strange to him?  Did Elizabeth smile as she listened to Zechariah speak again?

The neighbors were amazed – can you imagine the scene?  The quietness enforced on Zechariah was lifted, Elizabeth had a baby boy in her arms that no one thought she would ever have, and now I’m sure they are hearing the entire story.  Now, they started wondering and asking each other, what kind of child is this?  The Lord is already moving so powerfully in his life, and he’s only eight days old! 

Be encouraged!