Christmas and Hope

To all who are looking for hope, head on over to Bethlehem.

But be careful ... Herod is huffing and puffing.

Yes, hope is what we're dealing with.
Perhaps, like Paul notes, not in things we can see.
But things unseen.
Things that once seemed a bit more palpable.
But now shadowy and dim.

For the time being, Herod's in charge.
Backed by Rome.
And the religious elite of Jerusalem.
No one wanted an upset.

Except God.
Who seems intent on upsetting things.

So, who knows what tomorrow holds.
Though I like to think:
God holds us, in good hands.

I don't want to get all sentimental on this stuff.
Which is easy to do.
And nothing like sentiment to dull the senses.
And mislead the soul.

For way too many, or so I think.
Sentiment satisfies the soul.
So the soul can be locked up again.
Until next year.

A little sentiment, like cinnamon, goes a long way.
Have fun.
Rejoice.
Sing "Silent Night" and light a candle.

But don't be misled.
Herod's power is soon to be revealed.
His fear and hatred soon to explode.
And the Holy Family flees for their life.

This Christmas is different for me.
I can't get Herod out of my mind.
And, I suppose, it would be wrong to try.
It's the way of things, far too often.

Merry Christmas, I'll say.
Because Christmas is the account of hope in dark times.
The account hope that sustains.
Even on the Refugee Road, with the Holy Family.

Tough Times

Tough times.
Hard times.
Miserable times.
Such was the case.

For baby Jesus.
Parents on the move.
Ordered by Herod.
Hateful, hideous, paranoid Herod.

On the move.
Cold and dark.
The little inn was full.
But the inn keeper made room, anyhow.

We can always find room.
Jesus doesn't need much.
Just a little place will do.
And life begins anew.

And the birth came about.
Angeles sang to low-downs in the fields.
Foreigners saw the star and arrived.
Herod heard and Herod howled.

Who's this upstart?
This pretender to the throne!
This nobody!
Of no account!

But the wise men seem to know something.
I need to know, too.
Where's the little bastard.
Bethlehem, you say?

Kill 'em all.
Every last child.
Girl, boy - who cares.
Kill 'em all.

Parents flee to good old Egypt.
Nemesis and friend.
Where it all began.
Pharaoh and all.

Herod goes to hell in a handbasket.
Eaten up by worms.
Fitting end, I suppose,
For such a crummy creep.

But life wasn't to be easy for the child.
Life was one hardship after the other.
Maybe the first 30 years weren't too bad.
Good momma and good father.

But the last three.
A test for sure.
Easy way out?
Or the hard way in?

He choose the hard way.
And people hated him for it.
Couldn't wait to get rid of him.
Put an end to his malarkey.

But we're sort of stuck with him now.
But we still get rid of him, too.
We make his birth a commercial success.
And some yell Merry Christmas, in your face.

And groan and moan about taking Christ out of the deal.
When he's never been in the deal anyway.
Not the American deal of cash and carry.
Nor the evangelical stuff of sawdust and tears.

Life still isn't easy for the child.
For the man.
For God.
For Christ.

Final Advent Thoughts

As we bring the Season of Advent to a close with the lighting of the Christ Candle tonight, we end a chapter in the story of our Faith, and open anew, the ageless story of God with us, in every respect. Small towns and big cities, rich and poor, foreigner and citizen - for God so loved the world.

May the brightness of the star illumine our darkness ...

May the tenacity of the wise men, who dared to follow a star, encourage us in our journey ...

May the joy of the shepherds impel us to make our own trek to Bethlehem to see what the angels have told us ...

May Herod's anger be a sobering reminder that powerful interests have their own agenda ...

May the flight of the Holy Family to Egypt give us hope in tough times ... and ...

May the promise of Scripture - that all of these many and varied pieces were part of a Master Plan, the fulfilling of Scripture - give us peace and determination to keep up the good work of loving and serving Christ - because God's hand is yet upon the flow of history, to keep God's purpose and God's love alive, and to maintain our life together on this planet, a planet that God so dearly loves

Advent 1

This coming Sunday, Advent 1 – the first of four Sundays to pay attention, get ready … align our senses and open our hearts … that Jesus might again be born, and we be born anew.

With good reason, the date of Dec. 25 was settled upon for the birth of Jesus, though none know the date. But think about it.

In the darkest time of the year, the brightest work of God!

I don’t know how it all works, but the strange intermingling of darkness and light, despair and hope.

I think it has something to do with our coming to the wall, when we’ve expended our all, and nothing more to be done … now what?

The strange and wondrous love of God meeting us at the end of our rope.

St. John of the Cross, a 16th century mystic, wrote The Dark Night of the Soul for young monks who had lost their initial fervor and joy. St. John counsels: God is on the move doing His most important work, but for our sake, God conceals it in darkness, and only when ready, does God reveal it to us. If we knew what God was doing in such critical moments of our formation, we’d rush in and muck it all up with our opinions and our desires.

“Wait upon the LORD” is still the best advice. And that’s what the Season of Advent teaches us anew – the power of waiting, because we are waiting for God!

There is, for all of us, a Bethlehem – that little out-of-the way place in our soul, not much in looks or means, but just right for the Son of God.

Wait for the LORD … you will not be disappointed!