Advent I - November 30, 2003
Communion Celebration / Food Bank Sunday
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| Decorating crew: Barb Grozell, Ted Sherring, Jane Clarke | ||
As we embark on our Advent
journey this year, I begin with a reflection from Robert Fulghum who says, An
older woman once planted a seed in my head that didn't sprout until November.
She had said, "It's kind of refreshing to have Christmas come as a surprise."
He says,
The early warning signs of
the inevitable coming of the holiday juggernaut had appeared in the form of gift
catalogs in late September. A fog of anxious dread began rising out of my
spiritual swamp. By November I was in a serious Christmas-phobia funk. I
wanted out. I lay awake half a night with a full committee meeting going on in
my head. In the morning, I wrote a letter.
Dear Family and Friends:
I saw the cover of the
December issue of Esquire magazine this week and bought it to take home to my
wife. Because, the headline on the cover fitted my mood exactly:
"O H M Y G O D (it's
Christmas)"
An exclamation that
reflects little joy.
Nevertheless, Lynn and I
couldn't seem to help falling into the inevitable
what-are-we-going-to-do-about-Christmas discussion—the exasperating one that
leads to deep sighs and the making of long lists of people and long lists of
things to buy and long lists of things to do as soon as possible even though
soon is not so possible.
Christmas as a crisis.
At about the same time, we
both realized we are just not into doing the Christmas thing this year—at least
not in the usual way. It's not that we've become Scroogish about the
season—it's that we don't want to become Scroogish.
We are still influenced by
the memory of being in New Mexico for part of the holiday season last year. We
passed through the manic little tourist town of Taos, which was geared up for
the maximum level of kitschy consumerism, and drove farther on up the road to
the Taos Indian pueblo.
Peace and quiet reigned
there.
The time from December 15
to January 15 is observed as “The time of being still.” The pueblo is closed to
tourists and all commercial activity for a month. To us it felt like the little
town of Bethlehem must have been a long time ago.
And so, in the sensible
spirit of our Indian cousins, we intend being still this year.
We're not going shopping.
The money we might have spent can go to some other good cause. Take the time
you might have spent shopping for us and be still a little yourself.
Think of us, who wish you
quiet joy this Christmas. God rest you, merry gentlemen, and gentle women,
too—God rest you.
Last December, my wife and
I went off to Utah for a time—just the two of us. On Christmas Eve we chopped
up the trunk of last year's tree and built a fire to sit by while we ate
homemade bread and chili. We took a long walk up the valley in the snow.
We came upon a midnight
clear. The silent stars went by. The world in solemn stillness lay. And when
the angels sang, we were there to hear them.
That experiment in
Christmas damage control has continued and expanded.
Since Christmas went so
well, I explained to my family and friends that I would like to try treating
other official occasions in a similar way. I asked them to forgive me my
obligations for birthdays or anniversaries for a while. And I would do the same
for them—no expectations.
I wanted to be free of
dates. How would it be, I wondered, to celebrate the seasons of the heart as
opportunities, not obligations? I promised to keep them in the forefront of my
thinking—all those whom I love and cherish. I promised to pay attention to them
and give to them when they most need something but least expect it. To let
gifts and favors and affirmations come, from me, as a surprise.
How's it going?
As I write, it's February,
and I'm thirteen months into the trial. It hasn't been easy. It means getting
funny looks when official dates are imminent. It takes extra effort, but the
effort so far is pleasure, not hassle.
Friends and family seem to
like knowing I'm thinking about them, but it's hard to tell enthusiasm from
friendly toleration sometimes. Only my five-year-old grand-daughter has
actually complained. She would like to be surprised a little more regularly.
I don't know what my
friends and family really think about this experiment in gift-giving. They
don't say, and I haven't asked. They are all ahead in actual loot, if one looks
at this deal from a strict accounting point of view. But that's not the point.
The heart will turn to a
prune if love is always by the numbers.
How will you know someone
really loves you if they only meet your expectations and not your needs?
I offer Robert’s Fulghum’s
wisdom as we embark on this Advent journey which is too often confused with the
Christmas Train.
And I do so hoping that
your advent journey will be one of gift and promise to you and yours and that
you will take the time and make the opportunities for some quiet still
reflection…we are truly a blessed people but if we “busy” and “guilt” ourselves
to the point that we can’t recognize that, how have we allowed the God of all
the earth to speak to us on our journey? How have we allowed ourselves to be
surprised by coming face to face with the presence of Jesus as Jesus continues
to come to us? Amen.