Blue Christmas Service Meditation Dec. 21, 2020 First Presbyterian Church, Clarks Summit
“Oh there’s no place like home for the holidays!”
Sounds great, unless you have been stuck in your home since the middle of March; Or you can’t get there without proof of a negative Covid-19 test; Or, you would go if you could but you can’t, because the place was sold years ago; Or what passes for home these days is a room in the skilled nursing wing with a few Christmas decorations from yesteryear to remind you of the real thing.
“I’ll be home for Christmas, you can plan on me.”
Sounds nice, and looks wonderful when played out in the coffee commercials they might not show this year. But for some, the promise is undone by a stocking no longer hung by the chimney with care, and the memory of one who now resides in the Father’s house with many mansions. For others, the “if only in my dreams” ending is a harsh reminder that someone who used to make the holidays “merry and bright” is “miles away;” or now lives under another roof and shares someone else’s bed.
It’s the most wonderful time of the year!”
Except it’s not for those who line up to pick up donated toys or food; and those who have no place to go to work on December twenty-sixth. It’s also not all that wonderful for the one whose mailbox is empty, whose phone doesn’t ring, whose threshold wasn’t crossed much in either direction even before the pandemic.
In an Advent devotional, author Kathleen Norris reports: “In some churches, during Advent, pillars are deco-rated with wreaths that resemble a crown of thorns.”[i] Norris says she loves that because it helps her “remember that in this life, true joy is never perfect, but comes mixed with pain and suffering.”[ii] Next, she writes about the traditional Advent Wreath, which she describes as “plump with greenery and promise," and joins another author, Gertrude Mueller Nelson, in wondering whether the Advent Wreath has its origin “in the ancient European custom of marking the winter solstice by removing the wheels from farm carts and wagons. Stripped of all utility, the wheels were brought indoors and decorated: color and candles to celebrate light in the dark of winter, and to remind the sun to return.”[iii]
Tonight, as the winter solstice brings us the longest night of the year, we take refuge in the strange to-getherness that unites this sanctuary with the place you are seated. We leave be-hind for a time, most of the bright colors, the silly songs, and the inflated figures on front lawn. We acknowledge whatever darkness has descended on our hearts, and long for the comfort that comes from hearing once more of the light that shines in the darkness…the true light which enlightens everyone…the light which the darkness has not, cannot, will not, over-come…even if it feels like it has.
Gloomy clouds and dark shadows. A close look at the Christmas story in the Gospel of Matthew reveals it wasn’t all as calm and bright as the beloved Carol pictures it. Disappointment descended and dreams were dashed by the news that Mary was “found to be with child.” Joseph and Mary’s plan A for a life shared became food for the shred-der; Joseph’s Plan B was rejected, too, even though it had elements of kindness and compassion. In the end, God’s Plan was adopted. Trust in divine promises put the holy couple in the company of Old Testament saints who listened when God said “Children, go where send thee!”
Little did they know that scandal was the least of their worries. Soon enough they would be running for their lives, fugitives fleeing from powers threatened by the love God was offering to the world. Beyond the stories we always read at Christmas are the ones we usually pull back from telling. Yes, the wise men came and brought gifts, but we often stop short of telling why they returned to their homes by another road. Herod’s infanticide, escalating the horror of a similar plot by Pharaoh long before, is a scene usually left out of our Christmas Pageants.
In their responsiveness to God’s direction, Joseph and Mary demonstrate how to cope when plan-changing events come our way. As they leave behind familiar people and places, as they bloom where they are planted, these two show us how to get beyond the loss and disappointment. They trust the promises of God. When the time is right, they get moving again. Joseph and Mary made their way from Bethlehem, down to Egypt, and back to Nazareth in stages. The Scriptures don’t tell us how long it took, but they tell us that they got there. No doubt changed, likely scarred by all they had been through, nevertheless their lives continued.
So, while “the Christmas Music station plays “Baby It’s Cold Outside,” let us acknowledge the chills that frost our hearts. Let us pray those hymn words from earlier tonight: “that the powers of hell may vanish As the darkness clears away.” While some watch out because “Santa Claus is coming to town,” let us ponder the child sleeping on Mary’s lap and remember that the “King of kings salvation brings.” While others insist on “Rockin Around the Christmas Tree, without a mask, how about re-minding each other to “Let loving hearts enthrone Him.” And while others sing of a red-nosed reindeer guiding Santa through the fog, let us turn for guidance to Emmanuel, trusting the promise that he comes to “disperse the gloomy clouds of night, and death’s dark shadow’s put to flight.”
O Come, O Come, Emmanuel!
“Oh there’s no place like home for the holidays!”
Sounds great, unless you have been stuck in your home since the middle of March; Or you can’t get there without proof of a negative Covid-19 test; Or, you would go if you could but you can’t, because the place was sold years ago; Or what passes for home these days is a room in the skilled nursing wing with a few Christmas decorations from yesteryear to remind you of the real thing.
“I’ll be home for Christmas, you can plan on me.”
Sounds nice, and looks wonderful when played out in the coffee commercials they might not show this year. But for some, the promise is undone by a stocking no longer hung by the chimney with care, and the memory of one who now resides in the Father’s house with many mansions. For others, the “if only in my dreams” ending is a harsh reminder that someone who used to make the holidays “merry and bright” is “miles away;” or now lives under another roof and shares someone else’s bed.
It’s the most wonderful time of the year!”
Except it’s not for those who line up to pick up donated toys or food; and those who have no place to go to work on December twenty-sixth. It’s also not all that wonderful for the one whose mailbox is empty, whose phone doesn’t ring, whose threshold wasn’t crossed much in either direction even before the pandemic.
In an Advent devotional, author Kathleen Norris reports: “In some churches, during Advent, pillars are deco-rated with wreaths that resemble a crown of thorns.”[i] Norris says she loves that because it helps her “remember that in this life, true joy is never perfect, but comes mixed with pain and suffering.”[ii] Next, she writes about the traditional Advent Wreath, which she describes as “plump with greenery and promise," and joins another author, Gertrude Mueller Nelson, in wondering whether the Advent Wreath has its origin “in the ancient European custom of marking the winter solstice by removing the wheels from farm carts and wagons. Stripped of all utility, the wheels were brought indoors and decorated: color and candles to celebrate light in the dark of winter, and to remind the sun to return.”[iii]
Tonight, as the winter solstice brings us the longest night of the year, we take refuge in the strange to-getherness that unites this sanctuary with the place you are seated. We leave be-hind for a time, most of the bright colors, the silly songs, and the inflated figures on front lawn. We acknowledge whatever darkness has descended on our hearts, and long for the comfort that comes from hearing once more of the light that shines in the darkness…the true light which enlightens everyone…the light which the darkness has not, cannot, will not, over-come…even if it feels like it has.
Gloomy clouds and dark shadows. A close look at the Christmas story in the Gospel of Matthew reveals it wasn’t all as calm and bright as the beloved Carol pictures it. Disappointment descended and dreams were dashed by the news that Mary was “found to be with child.” Joseph and Mary’s plan A for a life shared became food for the shred-der; Joseph’s Plan B was rejected, too, even though it had elements of kindness and compassion. In the end, God’s Plan was adopted. Trust in divine promises put the holy couple in the company of Old Testament saints who listened when God said “Children, go where send thee!”
Little did they know that scandal was the least of their worries. Soon enough they would be running for their lives, fugitives fleeing from powers threatened by the love God was offering to the world. Beyond the stories we always read at Christmas are the ones we usually pull back from telling. Yes, the wise men came and brought gifts, but we often stop short of telling why they returned to their homes by another road. Herod’s infanticide, escalating the horror of a similar plot by Pharaoh long before, is a scene usually left out of our Christmas Pageants.
In their responsiveness to God’s direction, Joseph and Mary demonstrate how to cope when plan-changing events come our way. As they leave behind familiar people and places, as they bloom where they are planted, these two show us how to get beyond the loss and disappointment. They trust the promises of God. When the time is right, they get moving again. Joseph and Mary made their way from Bethlehem, down to Egypt, and back to Nazareth in stages. The Scriptures don’t tell us how long it took, but they tell us that they got there. No doubt changed, likely scarred by all they had been through, nevertheless their lives continued.
So, while “the Christmas Music station plays “Baby It’s Cold Outside,” let us acknowledge the chills that frost our hearts. Let us pray those hymn words from earlier tonight: “that the powers of hell may vanish As the darkness clears away.” While some watch out because “Santa Claus is coming to town,” let us ponder the child sleeping on Mary’s lap and remember that the “King of kings salvation brings.” While others insist on “Rockin Around the Christmas Tree, without a mask, how about re-minding each other to “Let loving hearts enthrone Him.” And while others sing of a red-nosed reindeer guiding Santa through the fog, let us turn for guidance to Emmanuel, trusting the promise that he comes to “disperse the gloomy clouds of night, and death’s dark shadow’s put to flight.”
O Come, O Come, Emmanuel!
[i] Kathleen Norris, God With Us, Rediscovering the Meaning of Christmas, Greg Pennoyer & Gregory Wolfe, Editors,(Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press © 2007), p.111
[ii] ibid.
[iii] ibid.
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