It has been grey and gloomy and the news simply makes me want to howl with despair.
If ever there were an Advent that made me want to repent in dust and ashes it is this year. And if ever there a time that would convince us that we need a Savior, it is now. The ugliness of racial distrust and oppression laid bare and naked before the world. Melting polar ice-caps. A federal budget that seems to spit on the powerless and those most in need of a common-wealth while permitting those who can most afford a loss to gamble with other people's lives and that gives away ancient sacred lands from those who have already had most of what they possessed taken from them by lies and violence. A torture report that makes me ashamed of what has been perpetrated in my name. Children massacred in their school. A constant stream of those needing help coming to the door, an increase of folks standing with signs at major intersections -- "Single Mother", "Army Vet", "Handicapped", Need Food. Are some of them con artists? Undoubtedly. Would they have more money if they gave up smoking? Of course.
But I'm not as judgmental about that as I used to be. Who among us has not had a day, a week, a month where we didn't want to escape? Who has not had the urge to hide in a bottle, a cheesecake, a TV or video game marathon, a casino, some pills, someone else's bed? Choose your pain reliever, whatever will help you cope, help you forget. We're all guilty. And if I've been guilty, with my relatively easy, privileged life, how can I fault someone else who has not had the benefit of easier times, who has been struggling so long they don't remember anything but struggle?
Advent is supposed to be a time of hope. But hope hardly seems possible this year. I keep hearing the Apostle Paul crying, "Wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?" For what can I hope, but that God would tear down the heavens and come down and clean up this mess we've made. Then I remember that God did "come down" -- not with God-like power and majesty, not with thunder bolts and the powers of The Force, but like us. Just like us, starting as a baby and everything.
This is supposed to make me feel better? This is supposed to bring me joy? That God decided to be as limited and powerless as me?
And yet, yes, I think that that IS the point of Christmas. It's a reminder that human beings are enough. That this life, this body is good enough to hold the Holy One. That our institutions (which we love -- that's why we keep creating them!) will become larger than life and will become monstrous and idolatrous if we put all our trust in them. They're like those gremlins that turn nasty when you feed them at the wrong time or get them wet. They're helpful and pleasant as long as we let them be our helpers, not our masters. Whether it's government or church or the pto, it can become deadly very easily and very quickly.
But human beings...human beings who are committed to each other open a door to healing and wholeness (which is the definition of salvation). Human beings who understand that until all of us gets there, none of us have arrived can change the world. God became one of us and said, "You can do this."
I am not saying that we are God. At least, I'm certainly not. I'm not saying that we are perfect. God knows I'm a walking bundle of mistakes and brokenness (that's sin). But God was in Jesus, showing us what is possible when we address the world without fear, when we act consistently out of love, even for those who hate us.
Jesus didn't have to deal with the news of the world outside of Palestine. We are bombarded with bad news from Pakistan and Australia and Sierra Leone and everywhere else and the temptation is to look at those closest to us and to say, "I can't deal with it! Go away!" But God comes near to us so that we may move closer to God and to move closer to God we must SEE each other, we must LISTEN to each other and we must be for each other. We can only do that locally. We can only do that when we bring the institutions to heel; to claim our power with conviction.
Write to your congressional representative and your senator, your city council and your state house. Go out and be present with people who are abandoned and alone. Give what you can where you can. Don't let fear be the engine that drives your life. To me the most glorious passage of all the Christmas readings are not angels or shepherds or magi. It's John's gospel: The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it...comprehend it...overwhelm it. That is our hope and our prayer and our joy.
