Christmas Eve and Ordinary Joy

When I picture in my mind this turn from Advent to Christmas, it looks like a stream of water becoming larger and faster until it pours itself out into a big, beautiful sea.

And, I do think it is like that. But, it is also like sitting next to a friend at the Christmas Eve church service. It is getting up and making the traditional Christmas morning cinnamon rolls. It is heading to the kitchen to prepare the turkey or ham or (in our case) the Beef Bourguignon soup. It is cleaning up the mess of wrapping paper. It is a big sandwich made with leftover everything and eaten in front of the fire.

In other words, Christmas is both extraordinary (like frosty starlight and Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy”) and beautifully ordinary (meals cooked and shared, phone calls made and received).

We all know this. We have all lived this. We have seen Christmas come and go, again and again. But I mention it because it is so easy, with the waiting and the longing, to forget that what we have been waiting for is mostly already with us. Not entirely, no, but more and more every year Christ is with us and his kingdom is more fully realized.

Perhaps, what we have been waiting for is not more of Jesus, necessarily, but eyes that are open more widely to the fact that he is always and already with us – in so many seemingly ordinary ways.

And so I wish you an ordinary Christmas. A Christmas of friendship and special food and thoughtful gifts. A Christmas of candlelight and carols and maybe a hand to hold or, if not that, a very good book.

I wish you a Merry Christmas.

 

fire and snowflake

 

Advent (Day 23): His Imprisonment, Our Freedom

I may have saved the best for last.

I never speak in absolutes about favorite books or poems or writers, but I think Luci Shaw’s “Made Flesh” is my favorite poem for Advent.

Of course, I’ve mentioned Luci Shaw a few times before. Advent may be pouring itself out into the glory of the Christmas season, but Shaw’s poetry is an excellent literary companion through the whole year. Might I suggest beginning the new year with her poems close at hand?

This one is worth reading slowly.

And repeatedly.

 

three flames\

 

Made Flesh

 

After

the white-hot beam of annunciation

fused heaven with dark earth,

his searing, sharply focused light

went out for a while,

eclipsed in amniotic gloom:

his cool immensity of splendor,

his universal grace,

small-folded in a warm, dim

female space –

the Word stern-sentenced to be

nine months’ dumb –

infinity walled in a womb,

until the next enormity –

the Mighty One, after submission

to a woman’s pains,

helpless on a barn’s bare floor,

first-tasting bitter earth.

 

Now

I in him surrender

to the crush and cry of birth.

Because eternity

was closeted in time,

he is my open door to forever.

From his imprisonment

my freedoms grow,

find wings. Part of his body,

I transcend this flesh.

From his sweet silence my mouth sings.

Out of his dark I glow.

My life, as his,

slips through death’s mesh,

time’s bars,

joins hands with heaven,

speaks with stars.

 

–          Luci Shaw, from Accompanied by Angels

 

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