All I Really Want. Quinn G. Caldwell
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or cardboard, in fear of attack or invasion, in danger of spouses or temptation.
So what is it? Is it that at night, we’re more vulnerable or just feel more vulnerable? Is it that the dangers are greater or just look bigger in the dark?
Against the shadows, against the night, against that which stalks the good and the bad, for those who live their lives in nighttimes of fear and for those who just wake up alone once in a while, Jesus promises this: the night will end. The morning star will rise, and then the sun. The night will not and cannot finally win.
If you find that easy to believe in the daytime, but a little harder at night, hang a star in your room this Advent, a light-up Christmas star from Target, a glow-in-the-dark star stuck on the ceiling, or a starry night-light. You can call it a Christmas decoration so your friends don’t think you’re weird, if you want. But don’t forget what it really is: a promise.
Lord, I don’t know how long this night is going to be. But with you, I know it’s going to end. Come, Morning Star, come. Amen.
December 4
December 4
Morning
Therefore says the Sovereign, the Lord of hosts, the Mighty One of Israel: . . . I will smelt away your dross as with lye and remove all your alloy. (Isaiah 1:24-25 NRSV)
The Israelites have been worshiping other gods alongside their own. They have created what God, in the mouth of Isaiah, calls an “alloy” religion. Isaiah and the other ancient prophets were always worrying about purity of faith and worship; any mixing, they fretted, would bring the whole thing to its knees. To hear them tell it, God agreed.
I sometimes have a similar reaction to Christmas, to our frenetic, consumerist interpretation of its meaning, to all those catalogues and Very Special Episodes of TV shows. Sometimes, it seems to me an unholy alloy.
But then I tell myself to lighten up. I mean, is every alloy bad? And mightn’t God be powerful enough to co-opt the culture’s co-optation of the day of his birth? I think God can work with the traditions we hand to God.
In that Spirit, here are some Christmas things that have nothing to do with Jesus’ birth, but in which I believe God is at work anyway:
• Elvis’s Christmas Album. If it can make my whole family sing together while performing a complex operation involving a saw, a tree, a small living room, electricity, and water without us killing one another, it’s holy.
• Shopping. Yes, it can get out of hand, but searching for a great gift to make someone happy can be a profound experience.
• Emmet Otter’s Jug-Band Christmas. In fact, Christmas specials in general—especially if they’re commercial-free.
• Your favorite. What traditions or celebrations do you love? What do they teach you about God? Have you made your plans for doing them yet this year?
God, you can make anything holy. Bless my celebrations when they increase my love, make me generous, or open me to your world. If they do the opposite, make them go the way of last year’s fruitcake. Amen.
December 4
Evening
[Jesus said,] The queen of the South will rise up at the judgment with the people of this generation and condemn them, because she came from a distant land to hear Solomon’s wisdom. And look, someone greater than Solomon is here....
...The people of Nineveh will rise up at the judgment with this generation and condemn it, because they changed their hearts and lives in response to Jonah’s preaching—and one greater than Jonah is here. (Luke 11:31-32)
Jesus isn’t as concerned with being Christmassy as you might think he would be. Sometimes, he is positively not in the holiday spirit. What about peace and goodwill to all? Talking stable animals and cuddly babies? Miraculous stars and angel choirs? Why you gotta harsh our mellow?
I’d hate to try to speak for Jesus, but I think if he were here, he’d say something like, “Yeah, but if you believe all that stuff happened, even if you believe it happened ‘metaphorically’”—I imagine him gritting his teeth a little and making air quotes on that last word—“then can you please explain the state of the world? Can you explain to me why you did what you did last Tuesday? If you believe all that stuff is true about me and about what God did, can you explain, oh, I don’t know . . . Duck Dynasty?”
Everybody always talks about how busy they get around Christmastime. You’d think with all those Christians going full steam ahead for a month, the world would take a giant step forward at the end of every year, that the planet would lurch a little closer to paradise each December. That it doesn’t seem to work that way might suggest that we’re not busy with exactly the right things.
So how about this: take some time right now, here at the beginning of Advent, and add a holy something to your to-do list. A volunteer gig. A sizable donation to a good charity. A visit to your ailing aunt. A little political action. It won’t save the world, but it’ll be a start.
Lord, take from me the busy-ness that does not signify, and fill my calendar up with work to save the world. Because the Queen of Sheba has been dead for a long time, and I do not want to meet her face to face. Amen.
December 5
December 5
Morning
John’s father Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and prophesied, “Bless the Lord God of Israel because [God] has come to help and has delivered [God’s] people. (Luke 1:67-68)
So God tells Zechariah, who’s really old, that he’s about to have a son and that he should name that son John. Zechariah doubts that he and his equally old wife are going to manage such a feat. God tells him that he will be struck silent until the promise is fulfilled. When his wife, Elizabeth, gives birth and people ask them what the name will be, Zechariah writes, “His name is John,” on a tablet. Suddenly, his voice is freed. And his first words? One of the most beautiful songs of the Bible. The Benedictus, named for the Latin translation of its first word, later came to be recited at morning prayer by Christians the world round in the hopes that, by saying what Zechariah had said, their tongues, too, would be freed for praise each day.
Have you ever been silenced by what you didn’t dare say aloud? And did you one day find enough strength or faith or dire need to say it? And when you said it, did you find yourself unlocked, your voice loosed for prayer and praise, your life freed like a stone rolled away from a tomb?
What was it you said?
Was it, “I’m gay”?
“My husband hits me”?
“I love you”?
“I’m an alcoholic”?
“Will you marry me”?
“I’m not going to take it any more”?
“I believe in God”?
“Please forgive me”?
For Zechariah, it was, “His name is John.” For Mary, it was, “I’m pregnant.”
If you haven’t said yours yet, what are you waiting for?
Blessed be you, O God. Give me words like keys, and free my life for faith and praise. Amen.
December 5
Evening
You, child, will be called a prophet of the Most High, for you will go before the Lord to prepare his way. You will tell his people how to be saved through the forgiveness of their sins. (Luke 1:76-77)
Zechariah stops dead in the middle of his grand Benedictus, mercifully stops declaiming, and instead starts singing to Baby John. Picture him, the great priest and prophet, turning from his audience to his son, switching from oratory to lullaby, public to private. Picture him stroking his son’s face and choking