Christmas II
All the lectionary readings in the Feast of Christmas and the early season of the Epiphany contain overlapping sections of readings, making clear both the varied histories of the different lectionary traditions (and what was emphasized in them) as well as the fact that the early church seemed to have observed this as one general festival. Some even suggest that Epiphany as a set feast day predates some of the Christmas observances. Certainly different calendars and traditions emphasize different parts of Jesus' story, and the theology of what is going on -- or simply come from different calendars (famously, eastern rite Christians emphasize the Feast of the Epiphany!). But, that's a rabbit hole for another time.
We have the gift today of reading all at one sitting some of the varied interpretations of "who and what was Jesus between birth and public life as an adult?" The visit of the Wise Ones; the fleeing to Egypt out of the reach of a power-hungry, insane despot; the hanging-out in the Temple in Jerusalem (very teenager to his parents: "duh. didn't you know where I'd be? er, jeez..."). Our responses are the call to Arise, from Isaiah, and two psalms. All these texts spoke to me of many things -- filling in the gaps in our collective story, declaring what God does for the poor and the oppressed, that light is returning -- but primarily about journeys. Perhaps I'm just thinking about traveling these days, longing to head out and about in this world God has been making for a long time.
Our lives are journeys. Pilgrimages, in the Christian understanding: a journey from God and a return to God. Who are our companions along the way? What sustains us?
This past year has been a collective journey through uncharted territory. Pandemic; revealings of racial injustice in ways we cannot ignore; selflessness and care exhibited in so many ways by so many; a newfound desire to connect in real ways with neighbors and the places where we live, even as we connect online and on the phone with those we miss; a refusal of incipient fascism and its greedy harshness; and a still-unfolding national call to democracy, freedom, and peace.
What shall sustain us further along the way? What star are we following? In whose house shall we choose to lodge ourselves? Who fleeing violence and unchecked power shall we welcome and comfort? And, where does this path lead next?
Medieval Sufi mystic Rumi wrote a poem that is rumored to be on the door of an eastern rite church in Iran:
Where Jesus lives, the great-hearted gather.
We are a door that’s never locked.
If you are suffering any kind of pain,
Stay near this door. Open it.
Let us open the door together -- whether to 2021, to a new chamber inside ourselves, or to the next way-station down the road of our pilgrimage together. I suspect that we do not need so much to be 'great-hearted' to begin with. I suspect that seeking Jesus has something to do with being made great-hearted over time. He is our companion in the way, as our ancestors put it.
Rumi also wrote a famous poem called The Guest House, which I have used to welcome the new year, come what may. Here it is, in a translation by Coleman Barks.
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in.
Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.