And
in that region, there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their
flock by night. And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the
Lord shone around them, and they were filled with fear. And the angel said to
them, "Be not afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of a great joy,
which will come to all the people; for to you is born this day in the city of
David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you
will find a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. (Luke 2:8-12)
Those who believe in God can never in a way be sure of him again. Once they have seen him in a stable, they can never be sure where he will appear or to what lengths he will go or to what ludicrous depths of self-humiliation he will descend in his wild pursuit of humankind. If holiness and the awful power and majesty of God were present in this least auspicious of all events, this birth of a peasant's child, then there is no place or time so lowly and earthbound but that holiness can be present there too. And this means that we are never safe, that there is no place where we can hide from God, no place where we are safe from his power to break in two and recreate the human heart, because it is just where he seems most helpless that he is most strong, and just where we least expect him that he comes most fully.
- Frederick Buechner, “The Face in the Sky,” from The Hungering Dark
Reflection: The Empty
Stable. The Empty Tomb.
The tradition of the church is that Easter is the most holy of holy days in the Christian year. It is, after all, the day of the empty tomb, the day on which we commemorate and celebrate the sign that Christ has conquered death, and that we too, through him, are saved, redeemed. The empty tomb symbolizes the grace of God revealed ultimately through the death of Jesus, freely accepted on behalf of all, and through his resurrection from the dead. Thus, those of us who will admit that we look forward more to Christmas than Easter may feel a little guilty. Is it because we know that, before we arrive at the empty tomb, we must walk the bleak midwinter road of Lent? That before we get to the Resurrection, we must live the pain, the horror of Holy Thursday and Good Friday with Christ once again? Are we drawn more to Christmas because of family gatherings and even (gasp!) because we enjoy giving and receiving gifts? Does all of this mean we are spiritually underdeveloped or deficient in some way?
I’m beginning to wonder about this. Maybe the intuitive, almost gravitational pull we feel toward Christmas, toward the empty stable, is spiritually truer than we have been led to believe. For in being drawn to the empty stable so strongly, aren’t we responding to the magnetism of the most important revelation of God’s grace: That God would abandon the power that created the universe and become incarnate as a man who lived in poverty and obscurity and was executed as a criminal and enemy of the state? Isn’t the empty stable a primary symbol of the very nature and character of God incarnate in Jesus Christ—the crude hut of mud and straw, empty of adornment and fragrant with the smell of earth and animals—the very opposite of all we normally associate with power and glory? Perhaps, just perhaps, we are drawn to the empty stable because we know that it is the stark symbol of a gift, the ultimate gift of God. And maybe we are drawn too by the obvious, simple, critical, and compelling logic: If God had not come to this empty stable—if God had not, in this crude shelter, become incarnate in the person of Jesus of Nazareth—there would have been no revelation in the man and his teachings of the very nature of God, no three-year ministry, no calling of disciples, no threat to the religious and civil powers of the day, no walk to the cross, and no resurrection from the dead. Mightn’t we be drawn to the empty stable because we know, at some deep level, that God’s gracious mercy and the promise of salvation are inextricably entwined, enfleshed both in Jesus’ death and resurrection and in his life and teaching, distilled in his new commandment—that His followers are to love family, friends, neighbours, strangers, and yes, enemies—to love as He loved us? So, as we enter this Advent, maybe we can be gentler with ourselves, and reflect: Perhaps being drawn to Christmas is an intuitive, spiritually true impulse, for there can be no empty tomb without the empty stable.
-Pastor Lorraine Street
An Advent Prayer by the Reverend Steve
Garnaas-Holmes
Holy One,
prepare your way in me.
Give me faith, like the
stable,
to know your presence within me.
Give me courage, like Mary,
to let your life overwhelm mine.
Give me strength, like
Joseph,
to protect what is holy, tender, and growing.
Give me patience, like the
shepherds,
to be still and listen.
Give me humility, like the
magi,
to kneel before your presence.
Give me trust, like the
child,
to let myself be borne into a new world.
Give me joy, like the angels,
to bring good news to the poor.
Give me love, like the manger
to hold Christ within.
Holy One,
prepare your way in me.
__________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light www.unfoldinglight.net
No comments:
Post a Comment