Tag: christmas

What Am I Waiting For?

I was standing in line at Trader Joe’s right before Thanksgiving, and overheard a young woman ask the cashier where the Advent calendars were. She said she wanted to buy the one for dogs. I stifled a guffaw when he told her to look in aisle three. This was no joke! Advent calendars help children endure the long wait until Christmas with a daily chocolate. Maybe dogs get milk bones, but do they also need help waiting for December 25?

When my daughters were young, we always had an Advent calendar (never for pets), right next to our Advent wreath. I made my girls wait to open the little window each day so we could all share the ritual, complete with lighting the candles. I lectured them that waiting and longing is half the fun. One year, my middle daughter innocently asked, “But Mommy, what are we waiting for?”  My answer made no sense to her, but what a good question for everyone during Advent. Today, the art of waiting seems as obsolete as a dial telephone and the Walkman.

American culture likes to rush things. Christmas trees up at Costco before Halloween;  self-checkout in all the stores; AI for ideas, letter writing; Christmas cards sent in one swoop on social media. Meanwhile, the ancient themes of waiting and watching echo down through the ages. Be alert! Be aware!  Ponder, meditate, and carve out some quiet time amidst all the seasonal hoopla. Savor the moment, breathe. Reflect on the meaning of the season; watch and wait for the mystery of the Incarnation to be revealed in subtle ways. But alas, we cannot wait. We are done with Christmas before it even happens, and cannot wait until it’s over.

During the season of Advent, it often helps to ask: What am I waiting for? Take a few minutes, have a cup of coffee or tea, and try to make a list. You can even do this as you wait in line to pay for Christmas gifts, as you wait for the stoplight to change, as you wait for water to boil, or for spaghetti to cook.  Get into a spiritual frame of mind. Go big and small. Do not edit, just write.

Last Sunday, the first day of Advent, after having read the Sunday Scriptures, I made my yearly list. It was an old refrain. One I have had for decades:

I am waiting for lions to lie down with lambs, for swords to be made into ploughshares, for the proud to be scattered in their conceit, for the lowly to be lifted up, for the hungry to be filled, for the fearful to find trust, and for peace in our homes, our country, our world.  

This kind of waiting spans a lifetime and requires immense patience. Sadly, I am often impatient and feel like a voice crying out in the wilderness. Yet, despite sounding like an old prophet railing at the injustices of the world, I was buoyed up by a hidden grace that seemed to permeate my being. Suddenly, I felt held, sustained, and nourished by an infinite love streaming through the universe.  In a split second, a sense of wonder and compassion pierced right through me. Ah. Those brief minutes of clarity are always worth the wait.

Epiphany Moments

Traditionally, January 6 marks the Feast of “Epiphany,” when three kings, or Magi, arrived in Bethlehem and paid homage to the Christ child with their mysterious gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.  The word “epiphany” means a “sudden manifestation of the divine in the ordinary” and has grown in popularity these days to mean a sudden realization or enlightenment. It’s like a flash of mystical insight when there is no doubt, even for a few seconds, that a loving God exists. Obviously, these moments are fleeting. As soon as an epiphany happens, the flash is gone like a sunset and no amount of alchemy can conjure it up again.

I have had many epiphany moments in my life, some bigger than others. Most of the time, these flashes of insight are so subtle, they disappear into the mist of forgotten memories. This past year, in aid of my aging monkey mind, I kept track of epiphanies using quotes from books, friends, and other notable sources, in a special log called a “commonplace book.”  Re-reading these entries has been most epiphanous! (I think I just made up a word!) Anyway, I highly recommend this process.

Here are some of the quotes that have resonated, inspired, and enlightened:

  • Every sadness brings its own recompense.
  • After relief comes grief.
  • Ask for what you want, then notice what happens.
  • If we can lean on each other, we can bear anything, anything at all.
  • You will feel love when the sun shines on your face.
  • Believe what you love.
  • Theopoetics is the language of religion.
  • Keep moving.
  • Without mythology, you have pathology.
  • Joy is resistance.
  • Christianity is not a rational religion. It is a logic of love and love has its own logic.
  • We’re all born with the greatest treasures we’ll ever have in life.
  • You will die with a broken heart. That’s what lovers do.
  • The aging process turns us all into monks and that, indeed, is its plan.
  • It’s a huge mistake to read the signs of aging as indications of dying rather than as initiations into another way of life.
  • When you are a writer, all that matters is the story within.
  • I’m not going back.
  • I’m not going to give up.

May you be open to the many splendid epiphanies all around you.

Friends on Twelfth Night

“O star of wonder, star of light, star with royal beauty bright,
westward leading, still proceeding, guide us to thy perfect light.”

The Twelve Days of Christmas are officially over today.  While I always feel a little sad about ending the season, I have had so many wonderful celebrations and illuminated moments this year! Besides seeing “The Nutcracker,” “A Christmas Carol,” and three magical Christmas concerts, I had fabulous family celebrations, Christmas teas with friends, and adventures looking at lights. Then, to mark the end of the Christmas season, a group of faith-filled friends gathered  last evening to celebrate Twelfth Night and the Epiphany, sometimes referred to as “Little Christmas.”

Seventeen of us gathered at a cozy home, still beautifully decorated and lit for Christmas with a magnificent tree, creche, and evergreen boughs.  We intentionally entered into a familiar final Christmas celebration focused on the story of three “kings” who make a long journey, following a star. We proclaimed readings from the Gospel of Matthew, T.S.Eliot’s “The Journey of the Magi” and Jan Richardson’s “Wise Women Also Came.” Then we held a special ritual for Epiphany written by my dear friend, Tessa Bielecki from her book SEASON OF GLAD SONGS: A CHRISTMAS ANTHOLOGY. 

We sang “We Three Kings,” meditated on the gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, blessed chalk and then wrote the initials of the three Magi (Caspar, Melchoir, Balthazar) along with the date: C+20+M+B25, over the front door to light the way of pilgrims and seekers.  Afterward, we feasted on delicious appetizers, sweets, and a traditional spicy Kings’ Cake with hidden surprises. As conversations and laughter flowed, I felt surreally caught up in the light of the “star of wonder” by this mystical circle of friends who miraculously decorate my life every day.  

I have said this before, but no one on the planet is luckier than me to have such richness. I say “luckier” rather than “blessed” because I believe God blesses everyone equally. Some of us, in rare moments of transcendence, realize this. No explanations can be given. It is simply pure luck (some call it grace), a free gift, to have such loving friends, rituals, precious moments of togetherness, when all troubles and suffering are put aside and we bask in the glory of a starry night. The only response is gratitude, big gratitude, in my case.

“Friends are the best presents,” is a phrase embroidered on a little Christmas pillow given to me many years ago. May we never take that for granted.

Hope on the Fourth Day of Christmas

“Let your heart be light. . .from now on our troubles will be out of sight. . .”

The Winter Solstice, the year’s darkest day, has now passed. Each day henceforth, the sunlight increases, which is precisely why celebrating the Incarnation on December 25th is so meaningful in the northern hemisphere. The Light of the World came to dispel the darkness forever.  Mirrored in the landscape of Earth and sky, hope shines most brightly during the Christmas Season.

In 1969, more than 475,000 U.S. military personnel were stationed in Vietnam. There were 11,780 American soldiers dead that year, and countless more Vietnamese. In June, I had just returned from doing a USO tour of the east-west Mediterranean, entertaining the troops stationed to protect our NATO allies, most having already served tours in Vietnam. I was deeply affected by the casualties of war, having seen the desperate look in the eyes of so many young men and women. That December, I was asked to sing a solo at a Christmas party for a large department store in my hometown. I chose to perform “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”(written by Hugh Martin) because I wanted to uplift the hearts of the families of active service and veterans who were hanging onto hope that “our troubles will be out of sight,” as this emotionally-packed song lyrics crescendo. I recall becoming choked up in the middle of singing as tears welled up in the eyes of many.  Afterward, I was reassured that the audience benefitted from feeling the emotions of communal hope.

Fifty years have passed since that experience, but the need for hope-filled moments has not. Throughout several more wars, a worldwide pandemic, and political unrest, hope has waxed and waned like the cycles of the moon. We feel this most acutely when pessimism creeps into our daily lives due to loss and sadness. Although some may be more resilient than others, no one escapes suffering regardless of how much money or successes are amassed. The cross comes to everyone, which is why the Incarnation and the Paschal Mystery remain so meaningful to Christians. Our God-made-flesh knows what it means to be human, has experienced both joy and sorrow, loss and gain. “Hope springs eternal,” a proverb I live by, remains written indelibly in the human heart.

On this fourth day of Christmas, may we allow the resilience of the human spirit to rise again. May hope warm and inspire us to embrace life in all its complexity!

Calm and Bright on the Second Day of Christmas

“All is calm, all is bright. . .”

I love the Christmas carol “Silent Night.” Granted, I am more sentimental than most, but the words really get to me and tears often moisturize my dry skin when I hear “all is calm, all is bright” softly sung.  What would it be like to luxuriate in bright calmness all the time? Is that the meaning of “heaven” or “enlightenment”?

Lately, I have been guiding a study group on the theology of mysticism. The discussion of paradox has both enlightened and perplexed us. Mystics write about how darkness is full of bright light and the highest form of knowledge is “unknowing.” Death leads to new life, turmoil purgates and liberates, and renunciation of possessions equals untold spiritual wealth where all is calm, all is bright. Examples abound in the Scriptures of all world religions.

Perhaps this explains why the Nativity story captivates us. For centuries, folks from all cultures, ethnicities, economic and educational backgrounds, have gazed at manger scenes and pondered the mystery of a calm and bright night in a stable in Bethlehem. “The story never grows old,” wrote Carl Sandburg. Indeed.  When we get humble and childlike enough, we fall in love with the humility of our God who wanted to know firsthand what it was like to be human. “God is a foolish lover,” wrote one of the mystics.

Today, I begin a pilgrimage to visit Nativity scenes in nearby churches. My mother did this with us when we were kids. “Let’s pay a visit,” she suggested in the days after Christmas, as if we were dropping in for tea at my aunt’s house. Off we went into snowy afternoons whether we wanted to or not. I remember returning home feeling calmer and brighter. With “Silent Night”  playing through my Airpods while gazing at the Nativity scenes, I hope to sink into that wonderment again.

Joy on the First Day of Christmas

“Let every heart prepare him room. . .And heaven and nature sing. . .While fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains repeat the sounding joy. . .”

It is Christmas! Time to celebrate JOY, no matter what the news tells us, no matter what burdens we are carrying, no matter how many injustices remain in our world. The Incarnation of Jesus, the second “big bang” that happened on Earth, infused a light that can never be extinguished. But we must open our eyes to see it, open our hearts to experience it.

Perhaps because I was born on Christmas Day, my soul is inured with a deep primordial joy when the season rolls around. Lovely childhood memories of Christmases in Minnesota, when my parents were in charge, rise from my daily meditations. We were not rich by any stretch, but we always had a tree, gifts (extras for me, the birthday girl), a special meal and a birthday cake. My heart still expands when I recall soft snow falling at night, the sound of familiar carols during midnight mass in our ancient stone church, my mother wishing me a happy birthday when mass was over.

The Christmases I have lived in California, when I was in charge of the celebrations, are also filled with joy unspeakable. Determined to make every year better, I conjure up the mystical and magical as I prepare during Advent for the big celebration. I bake traditional cookies, prepare sacramental meals, and plan spiritual rituals for friends and family who grace my dinner tables. Everyone must get involved and partake of the food that nourishes both body and soul.

On this first day of Christmas 2024, the joy of our candle-lighting ritual before dinner always elates me. Little white candles in gold candle holders are clipped to every plate. As we light each others’ candles, each person pronounces a blessing. This year, we had nineteen people at the table (I have nine grandchildren)! They blessed family, aging relatives and friends, new births, and those in war-torn countries. More nourishing than the meal itself, there are no words to describe moments like these. Tears of joy spilled into my glass of wine as we toasted to another glorious Christmas day.

Twelve Days to Celebrate!

It’s Christmas Eve—the most “filled-with-anticipation” day of the year for excited children and harried parents busy making memories and dreams come true. I breathe in deeply and smile because after four weeks of Advent, the longing is over. It’s time for an almost two-week celebration of JOY! Well, at least for some of us!

Every year, beginning on December 25, it has been my tradition to fully celebrate all twelve days of Christmas. No gifts of partridges in pear trees (although I do like to ponder the symbolism of that song), rather, a grateful response for the many gifts of that light that blaze from even the most quotidian of places.

Simply put, I love this designated time to celebrate the Incarnation, the infusion of the Divine into every order corner of my life. At year’s end, this practice steadies and fortifies me for whatever the coming twelve months will bring. I think of this as an indulgent gift, not only to myself but to all who strive for wisdom and seek more meaning out of life than our consumer culture can ever provide. Rather than feeling let down the day after Christmas (as so many children often experience), or a sense of “good riddance” (as so many adults experience), the elation increases each day and encourages me to stay in the “Christmas frame of mind” through Epiphany on January 6th.

For years, I have written and shared these reflections with family and friends, in person and online, and many of you have accompanied me on this little sojourn. So once again, I invite you to take this twelve-day journey with me. Resist the urge to take down the tree and put away the decorations early! Linger for a while in the glow, linger in the light, and feel rightfully energized when the first week of 2025 unfolds.