Preparing for the Holidays

Well, the first thing to say is that I am not prepared for the holidays. If you have come this morning wanting a blue print, a road map, for maneuvering through the next few weeks, perhaps you’ll find it in conversations following the service. What I have to offer you is my resistance to preparing for the holidays, and some hopes, not necessarily roses in the wintertime, but at least intimations of the promises of this season.

Barbara, Chris, and I attended a study group last week. Clergy from seven churches consider how our ministries can contribute to vital, healthy congregations. We arrived at the dining hall of the retreat center, greeted by what seemed to me a gaudy, garish, fully decorated and lit Christmas tree. It seemed overdone, like someone didn’t know where to stop. Maybe the tree from last year had been twice as big, but still, we’re going to use all these balls and baubles, this life-long accumulation of ornaments.

It was still November and I was remembering the tastes of Thanksgiving, and not ready to be propelled into a different season. I have shared with you in past years my ambivalence at this time of the year and my usual process of “getting into the spirit” of the holidays. I realize now this is the only season for which I go through such a process. There are no other holidays that I resist; no others that require such emotional and intellectual work for me.

Halloween, with its roots in exploring images of life and death:
bring it on.
Thanksgiving, reminding me of the deep gratitude at the core of my being:
I’m ready for it.
But, somehow, as the local singer/songwriter Roy Zimmerman sang in concert here last month, the “Christa-Hanu-Rama-Ka-Dona-Kwaanza” season requires a lot of effort. There’s just too much. The lists get longer and longer. I feel overwhelmed.

Every year I decry the calls to consumerism.
I dread the day after Thanksgiving,
having to recycle all those unread advertising supplements
and thinking of the trees that have been wasted.
Give me a break.
Let me dwell in my thankfulness.

Don’t make super stars of those who set their alarms for 3:00 a.m. so they can be first in line for this year’s obligatory gadget or the most sought-after toy. It’s not just the consumerism, it’s the competitive consumerism.

There are not enough premium deluxe first-class widgets to go around, so if you want yours, push that other guy out of line and bring your log to be the first to ram down the Super Box Store door.

You know what I mean. And it seems to get worse every year.
Reporters and economists anxiously await the bottom line of the day.
How much more or less did we spend than last year?
This information we need in order to prophesy how successful a season it will be.
- how successful the season will be…

Consumerism is killing our souls, our planet, our families.

I know from conversations with you that this is only the tip of the iceberg of our ambivalence about this season.
Year after year we are told to celebrate the coming of peace into the world,
and year after year the body bags build up.
We citizens of the most powerful nation in the world,
spend more on weapons of human destruction than any other nation.

In fact, based on figures from 2005, we citizens of The United States of America spend almost two-fifths of all the world’s military expenditures, almost seven times more than the Chinese military budget, the second largest spender. ∥

With our tax dollars we fund Blackwater contracts.
We buy bullets that kill Iraqi civilians — and call it collateral damage.

Could it be we are taught to sing of Peace On Earth as a smoke screen,
to pacify ourselves,
to disarm resistance to the violence for which we are responsible?
Could it be, after all this time, we have failed to learn the lesson of warfare:

“Of all the enemies of public liberty war is, perhaps, the most to be dreaded because it comprises and develops the germ of every other.
War is the parent of armies;
from these precede debts and taxes …
known instruments for bringing the many under the domination of the few.…
No nation could preserve its freedom in the midst of continual warfare.”

James Madison said that in 1795.∥

Could it be that while this season masquerades as a call to peace,
while we touch the depths of our compassion and hope,
we actually divert our attention from those planning the next invasion?

I don’t want to be too critical here.
I know how deep is the need to pull back, to reflect, and renew.
I love the gatherings of family and friends, the candle light and mistletoe.
I’m just,
at the beginning of this season of holy days,
fearful of the power of consumerism to distract us
from the soul work so desperately needed
to heal the human community.

I fear our human attraction to comfort, to excess
will blind us to the basic survival needs
outside our doors, just down the street,
the needs of the young and the old
for food, education, and health care.

I’m afraid nurturing our deep desire for peace
may act as a pacifier,
may actually numb us to the reality of the violence
in the streets around us.

I am afraid we will miss the opportunity for restoration:
arms outstretched, hands joined,
across Richmond, around the Earth.∥

Did we all start out like the turtles in our story:
soft and downy and supple,
only to be overtaken by our cravings?

Are we encased in technological armor,
lulled into the sleep of our greed,
oblivious to the violence perpetrated in our name?

Lest we think this is a seasonal malady afflicting only Christians,
consider the story of someone who is not a Christian,
whose family does not celebrate Christmas or exchange gifts,
who was seduced by the ads,
and realizing the deals were just too good to pass up,
was at the front of the shopper line at four in the morning.

In this culture, it’s not the Christmas season, it’s the consumer season.

[PAUSE]

Thank you for letting me rant and rave.
It may be just what I need to move to some
deeper appreciation of this season
and new commitment to being countercultural.

Maybe you need a chance to rant and rave as well,
some way to go beyond all the distractions
to the heart of who you are.

Perhaps this is what Advent is supposed to be,
this time to make ready.
Today is the first of the four Sundays of Advent,
leading to the celebration of the birth of possibility.

It’s not by accident that Advent falls at this time of the year.
When Christians of long ago set the birth of Jesus on December 25th
they knew the power of this time of darkness.
We sing of it today.

      Darkness soothe my weary eyes that I may see more clearly.
      When my heart with sorrow cries, comfort and caress me.
      And then my soul may hear a voice, a still small voice of love eternal.
      Darkness, when my fears arise, let your peace flow through me.∥

This Winter Solstice season is a time of restoration.
This Advent is a time of anticipation.
This Hanukah is a time of celebration:
Each night lighting one more candle in hope and veneration
of this miraculous gift of life, this possibility for redemption.

Thanksgiving gave us time to dwell in gratitude,
to breathe deeply, touch inward springs,
and know our connection with all that is.

This new season, this time of anticipation,
allows us to dwell in possibility
and to live into the promise of a new beginning.

What will it take for you to open to this possibility?
Will it be sitting in the silent darkness?
Or hearing the songs of the season?
Will it be raising your voice with others in a Messiah Sing-along?
Or writing a letter to an old friend?

What will it take for you to be the one to stick your head out of your shell,
to take a long, slow breath to remind you of your deep soul longings?

What will it take to be the bud, the rose slowly opening?
to be the one who, touched so deeply,
hears the cries of the spirit,
and keeps unfolding,
reaching for light,
spreading petals of beauty,
reminders that
despite the violence, despite the greed,
despite our predilection for appeasement,
we human beings are capable of loving
that will transform the world?

This is the season to ask:
What will it take?
What will it take?  ♦