Don’t miss our final Advent study this coming Thursday evening at 7:30pm CST. We meet in person at Pilgrim Congregational Church, 460 Lake Street, Oak Park. If you’re unable to join us there, you can find us online at FB Live.

Life in Contrast

This past Sunday we contemplated making room for Christ to the sounds of Mary Chapin Carpenter’s “Come Darkness, Come Light.” It’s a song I love because it draws attention to deep contrasts in the Nativity. Mostly it’s a nighttime tale with light breaking in, often in supernatural ways—bright stars, angel choirs, heavenly visitations. That surely means something, particularly after we recall there were no rules in how this event unfolded. God could have accomplished what happened in Bethlehem anywhere, at any time, with anyone. So that invites us to consider the intentions behind the specifics. It would be unwise to assume anything is coincidental.

“Come Darkness, Come Light” keeps pointing toward contrasts. “Come broken, come whole… Come doubting, come sure… Come running, come walking slow…” At first we might think of these as either/or dualisms—opposites, even. But as they settle, they remind us the Birth we prepare to celebrate is really a study in contrasts, not dualisms. Light and darkness coexist; there can’t be one without the other. Brokenness is really incomplete wholeness, and wholeness is brokenness remedied. Running doesn’t preclude slowness any more than moving slowly at some points in our lives prevents our quickness at other times.

“You must live in the present,” Thoreau said. “Launch yourself on every wave, find eternity in each moment.” It certainly makes for beautiful poster copy. But we can draw real meaning from it as we watch contrasts unfold in the Christmas saga. There are times of impenetrable darkness as the key players struggle to comprehend what’s happening. Then there are moments of startling luminosity: dreams and visions, unexpected guests who serve as confirming presences, the unquestioning support of distant relatives and far-flung magicians. Throughout, darkness and light come and go moment by moment, as it does in any life, as it does in our own lives.

Contrasts bring clarity. That’s their blessing. We gauge brightness by darkness and vice-versa. We recognize justice would not taste nearly as sweet without the bitter taste of cruelty and inequality on our tongues. We know one moment’s gripping doubt will have to yield to another moment’s liberating assurance. Rejection’s barbs and brambles teach us to appreciate the velvet comfort of unconditional love and acceptance.

God comes to us in the night in ways we often can’t comprehend. Yet God remains constant with us, at our most dismal and at our most brilliant. It is never an “either/or.” It is always a “yes/and.” Finding life in contrasts opens us to the power of always.

This week we’ll continue our dialogue with the great Christian mystic, Richard Rohr, in his Advent devotional, Preparing for Christmas. And our attention will turn to contrasts—living not in lightness or darkness, but lightness-and-darkness (and all of the grays that fall in between) Join us for Bible study at 7:30pm CST this Thursday. We meet at Pilgrim Congregational Church, 460 Lake Street, Oak Park. If you’re unable to be with us in person, you can join us online via FB Live. See you then!

Questions Hidden in the Christmas Story

There was no place for them in the guestroom.

–Luke 2:7

I come from a large family, with most of them living in Northern Alabama. But starting with my parents’ generation, the lure of better jobs and schools drew a lot of us away. Many went north, some went west, and quite a few relocated to larger cities down South. This means I likely have relatives near any major American city I visit. Should I land in, say, Phoenix or Miami or Boston and find my hotel overbooked, I know to call my people. In fact, because my family is steeped in Southern hospitality, I would be in big trouble if I needed somewhere to stay and didn’t reach out to them.

So where are Joseph’s people?

Recall how the story goes. Augustus Caesar decides to update the Roman tax rolls. Everyone has to return to their home villages to register, which means Joseph—a descendant of King David—has to return to Bethlehem—a.k.a. the City of David—to be counted. He arrives with his fiancée, Mary, who is nine months’ pregnant. They can’t find accommodations and end up in a filthy stable, where she gives birth to a little boy and lays him in a nasty manger.

The way this story usually gets told is deeply informed by American tourist mindsets. Presumably the hotel rooms in Bethlehem are filled when this young couple shows up. (Forget the Marriott—not even the Motel 6 has any vacancies.) But this telling, which has its own apparent set of difficulties, doesn’t answer the big question.

Where are Joseph’s people?

This is his hometown. His family comes from here. Even if they all moved away, they would still be need to return for the registration. Surely there are a few cousins or aunts or possibly even Joseph’s own parents with a little room to spare. Where are they?

This story is pressing us to look more deeply into the social fabric of its set-up. There are threads we need to pull so we can unravel some of the myth to get to harder realities. Why didn’t Joseph’s people come to their aid? Why didn’t they make room for this young and needy couple?

Luke (who’s writing to a Gentile audience) makes sure we understand that before the Christ Child even appeared there were deep-seated prejudices that put his life at risk. As we relish candle glow and carols, our own family and friends’ gatherings, the overly romanticized imagery of a clean baby cooing in a hygienically pristine barn stall, let’s not avoid the hard questions. The story is trying to tell us something about acceptance and making room for unwelcome wayfarers who pass through our lives.

May we enable the discomfort of these tidings to reach our hearts, even as sing of comfort and joy.

Join us this coming Sunday as we join together for our monthly worship experience. Our theme for December is “Make Room” and we will focus on often overlooked messages in the Advent and Christmas narratives. And—of course, being Gather—we will also practice joy and togetherness! Worship begins at 5pm CST in the Parlor of Pilgrim Congregational Church, 460 Lake Street, Oak Park. If you’re unable to join us in person, you can worship with us online via FB Live.