21 December 2011

Stillness in the Bleak Midwinter

During Advent, our pastor adds a little tweak to the order of worship. At the end of the service, we are asked to sit back in our pews and just be still, while music is played on the piano. So, during that time of the postlude when we typically gather coats, pocketbooks, and bulletins to throw away, we put off our list of things to accomplish, probably less than one or two minutes for silence and contemplation (at least, that's the idea). I don't know how the rest of the congregation feels about this practice, but it could be my favorite part of church over the course of the entire year. It draws me right into thinking about Advent, Christ, and this season.
In a time in the year where the daylight and climate make it easier for us to be still and contemplate our faith, we have managed to come up with lists of things we "have" to do during this time of year. It stresses us all out, people complain about it regularly, and yet we are still chained to it. I'm not saying that the Christmas season is just all-out misery, but it has been drawn out and stretched into a big set of obligations that I don't think the Christians who introduced the idea intended.
In fact, the timing of Christmas isn't so tied into the actual historical date of Christ's birth, anyway. It's timed with the winter solstice. Winter Solstice has been celebrated by all types of cultures for a long, long time, but we Christians saw a great deal of symbolism that could be had from this time of year. The Winter Solstice is the shortest day of the year, daylight-wise. This time of year seems to be dimly lit, because it's dark outside an hour before you get off work. So, the day after the Winter Solstice is a great moral victory for us, because it's the day that the light begins to return. You see where early Christians saw a metaphor there?
You're probably thinking by now, "why is Troy giving us a Christmas history lesson? Isn't this supposed to be a Creation Care blog? When are we going to get the guilt trip about using less wrapping paper or taking an energy efficient vehicle to visit Grandma?" Well, my creation care angle in this post is one about being better connected to the Earth. During the Christmas season, so many of us are just connected to the inside of buildings and cars. This Christmas we will be inside decorated rooms at parties, stores trying desperately to sell us stuff, watching hear-warming television specials, and crammed inside our cars driving hours to get to Christmas celebrations. The idea of light in our lives, in a literal sense, will be lost, because most of our will be coming from bulbs.
It's hard to stop, this time of year. We have a checklist of things that we must do, so that no one gets left out or offended. We want to take part in those traditions we have cherished since our childhood--and, I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that. But, for at least a moment or two each day, sit down, go outside even. Look at how the world is changing. Feel it in the air. See the lights at the end of a cold, winter day. Imagine that first Christmas, and how it must have felt to bring Christ into the world in a stable with animals and straw as your company. Hear the sacred songs of the season in your mind. And know, just as the earliest Christians realized through this brilliant metaphor for the season, that light will soon return. Light enough to light up this entire world where there was darkness. And, if you can manage to be still long enough, out in this world, the world that God made, I bet you will feel even more.

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