In his Christmas Oratorio, For the Time Being, W. H. Auden puts these words in the mouths of the three wise men:
| The First Wise Man: | "To discover how to be truthful now Is the reason I follow this star." |
| The Second Wise Man: | "To discover how to be living now Is the reason I follow this star." |
| The Third Wise Man: | "To discover how to be loving now Is the reason I follow this star." |
| The three together: | "To discover how to be human now Is the reason we follow this star." |
We have had a difficult month and a difficult year. Here, on the Eve of Christmas, that happy and peaceful season, we sadly observe tumult in our nation's capital and the aftermath of bombing in Iraq, among other problems that overshadow our joy. It is hard to be truthful in a time when the truth is far from clear; it is hard to be living in a time when things seem to be falling apart; it is hard to be loving when hate and hostility seem to permeate the air. It is hard to be human when so much inhumanity surrounds us.
Christmas is a time when we would like to forget all this; to retire to the comfort of hearth and home, far from the madding crowd, the embattled politicians, the bursting bombs. And we do need respite - to reassert that faith, hope and love we share with those near and dear to us in family, church and community.
At the same time we also need to remember that the first Christmas - whether it be in the year four Before the Common Era or not - whether it be in the mythical manger of Bethlehem or the more likely straw bed in Nazareth - the birth of Jesus came in just such a time. The despotic Herod the Great was on the throne, in connivance with imperial Rome. The Jews looked for the Messiah to liberate them. That, too, was a tumultuous time.
When we think seriously, we know that neither human history, nor life itself promise us a rose garden. We must live our lives in an inordinately messy world, and no rational person might give us a chance. It is then that those traditional values of faith, hope and love sustain us. Christmas transcends our reasoning faculties.
The Nativity mythology itself is a tale of irrational love - Joseph and Mary find no place at the inn, a humble stable becomes the birthing center, barnyard animals the attendants at birth. The pain of birth itself requires an irrational commitment - knowing that love can overcome all pain and suffering. As the poet William Carlos Williams reminds us, this irrational love depicted in the classic manger scene, "as an old print shows," sent 'the devils ... retreat(ing) in confusion."
There is a rabbinical proverb that testifies to the irrationality of love: "If you always assume the one sitting next to you is the Messiah, waiting for some simple human kindness - you will soon come to weigh your words and watch your hands. And if he chooses not to reveal himself in your time - it will not matter."
I am not much given to worrying about Messiahs; I have done my biblical homework; I am a creature of reason - I do not expect any Messiah. But I am one who needs images which speak to me about the conduct of my life. The thought that some mythical Messiah might be sitting next to me, sharing my bed, inhabiting my house, attending my church, living in my community, walking in my world, plays in my imagination and tickles my conscience.
If the Messiah is at any time nigh, I will weigh my words and watch my hands. I will end my thoughtlessness toward the everyday pilgrims I pass; I will be gentle with every soul whom I encounter. Everyone becomes an expression of all humanity; each one a representative of the Beloved Community of Earth. After all, who knows in what humble guise the Messiah may come?
The expectant Jew is admonished so to live that each one is treated as if he or she were the long-awaited Messiah. Jesus said much the same thing: "Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these, my (neighbors), you did it to me."
The imagery of Jesus' birth impresses itself upon us with its simple message of love for the newborn as the quintessential symbol of humanity. Though we know the story to be a mythical creation of ancient poets, though we sweep angels form the sky with our reasoning minds, and ridicule kings coming preposterous distances to attend the humble birth - the story grasps us at a level deeper than our critical faculties.
It is natural to be transfixed by such imagery. It is easy to love the innocent child. It is commonplace to acknowledge that without this gentle love babies die. It is reassuring to remember the Talmudic proverb that since God could not be everywhere, God created mothers - and fathers - or any who can give love.
It is more difficult to love a child when there is colic to suffer through, diapers to change, schedules to modify. It is more difficult to love when these charming and dependent creatures become incorrigible and independent people. It is easy to think of the Messiah inhabiting the tiny form of the new born child; it is not to easy to imagine the Messiah in the rebellious teen.
Love requires an irrational commitment - transcending self-interested logic - to love a child who stretches our patience to the very end; to love an elderly parent who is but a shell of the father or mother we remember in our fondest dreams; to love a neighbor who does not live up to our every expectation, yet shares the trials and tribulations of life with us.
Even more difficult is it to imagine the Messiah in the contentious spouse, the prying in-laws, the over-protective parents, friends who disappoint and annoy us. It is hard to see the Messiah in the old toothless ones of the nursing home, the crippled child in an institution, in the ideological foe, in the starving child a continent away. These, too, die for lack of love. On this Christmas Eve, let us remember that faith is not a belief in the impossible, but confidence in the possibility of human living.
On this Christmas Eve, let us remember that hope is not a naïve optimism based on unreal assumptions, but courage to place the stubborn ounces of our weight on the side of human aspirations.
On this Christmas Eve, let us remember that love is not so much an idea whose time has come, as it is a commitment to the neighbor - near and far. In many ways it is an irrational commitment because love can get us into trouble. Those who love will ultimately lose the beloved or they will lose us. Love can prompt us to give of ourselves in ways that may seem foolish - perhaps are foolish.
> And so, faith, hope, love, these three
I offer you this season.
Faith that living affirms,
Hope that caring illumines,
Love that more matters than anything.
Faith, hope, love, these three
Not as gifts I offer them
For they are not mine to give
They are yours and mine to share,
Humbly, with one another.
Fumbling, we hold their promise in our hands,
Faintly, we speak the trembling words.
Faith, hope, love, these three
I offer you this season.
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