Christmas is Back*

This has been a wonderful Christmas. This Christmas Eve was the most blessed Christmas of my priesthood to date. I was surrounded by joy, the light of Christ was visible within and among us, the shared joy was palpable. Of the hundreds of hands I shook, every one came with a heartfelt glance and (for once) an astonishing chorus of “merry Christmas.” The music was magnificent, the kids were filled with life and light and joy and all of the promise that children bring to the whole of creation—how wonderful to watch their pageant of the birth of Christ (not to mention getting on the channel 6 news because of them!). The Lessons and Carols service was also beautiful, and pithy spiritually. As I said, it was the most blessed Christmas of my priesthood.

If you read my Christmas Eve post, then you might remember that I was eager to find the light that might shine in the darkness. Well, I sure found it. Repeatedly during the two liturgies, I nearly “lost it” (that means I was on the verge of tears). It is really difficult to explain this, except to say that when the sacred is most fully active in me, sometimes it seems almost overwhelming. As I write this I remember, of course, the first time that ever happened—at my ordination to the priesthood—when, as the bishop pressed down on my head, and the buzz of babble grew louder above me, and my fellow presbyters pressed down on me from behind, the only thought I had was “I’m going to fall down, I can’t bear the weight”—but I did bear the weight, and I did not fall down. And a moment later I was raised up (interesting phrase there) and turned around, a bit in shock, and introduced as the new priest. Whoa!

Of course, my path to spiritual enlightenment has been long and circuitous and often littered with detours. And there is no stilling the power of the Spirit within me when I hear “O Come all ye faithful.” It is as though I were still standing beside my grandmother in the Methodist church in Pekin, Illinois in 1956, holding her hand and singing as loud as I could to join the joyful noise. It was such a wonder to hear the Babel sound of the children in the background and to think of all of the wonderful Christmas memories of the future that were being made in that moment. Isaiah says he will greatly exult, the psalmist says how great it is to sing God’s praises and I couldn’t agree more.

The pith of the readings for this Sunday is found in the letter to the Galatians, where Paul explains how the “disciplinarian” of “the law” (he means Levitical law), was a kind of imprisonment. I picked up my paper yesterday and read about how now that “don’t ask don’t tell” has been repealed, marriage equality is inevitable (except, they still call it, pointedly, “gay marriage”). They interviewed a particularly hateful right-winger, who said something along the lines of ‘gay people want to be respected but we all know they’re disgusting.” How nice to read on Christmas morning. Well, my friends, it reminded me that for many lgbt people, Christmas means being at home with family members who still work with “the law.” The time has come to take them to church, and point them at this reading. Before faith came we were imprisoned, but now we are children of God, heirs of the kingdom. All of us, especially we who are created lgbt in God’s own image.

The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only child, full of grace and truth.

A blessed Christmastide.

*1st Sunday after Christmas (Isaiah 61:10-62:3, Psalm 147, Galatians 3:23-25;4:4-7, John 1:1-18)

©2010 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.