No need to dream, it’s Christmas for sure*

It has been snowing in Wisconsin for a couple of weeks now; the biggest snowfall yet was Sunday (about 8 inches fell then). I love snow. I love the romance of it falling in the night, the flakes like millions of stars floating against the inky night sky. I love the quiet it brings, blanketing everything with sound-absorbing insulation. I love the new sounds of neighbors shoveling, cars slushing past, and icicles melting in the afternoon sun. It is indeed a winter wonderland. Here’s a photo of the street where I live, taken Christmas morning after a new overnight snowfall. But more than that, it is nature’s own Advent, bringing us enforced quiet time, enforced indoor together time, and very very sweet quiet nights for sleeping and regeneration.

It is Christmas now, and once again the world has seen the glory of the Word made flesh who dwells among us. All things came into being through Him. What has come into being in Him is life, life is the light of all people. We see now his glory, glory as of an only son, what more glory could there be than the love of a parent for a newborn child? It is the powerful love born of nature’s own forces, like winter, Christmas is a moment of seeing and knowing and feeling the light, which is life, which is love. Love which is full of grace and truth.

(That bit of theologopoetry is based, of course, on John 1:1-14, which is usually thought to describe the birth of Christ, the anointed Savior, but also describes the creation in full. Apologies to my theology professors!)

Last night for maybe only the second time in twenty years, instead of working, I went to mass with Brad. Memories swirled around. Our first Christmas Eve mass together decades ago took place on the night after a major blizzard, in a high church with liturgy of the sort I knew before I became a priest, replete with incense and chanting and candlelight, and ending with an episcopal blessing. It made me realize that Christmas is always a miracle, because Christmas is the miracle of love come among us, and because Christmas always is. Me sitting at Brad’s left singing the pitch into his ear for the hymns, watching him nod in agreement during the sermon, taking the bread and wine together at the rail, driving home in the snow for some eggnog and turkey soup. We are truly blessed.

Love one another my friends. Christmas is here. For sure.

*Christmas (Isaiah 52:7-10; Psalm 98  Cantate Domino; Hebrews 1:1-4, (5-12); John 1:1-14) ©2011 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.